This was written for candycanekillian on tumblr, who requested a royal fic between two of our favorite Once characters. Unfortunately, my computer crashed so I lost everything I had outlined. I'm sorry if it's a hot mess and fast-paced. In a haste, I whipped this out in an attempt to give Halle something today. It isn't beta'd either so all mistakes are mine. Still, I hope everyone who reads enjoys! Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays!

She's always despised gowns, dressing up, pretending to be someone she isn't. Plastering a smile on her face while she dances with stranger after stranger, placating her parents in hopes of finding her prince and future husband is something that has never struck her fancy. Still, she does as they request because it is tradition and she will obey.

"Are you almost ready?

"I suppose." Emma looks in the mirror, and finds her father staring at her reflection. She straightens out her flowing skirt, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles and turns around, shrugging. "Fortunately, this will be the final ball I have to suffer through."

"Suffer," her father chuckles. "You act as though you're about to be flogged."

She gives a small smile in return. "This will be the final ball I have to suffer through," she says again.

He nods, and she knows he knows how much she hates these events. They're not her style, never have been, and she's reminds him every year of it, but rules are rules and the rules state a princess must find her companion before her twenty-first year. If she doesn't, then she is forbade from ever becoming Queen and ruling herself. Luckily, status does not matter, but her parents would never agree upon allowing her to choose the partner she truly wants, has wanted since she first met him three years prior.

"Emma?" her mother calls, walking into her room, her fluffy skirt grasped in each hand to keep from stepping on it, "Your guests are waiting." Her daughter rolls her eyes and she laughs. "You never know. Perhaps your future husband is among them." She smiles softly, but it falls at the look on Emma's face. "What's the matter?"

The princess shakes her head. "Nothing of importance." She sidesteps her father and asks, "Do I look presentable?"

"You look beautiful."

Emma nods appreciatively. "Then let's get this over with."

Tonight is the last night she'll have to suffer.

He's been watching her, the stunning woman he can't keep his eyes off of.

She's graceful, his stunning swan, but dances with man after man who can't begin to keep up with her. They try and lead, but somehow she overpowers them, and suddenly they're the ones following. It's as though she's trying to rush through each number, and then each new partner seems to get lost in the routine that has become her night.

His nights with her have always been so much more, their dancing being more of the horizontal variety.

Every turn around the dance floor becomes more tense, and her movements become more and more stiff, so when she suddenly breaks away from one of the many nameless buffoons and hurries in the opposite direction, he isn't surprised. She's rushing out of the ballroom and he's quick to chase after her. Her heels click furiously as she tries to run as fast as she can to escape the party before bursting through the front doors and escaping into the night's cold, winter air.

"Emma!"

"I'll return in a moment," she says, puffs of fog spilling from her lips as she gasps for breath. "I just needed some fresh air."

"You and I both know, you need more than air." He walks up to her, caressing the side of her face, stroking her jaw back and forth with the pad of his thumb. "You looked miserable…I hated that for you."

"They'll never understand," she whispers. "There are no limits as to what status my choice needs to be, but they'd never be amenable to it. Station matters to them, Killian, but I can't –"

"Shhhh." He takes her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin and pressing the top of her blonde hair. "It's alright. You don't need to explain, I know."

"You do?"

"Your father, and your mother, only have your best interest at heart." He pulls away from her, and he stares into her emerald eyes.

He's the King's favored Knight, close confidant, and friend. He does whatever he's ordered to do, guards and protects his family, caters to his every need. It was when the King requested for him to watch over his daughter while he was at battle, that everything changed.

He fell for her the moment their eyes first met. Love at first sight had never proved truer than when he saw his Swan for the first time.

He knew it was wrong to be eavesdropping, but the conversation had escalated in volume and he was unable to resist. His latest task was to protect the King's Wife and Daughter while he fought with his army for Mist Haven against the vicious Ogres. He was listening from the other side of the door of what he presumed to be the princess's bedchambers.

"I'm eighteen! I'm not a child in need of babysitting!"

"It's only while your father is gone!" his Majesty said. "He's only making sure you are safe! You are free to do as you wish – he's only to be keeping an eye on you."

"I can keep an eye on myself!" the voice retorted haughtily. "I'm against this!"

"You've no choice," Queen Mary-Margaret snapped. "I will not allow you to speak to me in that voice, young lady, nor will I tolerate you treating Killian poorly either. You will respect me, and you will respect him."

The Queen was met with silence and Killian smirked, until the door was thrust open and he was nearly cast on his arse, and his gaze fell on the princess for the first time. "Your highness," he quickly addressed, righting himself and bowing. "If I may introduce myself…"

"I know who you are," she replied shortly. A voice cleared and Emma looked to her mother, who raised a challenging brow. The princess sighed. "Go on."

"Sir Killian Jones," he said, reaching for her hand and brushing his lips across the back of it. Her skin was so soft. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She scoffed, though her voice wobbled a bit as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth. He fought back a smug grin. "Charmed, Jones."

"You and I are going to be spending a bit of time together, I hear."

"Yes," she nodded. "It seems so."

"Let's have a little fun then, shall we?"

And such fun, they had. Walks around the courtyard getting to know each other went from stilted sentences to fluid, engaged conversation. Awkward and clipped discussion about the war during meals morphed into comfortable, fun games such as "Would You Rather," consisting of options like, "Would You Rather be a wolf or a mouse?" and "Would You Rather have magic, or be able to fly?"

Over the course of those two weeks together, they grew to be inseparable. Her mother noticed, but when Emma went to sleep the final night of King David's absence, she had warned him. He would never agree to their union, that regardless of status, he would not allow someone who was subject to assault to be with his daughter. And he understood.

"Emma, I love you. If prestige is what is needed to capture your heart, then it will never be mine. Knights aren't worthy of a royal's love. I'm no different, I know. I've accepted it."

"I don't care. I'll run away if I have to. They'll never see me again! They –"

"Will be devastated," he cuts her off. "They love you so much, Emma, and I won't allow more than one heart to be broken tonight."

"Too late." He flinches at the strained tone in her voice, the way a tear slips down her cheek. "Killian, I don't care. I want to be with you," she cries. "I choose you!"

"And I, you, love." He takes her hand in each of his, and lifts it to his lips. "I will never, ever, abandon you, but I cannot allow you to do the same to them. They are your family –"

"So are you!"

He winces, and his hold on her hand grows tighter. "Emma."

"I love you, Killian. We're meant to be together, so let us be!" She hastily wipes away another tear. His brave Swan, never wanting to show weakness. "Please don't do this.""

He doesn't want to, but his father was clear. "I must."

"You're going to leave?"

"For now. You need to live the life you deserve, with a man who isn't subject to danger – I'm dangerous. Your father's enemies are mine. I'll always be watching over you, Emma, but I cannot allow you to be at risk when I can prevent it from the start."

He takes a deep breath, gathering the strength he needs to leave her, and then he drops her hand. Walking away, he clenches his jaw to keep his own tears at bay. They need space, though the separation from her instantly leaves him feeling numb. He wonders if she feels as he does…until the sound of her sobbing answers for him.

Seven Weeks Later

"Emma?"

"One moment, please!" She wipes her mouth with the back of her arm, regaining her breath. She stands on shaky legs and grabs a cloth, wiping her mouth a second time before moving toward the basin and rinsing out her mouth. She's never before thrown up as much as she has in the last week. She opens the door and her attendant is there waiting for her, watching worriedly. "I'm fine, Johanna."

"Are you sure, dear?" A hand meets her forehead. "You're as pale as winter's first snowfall."

She nods, and gives a weak smile. "Tired, stomach virus must be circulating the castle."

Johanna purses her lips, staring at her with doubt. "No one else is ill, Princess."

"Then perhaps I am the first," she grumbles, before leaving her washroom and walking towards her bed. She believes she knows the true reason for her upset stomach.

He doesn't know, and she can't tell him because he hasn't returned. He's alive, she knows, because she would feel if he was no longer on Earth. He promised to be watching over her, but the only sign of that promise consisted of suitors failing to arrive to their arranged meetings. Ever the jealous ex. She nearly smiles at the thought, because by watching over her, he must have meant judging whether her suitors were appropriate…and then deeming them unworthy.

Every. Single. Time.

"Would you like me to send for a doctor?"

Emma shakes her head, climbing up onto her mattress and curling into a ball. "That won't be necessary, Johanna. I only need rest."

"You're certain?"

"Yes," she snaps, and her maid jumps. "I'm sorry…yes. Yes, I'm certain. Please leave me be now."

"Yes, your highness."

And then she's alone…though she isn't entirely. Wherever you are, Killian, I hope you've found happiness, she thinks, as her hand falls on her abdomen. She may be scared, and though she misses him more than anything, she's carrying a piece of him. And she's happy.

"Emma?" a smooth voice lilts, pulling her from a dream so vivid she could have sworn it was real. "Love, please wake up."

Her eyes open, slowly adjusting the bright light of morning and beginning to focus on someone who she hasn't seen in so long. Is this really him? "Killian?"

"Aye," he smiles sheepishly, whispering. His eyes go wide, and the look on her face must be terrifying because he looks frightened.

He should be.

He disappeared on her.

"Swan –"

"Don't Swan me," she hisses. "Where did you go?"

"I told you…I needed to separate from you for a while."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter," he frowns. "I made a terrible mistake."

"You did."

"I thought I was doing right by you, but I was hurting, and hurting you as well. I never meant for that to happen. Your father sent for me."

"He did?"

"Yes," he nods vehemently. "He denied each request for your meeting and demanded I come home at once." It wasn't Killian. It was her father who was keeping her away from those suitors. "He told me you hadn't been yourself, and that I needed to return. So, here I am. Forgive me?" He reaches for her hand, exhaling when she allows his touch. His brows furrow when her eyes shut, and squirms a bit. "Emma?"

"I'm fine, I just…I need to tell you something."

"Well, don't keep a man waiting," he chuckles, the sound dying on his lips at the scowl she sends his way. He understands. He kept her waiting on him for months. "My apologies, princess; please continue."

"My father was right to tell you I haven't been the same since you left." She bites her lip before saying, "I think it's only fair to tell you that I have someone in my life, someone who will love me unconditionally."

The stricken look on his beautiful face is enough for tears to fill her eyes. "Killian, you left me with more than a goodbye."

He shakes his head, confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"My maid thinks I have a stomach bug, but my monthly visitor hasn't been anywhere to be found in over two weeks." He stills, and she knows he's caught on. "Your absence hurt, but someone has filled that void." His eyes fall to her still-flat belly and he swallows. Hard. "It's yours, if you haven't put that together yet."

Still, he remains silent.

She nods, pulling her knees up to her chest, and eying him warily, letting him to absorb the news for as long as he needs. She's had much more time to come to terms with it than he has. He's only had minutes. More minutes pass until she can't take the silence any longer, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to say something, her stomach lurches, sending her rushing to the washroom to purge her dinner from the night before.

Before the first round even ends, she feels her hair lift off her neck and firm circles being rubbed into her back. "It's alright," his voice promises, "You'll be alright."

She wants to tell him to leave, but before she can her stomach tightens again, and she heaves once more.

"Gods, love, I am so sorry."

She pants heavily, gulping for air and pushing the hair off her face, moving away from him. "I need to wash up...so, please…if you don't mind waiting outside."

He says quietly, "As you wish."

Days pass. He's struggled to regain her trust, while he's not truly done anything wrong, she's afraid of letting him in again, only to be left a second time. The King has been watching them closely, searching for signs of tension, but the only tension has come from him.

He has been such a fool. He thought he was doing what was best for Emma, but he only ended up hurting her. If he'd accepted her love for what it was, instead of questioning it, then they wouldn't have any issues. He wouldn't have left. He would have braved her father's wrath. He would have stood unwavering by Emma's side as they told him they were together, that his heart was hers, that she was his.

But that is not how it is.

She tries to forgive him, but it's difficult. He accepts it. This is his fault. She allows him near her for the babe's sake, but will not allow any affectionate touching that are directed at her. He has to earn that, he knows, as he stands guard outside of Emma's chambers.

Just because she's still upset with him, doesn't mean he's going to stop doing his duty.

"Killian?" Queen Mary-Margaret's voice is urgent as she races around the corner and towards him. "Killian! The King has been poisoned, send for help!"

Emma rips the door open and with fear in her eyes she orders for him to go, "Now!"

Without any more hesitation, he's off, searching for the royal physician with haste.

Hours later, the physician emerges, looking fatigued.

"He's alive," he says, and relief washes over the people waiting.

Upon the news of the King's being poisoned, she was right behind Killian. Though, instead of following him to the doctor, she'd raced to her father, where he was tucked under piles of sheets, sweating profusely, barely awake and delirious.

She'd taken his hand in hers, and in the midst of his delirium, he had very clearly expressed his apology to Emma not choosing Killian, if he had any hand in her decision. That he hadn't meant for her to ignore her heart, that she should follow it with everything inside of her. That if she felt anything for him at all, she would forgive him – he could tell she was angry, even though she'd thought she had done well with hiding it. He'd told her stop being so stubborn.

When the doctor had finally arrived, Killian had been waiting in the doorway, surveying the area with wild eyes, trying to find a point of entry that could have led to the night's events. When he found none, she'd watched him angrily turn around and exit her parents' chambers.

Too afraid to leave her father to follow him, she'd let Killian walk away.

Now that he's okay, and with the King's insistence, Emma decides that she needs to accept that while what Killian had done was wrong, she knew he regretted, and she needed to stop punishing him.

She finds him sitting in the gazebo, in the Royal Courtyard, staring into the night. It's snowing, and Emma brought an extra coat for him in case he forgot his own.

He did.

"Hi." His eyes snap to hers and he stands, bowing formally and Emma frowns. "That isn't necessary."

"Isn't it?" he snaps and Emma licks her lips nervously. "It's bloody freezing tonight, you need to go back inside."

"I'm warm, though you look the opposite." She moves closer to him, handing him the oversized leather coat that he preferred over fur. "Here."

"Thank you…"

"Stop it," she pleads. "I don't like this tension, Killian. This….this formality? It isn't us."

"I don't like it either, Emma, but I don't know what else to do." He rubs at his neck and throwing out his arms. "I loved you so much, and I shot that to hell. I got you with child, and I'm supposed to be your father's protector…and he nearly died under my supervision."

"We'll find whoever poisoned him." She shakes her head. "Don't blame yourself for that."

"He's the father of the love of my life. And I nearly got him killed." He meets her gaze. "I haven't been focused since my return, I've spent every moment thinking of ways to get you to forgive me and it left the King vulnerable to attack and –"

"I forgive you," she interrupts, cupping his face in her hands, stroking his scruffy jaw and smiling at the way his sea blue eyes brighten immediately. " I know we have a lot to work through, but I do. I forgive you," she says again before he catches her lips with his own. Instantly, everything falls into place, both hearts swell, and their kiss leaves the other speechless. When they finally pull away to catch their breaths, something catches Emma's eye She tilts her head to the ceiling of the gazebo and laughs. "Sir Killian?"

"Yes, my princess?"

"Look up."

Doing as she requests, he sees a simple holiday sprig with a red ribbon hanging. "Mistletoe."

"Whoever did this…"

"Is my bloody hero," he answers for her, pulling her close, eyes dropping to her stomach before dropping to one knee. She gasps, and he smiles. "Emma?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to allow me to make a dashing proposal?"

"No," she laughs, pulling him back to his feet, "Come here," she breathes, pressing her lips to his.

Seven months later, the newlywed couple welcomes the birth of their son, and future Prince, Liam Jones.