Sorry this took so long- I had my wisdom teeth taken out on the 24th and that's kept me from spending a lot of time writing, believe it or not. Anyway, thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited, and followed- you rock and all :)
"We will not be here long, Emma. We simply need to meet this merchant and then we will return home. Small steps, remember? You did agree to this."
Emma sighs heavily, tilting her head at her mother, who only smiles pleasantly. Of course she does.
There is, Emma decides, such an occurrence as being too pleasant.
The familiar smell of the sea does little to soothe her nerves, and she hopes that being forced to accompany her parents like this will not make the place less comforting in the future. She would hate if they ruined her favorite getaway place. Almost automatically, her eyes scan the shore as they approach, and her heart nearly jumps through her throat when she sees his ship, sitting magnificently in the harbor. She feels the all too well known pull toward it, her blood rushing through her veins at a rate that certainly is not safe.
Thankfully, her parents don't notice her lapse in step as she fumbles for a moment, and she recovers quickly.
Her eyes search for his dark hair and uniform out of habit, scanning the crowd for even a peak of him. He doesn't appear to be in sight, however, and another sigh escapes her as she falls back into pace with her parents.
Just her luck.
"That is quite a ship, isn't it?" her father asks, and Emma looks back at it almost immediately, smiling. Of course he would notice. Who wouldn't?
"It is," she tells him, playing with a button on her dress and trying to remain casual. "Do... do you recognize it?"
Her father appraises the vessel again, pursing his lips for a moment. "Afraid not, dear, other than knowing it docks here often in its travels. I do believe I have seen it a few times, but I don't believe I've dealt with the owners before."
She hadn't gotten her hopes up too high, but Emma still feels herself deflate just the slightest. The man they meet is docked a few ships over from the one that she rarely can take her eyes off of, though she still smiles politely at him as he is introduced and waits patiently for him to talk to her father and mother. She knows she should be listening, but she does nothing of the sort, only looking back to the conversation when she hears parting words.
"It has been a pleasure," she says, sounding much too sweet to her own ears. Her parents smile widely at her, though, and she knows she's done right. It's so easy to please them, she doesn't have to try too hard.
As they walk back along the docks toward the road, Emma sees him at the exact same moment he sees her. Recognition flashes across his features and it makes her heart jump. It's suddenly much too difficult to swallow and she is aware the ability would return if she would look away, but she keeps her eyes locked on his instead. He smiles, a tiny, timid upward turning up his lips as he appraises her just as earnestly.
Emma can feel the warmth in her cheeks and knows she must be blushing, so she finally tears her gaze away from him to catch her breath. When someone sees her father and strikes up a conversation, she glances back over briefly. He's not far away now - she could be by his side in three or four strides. Even though she has to turn to the exchange with her parents and pretend to be interested, she can still feel the heat of his stare, burning a hole into her head with the intensity of it.
Her heart is pounding so strongly, she's shocked that her mother does not hear it from where she stands just beside her, the beating of it ringing in her ears with every pulse. She tries to focus on what's happening, forcing herself not to look back over at her stranger no matter how much curiosity tries to turn her head.
However, when she hears his voice, she fails.
It's only to hear him call out his brother's name, but she recognizes the sound. He's only a few feet away from her and it's the clearest she's ever heard him speak. His voice is low and somewhat husky, but not enough to make him seem impossibly gruff. It manages to have a lightness to it as well, in a way that she cannot quite explain. The tone he speaks with is modulated, clear and concise in a way that she is certain comes from being a navy officer. He has a lifting accent that she finds addicting, and as he begins a conversation with his brother, she forgets whatever her parents were speaking of and refocuses to listen to him.
"There has been talk of a storm that was brewing when some men in the tavern came in earlier. I am certain it has only grown since. We shall stay in the town tonight and set sail tomorrow morning instead." The brother has a very formal voice as well, though his is firmer and deeper than his brother's.
"Very well," her Lieutenant responds (Did his eyes just flick in her direction?). "I suppose I can busy myself to pass the time until then."
"I am sure you will find something, brother. This area is a rather nice one and there is much to be seen and done." Emma tilts her head. Do they never stay long enough to enjoy themselves? she wonders, feeling a quick rush of sadness for the man, a brief flutter of sympathy. However, it flees when she remembers that he has probably seen much more exotic and fascinating than her small little kingdom, off by itself.
The two men nod at each other before parting ways, but just as her Lieutenant is about to disappear around the corner, he looks back at her and smiles. His eyes sparkle with something resembling mischief (and oh, how that makes her heart skip), and his raised eyebrow just as he turns away makes her head spin.
And somehow she reads his expression as if it were written before her in crisp handwriting, and knows with a shocking clarity that he wants her to return to him. Has he noticed her even half of the times that she's noticed him? Does he know the fascination that she holds?
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and tries to steady herself, already planning exactly how to get herself outside of the castle as soon as they return to it.
"Is that where Snow White and her prince live?"
"I believe so, yes. Their story is quite magnificent. Have you ever heard the entirety of it?"
"Do tell."
It almost makes Emma turn around and go back home. She hates hearing people talk about her parents as if they are legends only told of by the most experienced of travelers. First of all, it always irritates her that something in the tale always gets shifted or misinterpreted or reshaped. Second, they are her parents, and she always finds herself irrationally angry when they are talked of like such grand beings. They're just her parents, not something to be put on display and discussed like a rare wonder that should be put on display for all the realms to see.
Most of all, however, she hates being reminded just how true their love is. It's wonderful for her that she knows they will never part, of course, but carrying a weight like having parents who are True Love is a burden she doesn't wish to bear. When she lets herself think about it long enough, she knows that her parents being who they are and what they are is what makes her so terrified of love itself. Flirtation is nothing to stress over. Minor feelings rarely pose a threat to anything.
When it comes down to serious emotion, however, she is not sure if she wants to find someone to love so strongly. With parents who have broken curses with nothing but a kiss, only a brief touch of their lips, is there even a point to searching? She is deathly afraid that anything she discovers will not add up to what they have, that even if she falls in love, she will never have the purity and power that her parents possess simply by loving each other as they do.
She has grown up surrounded by it and she knows all too well what a love like theirs looks like and everything that comes along with it. The world and all the stars in every realm have to align perfectly for True Love to be created, and the odds of finding it herself seem impossibly slim.
So, as soon as she hears the people on the path pass her talking of her parents, she stops and sighs. She almost turns around, almost gives up on even the idea of knowing what his name is and everything else about him that she can figure out. Chances are not worth getting hurt over, are they? Is the possibility of him (of being in love or anything resembling it) worth taking such a risk as this one?
One foot has already turned back in the direction of the castle when she sees his face clearly in her mind, his shocking blue eyes and soft features. Her head has nearly yanked her back to the comfort of her home when she hears his voice echo in the confines of her brain, soft and everything that a voice should be. There is a battle for the briefest of moments, though it feels like a lifetime that she stands there on the path, one foot pointed toward home and one pointed toward him.
And then she turns both of her feet in the direction of the shore and walks.
She finds him easily, knowing exactly what she needs to look for. It takes her a moment to pinpoint why the place that he's standing feels achingly familiar, but then she realizes it's the very spot she was at when she saw him the first time. He's waiting for her in the place where she first locked eyes with him.
So he had truly noticed her.
Her nerves jump, tingling with electricity (he will surely be the death of her, this beautiful stranger) that makes it hard to think and breathe. This is not smart. She should not be meeting a random stranger on a whim of emotion.
(It does not matter that he is fetchingly handsome and has a voice that should be considered a crime.)
Leaving before she takes another step would be the best option.
He turns, seeing her, and he tilts his head, the expression endearing even with the smirk that is playing up his features. "Come here often?" he asks, and Emma swears her heart stops.
It takes her a moment as she struggles to act with as much normality as possible. He smiles at her, though, and some of her tension falls away. She grins, taking a step closer. "Actually, I do."
A small laugh escapes him, the sound shaking her to her core just a little. "That is rather interesting, love, because I do, as well. I have noticed you on a few of those occasions."
Unsure of how to respond, Emma waits, trying to think of anything that would ease the tension of strangeness lingering between them. After a moment, he shrugs and closes the distance between them, offering her his hand. "Killian Jones, Navy officer of the kingdom just to the west of here."
Killian.
The name flows through her ear and rattles around in her brain, echoing beautifully and sounding like a key sliding into the lock where it belongs, settling and clicking in all the ways it should before it turns and opens a door.
His name is Killian.
Somehow, she manages to let him take her hand in his and press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Emma Nolan," she responds, trying not to focus on how warm his lips are and the invisible imprint they leave in her skin.
"As in, the daughter of the king and queen of this land?" His eyebrow quirks, and she wonders how he had not yet noticed that detail.
"Yes," she tells him, laughing just a little. Her nerves are everywhere, jumping and jerking every time he speaks. Or blinks. "But I pray you will not hold that against me."
He finally lets her hand go, and it falls to her side as if it is not sure what it should do anymore now that it is no longer held by him. "I would not dream of it, m'lady."
It is the same response she always gets, no matter who the person or what the circumstance. The only difference between those who fawn her over her anyway and this man, Killian, is that she can see the honesty burning in his eyes and believes him.
She wonders if he simply has that effect on people.
"Thank you." There's a moment where her chest constricts as she searches her brain for something to say to fill the sudden void in conversation. Though it would appear he's most certainly known of her presence on many of her outings, she feels as if outright giving away the fact would be strange.
As if their current predicament was not already strange enough.
"I am actually surprised you did not recognize me. Most people do." It's the only thing she can think to say and it falls flat, even though he still smiles just a little.
It's enough to at least make her feel a little less incompetent.
"I only deal closely with a few of the merchants near the shore, and if not doing that I'm taking military inventory or handling treaties with other military personnel or the like. Rarely do I find myself crossing paths directly with royals," he explains, his gaze finding the sea as he speaks.
"Oh," is the only sound that gets past her throat before she gets caught up in admiring his profile, from the soft point of his nose to his slim lips to the defined jaw that holds it all together. He catches her eye and she quickly averts her gaze, watching the waves crash onto the shore for a moment before turning back to him. Without being able to help herself, she blurts, "Have you seen many lands and realms?"
He chuckles slightly. Idiotic girl, she chastises mentally. "A few, yes."
Somehow, she can tell he's only being modest. "Tell me of one?"
"How about I tell you a story." There's a glint in his eyes. "And you tell me one."
"Deal," she says quickly, so desperate to hear of his adventures. She smiles, gesturing to the wooden table not too far from them. They sit down and she crosses her hands on the top, raising an eyebrow and waiting.
"There's one land a few day's journey from here, called Arendelle. When I travelled there, the king and queen of the realm had just died while travelling to another land. I wasn't informed of the reason they had been sailing," he begins, leaning forward as if the information is full of conspiracy. Emma's blood runs just a little faster and she finds herself drawn a little across the table as well. "That is not the strangest occurrence, however. Apparently, the doors of the castle there have been closed off to the rest of the kingdom for over ten years. Not a single soul I asked had a legitimate reason as to why there is no traffic to the castle, only that years ago the king and queen had closed every opening to the outside world and gotten rid of nearly all of their staff. The actions were never undone. Every once in a while, the people would see the king and queen when they had business to attend to, and on very rare occasions the youngest daughter would be seen by the luckiest of spectators, but that's all."
Emma tilts her head at him. "That's so strange," she muses, a smile tugging up the corners of her lips, her mind running wild with the possibilities of the stories this man could tell her.
"Your turn," he says, and she rolls her eyes a little before racking her brain to search for a safe tale.
"Okay." She purses her lips for a moment. "Once when I was younger, about fifteen, my parents took me to town with them. It was one of the first times I went with them in order to start learning who people were in the kingdom. Mischievousness has always been wired into me, however, and so the moment they turned their backs to talk with one of the marketers, I ran off. I was far into the woods before they noticed my absence, and I winded up walking around in the forest for a while until I finally went home on my own."
"And what all did you do during that time? Simply walk?" Killian asks, and she swears he should not be this intrigued by her measly tale.
She shrugs, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. "Yes, actually. I just... I went and saw how many of the... plants I could identify, and how many birds that I knew and... just walked." She purses her lips and looks down, away from his deep eyes that see much more than any other pair have ever seemed to. "It's absurd, I know, but-"
"No, not at all, love." And he's serious, so unbelievably serious that she's sure he's simply playing a game. "Running away, or wanting to, is fairly normal, from what I understand."
"Did you ever want to run away?" she asks, looking back up at him. His answering smile is dazzling, lighting up the area around them and she can't seem to tear her eyes away from him.
"Of course," he says easily, and there's a twinkle in his eye. She knows he's telling the truth, and the corners of her lips tilt up as well.
"Tell me of your running away story, then," she requests, but she can see just as he can that the sun is setting. The way he's looking at her lets her know that he's aware she has to go.
And she hates it.
"Another time," he tells her, his smile never faltering.
It's silly, and she knows that it is, but she suddenly feels a rush of panic that she won't ever see him again. She wants to, more than anything, so when they get up, she goes to stand in front of him, keeping her face as firm as possible. "Promise?"
His tongue runs along his bottom lip and her veins buzz with the feeling of standing so close to him, like a lightning strike is being pumped through her body with every heartbeat in the place of her blood. A breeze blows some of his hair in his face, but he shakes the strands out of his eyes. Giving her a smile that would turn the most faithful of women away from their commitments (even if just for a moment), takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips. His kiss is warm despite the cooling evening air, and it makes goosebumps rise on her flesh.
"I swear to you, Princess. The next time I'm in this land, I'm sure our paths will cross, and I will tell you another story in exchange for another one of your own. Does that sound alright to you?" The thrill intensifies, making it difficult for her to force air in and out of her lungs. He's still holding on to her hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles.
She knows this isn't the smartest of decisions. She can hear her mother's voice so clearly in her head, telling her to always "Be kind, but cautious." Perhaps she would, if his touch didn't make her feel as though her entire body were alight with flames. Maybe she would heed her mother's advice, if his voice didn't sound so beautiful to her ears. She doesn't want to think of never hearing it again.
Besides, isn't this what she's ached so long to have? Something to make her heart beat faster, to give her a sense of adventure past the very little she's experienced in her life? It would be a shame to dream for so long and then not take the one chance she gets for even a sliver of what she's longed for.
"Yes," she whispers, and she's not quite sure why her voice comes out so quiet, so hushed, as if she's afraid the moment will shatter if she makes one wrong move. "I would like that very much."