What had he been thinking, going there? He hadn't been, clearly.

(But he had. He had been thinking about the same thing over and over again since Regina had told him. He had to get to her before his mother did.)

"She's after their ring," Regina began without ceremony, quietly closing the door behind her. Killian's grip tightened on the rum bottle cradled in his lap.

"Who?"

"Mother, of course. Don't be dense."

"As if I have the time to follow Mother's every bloody scheme, Regina. There are only so many hours in the day."

"And you have dedicated yourself to spending as many of those hours brooding and wallowing in your chambers, drinking the kingdom's rum supply dry."

"I don't brood."

Regina snorted out an incredulous laugh. "Please! Poor Prince Killian, so put upon," she mocked with a exaggerated pout of her blood red lips. "I can even gauge how maudlin you are on any given day simply by how much kohl you've smudged on your eyes. Today's raccoon look isn't a good sign, I see."

"Why are you here, Regina?" Killian heaved out a sigh, refusing to take the bait.

"I told you, Mother is after that ring."

"And I repeat, why should I care what the old crone is up to these days?" he asked, flicking a piece of lint from his sleeve.

"Nonsense, we both know you care. Well, maybe not about Mother's plans, but you care about her."

"Her who?"

Ignoring him, she continued. "She knows your Princess of Sunshine and Rainbows is the one who wears it, and she knows the power it holds now that it draws from hers. She will kill her for it, Killian."

"She's not my princess."

"Oh, please. You've always pined like a puppy for her, even now after all these years."

"And you've always had a penchant for the melodramatic," he chided even as dread pooled heavy in his gut. "Don't you have some villagers to be tormenting?"

"My, my. Your insults are left wanting when you're drunk."

"More that I'm not nearly drunk enough for this conversation, sister dear."

"I knew I shouldn't have even bothered."

"Then why did you?" he asked sharply, all pretenses suddenly dropped.

"Because regardless of what you think, you're my brother and I care about you, idiot!" Regina snapped. Silence fell as they stared each other down. She swallowed hard before quietly continuing. "I know I didn't handle Liam's death in the best manner, but I thought–"

He cut her off with an incredulous snort of his own, feeling the familiar painful twisting emotion their brother's name always summoned. "That's rich."

"And that's not fair."

"Fair?" he laughed bitterly, gaining his feet and walking towards her. "No, it's not 'fair', Regina. Nothing about any of this is 'fair'. It wasn't 'fair' that our brother was killed; even less so because it was by our own dear mother's hand. And it sure as hell isn't 'fair' that you act like you care now, when you chose her," he accused, looming over her, voice betraying him by cracking slightly. "Even after Liam, you chose her."

"Killian, I—"she trailed off, words dying on her tongue. She knew there were no words she could say, no justification that could bridge the growing chasm between them. She hated herself for it, hated her fear of her mother. Hated her desperation for the one thing she knew she'd never have.

Love.

"Just leave me be, Regina. Return to clinging to Mother's skirts," he turned from her and took a deep drink, determined to drown out the emotion burning through his veins. "It's what you do best, after all."

Regina's eyes registered the pain of the dismissal for an instant, before shuttering and leaving only the dark princess of legend. Mouth twisting into a feral smile, she flicked her wrist at him, causing the bottle in his hand to shatter as she stalked out.

The bitch.

Killian scrubbed a hand over his face as his thoughts turned back to Emma. God, how she had grown. He'd always known she would be beautiful, for she always had been, even as a child. Memories of chasing her through sunny orchards, golden hair streaming behind her as they twisted and wove their way through the trees, her bright laugh ringing out – they were as vivid as if they were yesterday. But just as vivid was the memory of that laugh falling silent when he told her he could not see her anymore, green eyes confused and hurt as they pooled with tears.

Twenty years later it still tore at his heart and made him feel every inch the villain he was.

He knew what she must think of him, of the whispers that followed their family now. His father and Liam had been the strong ones– the good ones. The ones full of light. But death snuffs light out easily enough, and he had been no match for the darkness that had followed. It's a funny thing, darkness. It creeps up in you, heady and sly. He was too young at first to understand, to lost and broken after their deaths. But the darkness welcomed him in and sheltered him, gave him sanctuary from the pain. Eventually, he had become so numb that he forgot what it was like to care about anything at all, to feel anything at all.

Until Regina had told him Emma was in danger, and it was if the floodgates opened.

He had been a fool to think it would be easy. That he could just disguise himself, slip into the ball, and charm the ring off her finger. He had been a fool to forget that her magic would always remember his, that the connection long-buried still held strong.

Some ties were just too deep.

He pulled the ring from the small, hidden pocket of the discarded vest next to him, twirling it on the tip of his finger as the green stone caught the candlelight. He could feel the magic in his blood begin to hum in response, called by the power of the unassuming object.

Such a small thing to hold so much, but he was not so much a fool as to underestimate it. Never before had the power of True Love been captured and tethered to an object. And not just any True Love. The True Love shared by Snow White and her Prince Charming was some of the strongest ever witnessed.

One thing was for sure, he had to leave. And soon. As long as the ring was within his mother's reach, Emma was in danger. He slipped the ring on his pinky finger and extinguished the light.

.

.

Emma squatted low behind the undergrowth of the forest, eyes trained on the dark window she knew to be his. She'd seen him scale the wall of his tower countless times in their youth, sneaking out just as she had to meet and play in their shared orchards. Their shared sanctuary.

But those days were long gone.

He had underestimated her, thinking her to be a proper princess. But the days of dresses and tea parties were long behind her, laid to rest alongside her sleeping parents. After the Black Fairy had cursed them and she took up the mantle of ruling, she had quickly learned that such pleasantries were something she could no longer afford. She reached out with her power to sense him, to make sure he was there. She sensed calmness to him, a stillness, which meant he was probably asleep.

Perfect.

Levitating the grappling hook she carried, she quietly hooked it to the drain above his window. She scaled the wall quickly and slipped into the hushed quiet of his room. Giving herself a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, she glanced around the space, wondering if it had changed as dramatically as its owner. It appeared Killian was as messy as he'd ever been, though there was a coldness to the room that had not been there when they were children.

She tiptoed over to the bed, careful to step around the discarded clothing and rum bottles. He was sleeping on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow while the other stretched out beside him. Her eyes trailed down the line of his exposed shoulder, following the corded muscle as it worked down his arm. She had never seen a man bare-chested before, and she felt her cheeks slightly flush as she continued to study his slumbering form. Idiot, she chided herself. Now was hardly the time. Her eyes darted back to his face to make sure he was still asleep, lingering over his slightly parted lips and sleep-flushed cheeks. His hair was an inky mess, sticking up every which way and falling over his forehead, and for a minute he looked so much like the boy she once knew it caused her heart to painfully constrict.

Stop it, Emma.

Turning her attention back the ring glinting on his pinky finger, she slowly leaned over him and reached for it. Her fingers touched cool metal when suddenly his hand twisted, ensnaring her own and tugging until she tumbled into the bed with him. He rolled over her, pinning her underneath him just as efficiently as he had in the garden the night before.

"What the hell are you doing?" his low voice was gravely with sleep.

She shoved at his chest, attempting to wriggle free, but he was as immovable as a boulder. "I told you I want the ring back," she hissed.

"You bloody fool. Do you know what kind of danger you're in?"

"Please, I can take care of myself," she retorted, magic beginning to spark along her fingers.

"Don't you dare," he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh, I dare," a blast of white light burst from her hands, but he once again anticipated her, blocking her magic with his own. The result was a burst of energy that shot out sideways from them, knocking the objects off his nightstand with clatter. They both froze at the loud noise, panting breaths mingling.

"Now you've done it," he hissed.

"I didn't do—"

"Your Highness, is everything alright?" a knock sounded at the door, interrupting her. Killian cursed, shifting his body to tuck her further underneath him.

"What're you—" she began before his hand covered her mouth.

"Keep quiet. Unless you want to be discovered by my mother's guards?" Angry eyes bore into hers, silently pleading for her to listen. She nodded and he relaxed. "There's a good girl. Now just follow my lead."

The knocking sounded once again, and Killian lowered his head to her throat, brushing his mouth gently there, and Emma's blood fired. Her skin traitorously pebbled with goosebumps, and she felt the curve of his smile on her neck as he felt them with his lips. She was desperate to hate him for making her feel like this. For making her feel as if she was being ignited from within, fire racing through her veins as he held her.

For making her feel like he wanted her.

She vaguely heard the door to his bedroom swing open. "Highness, are you—" the guard began before skidding to a stop.

Killian's head lifted from her neck, shooting a furious look over his shoulder. "How dare you enter my chambers, you bilge rat. Can you not see I'm busy?" he growled, tightening his grip on Emma, making sure to keep her face tucked out of the guard's sight. She had never heard his voice so cold.

"I'm sorry, milord. I heard a crash and thought—" the guard stammered, averting his eyes.

"Can I not give a wench a decent tumble without being interrupted? I should have you put in the stocks!"

"I just—" the guard's voice cut off with a strangled sound, fading into a gurgle as he clawed at his throat.

"Get. Out. Now," Killian closed his outstretched hand a fraction, increasing the pressure on the guard's windpipe. Anger boiled through him, sharp and bright, his fear for Emma's safety suddenly becoming all consuming. He wanted to destroy anything and anyone that wanted to hurt her, he wanted to—

A finger drilled into his ribs, distracting him and making him squirm. He looked down at Emma, who angrily mouthed stop at him. He released the guard and he dropped to his knees, gasping for air, before scuttling from the room as fast as his legs could carry him.

"You almost killed him!" Emma accused.

"I did not."

"Yes, you did," she shoved him off, guilt over his actions making him acquiesce. Emma moved to the far corner of his bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. Heavy silence fell as they stared at each other, the tension thick.

"You have to get out of here, Emma."

"Not without my ring."

"Stop being so bloody stubborn. I know you have no reason to trust in what I say, but I am not lying to you. As if I could," he looked at her knowingly.

Almost automatically, Emma tilted her head at him, assessing him for a lie. She had always had the innate ability to sniff one out, which had gotten him into trouble more than once in their youth. But she seemed to find none, and a tiny flair of hope sparked within him that she might actually listen to reason. "Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "You have two minutes to tell me why I can't take my ring and go before I enchant you into rat. Make them count."

Killian had to suppress a smile; he had forgotten how much he loved her threats. (He was clearly mental.) "I already told you. My mother will kill you for it, she will stop at nothing. And when she succeeds, your entire kingdom will fall to ruin."

"Is that why you stole it? To protect me and my kingdom?" she laughed incredulously.

"Yes!"

"I can protect myself, thanks, I've been doing so for years. Not that you would know anything about that."

"I know more than you think," he said quietly. Her mouth snapped shut at this; her green eyes narrowing as she once again searched him for a lie. Frustration sparked around her as once again she found none.

"So what would you suggest, Highness? Flee the kingdom forever? Leave my people at the mercy of your mother? I'm sure that would end well for everyone."

"Of course not. You need to break the ring's curse, wake your parents. Find the Blue Fairy," he supplied.

"She hasn't been seen in years! No one's even sure she is still alive!" Emma protested.

"She's out there. And she is the only one powerful enough to break that curse."

"Not the only one."

"Emma, no. NO. He is not an option," Emma frowned at him, chaffing at his commanding tone, but he pushed on. "Love, you cannot afford the price he would demand, I promise you this."

"Don't call me 'love'."

Killian rolled his eyes before giving her an exasperated sigh and leveling a frown of his own. Silence stretched on as they stared each other down, minutes ticking by as Emma considered the logic of what he was saying.

"Fine, I'll find the Blue Fairy. Happy now?" Emma finally ground out through clenched teeth. She held out a hand, voicelessly demanding the ring.

Killian couldn't stop the victorious smile as he placed it in her palm. Magic sparked and flared he did, a humming warmth zipping out and up their arms from the small object. As if burned, Emma snatched her hand back and Killian cleared his throat, determined to seem nonchalant. "Delighted. And I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Yes," he tossed back, climbing off the bed, opening drawers and stuffing things into his traveling satchel.

"I don't need your help."

"You're getting it anyway."

"I don't trust you."

"I understand."

"If you double cross me, I will—"

"Oh, I'm quite sure you'll curse me into oblivion. Consider your warning heeded, Princess."

She gave him one last withering stare, then slid off the bed and walked to the window. Hooking a leg over the ledge, she moved with a fluid grace he admired as she began to descend the rope. Once they both had reached the bottom, he guided her silently towards the stables. Casting a sleeping spell on the unsuspecting stable hands, they managed to sneak out two horses and set off. After a brief whispered argument over whether to take the forest or coastal road, Emma begrudgingly agreed the coastal would be safer thanks to the light of the moon. "You can take the lead, but don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second," she warned with a menacing frown.

"I would despair if you did," he grinned back and nudged his horse forward.