A little two-part Olympic themed AU since that's all I've been watching for the last week! Note - I don't know how the Olympic archery competition actually works in terms of scoring, etc, I'm just making it fit the fic and not really aiming for accuracy (no pun intended).

Citius, Altius, Fortius

Faster, Higher, Stronger

The holding area underneath the stadium was packed, athletes, coaches and officials all milling about in their Opening Ceremony uniforms. Rio 2016 was about to begin, and the Parade of Nations was all lined up and ready to go.

Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven stood at the head of her delegation. A small principality tucked between Switzerland and Germany, they were not known for their prowess at the Summer Games. A few of her countrymen competed on the World Cup ski circuit and they had three Olympic medals in downhill racing, one bronze and two silvers, but no one had ever won gold.

The flagpole was smooth in her hands, the Misthaven standard wrapped securely around it. Emma shuffled forward as the delegation from Mexico just ahead started to move. There was over a hundred of them, in stark contrast to the four athletes who stood just behind her. None of them were considered medal favourites in their disciplines, the only one who stood a chance of bringing home victory and Olympic glory was her.

"No pressure," she muttered under her breath.

"Doing all right there, Your Highness?"

Emma forced herself to smile, turning towards the voice. It belonged to Liam Jones, one of her two new bodyguards. A former member of British Special Forces, he had gone into private security work with his brother, her other bodyguard. Security at Rio had been a concern since the Games had been awarded to the Brazilian city, and Emma was no ordinary athlete. They were dressed up as officials, but they'd been specially hired by her parents to accompany her to the Games.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Mexico moved forward again and she could see the light at the end of the tunnel, growing larger as they approached. Each country was being announced to thunderous cheers, and soon it would be their turn to enter the stadium and greet the world.

"Dammit!"

The strap that held the flag rolled shut refused to open, it was just a simple snap closure but her fingers were shaking with sudden nerves. Emma had been photographed for Vogue magazine multiple times, her birthday was a national holiday and her first major heartbreak had been front-page fodder for all the trashy European tabloids for weeks, but this was different. Being a princess wouldn't matter one damn bit in competition, she would win or lose strictly on her own merits. It was exhilarating...and terrifying all at the same time.

"Here. Let me."

A large hand filled her vision and the next thing she knew the strap was open. Emma glanced up and met the blue eyes of Killian Jones, standing so close that they were almost touching. He slipped his hand back into his pocket and winked, "After you, Princess."

There was no time to even say thank you because Mexico was out of the tunnel and the two stagehands on either side of it were frantically signalling her to go. Killian took a step back as she hefted the pole and the flag unfurled, her family's ancient crest splashed across the middle of it.

"MISTHAVEN!"

It flew against the open air of the sky above and Emma felt like she was flying too, her feet scarcely touching the ground as she led her delegation into the stadium. But even though it was the happiest moment of her life she still felt a pang in her chest, a twinge of disappointment that her family was not in the stands cheering her on. They had wanted to come, but the security issues with having both the sovereign and the heir attend the Games had proved impossible to overcome. Still, she knew they were watching at home, her father had texted her a picture of them sitting on the couch in their pyjamas with a big bowl of popcorn and miniature Misthaven flags.

Good luck, honey! We're with you in spirit!

She smiled into the TV cameras, not her practiced, closed-mouth smile for official photos and appearances, but the big, toothy grin that was saved for private moments like catching her mom raiding the big fridge in the palace kitchen at midnight or the drives around their country estate in the battered old pickup truck her dad refused to get rid of even though he was a prince by marriage now. Emma waved the flag higher and watched it snap and ripple in the wind.

Mom, Dad, this is for you.

...

The sun had yet to rise when they arrived at the practice facility located far from the action taking place closer to downtown. Emma hopped out of the SUV with a ballcap pulled low on her forehead and immediately went to the rear of the car to retrieve her gear. Only to be beaten by Killian, who already had the back open and was eyeing the large bags.

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to touch anything. I assume you're probably picky about how your equipment is handled."

"Yeah," Emma said, relieved that she didn't have to spell it out for him. She slung one bag over her shoulder and grasped the other by the handles.

"I'm happy to assist-"

"I don't believe in treating bodyguards like personal assistants," she interrupted him, "It's not your job to carry my shit around for me."

Surprise flashed across his face, "You're the first client who has ever said that."

Graham appeared on his other side and reached around him to grab his own bag, "Ready, Emma?"

Her coach had been unable to attend the opening ceremony with her thanks to a snafu with his credentials being mixed up with someone else's, but everything had been straightened out and they were ready to get started on their last few training sessions before the competition began. She saw Killian eye him with a bit of suspicion, she supposed it was part of his job to second guess everyone around her.

Liam insisted on going in first and Killian immediately fell into step at the rear. Emma had been a bit...surprised when she'd first met the brothers back home before the Games, while Liam looked like every other ex-military man who'd moved into the private sector, haircut that was still regulation, perfect posture from years of standing at attention, Killian was...not. His hair was long, brushing his collar in the back, he slouched, shoulders back, hips tilted slightly forward and hand in his pocket.

Hand. Singular.

A one handed bodyguard seemed like a joke, but Jones Brothers Security had been highly recommended to her parents and their clients were among the richest and most famous people in the world. She didn't know how he had lost his left hand, she assumed it happened in the service. Iraq, Afghanistan, she knew what went on in the world. Her future role as sovereign was largely ceremonial, but she was well schooled in international politics. Killian wore a high tech prosthetic on his wrist and he managed so well that she stopped noticing it most of the time.

After doing a sweep of the area Liam cleared them to start training. He and his brother kept a respectful distance and made themselves as unobtrusive as they could, while Emma flipped open the specially made case that held her bow.

Archery was a solitary sport. The rest of the world faded away and there was nothing except her and the target in the distance. You either hit the bullseye or you didn't, there was no way around it. Emma quickly fell into the familiar rhythm, the tiny vibrations in the bow string while she pulled it taut against her cheek, the soft whistle when she let each arrow fly and the "thwack" when it hit the mark.

Graham made minute corrections to her form, hands on her hips to guide her into place and his arm over hers. He stepped back to make notes and Emma fixed her ponytail, smoothing back the strands that had come loose. She caught a glimpse of the Jones brothers, watching avidly. Liam gave her a smile and a thumbs up and she almost laughed, he seemed the more stoic of the two and she hadn't expected that. But Killian….

Killian Jones was staring at her. His face was shadowed, but there was clearly heat in that gaze. He caught her watching and a lazy smile spread across his face, his thumb hooking in his belt while he rocked back on his heels. Emma felt her eyebrow lift, was he trying to come on to her? She was no stranger to getting hit on, but not usually at six o'clock in the morning while she was dressed in sweats and holding a deadly weapon.

The next shot she took was bang on, hitting the target right in the centre.

"Good form."

Emma looked over her shoulder while Graham frowned, "Please, no comments during practice, Mr. Jones."

"Sorry mate," Killian said, not sounding sorry at all, "Won't happen again."

He flashed her another smile that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, one that she definitely hadn't felt for a while. But now was not the time for that, so she turned away from him and nocked another arrow. This was the Olympics, her lifelong dream and the chance to show the world that Crown Princess Emma was more than just a pretty face in a tiara on the cover of Hello!

...

She didn't make it past the qualifying round.

She missed the cutoff by two points, only the top sixteen finishers advanced to the final and she finished seventeenth.

Her dream was over before it began.

...

The rest of the day passed in a blur, the press conference, the calls from her parents. "You made us so proud, sweetheart, you made the whole country proud." Which only made her want to lock herself in her room and hide under the covers like a small child. She wanted to hop the next flight back home but she couldn't slink away with her tail between her legs like she did after the disaster that was Neal.

Neal.

It was all his fault. The lying bastard had seen a chance to milk their relationship for a quick buck again and given an interview to a British tabloid. Emma had only seen the headline when she'd been idly checking news on her iPad before dressing for the trip to the archery venue but it was too late, it was all dredged up again immediately. The hurt, the humiliation, the heartbreak of realizing that the man she'd fallen in love with was just using her, defrauding jewellers and boutiques out of thousands of dollars worth of goods by pretending it was for her. In reality he was selling everything online and when the promised publicity didn't materialize the whole house of cards came crashing down. He should have gone to jail for grand theft but he got off on a technicality, and the press had a field day with the whole story.

She thought it was behind her, she thought she was over Neal for good and he couldn't hurt her ever again.

Her hand had shook when she took her final shot.

Clearly, she was wrong.

"We're going drinking."

Killian looked up when she barged out of her bedroom and into the little living area that the Misthaven delegation shared at the Athlete's Village.

"Beg pardon, Your Highness?"

"I need to get drunk. I need to….I need to not be here right now and I can't go home, so I need to find a bar without any reporters or athletes and just get shitfaced. But obviously I can't go alone, so my bodyguards are coming with me. Where's Liam?"

His eyebrows were shot up practically to his hairline as he slowly put down the book he'd been reading, "He's on dinner break, won't be back for at least another hour."

"Then I guess it's just you and me."

Emma stared him down, daring him to say anything about how dangerous it was, how they needed to wait for his brother, or anything that would ignite the powder keg waiting inside her for that single spark to explode, but he only nodded once.

"As you wish."

...

The open air bar featured plastic tables and chairs, cold beer, and a scratchy radio that played samba music. They earned a few glances that had more to do with Killian's prosthetic hand than her, so it was perfect.

"So, why archery?"

Emma took a swig of her beer, some brand she'd never heard of but it was alcohol and that was all that mattered, while he sat back in his chair and gave her an expectant look.

"It's the national sport of Misthaven. Legend says that an archer won the heart of a princess by tying love notes to his arrows and firing them into a branch of the tree that grew outside her bedroom. They eloped, he became king when her father died, and voila. A new royal dynasty was formed."

"The House of Blanchard?" Killian guessed. Three white arrows were still displayed on her family's crest in honour of their supposed founder.

She tipped her beer to him, "You got it. They think now that it's just a local variation on the Robin Hood story and it never actually happened, but all the souvenir stores sell arrow necklaces and little toy bows and archery is taught in every Misthaven school."

"So you learned it in school, then?"

Emma frowned, picking at the edge of the beer label with her thumbnail, "Yes. Well, kind of. My mother actually taught it to me first. She's really good, better than I am. Competing in the Olympics was something she always wanted to do."

Crown Princess Mary Margaret had been training hard for the Los Angeles Games in 1984 when tragedy had struck the small country. Her father had suffered a massive stroke overnight that put him in a coma and her stepmother had tried to mount a military coup while he was incapacitated.

"It was before the Berlin Wall fell and Regina was trying to drum up support from East Germany and the other communist countries for a new dictatorship with herself installed as queen. By the time the dust settled from that and my grandfather died, there was the coronation and my parents' wedding to plan for and she didn't have time for Olympic-level training anymore."

She could feel his eyes on her while she talked, the beer in front of him sitting untouched as the empty bottles piled up on her side of the table. The sun had gone down but the heat had yet to abate, and beads of sweat rolled down between her breasts under the thin T-shirt she was wearing.

"Can I ask you something?"

He visibly tensed when she looked down at his arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal dark hair and a large tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

"Aye, love. Go on."

The endearment was horribly inappropriate but she ignored it since she was pretty sure they had crossed the line into inappropriate the second they left the Athlete's Village together in search of a bar, "Who's Milah on the tattoo?"

His fingertips brushed across the ink, soft as a caress that made her wonder what those fingers would feel like sliding across her skin.

"Someone from long ago. She's gone now."

There was an echo in his voice, the ghost of a sad past in those three words. She's gone now.

Emma swiped his now-lukewarm beer and drank it in three swallows.

...

Killian didn't stop her when she drunkenly pushed him against a wall in the alley down the street from the bar and ran her hands down the front of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest through the fabric. His hand settled on her hip, she couldn't tell if it was the real one or the prosthetic and she didn't care, not when the samba music matched the beat of her heart and the heat between them was not from the beer or the sultry Brazilian night.

"Would you kiss me if I asked you to?"

Her hand found his collar and gave a little tug, almost enough to bring their lips together.

Almost.

"I would want to kiss you if you asked me to, Princess."

She wanted to ask.

She didn't.

...

Liam Jones took one look at them when they arrived back at Misthaven's suite in the Athlete's Village - Killian's arm around her waist to hold her upright - and disapproval practically rolled off him in waves.

"You're relieved for the night, brother. I'll take it from here."

She didn't want Killian to go, not when her head was spinning and she wanted nothing more than to lay it on his chest and just sleep. But it was Liam who brought her into the bedroom and knelt down to slip off her shoes, Liam who helped her into bed and turned off the light with a quiet, "Good night, Your Highness."

It was Liam who furiously berated Killian outside the closed bedroom door with, "What the hell were you thinking?" and "She's the bloody princess, not a potential shag!" and "Were you trying to give me a heart attack or was that just a bonus?"

It was Liam who knocked on her door in the morning with aspirin and coffee and shocking news from Graham. The Russian doping scandal had claimed another, the competitor who'd finished fifth in the qualifying round was now out and that meant...

That meant...

Emma was now in the final.