Walking ahead, he kept his pace slow but steady. The lady had suffered a little in her tumble and he couldn't help but notice she was lacking one shoe. He picked their path carefully, avoiding the worst of the mud and tangled branches; still she made the occasional muffled curse. Part of him wanted to ask her if she wished to be carried, but his knowledge of her from their brief acquaintance told him she would most likely balk at the idea.

The two walked in silence. Although a few steps behind him, he felt her presence as surely as if she were in his line of sight. The light sound of her breathing and the quick movements of her feet were clearly audible in the quiet of the forest. He presumed the battle must be over already. While they were some distance from the road yet, the sound of sword fighting carried easily in still air and yet all was calm.

The sound of rustling disturbed him from his thoughts. His hand darted to his sword and he held his breath as he turned back - instinctively reaching out for her arm to pull her to his side. A heavy sigh of relief escaped his lips as he saw his horse ambling through the trees towards them.

"Horse," he smiled, letting go of his sword, "You should know better than to sneak up on a man."

"So this is your mighty steed," she called from behind him. He looked back , somewhat unsure whether she was mocking him.

"This is my horse," he confirmed, taking hold of his reins.

The royal laughed lightly, "And you call your horse, 'horse'?"

Turning, he gave her a queer look, "Aye," he nodded, "What else would I call him?"

"I don't know," she began, shaking her head lightly as she stepped forward to run her hand along the horse's slender neck, "Anything… My first horse was called Apollo - he was so fast my mother said surely he must be of the gods…" Her eyes lowered to the ground.

He recognized the pain of loss, it was a familiar friend: the way her posture stiffened and her chest sagged when she mentioned her mother. At that moment, he wished he had more knowledge of the rulers of the kingdoms - wished he could offer some solace at least through understanding. Yet all her could give was his silent presence, wrapping his hand tighter the soft leather reigns and moving beside her.

"This horse is not a pet, your highness."

"Indeed," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. Her gaze was cool but not uncordial; keeping a cautious distance in discourse as well as in physicality. "But he is more than that: he is your companion, yes?"

Grudgingly, he nodded. He ran his hands through the horse's mane, removing a few leaves and small twigs that had become entangled within it during his journey. "You could say that."

She kept his gaze for a moment longer, before returning to look at the animal. "I think I shall call you Prince, for you look like a noble steed."

"Prince?" he replied, unable to keep the snort of laughter from his voice.

"What of it? You may not wish to name the animal, but I do."

Killian wasn't quite sure how to reply, unaccustomed to royals - or most folk, for that matter. As it turned out, he didn't have to.

"Sir, I believe my guard will be anxious for my return. May we make haste back to my party?"

"Of course."

Slipping away from where she stood, the lady circled around to the other side of the horse. Clicking his tongue, Killian guided the newly christened Prince through the woodland, heading up the bank they had earlier fallen down, until the trees began to thin slightly. Opposite him, the lady kept her fingers running lightly over the horse's neck and mane. The animal snorted softly from time to time in appreciation.

Soon they could hear the faint sound of voices calling and the soft thud of horses cantering along the road ahead of them.

Pulling tight on the reins, he turned to look over the animal's saddle just as she did the same. Taking in her torn dress and disheveled hair, he was almost able to forget that she was a queen. She looked too young, too ordinary… yet not, at the same time. It was perplexing.

"I believe you will find your men on the crest of this hill," he told her. There was a strange few seconds where the two observed one another. She seemed to want to say something, her mouth pinching and twisting slightly. He knew not what to say. The impasse ended when she began to shrug off his coat.

"Thank you - Killian, is it?" He nodded. "If you come with me I'm sure I can find some way of compensating you for your-"

"That is not necessary, milady," he interrupted, accepting the coat and tossing it over the horse's back. "I did not assist you to curry favor."

She gave him an odd smile, glancing at his slender animal then again at his worn clothing, "But surely there must be some way I can thank you?"

With the tilt of her head, her green eyes refracted the light and became almost translucent. Her pale skin took on the mottled tones of sunlight filtered through the canopy of the forest. She looked like she belonged there - amongst the trees.

A sudden feeling of boldness overcame him. Maybe it was the intimate setting of the half-light in the forest, perhaps it was the pretty pink flush of her cheeks and, he had to admit, this was the first time he had been alone with a woman in some time-. "Perhaps-"

"Yes?" she asked, taking a step closer to the horse and laying one palm on his worn saddle.

His head still dipped, he continued, rapidly as though he may lose the nerve if he did not with speed - "A kiss is often given in thanks."

"A kiss?"

He looked up just in time to see the dawning expression of understanding unravel across her face, accompanied by a deep red hue that began at the tips of her ears and traveled down over her neck. "I-" did he sense a wavering in her voice? -"-I don't think that would be appropriate. I am betrothed. To be married."

He looked at the overgrown forest floor. A wood beetle was scampering over the rotting remains of a tree branch - already half overtaken by the vines and plants that threatened to engulf it. The creature stopped, before darting into the undergrowth: disappearing, much like his moment of bravery.

Giving a soft smile of apology, he looked up to her unreadable face, "Forgive my impudence. I so rarely stay among good company that I forget the ways of the regular folk."

The queen did not reply. Had he upset her?

Killian dipped his head, a sudden shyness overcoming him. "Milady, merely the knowledge that you are safe is thanks enough."

"Indeed," she replied, lowering her hands from the animal and circling around his head so they were face to face once more. "You are my rescuer - I can easily overlook a slight lapse in decorum."

He resisted the urge to reply with a quick tongue, as he would ordinarily. Having chosen to not stake his claim to one realm or another, his patience for royalty and their ways was short to say the least.

"You go along, I will watch here until you reach the road."

She nodded again, her hands moving to lift her skirt as she took her first steps towards the road. But then she seemed to hesitate before looking back over her shoulder.

"I'm headed to Camelot, you know. To be wed."

He lifted an eyebrow, "So you have told me."

Emma ran her hands down the sides of her ruined dress, balling her fingers in the silk, her brow furrowed slightly, "So, should you find yourself in need of assistance…"

"I will know where to call, your highness." He bowed lightly, not letting his eyes leave hers.

"Thank you, Killian." With another, hesitant smile, she nodded once more and turned back towards the road.

The vision of blue skirts and blonde hair gradually became obscured by the foliage. He watched carefully, waiting until he heard a voice cry out, "I've found her."

He laid his head against Prince's neck, taking some warmth from the animal, waiting until he heard the start of carriage wheels - until he could be assured the road was clear. Finally, he tugged once more on the reins and the two lonely figures began again on their aimless journey.

/

The bank grew steeper as she walked. Tugging her skirts higher, she warily chose her path, careful to rest her bare foot in the softer, mossy patches that tiled the forest floor. Behind her she could hear the gentle noises of the horse - Prince - that told her that her rescuer was still watching as he promised. More than once she resisted the urge to turn back and look at him once more.

So short was their acquaintance - not more than half of an hour - yet what had passed in that time were the most thrilling and terrifying moments of her life. Every sensation seemed to have taken on extra depth since she had tumbled from the carriage. The greens of the forest seemed deeper and more vibrant - leaping alive from the branches as she stumbled more into its depths. The scent of damp and fragrant plants was sweeter somehow; perhaps the quickening of the blood flowing through her veins was heightening her senses?

Indeed, the euphoria of escape from possible danger had left her heart thudding and everything was still a blur.

But one thing was clear still: where he had held her tight against him, she still tingled. Never had she been touched like that - so brutally, so harshly, so honestly. It was oddly disconcerting, yet pleasant in a way she could not deny nor explain.

Nearing the ridge of the hill, she could see daylight breaking through the trees in thick shafts. Soon they reached her toes, gradually rising up her skirts until she finally stumbled back onto the road and was almost blinded by the midday sun.

All of a sudden, she was swarmed by guards. Ruby was there by her side, her arms wrapped around her waist. Mary Margaret was a few steps away, weeping silent happy tears as the medic they had brought with them checked her for wounds.

"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to shake free of the commotion, desperately wanting to sit and rest and think-

"How did you escape?"

"Were you hurt, madam?"

"Were you followed?"

So many questions when all she wanted was quiet. The lie had tripped from her tongue before she even knew it.

"I hid in a tree."

As soon as it was spoken she felt foolish. She had no reason to be dishonest, yet…

Part of her wanted to keep something for herself. Life, as she lived it, afforded little privacy or secrets. But no one had seen her escape through the woods and encounter with the stranger, Killian. In fact, it was almost taking on an unearthly appearance in her own memory. What harm was there in keeping something for herself - she was safe and returned, was that not all that mattered?

So she let them mollycoddle her - swathing her in blankets and jostling her towards the carriage. Ruby and Mary Margaret fussed and fretted, wiping her muddied skin and tempting her with water and red wine as a tonic. As best she could, she acquiesced to their incessant demands, before allowing the women to wrap her in a blanket as the carriages began to move once more.

Hit by a sudden tiredness, she watched the trees pass by in a blur of greens and browns. Closing her eyes, she let herself run over the morning's events. A euphoric feeling in the face of her escape overcame her. It felt almost like a dream.

Was it a dream? Was it real? Was he real? Or had she concocted the scenario in her mind?

/

When they reached their lodgings, she retired immediately to bathe and sleep. Removing her shift, she saw the faint bruises on her hip where the stranger - Killian - had pulled her to him.

While the hot water soothed her aching muscles, she ran her hand over the yellowing marks, imagining his fingers there, remembering the strength and urgency of his touch. She sank deeper into the copper bath, until her shoulders were covered and only her toes peeked out at the edge. Lifting her hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips, letting herself pretend - for a moment - that she had kissed him. For if his touch left such an impression on her body, she could only but imagine the effect of his lips on hers.

A/N - reviews are always appreciated!