Part 1 of 3. Thank you for reading!

Her shoulders burn as she swings the sword high above her head, bringing it down hard, missing her target as he leans quickly to the right. Lancelot shoots her a look.

"You're distracted."

She isn't distracted, she's angry. Killian was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago and naturally he's late. It was bad enough he ditched her last night. She thought he had been hurt as she waited for him down at the docks. It wasn't until it had started raining that she decided to head back to the castle, just a little but worried.

She had been pinning her hair back in her quarters this morning when she heard two of the castle maids giggling madly. She was intent on ignoring them, but then she had heard his name. She had leaned closer and heard all about how amazing he was the previous night. All the things he had done.

Instead of meeting her.

But she is not jealous. She is pissed that he ditched her to catch diseases from some trashy maid. And she is pissed that he is late, again, this morning.

She huffs and spins, aiming a hit that Lancelot easily blocks. Her sword catches in his and he pushes her back, causing her to stumble over her own feet. He spins his sword, but says nothing, circling her slowly. She feels frustration well up inside her, but bites it back. She swings again. He blocks her, twists her arm, and flings her sword to the edge of the courtyard.

He sighs heavily. "You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Use it, Emma."

She rolls her eyes and he raises his eyebrows. He nods to her sword. "Pick it up, let's go again."

Sometimes she really hates Lancelot.

She walks over to her sword and picks it up, spinning quickly, hoping to catch him off guard. He chuckles as he moves, deflecting her blow.

"Where is Killian?"

Emma feels the frustration hit her like a wave as she frowns, ducking under a swing and kicking her leg out. Lancelot easily steps over her and lightly taps her ankle with the flat edge of his sword. She twists and slides back, repositioning herself.

"I have a few theories." She steps forward and swings hard, aiming for his rib cage. He blocks her. Again. She turns and swings but even she knows it's a sloppy hit. Lancelot once again twists his arm sharply and her sword flies away. He brings the point of his weapon to the base of her throat and regards her carefully, his dark brown eyes deadly. No wonder her mother wanted her to take lessons from him.

"You're letting your emotions rule your movements. I've killed you three times." He drops his sword to the grass and leans on it, his eyes losing the intensity. "Channel the feeling. Use it to power you, not direct you."

His eyes drift over her shoulder. "Glad you could grace us with your presence, Jones."

Emma's face tightens as she turns and regards Killian. He is leaning against the gate to the courtyard, arms and ankles crossed casually. His blue eyes are bright and a sly grin tugs at his lips. His dark hair is an absolute mess on top of his head and she rolls her eyes, walking over to her sword and retrieving it. She has a few theories on how his hair got like that too.

"I do believe the Swan is more needing of your lesson today, m'lord." He pushes off the wall and unsheathes his sword. "The way she's bumbling around like a bloody loon."

Emma looks to Lancelot and he grins at her, big and wide, no doubt seeing the look in her eyes. He nods his head and opens his arms, gesturing for her to take the floor.

She steps forward and Killian mockingly bows, his eyes staying with hers. Hot anger rushes through her and she steps to the left, swinging at his midsection. He snaps up quickly and blocks her blow, chuckling. She hears Lancelot huff from somewhere behind her.

"Feeling feisty today, eh love?" He swipes by her ankles and she jumps quickly, falling back on the balls of her feet and using the momentum to swing hard. Her blade clashes with his and she is satisfied when he loses his footwork. She grins.

"You have no idea."

She pulls back and swings again, forcing him to duck. She takes advantage of his lowered position and kicks out, hitting him in the knee and forcing him to fall face-first into the dirt. She laughs loud as he pushes himself back up, scowl etched on his face. He locks eyes with her, blue eyes glinting dangerously.

"You'll pay for that, pet."

She bounces on her feet and mock pouts. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Jones."

"Oh, I intend to keep this one." He spins and swings and she is forced to bring her blade up in front of her to block it, her arm ringing with the vibrations of metal against metal.

Anger seeps into her veins. "Didn't know you were capable of keeping promises." She grits out, her teeth clenched.

He quirks an eyebrow at her, frown deepening before swinging again, hitting the outside of her thigh with the blunt edge of his sword.

"Focus, Emma!" Lancelot barks behind her and she bites her tongue. "Use it!"

Killian smiles at the command, very aware of how often Lancelot encourages them to compartmentalize, and falls back. She follows, ducking under his swing and then pushing out, spinning herself. She lands a solid hit against his sword, but he uses the leverage to twist his arm with hers and pull her close. She stumbles into him, his face so close she can feel his breath on her nose.

"Yes, love." His free hand grips her hip teasingly. "Use it."

His tone is all innuendo and she sees red. She drops her sword and uses both hands to push him forcefully away from her. Then she does something that surprises all three of them.

She punches him right in the face.

He drops his sword and stumbles, his hand flying to his left eye where she caught him. "Bloody hell, woman!"

She regards him coolly, eyebrow arched, hand throbbing. She turns her back to him and looks at Lancelot. His eyes are wide but she can see he is struggling to fight a smile.

"How is that for channeling my emotions?"

He loses the battle and chuckles. "Very well done, Princess. I think we can call it a day."

She returns his grin and sheaths her sword, not even bothering to look at Killian as she walks past him and back into the castle. She flexes her hand as she walks, tilting her head at the dull pain that radiates through her fingers. She has barely started up the stairs when she hears rapid footsteps behind her.

"Swan!" She keeps walking. His footsteps quicken.

"Hey!" He grabs her arm on a lunge and she almost tumbles down the stairs. Her hand grips the railing as she rights herself and turns to face him.

"What the hell?" She hisses and smacks his hand away from her arm.

"Don't 'what the hell' me, you're not the one who got a black eye for no bloody reason!"

"Stop being dramatic, you do not have a black eye." She sighs. But as she looks at him, she can already tell that he will indeed have a black eye. She bites her lip in an effort to stop her smile. His eyes follow the movement but they are back on hers so fast she is convinced it was her imagination. She would roll her eyes at herself if she wasn't afraid they'd roll right out of her head.

"Care to explain what I did to warrant such harsh treatment at the hands of a lady?" He spits the word lady like a curse word. That wipes the amusement from her face and she continues up the stairs. She hears him fall into step behind her.

"We were practicing."

"Love, we have had sword lessons together for five years, and you have never once punched me in the face. Would you stop for just a moment?" He sighs heavily and reaches forward again, tugging lightly on the back belt loop that holds her sword sheathe around her waist. "And tell me what the bloody hell has gotten into you today."

She spins so fast she almost knocks him down the stairs. "You! You have gotten into me!" His eyebrows shoot up and a cocky grin plasters itself over his stupid face and she slaps her hand over his mouth. "Shut up." If possible, his eyebrows rise further. "You know, I don't care what you do or who you do it with, but don't waste my time in the process."

His eyebrows cinch together as his forehead crinkles. She removes her hand from his mouth and he looks like he is about to speak, so she plows on. "You easily could have told me yesterday afternoon that you no longer wanted me to meet you at the docks. I don't particularly enjoy standing in the rain waiting for someone who has no intention of showing up."

Realization dawns in his eyes and he reaches forward. "Swan, listen, I-"

"And I would very much appreciate it if you didn't fuck the castle maids, particularly the ones who serve in my quarters." His eyes grow wide as the vulgar world tumbles from her lips and he visibly pales. "I have no desire to hear about your conquests as I get ready for my day."

She looks at him as he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. Killian Jones, rendered speechless. Well, that sure as hell was a first.

Her heart clenches painfully and she forcefully reminds herself to get it together. He is her friend, her best friend, and that is all he will ever be. All he wants to be. All she wants to be. She nods as the anger leaves her and she just feels exhausted.

"My father is waiting on me." She says quietly. He is still staring at her with an abject look of horror on his face.

"I'm sorry I punched you in the face." And with that she turns around and hurries up the steps, moving as fast as her tired legs will carry her. She finds the door to her father's study easily and slips in, careful to not disturb him at his desk. He looks up anyway, a soft smile replacing the look of surprise.

"What can I do for you?"

She collapses into the large, worn leather chair on the opposite side of his desk and huffs out a short breath.

"Do you mind if I sit here, for just a bit? I'll stay quiet."

"Stay as long as you'd like." His kind eyes search her face and she blinks back openly, not one to hide from her father. David is very perceptive when he wants to be. He apparently finds what he is looking for because he gives her a small, indulgent smile before turning back to the open log on his desk. Emma reaches forward and pulls the large book of maps he keeps on the corner onto her lap, letting her fingers dance over the worn leather of the cover.

They sit just like that for a long stretch of time, Emma regarding the extensive maps of both her own realm and others, her dad sitting at his desk, scribbling into his log every so often. It isn't until the sun begins to set and colorful light dances along the office walls that Emma puts the book down. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back just as the door to the office opens.

"Why is Killian sulking around the kitchens with a black eye?" Her mother's voice is airy and light and she brings with her the scent of freshly baked bread. She must have been down in the kitchens, helping prepare for dinner.

"The same reason our daughter has swollen knuckles, I daresay."

Her father. Very perceptive.

She tilts her head back up just in time to see her parents exchange a meaningful look. David absentmindedly rubs the scar on his chin, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Snow returns the smile, her eyes soft and very much in love before she perches on the edge of the desk. She reaches for Emma's hand, running her fingers over the bruised skin lightly. She quirks one dark eyebrow.

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

Emma sighs. "Not even a little bit."

Her dad chuckles and she knows the subject is dropped. She bites her lip and looks down, fiddling with the sheath of her sword.

"Could I have the maids removed from my quarters? I think I'm old enough to make my own bed."

The heavy silence means they are exchanging another silent conversation and she bites her lip harder. Sometimes witnessing their true love was less inspiring, and more irritating. She glances up and her father is looking at her thoughtfully. Her gaze flickers to her mother who is frowning softly. But she seems to catch herself and gives Emma a serene smile.

"Of course, dear. Not a problem at all."