AN: Just to explain the setting of this fic a little:

For Emma, there was no curse and she grew up as a princess in the EF with her family.

For Killian, he was born in the current timeline instead of the past, so he's roughly the same age as Emma. It's cannon that his father abandoned him when he was a child, and then a fairly popular fan theory that he lived on the streets until Liam found him and took him into the Navy.

A Light to Fight the Shadows

The late morning sun was warm on Emma's face and there was a spring in her step as she made her way through the city, her arm linked with her mother's and a handful of dwarves walking a few steps behind them. It was the first day of summer and she was happy to be outside to enjoy it.

The marketplace was busier than usual for this time of day, but Emma didn't mind one bit. In fact, she preferred it when it was crowded and noisy, the constant sound of bartering and gossip and laughter warming her soul. The merchants always treated her and her mother with a blend of awe and a respectful familiarity, but when it was busy the familiarity tended to win out more often, and that was what Emma enjoyed the most. As a princess, she was coddled and fawned over enough in the castle, and a part of their weekly visits to the market was for her to escape that.

Her mother felt the same, and had encouraged Emma when she'd said that she'd wanted to see the city more regularly. Her years on the run from the Evil Queen had formed a strong bond between Snow White and her people, and she always thrived when she was around them.

Emma was allowed to wander as she wished in the marketplace as long as she stayed within its boundaries and didn't try to slip away from whichever dwarf was her chaperone. Today it was Sneezy who followed her from stall to stall, and after a few minutes of incessant sniffling she raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

Sneezy stopped patting at his pockets and smiled at her ruefully. 'I left my handkerchief at the castle. You should think I'd remember by... ah - ah... achoo!'

Emma giggled as he sneezed into his sleeve. Looking around, she found what she was looking for at the stall across from her. A rainbow of scarves and shawls were folded neatly on the table, and beside them a row of handkerchiefs, some plain and some ornately embroidered. 'These are pretty, sir,' she told the vendor, ignoring the way that he stiffened and then blushed when he realized who was addressing him. Her mother had told her that it was better to take it in stride rather than call attention to it and embarrass them further. 'Did you make them?'

'My good wife makes them and embroiders them, Your Highness,' the vendor said, keeping his eyes on his product and not meeting her gaze. 'You're welcome to any that you would wish, as a gift, Your Highness.'

Emma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, but couldn't hide her frustrated sigh. Every visit, the vendors tried to give her things for free, when she could afford to pay them enough for their wares that they wouldn't have to sell another thing all week. 'Don't be ridiculous,' she began, but stopped when a hand fell on her shoulder.

'You shouldn't talk to people like that, Your Highness,' Grumpy said, his face hard but his eyes smiling.

She cocked her head slightly. 'But Mother talks to you like that.'

Grumpy coughed loudly, and she narrowed her eyes at him when it occurred to her that he was covering up laughter. 'She's only twelve and she's already too much like Snow,' he grumbled to Sneezy. 'Can you imagine what she'll be like when she's grown?'

Emma beamed at the compliment that she wasn't sure she was supposed to hear, then turned back to the merchant and proceeded to convince him to let her pay for the handkerchiefs.

In the end, she bought one for each of the dwarfs, giving one to Sneezy and tucking the rest into her satchel to take back to the castle. She spent the rest of the morning browsing the stalls, sometimes by her mother's side but often not, spending her allocated coins on whatever took her fancy.

She was looking at a bracelet made of pretty wooden beads, running her fingers over the intricate carvings when she heard the angry yell and jumped violently, snatching her hand back from the bracelet as her first thought was that she was touching something she shouldn't. Glancing around quickly, she found that no one was looking at her, which was a curious thing of itself. What seemed stranger, was that instead everyone seemed to be rather focused on the ground, their purchases, the wares, the loud conversation dimming to a quiet hum.

'You, there.' The sudden quiet made it easier for her to find the source of the shout when it came again, and Emma spun around to see one of the vendors holding a boy by the arm, shaking him roughly. The boy must have only been around her age, give or take, and the blended look of defiance and fear was barely hidden by the dirt smeared on his face, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. 'You think you can steal from me, you little rat?'

'I was gonna pay for them,' the boy cried, hurriedly dropping the apples back on top of the others in the wooden crate beside them.

'Let's see your money then, boy,' the vendor challenged, and the boy's face paled further.

Concern filling her, Emma looked up at Sneezy, who stood beside her with his head down. His frown deepened when he saw her looking to him, his hand settling on her back to turn her away from the scene. 'Best to stay out of it, miss,' he said just for her ears, but when the boy repeated his plea to be let go, she couldn't ignore the panic in his voice and turned immediately back to him.

'You'll not be going without paying for your crimes.' With a sneer, he pulled a dagger from his belt. The boy struggled, but the man only tightened his grip on him, slamming his left arm hard against the table. 'The punishment for theft is to take the hand that took from me.'

'No!' Emma cried out at the same time the boy did. She was moving before she could think twice about it, darting through the thinning crowd, pushing herself between the two of them and covering the boy's wrist with her own arms. 'You can't do that.'

The vendor hesitated for a moment, before his face hardened and she felt the boy tremble behind her. 'With respect, Your Highness, I'll be taking my justice.'

'He's just a boy!' she protested.

'Aye, but a thief!'

'Can't you see he's starving?' Her hand tightened over his wrist and she could feel the bones hard underneath his skin. She held her other hand out between them and the angry vendor in a hopefully placating gesture. 'Have some compassion, please.'

'Compassion won't feed my own family,' he said, reaching out as if to push her aside before pausing again.

She stood up straighter, hoping that his reluctance to handle her wouldn't change. 'I'll pay for him. I -'

'What's going on here?'

At the sound of her mother's voice, Emma's head snapped up to see her crossing the courtyard briskly towards them, the sick feeling of anxiety in her stomach easing significantly for no one in this city would go against Snow White's wishes, no matter the issue. But as she turned, her grip on the boy's wrist loosened and she felt his arm slip out from under her hand. 'Wait,' she said, her breath hitching as she turned to back to him to find him already darting away from her, his thin body surprisingly fast as he weaved through people who made no move to stop him. He couldn't just leave, she hadn't had the chance to make sure he'd eaten something. 'Hey, wait!'

He didn't turn back, didn't even hesitate, and then he was gone around the corner.

The boy from the marketplace stayed heavily in her mind, and over the next few weeks she was able to convince her mother to accompany her into the city every few days instead of just once a week. She keeps an eye out for the boy, looking mainly down the side streets and the darker corners of the courtyards, but if he's there she doesn't see him. She can't blame him, not really, not after what must have been a terrible scare for him.

She couldn't imagine being in a position like that, living on the streets and having to steal food to survive. She knew that she lived a privileged life, but her mother had always pressed upon her that that didn't make her any better than anyone else. She understood the vendor's predicament, she truly did, but she couldn't imagine losing a hand for trying to feed herself.

Several weeks after she helped the boy, she finally saw him again just outside the marketplace. She was tiredly trying to convince a woman to actually barter with her properly for some balls of dyed wool that Granny would be able to make a lovely warm scarf with, when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. 'I'll be back,' she said, quietly interrupting the woman's feeble attempt to get her to pay more, before striding purposefully down the street toward where the boy was crouching against the wall.

He looked up as she approached, and she put on her most friendly smile, the one that her father said could charm the sun to rise early if she tried hard enough. And so she wasn't expecting it when he jumped to his feet and started running away from her.

She started to call out to him but cut herself off, reluctant to draw even more attention to him in case anyone recognized him. It was bad enough to be known by the merchants as a thief, she knew, but it would only be worse for him if people thought she wanted him for the wrong reasons. Even so, she couldn't let him get away this time.

With a fervent hope that Dopey was distracted enough to not notice her absence straight away, Emma picked up her skirts and ran after the boy, grateful at how quick she was on her feet. The boy rounded a corner but she wasn't too far behind him, following him down side streets and away from the markets. When he glanced back at her he stumbled slightly and she didn't hesitate, jumping forward to tackle him to the ground.

Pain jolted from her elbow up her arm and she sucked in her breath, but she didn't have time to worry about it because the boy was already trying to scramble out from under her. She reached out to grab him but he was surprisingly strong for someone so thin, and managed to shake her off easily, making her fall back against the ground and jarring that same elbow on the hard ground again. She gritted her teeth against the pain but couldn't help the groan that fell from her lips.

The boy had pushed himself to his feet but seemed to hesitate at the sound she made, and she looked up to see concern washing over his face. She held her breath, waiting for him to run, but he only shuffled from foot to foot as though torn. 'Are you all right?' he asked uncertainly after a few long seconds.

Emma pushed herself to her feet, moving slowly so as not to startle him. He watched her with a level of distrust that she'd never seen directed at her before. 'I'm fine,' she said, rubbing at her arm. The skin felt rough but she wasn't bleeding, thankfully - she could only imagine the amount of trouble she was going to be in anyway, let alone if she'd come back injured. 'Why did you run from me? I just want to help you,' she told him.

She took a step closer to him and although he tensed visibly, he didn't back away. 'I don't need any help. Or any attention,' he added, looking around quickly.

His voice was tinged with an accent, but although she was curious, she didn't dwell on it, not now. She followed his gaze, but the alleyway that they were on was all but empty and no one seemed to be paying them any mind, which surprised her a little. Perhaps it was the dirt on her skirts and the lack of a guard, but regardless she felt a flicker of enjoyment at the idea of being invisible, even if only for a few minutes. 'I won't be long,' she told him, reaching into her satchel. 'I just wanted to give you this.'

She held her hand out to him, sighing when he eyed the cloth-covered bundle suspiciously. 'It's my lunch,' she explained, lifting the edge of the cloth to reveal bread, hard cheese and an apple. 'I'll just buy more for myself.'

The longing in his eyes as he stared at the food created an ache in her chest like she'd never felt before, that eased only slightly when he eventually stepped forward to snatch the bundle from her hand. She didn't comment as he immediately stepped back again to put a few paces between them, or at speed with which he devoured what was to be her midday meal. When he finished, he froze, his eyes on the ground and clearly uncomfortable.

A small part of her felt good that she'd managed to help him again today, but she knew that her good deed would only last for so long. 'You could come back with me to the castle,' she offered hopefully. 'I'll make sure they feed you properly, however often you need.'

He only withdrew from her further, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. 'I don't want your charity.'

'Can I give you money?' she asked anyway, reaching back into her satchel.

'They'd only think I stole it,' he said sullenly, scuffing his foot against the ground and she noticed how worn his shoes were, the badly stitched seams straining as though he was growing out of them. She was momentarily horrified at the thought of all of the shoes that she'd thrown away because she just didn't like them anymore. 'Else someone would steal it from me.'

She pulled out some coins anyway, picking out the coppers, closing the distance between them and stuffing them into his hand. 'A sweet old lady took pity on you,' she said, forcing an encouraging smile for him even though she was hurting inside so badly for him and all of the other people that she couldn't help. 'It's not enough to cause suspicion, right?' When he didn't say anything, she tried again. 'What's your name?'

Again he looked around them cautiously, but the street was still empty. She wondered how panicked her mother might be, but pushed down the twinge of guilt at the thought. 'Killian,' he said after a moment.

Killian. She smiled. 'I'm Emma,' she offered.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed, realizing that that he must have known that already. 'I can't call you that, though, can I... Your Highness?' he said, the title sounding awkward on his tongue. At least he hadn't tried to bow or anything.

'You can call me Emma,' she told him.

He didn't relax like she'd hoped, and she wondered whether he was always this skittish or whether it was just because she was there. 'Why did you help me?' he asked, his hands clenching into fists. 'Back in the marketplace last time. I stole, and you defended me. Why would you do that?'

Feeling off guard at his suddenly harder tone, Emma fell back a step, wringing her hands over the empty cloth. 'Because it didn't feel right,' she told him honestly, remembering the terrified look on his face at the prospect of losing his hand. 'You were just hungry, not malicious... I just wanted to help you.'

He finally looked up at her again, his jaw now set into a hard line. 'I don't need your help,' he repeated, before turning and walking quickly away from her.

She watched him as he hurried down the street, his shoulders hunched and head lowered. At least he took your food, she thought, at least he took your coin. It didn't feel like enough, but she didn't know what else to do if he wouldn't accept her help.

The next few times Emma visited the marketplace she saw Killian again, usually crouched against the same wall, far enough away to not be suspicious but close enough to make claim to any scraps. She'd considered forcibly taking him to the castle with her, using the dwarfs to drag him there if necessary, but even though it made her feel ill to think about how he had to live, her mother had long ago taught her how wrong it was to make somebody do something against their will. Still, even though he was determined not to accept her help, she was just as firm about wanting to do what she could for him.

Since she'd ran away, the dwarfs had become less lenient with the space that they'd give her, following her closely throughout their time at the marketplace. Although she resented it, it was still better than not being able to go anymore at all, which had been her father's suggestion when he'd heard about her escapade. Because of her more diligent chaperones, she'd had to be more creative when she'd decided that she wanted to continue to help Killian, so she'd started a new routine on each visit.

As soon as they reached the marketplace, she'd buy fresh food from the closest vendors and take her dwarf to sit on one of the benches in sight of where Killian frequented. She'd pick at some of the food, fold the rest of it in cloth, and then pretend to drop it into her satchel. The first time, she was relieved to see Killian watching her when she glanced up at him, and hoped that he'd understand what she was doing when she looked pointedly down to her hand as she quietly dropped the small bundle on the ground beside the base of the bench. He frowned at her curiously, but her plan was centred on not drawing attention to him, so she flashed him a quick smile and then stood to take her accompanying dwarf back to the stalls.

Glancing cautiously over her shoulder as she turned around the corner, she sighed in relief when she saw Killian standing at her abandoned bench, peeking quickly inside the cloth before tucking the food into his shirt. It was only a little bit of help, but it was better than nothing.

Over the next few months, she made an effort to visit the marketplace every day that she could, some days going only with a dwarf by her side when her mother was too busy. She almost never spoke to Killian but she saw him every time, and most of her visits were filled with wondering what had happened to him for him to be alone on the street. Where were his parents? If they were alive, what had happened to them and if not, where were they and why would they leave their son alone? Where was he from, to have an accent like his, and how had he ended up here? She burned to ask him these questions and more, but was hesitant to draw attention to him since he'd so clearly wanted to avoid that.

In the end, it was he who approached her. She was looking at some beeswax candles when someone came up beside her, and she glanced up idly, expecting to see Grumpy but it was Killian who stood at her shoulder. Eyeing him cautiously for a moment, she turned her head slightly to see the dwarf standing a few metres away, talking to the cricket on his shoulder without taking his eyes off of her. With his easy smile, she turned back to the stall, picking up one of the candles and bringing it up to her nose to breathe in the sweet smell, trying to hide her curiosity as to why he'd approached her.

Just when she was starting to wonder if he was going to speak at all, he shuffled just slightly closer to her. 'I don't have any way to repay you,' he said under his breath, and even in his quiet tone, she could tell how frustrated he was by the fact.

'Maybe you could come by the castle and we could talk about it?' she said, taking her bottom lip between her teeth to stop herself from smiling as she watched him out of the corner of her eye to take in his reaction.

His lips twitched.

'You're not used to not getting what you want, are you?'

Returning the candle, she reached across him to select another one, using the movement to send him an innocent look. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' she murmured.

'Uhuh.'

As she straightened up, she stepped a little closer to him, her arm brushing against his. 'What about tonight?' she asked lightly, keeping her eyes carefully ahead. 'I'll be able to sneak out after I've gone to bed, I've done it before. I want to talk to you properly. Meet with me, and we'll call it even.'

'That's hardly even.'

She ignored his protest, telling him instead where she'd meet him and at what time, her tone leaving no room for argument. Even so, she thought that he was going to protest when he didn't respond immediately, but just when she was about to press him for affirmation he spoke. 'Fine. All right, fine, I'll meet you.' She glanced at him quickly, relieved to see that his smile was more wry than annoyed, unlike his tone suggested.

She returned to the castle that afternoon with a lighter heart.

It was an easy feat to sneak out of the castle after she'd retired to bed that night. She'd done it before, just to see if she could, and had quickly found that the gaps in the stonework underneath her window were the perfect size for her to jam the toes of her boots in when she climbed down. She wore the plainest tunic and breeches that she owned, throwing a cloak over her shoulders as an afterthought when she felt how cold it was outside. She knew where all the guards were and how to avoid them, so it was only a few minutes after she'd left her window that she was rushing toward the corner where she'd told Killian to meet her.

The only light on the street came from the lantern hanging outside the inn's door, and at first she couldn't see him when she arrived and thought that maybe he'd changed his mind. She was hesitating, unsure of how long she should wait, when she a hand closed gripped her upper arm, pulling her into the shadows, another hand closing over her mouth to stop her from crying out. Panic filled her and she started to struggle, but her attacker only tightened his grip.

'Hey, hey, stop,' a voice breathed against her ear and even though she'd only heard it a few times, she recognized it instantly as Killian's. She froze but didn't relax, not until he loosened his grip on her. Pulling away from him, she turned to face him angrily, her frustration growing when she saw the smirk on his face. 'Are you realizing how bad an idea this was, now?' he asked.

She scowled at him. 'I can take care of myself,' she told him confidently, and she meant it. Her father was teaching her to swordfight, and she was getting rather good at it.

'I believe that,' Killian said, and she felt an absurd swell of pleasure at the lack of sarcasm in his voice. 'But you're still too recognizable,' he continued, and she deflated instantly. 'If the wrong person sees you, you'll be in trouble. Even with me to protect you.'

She scoffed at the last part. 'This is the best I could do,' she said defensively.

Killian's eyes dropped from hers and she felt suddenly uncomfortable as his eyes wandered over her thoughtfully, his lips pursed. After a moment he reached forward, tugging at the cord holding her cloak around her neck, turning it so that the embroidered patterns on it were hidden on the inside and resettling it over her shoulders. His fingers brushed warmly against her skin as he tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled it back, raising the hood of the cloak to hide the brightness of her hair. 'That's better,' he said, stepping back. 'You could be any poor lad on the street now, as long as nobody looks close enough. Now, what did you want from me?'

The abrupt change in topic and tone caused Emma to blink at him dumbly for a few seconds. She'd forgotten for a moment that he'd come expecting to have to repay her in some way, and she still hadn't figured out a way to convince him that he didn't owe her anything. There was only so much that she could do for her people until she was older, and helping Killian where she could was at least a step in the right direction. She couldn't knowingly let him starve, but she was also finding out that he was too proud for his own good.

'What if I just want to talk?' she said with a tentative smile. He just raised his eyebrow sceptically, and she sighed. 'I'm serious,' she continued. 'Conversation for food.'

'That's hardly an even trade.'

'It is for me,' she told him. 'No one in the castle ever forgets that I'm the princess. They're either trying to get on my good side, or trying to tell me how to behave, or scared to have too much of a personality in case they say the wrong thing. You treat me just like a person.'

She only just made out the hard set of his jaw in the dim light. 'You don't know me. Nobody does.'

His words mirrored her thoughts exactly. 'Wouldn't you like someone to?'

He looked at her, just looked at her, then sighed. 'Come with me,' he said, reaching out and taking her hand, and she smiled because she didn't care how little she knew him just yet, that casual familiarity was exactly what she wanted.

Some of the alleyways were completely dark but he seemed to know his way regardless and Emma only tightened her grip on his hand, trusting him to lead her to wherever their destination was. He preferred to stay away from the main streets as much as he could, he told her quietly, to try and remain as invisible as possible and not cause trouble. She wondered if the idea of almost losing his hand still bothered him, or if he'd escaped something like that more often than she was aware of.

'Most of the best spots are taken,' he said as he guided her into the narrow gap between two buildings, the space lit just enough to see by the light coming from a high window on the house to the left. 'The spots with proper shelter, anyway. This isn't too bad though; no one really bothers me here because of it, but the missus in this house'll sometimes leave the backdoor open if it snows too much. She hides some food for me when she can, but I know they struggle enough as it is.'

She watched with sick fascination as he pulled a thin board of wood away from where it rested against the side of the building and retrieved what looked like a rather threadbare satchel. 'And if it rains?' she asked quietly.

He shrugged. 'If it rains I get a wash.' He shook a blanket out over the ground and turned back to her with a grin. 'You're lucky actually - I shouldn't smell too bad after the rain last night.'

Emma swallowed hard, unable to ignore the growing knot in her stomach. This wasn't right. 'Killian -'

'Don't,' he said, his voice hard again. 'If I hear anything like pity from you then the deal's off. I don't need the food that much.'

It was because she knew just how much of a lie that was that she pressed her lips together and nodded, not quite able to meet his eyes.

And so began a new routine. Every few nights Emma would sneak out of her bedroom and meet Killian at a prearranged place, then he'd take her back to the little nook that he called home. She took food for him each time, but it became just as much about spending time with him as it was about looking after him. She returned to her weekly visits to the marketplace during the day with her mother, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself and knowing that it would only be so long before someone noticed her just dropping food around each time. The visits at night were better anyway since she could actually speak to him.

He was hesitant to tell her much about himself at first, but she slowly learned all there was to know about him bit by bit. His mother had died long enough ago that his only memories of her were the sound of her voice and the comforting touch of her hand. He and his father had left their homeland - he didn't even know it's name - and had travelled from port to port before finally landing in Snow's kingdom. Killian had woken up on the docks with nothing but the clothes on his back, and had been left to fend for himself ever since. He thought he'd been six years old, but he wasn't sure.

He didn't know who his father was, or his last name. He remembered that he had a brother, but he'd gone away before he and his father had left his home and he wouldn't have been able to find him, even if he wanted to.

Emma didn't like talking about her life as a princess, not wanting to rub her privileged life in his face, but he seemed genuinely curious and demanded to know about her life if she was to know about his. So she told him about how she was learning to swordfight (ha, I'd love to see that!), how she was sick of all of the prissy, annoying girls her age in the castle (are you sure that you're not the annoying one?), about how Red's sense of smell had caught Grumpy in a broom closet with a fairy (that ugly brute? Surely not!).

Despite their very different lives, she found it far too easy to talk to him. Without even realizing it, she somehow found herself opening up to him on things that she'd never spoken to anybody about before. She told him about how nervous she was at the idea of having to live up to her mother's name when she one day became queen, how already she felt the burden of responsibility at being the sole heir. One night, she arrived in a huff of frustration, and he eventually managed to drag out of her that she'd had to spend the evening discussing potential suitors with her mother. 'I'm far too young to be worrying about that,' she said firmly, scowling at the opposite wall from where they sat side by side on his blanket.

She could almost feel him laughing at her, damn him. 'I thought most princesses were betrothed to pretty princes by now,' he teased.

The truth of that fact didn't help her mood. She sighed heavily. 'I know it's stupid, but I always thought I'd marry my true love like my parents did. They've always said that they wanted that for me, but now they're talking about names on paper like they should mean something.'

'Perhaps they're hoping that your true love will turn out to be a wealthy prince from an appropriate country,' he offered, his words ending in a mixture of laughter and protest when she hit his arm with the back of her hand.

'You're not helping,' she grumbled.

When Emma realized that the nights were getting colder, she tied an extra coat around her shoulders and went out into the night like usual. She'd had a big day, having ridden out into the forest with her parents to visit their friends Geppetto and Pinocchio, and she knew that she wouldn't last more than an hour or so before exhaustion overtook her, but she hadn't made it out to visit him for the last few nights either and she couldn't deny that she missed him. She wasn't the only one, she decided with a secret smile, when their eyes met and she watched relief smooth his features. 'I thought you'd forgotten about me,' he said, his tone carefully light as they fell into step side by side.

'Hardly,' she scoffed.

She waited until they'd reached the little nook where he slept before she untied the topmost cloak. 'Here,' she said, holding it out to him.

He stared at it, brows drawn together as though he were offended by it. 'No,' he said shortly, turning away and pulling his blanket out of his hiding place.

It was hard not to roll her eyes at his stubbornness. 'Killian -'

'I'm fine without it. I've been fine for the last eight years, and I'll fine for another night.'

Sitting down with his back against the wall, Killian drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them in a way that Emma was sure was supposed to be closed-off, but she couldn't miss the way that he shivered every few seconds. Since he'd found his things gone through and taken at the end of the last winder, all he had was his old, tattered clothes and the one blanket which they used to sit on, and although she respected that he was too proud to accept her help lightly, she was getting tired of watching him suffer. Untying her other cloak, she sat down beside him, throwing one cloak over their legs and the other around their shoulders. 'There,' she said, tugging at the cloak to make sure that it covered them properly, with just their heads poking out. 'Now we both get the warmth, plus the body heat.'

The silence stretched out between them but it wasn't awkward - it never seemed to be, not with Killian. Somehow, she'd found a friend in him unlike anything she'd had before. Eventually he relaxed, stretching his legs out and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his other hand closing around hers and she felt warm, both inside and out. It felt nice, being so close to somebody, and she wished then more than ever that she didn't have to hide their friendship like some dirty thing.

A big part of it was that she rather enjoyed Killian's warmth, more than just somebody's, but she wasn't sure that she was ready to tell him that, yet.

'I don't think I've ever said thank you,' he said, finally breaking the silence even if his voice was barely above a whisper. 'Not for anything, not even for that first day when you saved my hand. My life, even, if it had become infected. I think I'd have starved long ago if not for you, but it's more than that... You're the light in my days, Emma.' His hand tightened on hers and she squeezed it right back. It had been almost two years since they'd met, and she couldn't imagine not having him in her life anymore. 'Since my pa left, I'd been so alone -' His voice cut off with a rough sound but she didn't comment, just shuffled a little closer so that their sides were completely pressed together, offering her warmth and her comfort, giving whatever she could.

'You know you're not alone anymore, right?' she said gently, smiling sadly when his arm tightened around her shoulders because even when he mumbled his agreement, she wasn't sure that she'd ever convince him.

It wasn't until she yawned so hard that her jaw popped that she remembered just how tired she was, and Killian started to pull away. 'We should get you back to the castle.'

She shook her head and grabbed his other hand so that he couldn't pull away, not wanting to move out of her little bubble of warmth. 'In a minute.'

Emma woke an unknown amount of time later to Killian shaking her arm and the sound of his cursing. It took her a moment to realize that the clearness with which she could see his face meant that it was far later than she'd intended; they must have slept through most of the night.

One of the cloaks went around her shoulders, Killian quickly tucked her hair beneath the hood and then they were running through the streets. The sun had barely risen and there was only just enough light to see by but people were already up and about, and Emma weaved through them effortlessly, the cold breeze on her face and the excitement of cutting it so close enough to wake her quickly.

Knowing that she had to be more discreet with more people around, she stopped an extra street away from the hidden back gateway that she usually snuck through to get onto the castle grounds. She only had to make it there and then if someone came across her on her way to her rooms, she could find a reason for being up early and besides, she might be seen sneaking through her window in the daylight. Turning to Killian, out of breath and with a wide grin pulling at her cheeks, she was surprised to see him frowning deeply. 'What is it?'

'Will you be in trouble if you're caught?' he asked and she felt a twinge of warmth that he was worried for her.

She brushed it off, as well as his concern. 'I won't be caught,' she said confidently. She knew that she didn't have time to waste but still she hesitated. 'Meet me again tonight,' she said quickly, the words not quite a question because she was fairly sure that he enjoyed their time together as much as she did, and not just for the food (or so she hoped, more than she'd ever admit).

His frown only deepened, and she knew why without having to ask. She normally only came out every few nights to avoid suspicion and making too orderly routine which might be noticed, and very rarely two nights in a row. She held up her hand to stop him before he could protest. 'It's my birthday next week,' she told him, 'and in the next few days there'll be guests and I'll have to be up late entertaining them, and then a ball... I won't be able to come very often until they're gone,' she finished. She was already dreading how bored she'd be, knowing that half of the time would be spent being introduced to young men. 'I'll see you tonight?' she asked hopefully.

He paused just long enough to make her start to worry before he nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck. 'Aye, fine. But you can't fall asleep again...' His teasing words trailed off, his brow drawing together again and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to reach up and smooth it out. 'Where's your other cloak?'

She had to bite down on her lower lip in an attempt to look neutral, but she was sure she failed miserably. 'Hmm? What cloak?'

Killian's eyes narrowed and she laughed, taking a few steps backwards in the direction that she needed to go. 'You think you're so clever, don't you?' he said, annoyance and amusement warring on his face, but the light in his eyes was what she noticed the most.

'Always,' she told him, spinning on her heel and hastening back to the castle.

By the time Emma was free to retire for the night, she was about ready to collapse into a heap, but the events of the day had made it even more important that she get out to see Killian that night. It was a lot later than their usual meeting time when she approached the street corner where she met him, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him approach her from the shadow of the inn.

His features were carefully neutral as he walked toward her, but she could still make out the tightness around his eyes in the dim light. 'You're later than usual,' he said, stopping a pace or so away from her.

Emma stopped as well, a strange sense of foreboding settling over her at his demeanour. 'Some of the guests came early and I had to stay up and pretend to be interested until about half an hour ago, and we both know I didn't get as much sleep as normal last night.' Her bright smile faltered when he didn't return it. 'What's wrong?'

'If you keep sneaking out, you'll get caught,' he said quietly.

'I won't get caught -'

'But if you do?'

Emma huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and resisting the urge to roll her eyes. What was wrong with him tonight? 'So what if I do? I'll tell them that it was just this once, I was bored - it doesn't matter. It wouldn't be that bad.'

'And what if something happens to you while you're with me?' His voice remained low, but she could hear the frustration in it.

She cursed her guests for making her stay late if this was the kind of worry that it caused in Killian, but she found her own ire rising defensively. 'You know none of this would be a problem if you came to work in the castle.'

His eyebrows shot up. 'They wouldn't let you spend time with the help -'

'Excuse me? I'll spend my time with whoever I choose -'

'- and I've told you before that I don't want your bloody handouts!'

How had this spiralled so quickly out of control? She'd been so happy with the prospect of seeing him not five minutes ago, and now she couldn't figure out what she'd done wrong to make him so angry. 'You haven't had a problem taking food from me every other night for the last two years,' she said, trying for calmly detached but feeling anything but.

His answering laugh sounded harsh, but she caught a glimpse at what looked like self deprecation in his eyes with the sound and she finally understood. 'That's because I never thought you'd last anywhere near this long before you got bored,' he said, his mouth stretched into a sneer but his eyes hollow and even though she knew that he was only trying to push her away, her heart ached because she knew that he wasn't really lying. He stepped forward until he stood just inches from her. 'How much time are you going to throw away on trying to help me before you realize that nothing can? I don't even know why you still bother.'

I don't even know why you still bother.

The answer jolted through Emma like a punch to the gut and she started at him, her lips parting with an expulsion of surprised breath, because to her it was the most obvious thing her world but perhaps he still had to be shown. He was hurting, and maybe if she could convince him that she wasn't going anywhere, he'd be all right. Taking the half-step that closed the distance between them, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

It was the first time she'd kissed a boy and she wasn't sure what to expect. His lips felt warm and nice under hers but he only reacted by stiffening further and after an awkward moment she pulled back, staring up at him wide-eyed. Her cheeks started to burn immediately at the shocked look on his face. She'd thought that he might feel the same way, but if she'd misjudged him... 'Killian,' she began weakly.

Her words were cut off as he surged forward and kissed her, his arm wrapping around her waist and it was a good thing too as she all but sagged against him in relief. His other hand brushed at her cheek and it was just as gentle as the press of his lips on hers, the soft breath of her name as they parted and came back to each other, but completely at odds with the pounding of her heart - couldn't he hear that?

Eventually they pulled apart but not completely, their foreheads pressed together and their breath mingling between them. She felt almost too nervous to look at him but forced herself to meet his gaze, and she couldn't help the cautious smile at the dazed look in his eyes. 'I'm here because I want to be,' she told him, impressed with herself for sounding so firm. 'And nothing's going to change that. Not even you, you idiot.'

His answering laugh was more than a little shaky, but at least she seemed to have broken him out of his anger. 'I shouldn't presume to tell the princess what to do, aye?'

'You're damn right.'

She grinned at him, and felt relieved at his answering smile. 'Even when she's swearing like a sailor,' he said, pinching at her side.

'Especially then,' she said, leaning forward for another kiss.

She couldn't stay long that night but when she returned to her room she hardly slept, and couldn't stop her mind from wandering the following day. That night she pleaded illness and retired to her rooms early, barely waiting until nightfall to climb out of her window and make her way into the city.

Killian wasn't waiting by the inn but she wasn't too surprised by that despite the fact that she'd told him that she was going to sneak out for the third night in a row - the unusual lack of protest had made her feel warm inside because maybe he was just as excited to see her. It was earlier than she'd usually meet him and she didn't want to wait until he arrived at the inn, so she set off down the now familiar streets and alleys to his little home, her skin itching with the prospect of seeing him again.

A feeling of unease nudged at her, and she realized that she hadn't ventured further into the city by herself alone before. She ignored the part of her that shouted that it was nervousness about seeing Killian since kissing him because that was ridiculous. Nothing would change between them, surely? Aside from more kisses perhaps - he'd certainly seemed to enjoy them just as much as she had, and she felt a blush rising to her cheeks at the thought.

And she definitely didn't pick up her pace to see him quicker, of course not.

A few minutes later she reached his street, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her before she ducked into the narrow space between the two houses where he spent his nights. Disappointment made her shoulders drop when she saw that it was empty, but her breath caught in her throat when she noticed just how empty it was. The thin board of wood that usually hid his meagre belongings had been pulled from the wall, and his belongings were gone.

Maybe he's already left to meet me.

But why would he take everything with him?

He might have just taken his blanket with him. And maybe he's run out of the rest of his supplies.

So why would he leave his hiding place uncovered?

Hastening forward, she moved the board back into place, tugged her cloak tighter around her body and headed back to the inn. They easily could have missed each other if he'd used different streets than she had.

Emma held her breath as she approached the inn again, and forced down her worry when he wasn't there. It doesn't mean anything, she told herself, finding a shadowy corner to sit in that still gave her a good view of the inn. He'll turn up soon.

Except he didn't. Nor was he at the market the following day, or waiting for her the next night. He was just... gone.

'You look beautiful.'

Smiling despite herself, Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her father as he bowed over her hand, knowing that there were still a few more hours of the night left where she'd have to play the perfect princess. Still, when he drew her close and started leading her in the first few steps of the opening dance, she couldn't help but tease him a little for it. 'Not nearly as beautiful as you, I'm sure.'

His answering snort of laughter was just a little too audible, and she caught her mother's eye over David's shoulder. Snow shook her head at her in exasperation before returning her attentions to her own dance partner, tonight's guest of honour.

Emma had paid only enough attention to the newly decorated captain in Snow's navy to appear polite because, even though she knew that the celebration of his promotion was a genuine affair considering the feats he'd achieved to earn it, she also knew that her parents would unashamedly use the occasion to encourage her to find a husband.

To be fair, they'd never pushed her in a serious way toward anyone, and had never tried to force her to marry, but their gentle prompting was lately becoming more and more frequent. She knew that as the sole heir, she had a duty to her parents and her people to continue their line, and there were plenty of men put in her reach that she was sure would have made both reasonable and beneficial matches, but still she hesitated. She was nineteen now, and even though she was becoming more and more sure that she wouldn't find an all consuming love like her parents', a small part of her was unable to let go of that hope.

Except that wasn't quite all of it. She was nineteen years old now, but every time she considered a suitor, she couldn't ignore the sudden flash of bright blue eyes and a smile of promise.

Which was stupid, she thought as the dance finished and she stepped back from her father and dropped into a curtsy in response to his bow. It had been five years since Killian had left - which had to be what had happened, she wouldn't humour the thought that he might have been killed (except for when she was at her loneliest, lying in bed at night when she should have been with him, wondering where he was and praying to anyone who would listen that he was safe).

She'd looked for him every night for a week when she'd found him gone, and continued to visit the marketplace as often as possible for far longer than that in the hope that he'd turn up again, but there hadn't been a sight of him. She'd even gone as far as to approach the woman who had helped him on some of the colder nights, but after she'd convinced her that she didn't mean Killian any harm, all she'd found out was that she hadn't seen him since the last night that Emma had. To almost everyone else, he was just another nameless, faceless homeless kid to be wary of, and eventually she'd had to come to terms with the fact that he was gone and not coming back.

It was stupid for her to let his memory come between herself and a good match for her family, but she couldn't help it. They'd only shared a few kisses and just that one night, but it had been more than just that one night, especially for her. He had been the first person who she purely felt herself around and despite the sneaking around and their situation, she'd never felt such a sameness again as she did with him, and she couldn't bring herself to commit herself to someone that she just knew wouldn't be enough.

Not yet, anyway, she tried to convince herself. She just needed a little more time.

When her father stepped back the new captain took his place, bowing deeply over her hand when she offered it to him. She knew that he'd been a favourite of David's for quite some time, although he spent most of his time away on some mission or other. On this most recent one, he'd been the key factor in securing some decision changing information in an important alliance, and so had been gifted with a ship of his own, a shiny new title and a ball in his honour. He hadn't been unkind on the eyes either, when she'd spotted him earlier. In other words, a promising suitor in her parent's eyes.

Jones straightened and smiled at her before stepping close enough to place his hand at a respectable height on her waist, but he drew back slightly when the music sprang up again and she didn't move. 'Your Highness?' he said uncertainly.

It was as though she saw a ghost in the bright blue eyes staring back at her and she felt frozen in place, her heart clenching as though a hand squeezed it tightly. His hair was too short, too fair, and a little curly, his face a little rounder, but those eyes were the ones that had haunted her dreams almost every night for the last five years.

It wasn't until his fingers flexed that she realized that she had clenched her hand around his, and she loosened it to a more appropriate grip, looking away because she couldn't bear the thought of meeting his eye for too long. 'I apologise, Captain Jones,' she said, hating the strain in her voice but surprised that she could speak at all around the lump in her throat. How could his memory still affect her so, this many years on? Placing her other hand lightly on his shoulder, she let him lead her through the familiar motions of the dance. 'You reminded me of somebody that I knew, once.'

'Liam, please,' he offered, and she nodded. 'You might have seen me here on occasion, but I must confess to not having spent much time at court for the past few years. My service to your family has kept me long away.'

They spoke a little while they danced, but Emma found herself distracted, sinking further and further into her own thoughts as she went from partner to partner, grateful for her lessons so that she at least didn't make a fool of herself, even if she can't have been too entertaining. Her back and her feet started to ache, a tightness forming in her stomach and suddenly the room seemed far too crowded. As soon as the music stopped, she stepped back from her current partner, offering him a quick smile and a hasty thank you before she turned, intent on escaping out onto the balcony for a moment of solitude.

Instead, she almost ran into the person who had been standing right behind her. She opened her mouth for a quick apology but the words never came because the sea blue eyes that stared back at her with so much feeling were this time set into a much more familiar face.

There was no mistaking him, even though he'd certainly grown and changed since she saw him last. He was taller than her, now, his cheeks bearing a light dusting of scruff, and he seemed to have filled out into his lanky body. He definitely wasn't the scrawny, starving boy that she'd known once upon a time, but at the same time he was painfully familiar.

'Killian?' she whispered, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

He smiled at her shyly and she felt a strange fluttering start in her stomach. He bowed before her, and it was only when he straightened and held out his hand that she realized his naval uniform. 'Your Highness,' he said, and her eyes wanted to drift closed at the sound of his voice but she couldn't look away. 'May I have the honour of the next dance?'

Slowly, unable to breathe or think or believe that this was real, Emma reached out and placed her hand in his, biting down hard on her lip to stop it from trembling when his fingers closed around hers because he was here, she was touching him. He tugged her forward gently and she raised her hand to his shoulder automatically, her skin tingling even through her dress where his hand settled at her waist.

'It's a lovely ball,' he said conversationally, and she had to tighten her grip on his shoulder to stop herself from reacting in frustration at his casual attitude.

'I couldn't care less about the bloody ball,' she said, her voice thick with emotion but he only grinned down at her. 'How are you here? Where have you been? I thought... I thought...' Now that he was standing in front of her, looking healthier than she'd ever seen him, her biggest worry pushed through all of her defences, the fear that he'd died somewhere, cold and alone, the possibility weighing her down for so long.

His grin faded slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 'I'm sorry, Emma,' he said, his voice low and comforting. 'I wanted nothing more than to find you and say goodbye, to tell you that I was leaving, but there was no time. My brother found me -'

'Liam,' she said, feeling relief hit her and the realization because she hadn't been crazy for seeing her childhood friend in a man that she'd just met.

'Liam,' Killian agreed. 'He was already in your navy but I didn't know, and likewise he didn't know that I was here until he came across me in the street. He only had an hour before his ship was about to cast off, so there was no time to wait until nightfall to see you.'

'All this time, you've been all right,' she breathed, barely able to believe it. 'I looked for you all night, and for days afterward. I was so scared for you.'

Killian's arm tightened around her, drawing her in a little closer. It was one thing to see the difference, but she could feel from her grip on his shoulder, and the occasional press of his body when they stepped too close, just how much he'd filled out. He looked happy, healthy. 'I'm sorry,' he said again quietly, and she watched his throat move as he swallowed. 'But I couldn't not go with him. He hadn't known that our pa had left me, and he said that he had to make it right. I knew that joining the navy to stay with him would keep me away from you, but I'd hoped...'

His voice trailed off, suddenly uncertain, and she pulled back enough to see his face. They'd drifted closer still while they'd been dancing but she didn't have a care for propriety, not now. 'You hoped?' she prompted.

His smile was gone now, replaced by a look of such sincerity that the expression alone made her heart jump. 'I've been working hard to make a good name for myself,' he told her, and she thought she caught sight of a slight red tinge to his cheeks. 'I'm a lieutenant now, and Liam thinks I should be a captain myself within a few years, and... Liam tells me I'm a fool for this, but... hopefully somebody that a princess's parents would approve of for their daughter.'

Emma's feet stopped moving, her grip tightening on him to keep him close to her, vaguely noticing that the song was ending anyway so at least they wouldn't bring more attention to themselves. There were too many emotions thrumming through her, the strongest one still relief but it was all going to her head and just like before, she needed some air, some space. Stepping back from him, she kept her fingers threaded tightly through his and led him through the crowd, studiously avoiding her parents gaze.

She couldn't count on the balcony to be empty and her need for privacy was greater than her need for air, so she led him through the hall doors, down the corridor and around the corner before she stopped, turning to face him. He'd followed her without protest, but now he watched her with an apprehension that was completely justified as anger swelled within her.

Dropping his hand, she placed hers on his chest and pushed hard enough to make him take a step back. 'You don't just... up and leave me, not after...'

'I know,' he said quietly, his voice full of regret and a sad acceptance of whatever she wanted to throw at him. His hand tried to close over hers but she shook it off, pushing him again, fighting against the burn of tears behind her eyes.

'And now what, you're going to be off again with the next tide?' Was he just here to tease her with his presence before he had to leave her again?

This time when his hand grabbed hers, he held it too tightly for her to shake off. 'Not the next, but likely soon. Liam has to prove himself as Captain now, and he'll have a need of me. I've made something of myself, Emma, I can't just throw that away.'

He was just as proud of himself as she realized that she was of him, standing before her in his uniform, and she knew that she couldn't hold that against him. But what torture, to hold him close when soon he'd be leaving again. He'd said he wanted to be a man her parents would approve of, and there was only one reason that she could think of for why he'd have to be. 'Why are you here, Killian?' she asked, needing him to say it.

He seemed to hesitate but then he straightened, staring down at her earnestly. 'You were the only person who saw through the dirt and the theft and didn't find me lacking, you were my only friend when I had no one else. When I had nothing else. I loved you when I was fourteen and seeing you now, I don't feel foolish for thinking of you every day since I left.' He took a hesitant step closer, but she barely heard his light footstep over the pounding of her heart in her ears. 'I was hoping that, despite everything, you might feel the same.'

She didn't have words to articulate the mess that was her thoughts, certainly not a heartfelt speech like that, but she didn't need the words, not really. She knew how she felt, couldn't deny it to herself any longer. Closing the distance between them so quickly that he stumbled back against the wall, she took his face between her hands and pulled his head down to her, kissing him with all of the relief and pain and love that she felt for him, sighing when his hands settled on her hips to hold their bodies together.

It felt so right and familiar, but it wasn't quite the same as their previous kisses. Neither of them were children any longer, and they had the added sense of loss and desperation between them now. And there was so much more need than she'd been able to feel at fourteen. She couldn't hold him tightly enough, couldn't touch him enough, couldn't kiss him deeply enough.

When they eventually broke apart, she felt relieved and even a little proud that he seemed to be just as out as breath as she was. She pressed her forehead against his, unwilling to put much more space between them than that, not yet. 'I love you,' he whispered against her lips, and she could see the truth of his words shining at her from his eyes.

'I love you,' she told him, her heart swelling when he pulled her closer, dropping his face against her neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes, simply holding each other a little too tightly and breathing each other in, the ball going on down the corridor the furthest thing from her mind.

'I missed you so much,' he murmured eventually, and she shivered at the way his lips brushed against the soft skin of her neck. Oh yes, they'd both definitely changed in the last few years, and she couldn't wait to learn all of the new things about him. 'I'm sorry,' he told her, pulling back enough that she could see his face. 'For everything.'

'It's all right,' she said, smiling up at him again as she reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead. 'You have all the time in the world to make it up to me.'

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