Hoje fazem 7 meses que eu gosto de você. Me pego pensando em todos os detalhes que me fizeram chegar a esse sentimento. Todas as coisas que foram ditas, os abraços, beijos, as risadas - que sem duvidas são as minhas favoritas, cá pra nós? até o jeito que você pronuncia meu nome, me soa de uma forma diferente. Eu realmente acreditava que isso seria o fim da minha vida de solteira, acreditei profundamente que tivesse encontrado a pessoa certa e quando digo isso, não falo somente de atração física, mas de emocional também, o processo de apego foi muito rápido e hoje não consigo imaginar um futuro que não tenha você nele. Mas, como tudo na minha vida SEMPRE tem um mas, acredito que não seja o que você quer, talvez tenhamos nos encontrado em momentos diferentes, com sintonias e vontades diferentes. Me pego perdida em um mar de sentimentos, o que é estranho, porque mar sempre me remete a paz, a tranquilidade e muita, muita energia boa. Mas como ter paz quando você não sai dos meus pensamentos? Eu já não sei com quem falar, com quem chorar, todos já conhecem nossa história. Acho que a maioria já aceitou nosso “fim”, mas eu? sigo firme acreditando que você é a pessoa certa, aquela que eu quero dividir até as coisas mais estranhas que aconteceram no meu dia. Enquanto esse momento não chega, sigo guardando você com todo carinho e cuidado no lugar mais bonito do meu coração e se caso esse momento nunca chegar, saiba que você foi uma fase linda da minha vida e que sempre terá um lugar nela.
Liderança exige força e amor, não há hipótese para fraqueza.
São em momentos de dor, de ataque, afronta e intimidação que você pensa "preciso de alguém" e no instante seguinte vem alguém e diz precisar de você.
Nessa hora você busca força (que já não tem) pra passar a essa pessoa. E de onde tirar essa força?! Do amor. Do amor pela causa, do amor por aquela vida, do amor pelo chamado. Do amor de Deus.
"A liderança é solitaria" foi o que sempre me disseram e no que sempre acreditei. Acreditei, passado. Pois quem está com Jesus nunca estará sozinho.
Foi o que Ele mesmo nos prometeu: ..."e eis que eu estou convosco todos os dias, até a consumação dos séculos. Amém". Mateus 28:20
I was writing an essay about WWII and I was listing the members of the Allied Powers. I knew that I was missing one of them so I looked back and forth between my essay and my notes. My thoughts went along these lines: 'Okay so I have Russia, I have Great Britain, I have France... What am I missing? Oh!' Then I realized that I missed out on an opportunity to say, "Oh! Canada!"
Author's Note: This chapter is a little bit longer because it didn't feel complete until then. Also, I struggled to name this chapter after Killian once more until I realized that this chapter was about Emma. I disclaim all characters and locations from the television show "Once Upon a Time." Here's it is on fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9908613/3/The-Lost-Prince
Chapter 3: the Passionate Princess
Princess Emma hugged her dear grandparents close to her as the servants readied the caravan that was to take her back home, to Haven. She smiled fondly at them and then sat astride her horse, ready to go, while her ladies in waiting entered the royal carriage. The armor that she wore was meant to camouflage her as a mere cavalry soldier as an antiquated tradition to keep her safe.
"Emma darling," her grandmother's strong and regal voice halted her. "We were waiting to tell you this so that you would not rush off but a few months ago, just after your parents saw you off, they came across a young man near death."
"We consented to the judgment of your parents on this matter. They felt strongly that you may overreact and rush home and they know that you have duties here." Her leather glove gripped the bridle in frustration. She wasn't about to stand by while her family had the wool pulled over their eyes by another conman.
"You may be set to inherit our kingdom but that doesn't give you much wisdom; Snow and your father won't be fooled twice by the same trick. She wrote that the man was genuinely weakened and near death."
"I need to go," she gritted through her teeth. She then schooled her voice, though a chill remained in her tone. "May I take my leave?"
"What are you going to do Emma; charge in there and interrogate him at knife-point?"
Her shoulders stiffened and then she relaxed a smidgeon. "No… I'll expose him for the man that he truly is; that shouldn't be too hard."
Their voices grew solemn. "Emma… he's not like that. From what your mother has written he's the perfect gentleman. He'd never… not like…"
Her expression tightened and she glared at the bridle. "I don't want to talk about it."
They grew quiet for several moments until Emma's close friend, bodyguard, and mentor approached them and addressed her. "Milady, it is time to depart."
She stared at the bridle a moment longer and then said, "Just a moment Graham; their majesties aren't finished with me as yet." He saluted them saying, "Your majesties," and went back to the caravan. Then she looked at her grandparents and sighed heavily. "I promise on my honor that I will not do anything as foolish as framing him for any crime, but that does not mean that I trust this freeloader. No injury is so grave that he could not have already departed and gone home."
They smiled sadly. Then they nodded in unison and her grandfather said, "You may depart Princess Emma. Please give our regards to his highness King George."
"I will," she replied. Then she pulled up her cowl and was indistinguishable to any other surrounding the carriage and the wagon filled with provisions.
The castle was in flurry. Joy was permeating practically every nook and cranny of the castle as it had been for the last several days. They'd been cleaning the castle and Killian had been more than happy to aid in the effort. His rescuers were the most joyous and that was because, "Rip! Rip! Guess what?"
Killian kneeled down on the cobblestone courtyard and grinned indulgently, even though he'd already been told by why by his hosts. The adorable little princess scowled up at him accusingly. "You already know, don't you?" Her petite hands rested on her hips and were she but a bit taller than her nine summers afforded her, he might have been a little intimidated.
"No sweet princess, I have no clue what's going on. Would you care to enlighten one as lowly as myself?"
Her scowl deepened and her lovely brown eyes regarded him suspiciously. "Cousin Emma would say that you're lying."
"Would she now?" His eyes twinkled, one of the reasons that she'd named him Winkle a few months back.
"Don't play coy with me Rip Van Winkle!" she proclaimed. His grin only grew, "Nay your highness, I beseech thee, what is it that thou hast to say?"
Hopping from foot to foot however she could no longer contain her excitement as her blonde curls swayed in the slight breeze. "Cousin Emma's coming back! I don't like it when she's away. You get to meet her for the first time!"
"Oh? Do you think she'll like me?"
"Sure Rip, you're adorable," she rolled her eyes, then snickered to herself before messing up his hair with a quick swipe of her hand. "EwwwWW! Rip! Take a bath! You're filthy! How dare you present yourself before royalty in this manner?" He chuckled as she yanked out a handkerchief that she pretty much loathed on any other occasion and scrubbed her hand furiously with it.
He bowed from his kneeling position with a flourish. "My apologies highness, I was pulled away suddenly from swordplay with your dear great uncle and have been cleaning the castle ever since."
She turned towards him horrified. "Ever since? It's been practically three days! Have you not rested good sir?" she practically screeched.
"Yes my dear lady, as mandated by Princess Snow I have taken breaks ten minutes every hour and have slept for eight hours every evening, but making the palace ready for the return of your beloved cousin takes precedence over my cleanliness does it not?"
"No it doesn't Rip. You have my permission to bathe," she said in a dismissive fashion. "and you can't start cleaning again until you shave that beard!" She then flung the handkerchief at his face but it lost momentum abruptly and settled onto the dusty cobbles less than an arm's length from him.
Killian smiled after the young girl who had quickly gained entry into his heart. He snatched the filthy clothe from the floor and called after her retreating back, "I thank you for this favor highness!"
"Yeah… yeah," he thought he heard her mutter. He chuckled as he rose from the cobbles of the courtyard and reminisced on his way to the well. He'd first met Henrietta when she'd snuck into his room as he was still recovering. She'd quickly taken a shine to him and before he knew it she'd given him a new name and taken him on as an excuse to bail out of her etiquette lessons.
He conspired with Princess Snow, Prince David, and Princess Jaqueline, her paternal grandmother, to teach her the etiquette covertly in a new game that he'd introduced. He plays her lowly servant who aspires to knighthood. Her father, Prince Jacque, thought that the small deception was an absolute riot, a slang phrase that Killian had eventually come to know the meaning of.
When he arrived at the well, he drew the water himself as the castle servants scurried around in a flurry. Just as ordered previously by Princess Snow, Killian sat down and rested after drawing the water as it was indeed a strenuous activity for his recovering muscles. He stared at his roughened hands and wondered what kind of life he'd led before ending up on the Old Castle Road. When his breathing steadied he took the bucket to his chambers. They were quite elegant; despite his many protestations he continued to reside there in order to please their majesties, no matter how odd it felt to sleep in such a large, open space in the beginning.
He sat on the bed filled with feather down, stripped down and proceeded with a spit bath. Yes, he did indeed have a large bathroom and yes, he could have asked some servants to fill the tub with hot water but this was something he could do that was born of a forgotten habit and he didn't want to bother them with more duties.
After pulling on trousers and a clean tunic he headed out to help again only to encounter resistance; it seemed that there was a veritable posse waiting for him outside his suite. Confused for only a moment, he understood quickly enough. "Ah the darling, young princess sent you all no doubt."
"Yes sir." That was another thing; every one of the servants called him 'sir' almost from the first and it was quite annoying and somewhat comforting how professional the staff that took care of the castle's visitors always was.
As one they all filed in past him and began to pull out clothes, fill the bath with steaming water, salts, oils and perfumes, laying out towels and the like. Rather than fight it he allowed them to do their jobs; resisting would only make it a longer ordeal for everyone involved. They even gave him a closer shave than he was used to receiving.
He couldn't get away from the attentions of the servants quickly enough. He was absentmindedly running a hand over his newly clean shaven jawline when he ran into Prince David who took one look at his face and princely attire and immediately guffawed. "What happened to you Rip?" he asked.
Killian affected a paranoid manner and gestured him closer. David complied, still all a smiles. "Don't ever let a lady of this castle catch you with greasy hair mate," he whispered loudly. "They'll set the staff on you with a vengeance."
"Well that's what you get for not following Snow's instructions," he teased.
Killian sighed heavily. "I HAVE been mate. It wasn't your dear wife that had this done to me," and at David's look, "nor your dear sister-in-law; it was your darling grand-niece."
David looked confused for a moment and then goggled. "Henrietta? She… really? Why; she adores you?"
Killian shrugged, "It's probably to do with that daughter of yours coming back from that sojourn of hers. She seemed absolutely ecstatic about our upcoming meeting before she discovered my state. I believe that she may be taking this game of ours a little too seriously mate."
David snickered. "She knows that you're not really her servant Rip. But if she's trying to help you make a good impression on Emma, then she's going about it the wrong way. Emma may be the only princess in the world who is not impressed with appearances."
"Aye, your descriptions of the lady's character are always so detailed. If you weren't her father I'd swear that you had a whole other agenda with every mention of the lass." At that point David's smile stretched too far to be real but Killian didn't notice as he looked to the tall archway high above him, nervously scratching an itch behind his right ear. He idly wondered if he'd ever courted a lady before.
Trumpets sounded and David's false smile turned into a genuine grin. "We best head to the Welcoming Hall. But wait," he pulled Killian close and tousled the recently combed hair into its normal appearance. Then David glanced down at the silk vest and chose to leave it, instead pulling the cravat free and tucking it into Killian's breast pocket.
Then David proceeded to unbutton the first four buttons of Killian's shirt and stood back and admired his handiwork. "That's better; you look more like yourself."
Bewildered, Killian wondered aloud, "What? You're not going to turn my trousers inside out?" David snickered, "Don't be ridiculous; now let's go welcome Emma." Then they went towards the East end of the castle to greet a silently fuming princess.
Author's Note 2: So... what do you all think of Henrietta? I'm hoping that you all love her.
