#chapter15

Promise. It's a big word. It either makes something or it breaks everything.

We live in a world built on them, but they often crumble into empty promises leaving us broken and falling further into the depths of untrust. Sometimes people toss us a rope to get out of the depths, but it is often frayed and breaking as the trust slowly dissipates.

Rarely, nowadays do people ever intend to keep them. They are nothing but sweet little lies that aim to provide nothing but hurt.

I never did trust promises as they so often fell short of their intention.

But, my father proved me wrong.

He kept his promise in the end.

He kept it when it counted the most to me.

He kept the promise.

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The princess tightened the harness around Bandit, her tall black quarter horse that she had been training with for a few years now. She gave the lead a light tug as Bandit began to walk along beside her for a cool down walk after a long training session. Emilia walked slowly beside the tall beauty, leading it around towards the field in a light walk.

It had been nearly a week since she had said goodbye to her boyfriend, Prince Harry, at the end of his tour of Illyria. Her mind kept drifting back to that private goodbye they shared in the airport lounge before publicly wishing the prince a farewell end of his tour to Illyria.

She closed her eyes to remember the feeling, the feeling of his arms securely around her while he kissed her forehead with those soft lips.

Flashback

"I cannot believe that you are leaving today..." Emilia bowed her head, averting her gaze away from the prince's mesmerizing deep blue eyes that were lingering on her own. She did not want to look away from Harry. It was those same deep blue eyes that kept her up late at night, wishing the night away until the morning came so she could gaze up into them once again.

"Well, you could always come with me." Harry's voice was low and endearing with a hint of humour that lightened the mood. He stepped forward and traced his finger down the side of her arm until he reached her hand and grasped it tightly.

The couple were at the airport in the capital of Illyria, spending a private moment alone that Harry had arranged in a private lounge in the airport. It was their chance to say a proper goodbye, before they would flip the switch and put on a display for the world to see Princess Emilia bid farewell to the English prince, ending his tour of her country. No such touch as the ones they had been giving each other would be allowed. Hence, their private moment right now.

"Don't tempt me, Henry." Emilia released a deep sigh as she found herself wondering how her family would react if she yet again ran away to London. The thought had definitely crossed her mind, but Emilia had other things that required handling here in her home country.

The prince started to chuckle at the thought of hiding Emilia away in one of his bags, she could surely fit in one. His infectious laughter grew, causing Emilia to lift her head and smile up at him adorably. "I am going to miss that laugh." She confessed without a second thought. Her hand delicately reached up and caressed his cheek softly. "Well, all of you really." Emilia's lips spread into a mischievous grin before she bit down on her bottom lip.

"Hmm...?" The prince angled his head down at the dark haired beauty. "Now, you can't be getting all lustful like that moments before I have to leave you behind here." He closed in what little space was left between them. "Plus, you are the one who wanted to wait until we could properly get to know each other." Harry simply reminded her.

"I know..." Emilia nodded lightly, hinting at a bit of regret for doing so while also suddenly becoming shy at her request.

"Don't get all shy on me." He softly whispered. "I think it's a good idea to take a step back even though we have already been there before. I don't want to rush into things with you, I want to take my time and get to know you like I have been this week. We will get there when we are both ready again." Harry rested his hands on either side of her hips and gently swayed her back and forth as she absorbed every re-assuring word he had spoken.

Emilia stepped into his body, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling her body snug against his muscular frame. Harry's hand cradled the crown of her head and lightly pushed it down to rest on his chest. She felt the prince release a deep sigh as his breathing calmed while his fingers gently combed through her long dark hair in a soothing manner.

The two of them stood there in a quiet embrace, relishing their last moment together. Emilia rubbed her nose into Harry's chest and squeezed him a little tighter, silently wishing for him to stay longer. Harry bowed his head and kissed her forehead with a gentle kiss.

"Mmmm..." She moaned quietly. "I love when you kiss me like that."

"I love having you in my arms." The prince did not hesitate to confess what he was truly feeling in that moment. "How am I supposed to say goodbye to you?" Harry wrapped his arms around the princess tighter and gently lifted her feet off of the ground briefly before setting her back on stable ground.

Emilia couldn't help but giggle at her boyfriend. She lifted her head and gazed up into his deep blue eyes, committing them to her memory for a later time when she would surely find herself missing them. The princess placed her hands on his chest and absentmindedly traced inanimate objects as she thought of a reply.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips as an idea popped into the forefront of her mind. "Let's not say goodbye then, let's just say see you later." Emilia watched as the prince's expression lit up with a happy smile.

"I think that is a great idea." Harry smiled down at his girlfriend, becoming completely mesmerized by her natural beauty yet again. "Have I told you how beautiful you are this morning?" The prince had been doing everything in his power this week to bring back Emilia's confidence in herself and that often meant showering her with compliments.

"You have now..." Emilia tossed her head back lightly and peaked up at Harry with an adorable smile stretching across her lips. "I want to thank you for being...." She pursed her lips together trying to find the best words to formulate an answer. "For just being you and making me feel enough this week. I feel like I am a completely different person now than at the start of the week." The princess hinted that it was all because of Harry.

His hand lifted and brushed away a stray piece of her dark hair, tucking it behind her ear making him able to stare into the depths of her ice blue eyes. For that moment, she allowed Harry to see past the defensive walls she so often built up around her and see her vulnerabilities for what they really were. Harry knew that placing her trust in him scared her to no end after the way things had ended with Thomas, but he was relieved that she was taking steps in allowing herself to have faith in him to be able to show her how different he truly was.

There were still many curiosities and questions about what had happened with Thomas Brandy, but now simply was not the time to bring it up. He inwardly smiled knowing that he would be given the chance to get to know this young princess more as their secret relationship grew in private.

"We shouldn't make them wait too much longer...." Emilia broke through his thoughts as she reminded Harry that they still had to formally say their goodbyes in front of the media.

"They can wait a little while longer while I say goodbye to my girl." The prince wasted no time in capturing Emilia's lips against his as he savoured the moment. Emilia felt breathless as the prince continued to massage his lips against her own in a passionate fury. She broke apart from him for a brief intake of breath, but immediately found those soft lips again, caressing them despite the cloud of haze she found herself falling in. Emilia grasped his waist in an attempt to ground herself.

It was if the world around them had ceased to exist and only the two of them lived in that moment. Emilia felt connected to Harry way beyond she ever thought was possible to the point she thought it was unbelievable. How could she feel this way about somehow so quickly? But, in that moment only one thing felt right.

What was right, was being with him.

Being Harry's girl.

End Flashback

Bandit nudged Emilia's side with his nose bringing her back to reality. She chuckled lightly and rubbed the gentle giant's nose. "I know, Bandit, I miss him though. You are good company too, it just isn't the same." Emilia loved talking to her horses even though she knew they really were not listening to her.

Emilia unlocked the gate and pushed it forward to allow just enough room for them to enter the paddock. The princess's other horse, Pebbles, a white and grey appaloosa came running to greet them. "Well, hello there gorgeous Pebbs." Pebbles loved to get extremely close to people and sniff their whole body in hopes of finding a treat for herself, that also involved messing your hair up too.

"Hey... enough. I don't have any on me!" Emilia put her arms up in the air as the horse grunted at her with disapproval. "It's not like you earned a treat, Pebbles." The princess continued to walk Bandit further into the field before releasing the black beauty and letting it run free alongside Pebbles.

She closed the gate, securing it with the lock. Turning around rested her arms on the white metal fence and watched the two horses run around in circles. Emilia released a deep sigh as she fell into the traps of her mind yet again. She had spent so much of her time lately training for the Olympics and finishing Harry's tour that she had yet to even consider options of a new press secretary. The thought was weighing heavily on her mind as of late and it was about time she sorted that part of her life out, but that meant confronting her grandmother, The Queen.

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Emilia stared at her phone in her shaking hands that displayed her father's contact. She sighed out deeply, debating once again whether to call him or not. For the past few days Emilia's mind had been heavily thinking about her future in all aspects of her life, but most particularly her future as a working senior royal in the Illyrian monarchy. After firing her last press secretary, it was now time to find a replacement. Having put much thought into it, Emilia knew the only way to succeed in this was to scrap most of her current team that was hand picked by her grandmother the Queen and develop a team of her choosing instead. This of course would need to have the blessing of her grandmother and for her to even stand a chance, Emilia required her father's assistance. There was a part of Emilia that feared her actions would warrant further repercussions with the Queen. But, she had to try.

All Emilia wanted was a chance to do things her way and show her grandmother and father that she could be the royal they always strived for her to be, but not by controlling her by hiring her support team. She even confided in her boyfriend, Harry last night discussing what the best course of action was with a lengthy conversation over the phone. He encouraged Emilia to speak with her father and share her thoughts with him. Harry sat there most of the evening listening to Emilia and her plans with how she wanted to go about things. He could tell she had given this a lot of thought and he was even impressed with what her plans consisted of.

The princess took the plunge and called her father. She fidgeted with her fingers and nervously bit down on her bottom lip as the phone continued to ring with no answer.

"Hello, sweetheart." Frederick's voice answered the phone. "How are you?"

Emilia paused for a brief moment and closed her eyes. "I am good, father. How are you?"

"Splendid dear. Your mother and I just returned from a walk in the gardens." Her father chuckled lightly. "Rather a hike if you know your mother at all." The Crown Prince whispered into the phone so his wife would not be able to hear his complaint.

The princess couldn't help but giggle knowing her mother's walks were more like a marathon than a casual stroll. Emilia breathed in slowly, mustering enough courage to bring up the real reason for her call. She continued to pace back and forth in her apartment wondering how to start it off. Without a second thought, Emilia parted her lips to speak and outright asked her father.

"Daddy..." Emilia's voice became soft. "I uh..." Emilia struggled to formulate her words properly, suddenly wondering if this was a bad move on her part, but then she remembered what Harry said to her last night. "He is your father Emilia, he will listen and do whatever he can. I'm sure he will want the best for you."

Emilia smiled softly and breathed out, finding a little hope. "I want to talk to you and gran about something important. I want to choose my own staff. I want a fresh start and work with who I want to work with."

There was silence over the phone while Emilia waited for a reply.

"Emilia, honey..." Her father held a long pause again. "Why don't you and I go out for dinner tomorrow night and talk about this. Let me hear what you want first and then we can speak to gran after ok?" Frederick's voice was soft and genuine. He did want to hear what Emilia had to say, but he knew how hard it was to convince his mother with changes. "I will get Antony to book us a table at Tommy's Kitchen in the private section. You can get your favourite pasta dish? With those garlic bread rolls?"

"Ok. Yeah that will be good dad." Emilia nodded her head. At least it was somewhat of a step forward. "Can you send me the details after?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Frederick confirmed, but Emilia could hear her mother shouting in the background. "Your mother says that she loves you honey. Would you like her to come along too or is this a daddy daughter date?"

The princess's lips stretched into a beaming smile at the thought of spending some quality time alone with her father. "Just us two daddy. It's been a long time since only you and I have spent time together."

"Perfect, Emilia. I will see you tomorrow night." Frederick replied. "Well, actually I will pick you up and we can take the old corvette out for a little drive? How does that sound? Besides I need an excuse to take it out for a spin... You know how your mother disapproves of fast cars."

"Only if I can drive it a little ways. You know I love that car, dad."

"Deal. Goodnight, my girl."

The princess hung up the phone and sighed a breath of relief. She opened up Harry's messages and sent him a quick text saying that she was having dinner with her father tomorrow night. Emilia knew he was on an engagement late tonight and would not have the chance to reply so she decided to get another run in for her training. This way she would be able to clear her mind and focus on the meeting tomorrow.

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Emilia slipped on her cream coloured closed toed heels and walked towards Tristan who was holding her coat for her. The princess turned around letting her protection officer assist her with putting it on. She turned around and flashed a grateful warm smile to Tristan.

"It will all go well, Emilia." Tristan kindly offered some encouragement.

The princess slowly nodded her head. "I hope so, Tristan. I need this." She confided in her RPO. "You know I do intend to keep you around. Despite what happens and whoever I do hire you can rest assure you aren't going anywhere. I don't trust anyone half as much as I trust you." Emilia re-assured Tristan of his position.

"You know I wouldn't work for anyone else, Emilia." A smirk formed on his lips. "You are by far my most interesting client that loves to keep me on my toes. At least you don't try to escape anymore..."

"You arse." Emilia playfully pushed him. "Let's go for dinner." Tristan followed in behind Emilia and escorted her through Lexington Palace towards the car park where her father, Crown Prince Frederick had arrived in a black corvette.

Her father climbed out of the drivers side with a beaming smile, watching his beautiful daughter walk towards him in a blue pleated three quarter length dress with delicately placed red flowers. Frederick sighed, wondering when his daughter had grown up. It was like it was yesterday when he held Emilia in his arms for the first time. But now, she stood before him, a beautiful young woman, both inside and out.

        "Daddy!" Emilia's walk hastened to a light run as she ran to embrace her father. Frederick lifted Emilia in his arms and squeezed her frame tight.

"You look so beautiful, Emilia." Frederick set Emilia down carefully on her feet and looked down at his daughter adoringly. "Like the true princess you are."

"Oh...daddy stop it." Emilia's cheeks became flushed with a blush of crimson.

"Well, shall we get this daddy daughter date started properly?" Frederick dug into his pocket and tossed Emilia the corvette keys.

"You are sure?" Emilia's mouth dropped open in shock as she caught the keys in her cupped hands. "You won't let anyone else drive this... not even Edward."

"There is a first time for everything." The Crown Prince smiled with elation and took a few steps towards the car, opening the drivers side door for his daughter. "Come on. If we wait any longer we are going to miss our dinner reservation."

Emilia's whole face lit up with excitement. It was the first time in her life that she was first before Edward.

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"And can I get a bottle of your finest red wine for my daughter." Frederick smiled up at the waiter.

"Certainly, your royal highness. I will bring it out to you shortly. Is there anything else that I can get you in the mean time?" The waiter kindly offered.

"I think that is everything Shaun. Thank you." Frederick politely dismissed the waiter and turned his attention back to his daughter.

"I forgot how much I love this place." Emilia glanced around the restaurant taking it all in as the memories of their family dinners here came flooding back to the forefront of her mind. Memories of a time when things were simpler.

"We used to bring you and Edward here when you were children a lot." Frederick eased back into his chair. "Back when you two were so close, we could not separate you even if we tried." Her father slowly shook his head alluding to their now distant and strained relationship.

"With all due respect. I did not come here to talk about my brother." Emilia lowered her head down averting her father's gaze.

Frederick took in a deep breath just as their bottle of wine arrived. He reached for it and cracked it open, pouring each of them a healthy glass of wine to enjoy before their dinner arrived. "Let's get down to it then, Emilia. Discuss business then have a lovely evening together."

The Crown Prince set his wine glass down. "You want to choose your own staff and does that include firing your current team?" Frederick sat back and let his daughter take control of the discussion.

Emilia nodded her head slowly and took in a deep calming breath before beginning. "Father, I want to choose my own team personally. Not to have people who think they work for my grandmother rather than me and have her interests at heart and not mine. I want people who see my vision and want to help me portray that vision of who I want to be. I cannot do that if I do not trust the people who are working closest to me." The princess made some valid points, but she was not done there.

The princess looked her father directly in the eyes mustering courage from within her. "I only want to keep Tristan and Ella as current staff. I have never selected my own people before and I value your opinion and would like you to help me as an advisor to find suitable people for the job. But, strictly as an advisor and I get to have the final say. I am hoping that this way gran will be more on board with this knowing you are guiding me. I know I have lots to learn, father. But, I know that if I do not have the pressure of gran on my back I can do amazing things with what you and mother have given and taught me. All I need is a chance and..." Emilia's blue eyes gave her father a pleading look. "And your support to help me convince gran. I know I may not always get it right, but I am learning from my mistakes. I need to do things that I believe are right even if they are different from the norm and in time with a supportive team of my choosing I can be the princess that you and granny want me to be for Illyria."

A comfortable silence fell between them as Frederick digested Emilia's words and wishes for her future. He took a few moments to formulate his response, but he could not get the feeling out of his heart of how proud he was of Emilia and the growth that she continued to show as of late.

Frederick knew where he had to begin. "Emilia, I first have to apologize for breaking the first promise I ever made to you." He sighed deeply with regret. "I promised to never let you feel or be treated differently than your brother and I have failed you in that. I am sorry for that." The Crown Prince's features grew soft and genuine. "I have let you down when I have not stood up for you like a father should have, especially in Cavallo the other night."

"I promise you that I will not ever break that promise to you again." Her father smiled hopefully at Emilia. "Please forgive me."

Emilia reached across the table and grasped her father's hand. "Of course I forgive you, dad. I do not blame you one bit. It is not you...it's gran. That is why I need your help."

"Emilia, it is going to be difficult to convince your grandmother to change her ways...." Frederick was bound to help Emilia anyway he could, but she had to grasp the reality of it all. "I will support you with this and we will set up a time with the Queen to discuss it. I cannot guarantee what she will agree to, but I will be right there by your side with you."

Emilia nodded her head slowly understanding that her wishes may not be possible. "Thank you daddy. I need to at least give it a try."

Emilia and her father put their discussion to rest for the rest of the evening and enjoyed one another's company. It had been a long time since they had spent time just the two of them together. By the end of the evening, they vowed to have more evenings spent like this.

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Frederick looked across to his nervous daughter sitting opposite of him in the Queen's blue drawing room at Kingstone Palace in Aldoria, the capital of Illyria. Emilia was exuding her nerves as she sat there fidgeting with a ring on her finger and then smoothening over the fabric of her elegant professional looking green dress. Frederick knew she had done her best to look the part while proposing her new plans for a selection of new staff. Emilia wanted to be taken seriously and Frederick could feel how badly his daughter wanted this chance.

    He sat there in silence with Emilia, roving over his own thoughts and plans on how to support his daughter through this, having no idea where his mother's final decision would land. After his evening with Emilia he had come back to the palace to confide in his wife, Elizabeth, to see how they could support their daughter together. His wife felt the same profound proudness in Emilia knowing that she was trying to step up and take things into her own hands with her own responsibilities. But, they both feared how Eleanora, The Queen, would take Emilia's request after Emilia fired the press secretary that the Queen hand picked for her.

The Queen's personal assistant, Alastair, opened the grand golden doors leading to the Queen's private drawing room and alerted Emilia and her father that she was ready to hold their meeting. "Her Majesty, wishes to see you now." He stepped aside and waited for them to walk through the doors.

Emilia stood up slowly and took a glance down at her dress one last time. Taking in a deep breath she lifted her head to find her father staring down at her fondly with a warm smile gracing his lips. "Everything is going to be ok, regardless of her answer. Just tell your gran what you told me the other night. I will be right there with you, I promise." The Crown Prince made sure Emilia knew he supported her. All the princess could do was nod gently in reply before falling in to step behind her father.

The Crown Prince greeted Queen Eleanora in a traditional bow before embracing his mother warmly. He took a step back and allowed Emilia to do the same as she dipped into a curtsey and addressed her grandmother first at Queen. "Your Majesty." Emilia looked up at her grandmother as she slowly stood back up from her curtsey. She paused for a brief moment before witnessing a kind smile form on the Queen's lips.

"Come here Emilia and give your granny a hug." Emilia chuckled lightly and embraced the Queen, wrapping her arms around her tiny frame, forgetting how fragile and delicate she truly was. "You look lovely today, dear. I adore this color on you."

The three of them sat down and made small talk, catching up on everyday life as they waited for their tea to arrive. Emilia was feeling more relaxed as the seconds passed by, but she had a feeling it was her father who had something to do with it as he continued to make the conversation light and fun even throwing in small tid bits of information about what Emilia has been doing lately as if he was slowly planting seeds to grow.

Knowing without a doubt that her father had her back through all of this, Emilia felt it was time for her to address the real reason for their meeting. She took one last sip of her tea and gently placed it back on the table. Breathing in deeply, she felt a sense of calm course through her before she started to speak.

"Granny." Emilia spoke up and looked across to the Queen. "May we discuss why I wanted to meet with you today?"

The Queen nodded her reply before parting her lips to speak. "Yes, Emilia. Your father called me the other day and said you would like to speak with me about an important matter. What is it dear?" Eleanora opened the room up for discussion.

"First off, I do want to apologize for firing Mia Deacon, the press secretary you appointed to my team. Mia and I did not see eye to eye on many issues together and it made our work relations stressed to the point where I needed to let her go. I do understand that you hired Mia to help form me into more of an idea of what you wanted me to be as a royal, but I do believe that it was the wrong step in trying to achieve that." Emilia admitted truthfully, trying to lay out the foundation of her request. The Queen remained silent, waiting for her granddaughter to continue before speaking.

"I have put a lot of thought lately in who I want to be and what I want my future to hold. I do want to serve you to my best ability as a senior working royal along with my equestrian career as an Olympian..." The princess paused and took in a breath. "But, I need to do it the way I think is best. I do believe that if I was able to choose who I work with I can find people who can help me shape this vision I have for my future and that does mean getting rid of most of my current staff and starting fresh."

The Queen glanced towards her son, Frederick, briefly then turned her attention back to Emilia. "Continue." Were the only words that Eleanora spoke.

"I know this is you taking another chance on me, gran. All I need is a chance and your support and blessing with this going forward. I know lately that I haven't always gotten things right, but I am learning from my mistakes. But, not all were mistakes in my opinion." Emilia was now starting to tread in dangerous waters, but this needed to be addressed. "I tend to not follow the straight black and white line that the rest of the family does and quite frankly I'm ok with that, because it is who I am." The princess felt an odd feeling course through her and she could not place it, but it felt like her old fiery self felt a spark of a flame from deep within her and gave her the confidence she so desperately required in that moment. "I do things differently. I show compassion and emotion when I feel it is right to and it helps me connect with people on a different level. I speak my mind unapologetically when I feel my voice will do good rather than silence that harms more if I don't. I get criticized and am under scrutiny because of this...but I know it does more good than harm."

Emilia peaked over at her father who nodded his head proudly and encouraged Emilia to keep going. "I have no experience in choosing staff and have already asked my father to be an advisor, guiding me through this process while I create a team that I ultimately choose. I do not wish to do this without your support, gran, and I mean no disrespect to you. I just believe that I can do so much more if I work with people I trust to have my intentions at heart. I can be the princess you have always strived for me to be. I only want a chance to show you I can." Emilia ended her argument with a pleading look towards her grandmother as a quiet silence filled the room while she digested Emilia's words.

"Emilia..." The Queen finally broke her silence. "It does seem that you have given this quite a lot of thought." She looked directly into her granddaughter's pleading blue eyes. "But, I cannot approve of this."

The princess gasped lightly as she felt her heart sink into her chest. A feeling of defeat slowly began to build in the pit of her stomach as it replaced all the hope she had built up. Emilia pursed her lips together, unable to formulate a response as the devastation was clearly evident on her face.

"Why?" Emilia's voice broke. She could not understand her grandmother's decision.

"Emilia... dear." The Queen shook her head at her granddaughter who was clearly devastated with her decision. "It's due to your past behaviour. I cannot allow you to go on your own. I understand it has been a difficult year for you. But, your lashing out, breaking protocol behaviour is simply the reason why I cannot let you do this. I cannot reward your behaviour like this." Eleanora explained to Emilia and her father.

"Breaking protocol?" Emilia leaned forward in her chair with tears brimming in her eyes. "Is that about what happened with Prince Harry at the hospital? Because that was not my fault and I did not put his life directly at risk. It was the press..." She stood up for herself but the Queen held up a finger to silence her.

"That was an unfortunate circumstance. Yes a foreign prince's life was put in danger due to the media interest in you thanks to your ex, Emilia." The Queen became short with her. "I had to make a call to Queen Elizabeth and explain to her why her grandson was caught in the cross hairs of your mistake!" The Queen informed Emilia.

"How was that my mistake? And my life doesn't matter?" She softly whispered her questions, attempting to gain some sort of understanding in the matter.

The Queen sat there in utter silence. " Your life does matter to me, Emilia. Do not think for a second that it does not. But, it was your choice to trust Thomas Brandy and your instincts were clearly wrong in that situation, end of discussion." Eleanora took a sip of her tea, contemplating her thoughts.

"So I am being punished for falling in love with someone?" Emilia sat back in her chair and shook her head in disbelief. "I had no control over my ex's actions."

She shook her head, unsure that this was the best decision, but she was willing to make a deal that would in turn benefit the monarchy as well giving Emilia a small portion of the freedom she craved. "I will compromise, Emilia. You and Edward's team will be joined to show that there is no rife between you and your twin brother like the press have been suggesting for months. You can select one personal assistant, but the rest of your staff will be Edward's." Eleanora smiled down at Emilia as if she was doing her a favor, but in fact it was the complete opposite.

Before Emilia could even protest, her father broke his silence on her behalf.

Frederick leaned in and sat on the edge of his seat, looking his mother directly in her eyes. "I have stayed silent here, hoping that you would give Emilia this chance that I wholeheartedly think she deserves. She has shown massive strides in her commitment to serving you and the people of Illyria while continuing to train for the Olympics." Frederick was finally holding true to his promise to Emilia and standing up to his mother like a father should for his daughter. "Did you not listen to a word she said mother? It was respectful, well planned and thought out and it is what she truly wants. It is completely unfair of you to make your decision based on her past behaviour when half of the 'issues' were not even her fault to begin with, you and I both know that. You cannot punish my daughter for the actions of that vile boy. Placing Emilia with Edward's team is something I will not stand for as they will only use Emilia to Edward's benefit like this family has been doing so for all of her life. This has got to stop, because I am tired of it as a father. If anything, she will be under my staff if you do not allow her this chance to show you the change that this monarchy so desperately needs. It is now time for her to figure out her own path and identity in this family, mother. Times are different and you need Emilia exactly the way she is if you want the monarchy to have a future. You know and I know it. Emilia is an essential part to the future of the Illyrian monarchy." Frederick said his peace in a convincing impactful way.

His head turned to find his daughter, Emilia, staring at him with tears in her eyes, but a grateful smile plastered on her lips. This was what Emilia had asked him to do, why she enlisted his help and support.

"I promised you..." He proudly mouthed towards his daughter.

"Frederick." The Queen called his name as they both turned to look at her. "I do not like how you spoke to me, but I do admire how you stood up for your daughter today. You have convinced me son." Her eyes strayed towards Emilia, locking in her gaze.

"You get one chance, Emilia." Eleanora changed her mind, but Emilia could tell she was not pleased to do so. "On two conditions... your father is to be an advisor through it all and Edward and you need to do more engagements together. That is not a request, it's an order. You must get along or at least pretend to. Either way, it needs to happen. I will give you a few weeks to find suitable staff under your father's advisement. This will be reviewed in a few months time and if there are no changes, or striders forward... you join Edward's team."

Emilia could not believe what had just happened. She nodded her head in understanding. "Thank you, granny." It was a win thus far and Emilia would take it.

The Queen stood up, as did Emilia and her father. "Do not take my reversal of my decision as supporting this. Know that my blessing will have to be earned, not freely given in this matter. Emilia. Best of luck." The Queen spoke her final words and took her immediate leave.

Frederick remained stoic watching until the moment that his mother was out of his view before turning back towards his daughter. A beaming grin formed on his lips and his hands flew up in the air with elation. "Emilia! You did it!" He walked over towards her and enveloped Emilia into a loving hug.

"Dad, let's be honest. It was you who changed Gran's mind when you stood up for me." Emilia rested her head on her dad's chest and relished in the comfort and security it gave her. She closed her eyes as a stray tear betrayed her and fell down her cheek. It had felt lately that her father was not on her side, but today she was being proved wrong in all aspects.

"No, sweetheart. This was all your doing." Frederick squeezed her frame tighter. "Now, want to get started on this today? I have my afternoon cleared for you." He felt his daughter lift her head off of his chest and glance up at him with excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Really?" Emilia's icy blue eyes lit up.

She felt like a live wire skittering across the ground shooting off sparks. Remaining on edge and unable to concentrate, she padded around the room picking things up and putting them down. Every little noise or echo of a footfall in the hallway drew her attention. “He’ll be back, won’t he?” she said to herself.  

Scanning the room she saw reminders of him wherever she looked. His shaving kit, suit, shoes, jeans, jumper, cologne. She ran her hand over his things aching with the need to connect to him. His touch, his scent, his look. The room felt empty. Not because of the lack of his physicality in the space, but from his essence. Jamie filled a space with his being. Claire suddenly felt lonely. She missed him already - terribly.

Exhaling a huge sigh, she walked over to the window, peering down at the street. She had a very strange sensation that Jamie just might be standing down there next to a lamppost looking up at the window. From her perch high above the street, she had a commanding view of the area around the hotel. The street was devoid of people.  Not even a taxi cruised around looking for passengers. Even though Claire knew that it a foolish thought, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed she didn’t see him standing there. She rubbed the glabella, the tender skin between her eyebrows, in an effort to thwart a beginning headache.

Relationships are complicated things, she considered. For Claire, relationships were hard for her because she has trust issues. A gift courtesy of one Frank Randall.  She gave him her heart, love, and trust only to have him toss everything carelessly away like a worn-out, useless,  old shoe. She was hurt, betrayed, and doubtful to ever trust another man again.  And then Jamie Fraser walks into her life. After working with him for over a year, she knew him as a kind, thoughtful, gentle, considerate, loving man. 

In spite of their close working relationship, Claire continued to hold back her feelings, her trust. She knew Jamie to be a good man and it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him because she did. Well, professionally she trusted him implicitly. Personally, she did but... Maybe it’s because she feared how he would judge her if he knew the whole truth. Whatever the case, she thought he deserved someone better than her. She didn’t blame him for leaving after the way she treated him. Truth be told, she all but forced him out after insinuating that he was to blame for what happened. 

Claire knew that Frank had been watching them. He admitted it to her. ‘I’ve been watching you with him all night. What the fuck do you see in that Neanderthal?’ She also knew that Frank observing her with Jamie fanned the flames of his jealousy.  He always had been a jealous and possessive man. Come to think of it, Claire refected, this is just like the time he almost thrashed poor Albert, the young assistant professor that had the misfortune of spending time with and talking with her. 

Albert took pleasure at her admiring his wit.  Frank watched from the sidelines following her every move, smile, or laugh. He watched and drank, drank and watched until sufficiently drunk enough to physically menace the younger faculty member. Dragging her out of the party, he called her every vile name he could think of slut, whore, tramp bringing tears to her eyes. “You're mine, Claire. I don’t share well. You are my wife and you had better act like it. Don’t do it again,” he threatened. “Or so help me, I’ll…” He raised his hand to strike her. “Or you’ll do what Frank, beat me?” she called his bluff and succeeded. He dropped his hand grabbed her and pulled her to their car.

She exhaled deeply and walked away from the window. Claire knew that neither she nor Jamie could have changed what happened in the restaurant. Frank, hellbent on creating trouble, would have followed them determined to create mayhem.

She knew deep in her heart she wronged Jamie. Letting her anger get the better of her, she created a wedge between them. She knew she needed to admit her mistakes and tell the truth about her life with Frank. He needed to understand. No more secrets. No more lies.

Claire yawned and stretched feeling overwhelming fatigue settle over her. She hadn’t slept much since they arrived in Boston. It became an emotional roller coaster fueled from jetlag, too much alcohol, the newfound intimacy with Jamie and the disaster in the restaurant. No wonder she felt exhausted. She decided to rest while waiting for Jamie to return. Spying one of the tee shirts he had recently worn, she walked over picked it up and inhaled deeply. It smelled of him. Heady, musky, woodsy with a slight undertone of citrus from his aftershave. Claire pulled off her sleep shirt and put his on. It was too big, baggy, and shapeless on her small frame. Running her hands over the fabric, she felt the softness of it from frequent use. She climbed into the bed, breathing in his scent. She pretended that instead of his shirt wrapped around her, she lay enveloped in his arms and protected by his body. I’ll make it right. I must. Slowly she drifted off to sleep.

                                        **********************************

Ding!

The elevator door slid open with a soft whoosh permitting Jamie Fraser to step in. Entering the lift, he leaned against the glass wall dropping his head back to rest against the cool slick surface. He needed to get away, clear his mind, try to figure things out. 

An enigma. A puzzle. A mystery. How else to describe Claire? Damn the woman. He only wanted to offer her comfort, tenderness. Instead, she turned away from him. She says one thing I love you and only you and then she rejects him. Why would she do that? Frustrating. Infuriating. Confusing. 

He sought oblivion. Tonight was a double-edged sword. On one hand, he wanted to understand what was happening with his Sassenach. Then, again, he wanted to forget and to reduce the memory of this evening to ashes. Raising the bottle of whisky to his lips, he drank deep. The spirit slipped across his tongue cascading down his throat followed by its familiar burn. 

The door slid open allowing Jamie to exit into the main lobby. He strode past the reception desk. 

“Dr. Fraser, can I be of assistance?” The pretty receptionist inquired.

“Thank ye kindly lass, but no.” His face appeared slightly flushed.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to call a car for you. It’s quite cold out. Definitely not a night to be on foot.” 

“I’m a Highlander, born and bred. I’m used to the cold, ye ken?” With that, he exited through the hotel’s sliding doors into the fridge embrace of a Bostonian winter. Jamie searched the pockets of his jacket for his cap and gloves finding neither. He also discovered he neglected to bring his wallet, money, or phone. “I’ll do,” he muttered to himself. Mercifully, his jacket had a hood which he pulled up over his head while cramming his hands, carefully, into his pockets. His bottle of whisky tucked into a pocket inside his jacket.

Lacking familiarity with Boston, he wondered where he should go, though it really didn’t matter. He was not out to sightsee but out to clear his head. 

Taking another long drink from the bottle, he turned to his left and began to walk, then jog, eventually running without direction. He slipped and slid on the black ice, tumbling into a snowbank laughing at his own foolishness. He was drunk, very drunk, he thought as he took another big gulp of the whisky. His Da always said, “Yer never drunk if ye can still stand up.” And he was still standing, albeit with the assistance of the snowbank, but standing he was. 

Jamie found himself back at Boston Commons where he spent the day with Claire. He walked slowly through the whispering white silence of the park looking at the places where they had gone. The park had an ethereal feel to it.  Streetlamps cast shadows across the park’s snow-encrusted expanse giving shape and form to the spectors hiding in the gloom. Evergreen trees, tall, imposing, majestic released their sharp piney tang around him. Deciduous trees with branches bare, naked without their leaves, covered with smatterings of snow or encased in ice. The wind howled through the trees causing clumps of snow to drop around him. At night, the park became a desolate place reflecting the wretchedness of his soul.

He came across the spot where they met the sparrow family. Collapsing onto the cold bench, he found himself surrounded by the memories of the day. 

“The lass has ye twisted around her wee finger, ye ken? Ye even speak to birds if it makes her happy. She’s even gotten you to believe that they have the souls of her dead family,” he snorted. He sat there shaking his head. “What wouldn’t ye do for her? Nuthin’. Then why is this so hard? If she doesna want to have the scoundrel arrested, then let her have it. She has her reason, Fraser. Ye trust her word, do ye no’? Aye, I do. Then leave her be. She’ll tell ye why when she’s ready or when she can.”

“Remember lad, she’s been hurt.” Harry had said. “Be gentle wi’ her.”

“Aye, ‘tis all true, but why did she no’ discuss this agreement she made with me first? I mean we’re supposed to be partners.” His fingers tapped out a rhythmic tattoo against his thigh as he sat in contemplation. “Ye ken the reason, ye eejit. Ye would have said no. She did this for ye, tae protect ye. Tae sacrifice herself for ye. No’ because she loves the man. She loves ye enough tae do such a thing.”

Jamie knew all this within his innermost heart, but he still wanted justice for her. He did not want to be the one causing her to lose that chance.

“Besides,” he told himself, “ye heard her, she blames me for what happened. For failing tae protect her, for leaving her for,” he choked, “no’ being the man she needs.” Abruptly he realized that he also broke his promise to the bird family. 

‘I promise tae see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life,’ he vowed to the birds. Jamie slammed his hand down on the bench. “Ifrinn! Fraser, ye are useless, and no’ a man of honor. Ye couldna even keep yer word tae a cluster of sparrows now could ye? If ye canna do something as simple as that, how could ye keep yer word tae Claire? Ye dinna deserve her.” He took another drink, the bottle very nearly empty.

He saw the bird tree just a short distance from where he sat. Feeling the need to apologize, Jamie staggered toward the tree calling out loudly, “If ye can hear me wee birds, I am sorry, sae sorry. I let her down and ye as weel. I’m no’ a man.” He hung his head in shame but quickly his anger rose to the surface.

 He unleashed his fury against the tree hitting it hard reinjuring his right hand causing it to become scraped and bleeding. The pain from the single blow shot white-hot up his arm into his oxter. He collapsed into a mound of still soft snow at the base of the conifer. He let loose a torrent of Gàidhlig curses and self-deprecating rants. Hanging his head between his knees, Jamie took a deep breath trying to stem the waves of pain, nausea, and dizziness gripping him. No good. Heaving and retching, his stomach turned itself out of whisky and bile. He felt numb, tired and decidedly less drunk than before. 

“What a waste of that verra fine whisky,” he ironically thought as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

It was cold, colder than before. “Weel, yer sitting in the snow, yer no’ dressed for the weather, and yer just vomited up all yer antifreeze, what do ye expect?” 

The problem, he considered, came down to where to go. He could go back to the hotel but he did not want to see Claire, just yet. He didn’t have his wallet with his credit card nor did he have any money. As he saw it, he needed to keep moving to stay warm. He stood up with great difficulty. Choosing a random direction, he began to walk. Jamie began to feel better walking. After walking about five blocks he came upon a Church with a brightly lit sign outside.

Cold? Tired? Hungry? Or just need a place for the night? The Lord Loves You. All are welcome!

He looked up and saw a statue of Blessed Michael the Archangel standing guard over the entrance.

“Blessed Michael of the Red Domain defend us,” he thought and knew he had found a safe refuge for the remainder of the night. 

Brother Stanislaus Kostka possessed an imposing figure. In his previous life, he was a former naval corpsman serving with a marine unit.  He had blonde wavy hair, kind green eyes, and maintained a muscular physique hidden by his simple religious habit. He wore a brown habit with a hood, a cord wound around his waist and sandals. The cincture tied around his waist had the characteristic three knots symbolizing poverty, chastity, and obedience. A black rosary hung from the cingulum completing his attire. 

Jamie stood quietly in the back of the shelter, observing the clergyman caring for his flock. The friar had a gentleness and compassionate way that emanated from him.  A woman had approached him with a problem, to which he devoted his full attention. After considering and weighing the possible alternatives he smiled and presented his proposal. The woman grinned nodded in acceptance, then moved away.

Looking up he spotted Jamie standing in the doorway waiting to be acknowledged.  

Brother Stan turned his attention to Jamie. “How can I help you tonight, my friend?” His smile could warm a person through and through.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Father, but I need a place to stay for the night,” Jamie apologized.

“It’s Brother, Mr…?”

“Fraser, but ye can call me Jamie.”

“Welcome, Jamie. It seems you had a difficult night so far. You know there is always room at the Lord’s table for one more.” Looking at Jamie he took in his appearance and observed his battered and bruised hand. 

“So Mr. Fraser, er Jamie, come with me and let’s get a look at that hand?” He turned away not waiting for an answer. Jamie followed and they walk into a small room both office and treatment room.

“May I ask how you injured your hand?” asked the Brother as he set up what he needed to care for Jamie’s hand.

Jamie looked abashed. “I, ah, had an argument with (what do I call her?) Claire the woman I love. And I got drunk. I needed time to think things over. So, I jogged to the park and my anger got the best of me, and I took it out on a tree.”

Brother Stan went about the task of caring for the wounds removing any splinters that he found.

Jamie hissed as the open areas were cleaned and dressed. “I have two hairline fractures of my right third and fourth fingers. I, um, somehow lost the splints that were there. Could ye make something temporary to put there?”

“How did you acquire the fractures?”

“‘I was in a fight last night defending a friend’s honor. I ken how it sounds like I’m some kinda drunken brawler, but ‘tis no’ true.”

“And would this friend be, Claire?”

“Aye, ‘twas.” 

By this time, Brother Stan had cleaned and dressed the wounds. “I see,” he nodded solemnly.

Giving Jamie a direct look, Brother Stan inquired, “You are troubled. How can I help you?”

He considered this offer to help. “Ye can let me into yer chapel to pray and ask the Lord’s guidance.”

“Usually, we don’t allow people in the chapel alone at night.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair adopting his storyteller pose. “Let me tell ye a story. ‘Tis a tradition in the Fraser clan that parents make a rosary for each child for their First Communion. My Da carved each of the beads and the crucifix. My Mam strung the beads together thinking on the Glorious Mysteries.  As she placed each bead, she said a Hail Mary, Our Father, or the Glory Be in the appropriate place. They had it blessed by a priest and it was gifted to me on the morning of my First Communion. I put it away after and dinna think much on it again until they died. Then it became the most precious thing I owned. I would ride out on my horse and go tae the old deserted churches in the Highlands and there I would pray. I would pray my rosary, the one they gave me, and it gave me comfort as I believed they were near me. Now, I’m asking ye to grant me another chance for comfort, tae talk tae the Lord so I ken what tae do. I dinna have my rosary with me, but I’ll do. Can ye help me?” Jamie placed his left hand over Brother Stan’s appealing for understanding.

Emerald green met sapphire blue seeking the truth and asking for help.

Brother Stan’s hand went to the cord around his waist and removed his rosary. “Tonight you can use mine.”

They rose and silently walked through the slumbering mass of people. Homeless men, women with children, battered women, runaways, lost souls, those down on their luck. Jamie looked around committing this sight to memory.

As they ascended the stairs to the chapel, the scent of beeswax and incense hung heavy in the air. On the right of the main altar was a shrine to the Holy Family while on the left was a shrine dedicated to St. Michael. The red sanctuary lamp was lit hanging near the main altar announcing the presence of the Lord.

In accordance with the custom of the Roman Rite, both Jamie and Brother Stan dipped their fingers into the holy water font and crossed themselves in the Sign of the Cross. Brother Stan gripped Jamie’s shoulder before leaving, “May your heart find comfort and your soul know peace. The Lord be with you. If you have need of me, you know where I will be.”

“Thank ye for everything,” Jamie replied choking with emotion.

Brother Stan nodded and left.

Jamie walked to the center aisle, genuflected, got down on his knees, then lay prostrate before his God in humility, respect, and penance.

“Lord God, please let me understand her. 

Let me shelter her from all danger, pain, and sorrow.

Let me be her sanctuary, her safe port in a storm.

Let me keep her safe; her protector from what seeks tae harm  her.

Let me help her tae find peace, happiness, joy, and love. 

Let me be her home the place where her heart resides.

Let me love her rightly.

God, oh God, please let me be enough.”

And he wept.

                                        ****************************

Claire woke up looking at the time on the bedside clock. Ill-temperedly it announced 3:38 AM. Shit, she only meant to take a brief nap not fall asleep. Rubbing her eyes ridding them of residual sleep, she scanned the room looking for...

“Jamie?” There was no answer. The opposite side of the bed was cold and not been slept in. There was no sign of him.

Claire began to panic, her heart racing, fingers cold and sweaty. What if something happened to him? What if he had fallen and gotten hurt? He could be lost. Maybe he was hit by a car? Her imagination ran wild imagining different catastrophes that could have befallen him.

Deciding not to let panic consume her, she thought maybe he fell asleep in the lobby not wanting to wake her up. Calling down to the front desk, she discovered he had left about three hours ago. According to the receptionist Jamie did not say where he was going. The young woman did notice that he turned to his left when he exited the building.

Foolish man, where could he have gone to? Guilt engulfed her. She should have gone after him when he left. She should have never left him alone. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him.

Claire decided to look for him and dressed quickly.  Where he could have gone, she had no idea.  But she was damned if she was going to sit here to wait and worry. She grabbed his warm coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and his wallet. Claire thought having his wallet could prove useful as it would serve as a means of identification. Although, a very tall red-headed man would be easy to spot.

Claire turned left following Jamie’s assumed route, hoping luck would be on her side. 

Walking the empty streets, she began to wonder where he could have gone. She trudged along for several blocks before noticing that this is the way to Boston Commons. Of course. That’s where he would go. The open spaces would be a balm to his soul. She hurried quickly over the icy walkways. 

She reached Boston Commons and followed the path they had taken. There was no sign of him. She passed by a tree and found an almost empty bottle of whisky that she recognized from the hotel along with a fair amount of vomit. So! He had been here. She looked around and did not see him. “Jamie, where are you? Jamie!” But there was no answer.

Claire continued walking, looking for any sign as to where he could have gone. She followed the path out of the park and walked straight for several blocks until coming across a welcome sign posted by a church. The sign welcomed anyone in need of a place to stay. She wondered if he would have gone in until she looked up and saw the imposing statue of Blessed Michael the Archangel and knew. Michael was important to the Scots. They often petitioned him for assistance in a time of need.

“No harm in asking,” she considered. Descending down the stairs, Claire entered the shelter and observed Brother Stan at work talking, comforting, praying.  Looking around she did not see any red curls anywhere. Just as she was about to leave, Brother Stan approached her.

“May I help you?” he asked a gentle smile across his lips.

“Well, maybe. I am looking for a tall red-headed Scotsman that…”

“Are you Claire, by chance?”

 She gaped at him. “How did you know? Jamie, is he here? Where is he? Is he alright?” Claire babbled. She frantically scanned the room again. How hard could it be to find him here?

“He is here and safe. Though he re-injured his broken hand, I’m afraid. I had to pull several splinters out of his hand. He had a run-in with a tree, it seems,” he said with a little smirk.

“Take me to him, please,” she pleaded. He was hurt and she hadn't been there to care for him. She felt uneasy until she could see him with her own eyes.

“He is upstairs in the chapel, praying. Come I will take you.”

“Praying?”

“Yes, he said it would bring him comfort and peace.”

They walked up the same stairs and repeated the same blessing. “Go to him. Be with him. He needs you.”

“Thank you Father for everything.”

“You’re welcome my dear. Oh and it is Brother, not Father. The Lords’ peace be with you both.”

Brother Stan left silently as he did before.

Claire put Jamie’s things down in a pew, and soundlessly approached the man she loves.

Kneeling down beside him, she hesitated wanting so much to touch him. Wanting to stroke his soft curls to give him comfort. To reassure herself he was real. But she felt afraid to startle him out of his deep meditations.

Instead, she whispered softly, “Jamie, it’s me, Claire.”

                                        ***********************

Interesting things:

St. Stanislaus Kostka is the patron saint of broken bones. So I named the Brother after him. 

In the mood board, the picture of the church in the left upper corner is a church devoted to  St. Stanislaus Kostka. It is located in Brooklyn.

The Marine Corps is part of the Naval services and do not have their own medics. So that’s why Brother Stan served as a naval corpsman.