"Wait...are you saying you know how to do...whatever this is?"

"It's called a waltz. And there's only one rule...pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

Killian watched as her lips smirked upwards into a smile, her ruby red lipstick glistening in the light. Her eyes flickered down at his own lips and then quickly back up and he wondered where her thoughts were going. He wondered if they were like his, floating between and around them in dizzying content. He grinned at her, taking the lead, moving her left to right. She followed, her foot stepping on his only once or twice. He kept in a laugh each time, concentrating on her irrefutable grace in all other things.

"So where exactly did you pick this up?"

Killian's smile turned into something different but he tried to hide the sadness from her. He couldn't tell her, not now, not when her own parents were at stake. He vowed to explain when it was more appropriate. He wanted her to relish in this moment.

Many, many years ago...

"You are quite lucky, darling. Liam wasn't nearly this good at your age."

Killian looked up at his mother adoringly. His eyes matched hers. His black hair hung loosely over his forehead and he blew a childish breath out of the side of his mouth to get the strands out of his view. He smiled up at her as she laughed. "Am I really, mummy?"

"Well, let's not tell him so. He is far too busy playing with boats now, you know." She reached out her hands to him again and winked. He placed his bare feet on top of hers and waited for the imaginary song in their heads to resume. He was still much shorter than she was, his arms arching above his head. She led this time, her steps strong but graceful as they glided together across their living room floor. The room was small but comfortable, the dilapidated rugs becoming thinner underneath their feet. They didn't have much after his father had left them years ago. Killian couldn't even remember his face, but he didn't have to. She was all that he needed. To him, they were the richest family in the land. He moved from left to right, backwards and forwards, every so often glancing at their feet. "Confidence is key, Killian," she said, catching him in the act. "Don't look at your feet. Trust that they will take you where to need to go."

"Yes, mummy," he said, his chin sticking out as he straightened his shoulders.

She smiled at him, instantly forgiving his mistake. "Alright, darling, now it's your turn."

He stepped onto the floor and they switched arms, him taking the lead this time. He moved carefully, waiting for her critique. When he had finally gotten into a rhythm, his leg bumped into the wooden desk in the corner. A glass ball fell onto the floor, shattering in a cascade of crystal and water. A large piece ricocheted off the floor as Killian bent towards it, hitting him in the cheek. His hand shot up to cover it, feeling the blood trickle through the cracks in his fingers."I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said in a hurry. His mother pulled him away from the glass on the floor and sat him down on the multi-colored rug. She reached for a rag nearby and started putting pressure on his cheek. It would surely leave a scar.

"Does it hurt, darling?" Killian wanted to be brave and even though he told her no, his pout told her otherwise. "You can tell me, you know. Your father was the same way, never letting on when something pained him." Killian looked up at her. She smiled but he didn't return it. "It's just glass, dear. There are worse things that can break." A touch of sadness echoed in her words. She brushed back his hair with her other hand and circled back to his other cheek, rubbing the side of his face with her thumb.

He finally fought the urge to keep silent. "You'll still teach me, won't you?"

She took him in a sudden embrace. When she pulled away, he noticed that the blood from his cheek had stained the shoulder of her dress. "Of course, my little prince. Let's get you washed up and into bed, eh?" She took his hand and lifted him up, taking him away from the shattered wreckage.

A sudden noise had woken Killian that night. The moon had been full. Its radiance lit up the room in a blue haze. He sat up in bed, looking over at Liam. He was sleeping soundly, charts of stars and ship designs nestled in the crook of his arm and falling like wilting petals to the floor. He was much too big for his bed now, but he would be off to the naval academy any day, leaving Killian the room to itself. It was a bittersweet thought, but he hoped to follow in his footsteps one day. Their mother would be proud. Killian bent his body to look behind him. The stars reflected on the ocean, dancing their way along the tide. Two stars to the north burned the brightest, whispering unknown secrets. He yawned. The promise of a new day was upon him.

He nestled back into his bed but before he could drift once more, a crash shook through the house. A loud scream echoed through the walls. This time, Liam heard it. They stared at each other briefly before Liam shot up.
"Killian, stay here. Hide under the bed."

"Liam-"

"Stay." He grabbed his sword from the corner and left the room. Killian just sat in the bed, unable to move, his hands clutching the covers so tight until the blood left his fingers. "Mother!" he heard Liam yell out. Killian let out a small gasp, his feet moving faster than his brain. He went to the door and opened it. The path from his mother's bedroom was in disarray, every bit of furniture tossed around in a struggle. He walked the short distance from the hall into the living room, the ancient pianoforte splintered with a broken leg. He could see his mother's arm next to it. Killian walked closer until the complete scene unfolded in his sight. Liam was on his knees, hovering over her. One hand was on her face, the other covering his mouth. A sob burst through his lips.

"Liam?"

Liam turned around at the sight of Killian, his entire body now resigning. Killian could see her now. He stepped closer to look at her face. Her mouth and eyes were open. Glass from the shattered ball was tangled in the brown curls of her hair. Blood puddled in a sea beneath her. Her white nightgown was drenched in it. The light was gone from her face, the skin changing from peach cream to an unearthly pallor. He couldn't stop looking at her eyes. Even when Liam pulled him in and clutched him to his chest, crying out to all who could hear, he couldn't stop looking. He couldn't leave her behind, leave her broken.

10 years later…

Liam smoothed out the wrinkles in his uniform, his hands sweating with nerves. The entrance to the palace proved to be a truly long walk. Killian laughed under his breath.

"Something funny, little brother?"

"Honestly, it's like you've never been to a ball before."

"I'm a man of the sea, Killian. I was not meant to dance among royalty."

"You're just bitter because you didn't want Mother to teach you."

Liam gave him a sad smile. "You are unfortunately right about that. Now my legs are no more graceful than an octopus on land."

"Now, that is certainly an image I'd like to see."

Liam nudged him in the chest with his elbow. They both walked in the doors with the rest of their fleet, special guests that night of the King and Queen for fighting off a band of pirates that threatened their shores. Liam had been quite proud of the accomplishment, proud of his younger brother's help. He had been hesitant to accept the invitation but Killian urged him to do it. At the sight of all of the guests in their ball gowns and dress suits, Liam gulped.

"Now, now Captain," Killian teased. A couple of young women made their way towards them, mischievous smiles upon their faces. "It's a waltz, not a hurricane." Liam puffed up his chest slightly, trying to regain his composure.

"Any advice?"

Killian looked down briefly, the muscles behind his eyes sending a sharp pain through his head at the thought of the memory. "Don't look at your feet."

The women came to them and introduced themselves. They curtsied and the brothers both bowed in returned. Killian offered his arm to the one in front of him. "Don't worry, brother," he told him as he walked ahead. "Trust that they will take you where you need to go."

Killian was trying to hide the happiness in the moment. He could feel her confidence radiating from her body now. He stole a glance from her, his smile unwittingly stuck on his face.

"Watch the mocking, I think I'm finally starting to get the hang of this."

"Not mocking you, Swan. Just thinking about what you said in Storybrooke, about not being a princess." He knelt down on his knee as she circled around him, her hand never leaving his.

"Really? You get my first dance at my first royal ball and all you can say is 'I told you so'?"

Killian rose up, taking both of her hands in his and letting out a breath he had been holding since they had arrived.

"I believe what I'm trying to say, Your Highness, is that you appear to be a natural." He brought her closer to him, her smile now unwavering and brilliant. Everyone else in the room seemed to vanish for a brief moment. Distant memories started flooding again and he couldn't help but think of the young boy stepping on his mother's feet, dancing around a room of broken thread. She would be proud. He was still her prince, and maybe, just maybe, he could be Emma's as well.