Author Note: Sorry for taking so long to get this one out! School starts back this week and I've been busy with the packing and the traveling and the hugs and kisses goodbye :D hope ya'll don't mind! Anyway, not much to say here 'cept because I'm back at school, things are probably going to slow down on the update front a bit. Hopefully not too slow, but we'll see. Wishing all of you guys a very happy school year! Thank you for your patience, for reading, faving, following, and reviewing! You guys are great!

P.S. There is a good story one of my reviewers (SmellofRoses) is writing and I think she deserves a few more readers! It's in Fairy Tales, and I think it sounds pretty good so far! definitely go check it out, please, if you don't mind! :D Oh, and it's called "Will You Find Me In The Vineyards?"

Soli Deo Gloria

Disclaimer: Disney owns Tangled, its characters, and its story. By the way, I totally borrowed "Oh my giddy aunt" from Gnomeo and Juliet (Touchstone Pictures, Rocket Pictures, and Arc Productions; distributed by Disney) the line made me laugh too much not to use it :D

Nearly three weeks had passed, and Thomas had visited the woman he loved almost every single day. He had brought her two more bouquets of roses, giving the excuse that they were to replace their wilting predecessors. He had also started dressing sharper, taking Ferdinand's advice on what he wore, and keeping his hair and whiskers carefully groomed. He watched her more often, his eyes and compliments revealing the strength of his admiration. And he began to develop the talent of communicating his feelings without actually saying anything at all.

Catherine was unsure how to respond at first, finding the changes attractive but, at the same time, strange. It was not until halfway through the first week that the confusion slowly turned into pleasure. By week two, she started to spend more time in front of the mirror, brushing her hair and choosing her clothing more carefully. She looked forward to his visits, waiting at the window for sight of his horse. Coupled with this anticipation were the odd, burning pricks of jealousy she felt when work or family affairs kept him away. But then week three came around, and Catherine was having trouble convincing herself that she and the prince were still 'just friends'.

Occupied by these thoughts, Catherine walked beside Isobel as they returned home from an unsuccessful shopping trip. Isobel was fuming, both at the prices of gowns and at the prince of Orae's recent letter. Catherine, being the good friend that she was, tried to listen. It was just that Thomas and all the possibilities he now brought kept getting in the way.

"It's as if the whole world is against me, Katie! Seriously, what with those rotten merchants from Florence and Geoff being so stupidly responsible, I'm surprised I haven't been struck by lightning yet." Isobel groaned, staring up at the cloudless sky.

Catherine shook her head. "Geoffrey's just staying up there another week. He probably has a lot of work to do at home."

"That much work though, Katie? Surely he can't have so much that he can't come for a visit."

Catherine had to agree, although admittedly she was thinking about a different prince.

Isobel sighed, asking, "I'm being terribly clingy, aren't I? Just like Patricia."

"You're not clingy. You just miss him and that's very understandable," Catherine said, remembering it had been three days since she had last seen Thomas, which was three days too long.

"Do you think so?" Isobel looked at her hopefully. "Because I do miss him, Katie. I miss Geoff so much and I love him and I just want him to be here with me! I mean, what does Orae have that I don't?"

"Mountains."

Isobel frowned at the front of her dress, muttering, "I've got mountains plenty. It's just those idiot dressmakers in Florence who think showcasing them is worth an Auxurian fortune."

"Orae also has goats," Catherine said, rolling her eyes.

"I can get a goat," her friend responded as they neared Lord Brian's house.

"And where would you keep it?"

"In my bedroom."

Catherine smirked, predicting, "It'll eat everything, including your showcase dresses. Don't get a goat, Isobel."

She nodded. "I suppose you're right. And I suppose I need to stop complaining and just tell Geoff I'm behind him a hundred percent."

Catherine opened the gate to her front yard. "There's a good girl. You're better than Patricia already."

"Patricia's luckier, though. Salisbury isn't half as far away as Orae is," Isobel said, walking along the path. "And I bet all the girls in Orae are much prettier than I am too. Thank goodness Geoff is terrible with women or I really would have something to worry about."

This last sentence was lost on Catherine due to her noticing the bouquet of roses on the bottom step. She knelt and picked it up, smiling.

"I mean he's absolutely awful, Katie. I don't even know how we ended up together but—what is that?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, inhaling the flowers' fragrance.

Isobel pointed at the roses. "Those right there—who are those for?"

Catherine did not answer and instead turned deliberately to go into the house.

Isobel's eyes widened. "Katie, you're hiding something. Who are those for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do and—oh, there's a note. You dropped a note."

Catherine gasped and hastily ran back outside. Isobel had picked up the note and was examining the handwriting, a grin stretching across her face. Catherine made a lunge for the paper, but her friend easily slipped out of the way.

"Katie, this is a man's handwriting. Who on earth is sending you flowers?"

"No one! Isobel, give that," she tried again to snatch the note away, "back! It's not yours!"

"Maybe I'll just read it since you won't tell me?" Isobel laughed, unfolding the paper to read aloud, "'Dear Cat, I came around to drop these off and'—wait, doesn't the prince call you—hey!"

Catherine succeeded in snatching the note from her friend. "That's mine, thank you very much!"

Isobel folded her arms, asking, "So the prince of the country is bringing you roses?"

"Yes, he is, but only because the other ones he gave me are starting to wilt." She entered the house, trying to ignore the delighted gasps that followed her to the kitchen.

"He's given you roses before? How am I just now hearing about this?"

Catherine set the roses and note on the kitchen table, shaking her head. "It's only been recently. And anyway, it's not your business who brings me flowers or—or anything."

Isobel raised her eyebrows, retorting, "Katie, this is the man whom you swore to everyone was just a friend. Friends don't give friends roses if said friends are an unattached man and woman!"

"How do you know?"

"It's common knowledge. And—you know what?" Isobel sat down at the table, gazing at the flowers. "I've just realized that Geoff's never sent me flowers before… I should tell him I like magnolias."

"They don't have magnolias in Orae."

"Or in Corona. I'd just like to watch him tear the world apart to find them."

Catherine narrowed her eyes as she filled a vase with water. "That's mean, Isobel."

Isobel shook her head firmly, correcting, "No, what's mean is that you are being courted by the prince and you haven't told me anything!"

"Tommy's not courting me."

"He's bringing you roses."

"That doesn't mean anything," she said, starting to separate the roses out to trim the stems.

Isobel snorted, "Oh, you're such an awful liar, Katie. What's going on?"

Catherine carefully selected a few flowers, clipping them shorter. "If you must know, Tommy's been coming over more often. And he's been bringing roses, and dressing nicer. And saying things that may—may not be strictly platonic."

"He's trying to woo you," her friend said, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

"I don't know if that's quite it." Catherine slid the cut roses into the water and began to cut another.

"Well what do you think it is?"

She snipped the scissors, muttering, "I think he's… considering."

"Considering?"

"Yes. I think he's debating the possibility with himself."

"So what are you doing?"

She hesitated, and then said, "I'm waiting for him to make up his mind."

Isobel shrieked so loudly that Catherine almost lost a finger. "YES! Oh, you do like him, don't you? You probably just want to grab his beard and snog him senseless."

Catherine felt her face turn red. "I don't want—no! Isobel I don't want to snog him or—or anything like that. I just want to figure out what he wants."

Isobel frowned. "I thought you knew what he wants."

"I know what I think he wants. I don't actually know what he wants."

"Well what do you want?"

"Could we just stop talking about 'wanting' for a second here?" Catherine asked, clipping the final roses.

Isobel gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It's just all so very exciting. I mean, I've been waiting forever for you to realize you like the prince."

"It hasn't been forever."

"Might as well be, by today's standards. It's as if you and the prince are waltzing while the rest of us are doing a Midlander jig. And I'm not the only one who thinks so, because I remember Eira saying that—"

Catherine let out a sigh and took the roses over to the window, setting them on the sill next to their predecessors. The last bouquet was barely fading, and the first roses had started to turn brown, but she could not bring herself to toss them. At this rate she was going to run out of vases.

Behind her, Isobel was still talking. "Besides, everyone thinks you two make such a cute couple. You're fantastic dance partners, you share similar likes and dislikes. The prince is rich and royal, your family is well-to-do. And he's not bad-looking and you're beautiful so whatever kids you end up with are bound to—"

"Kids? Really?" Catherine turned around, bewildered. "Isobel don't—don't even go there right now."

She shrugged. "Okay, if you insist. But when do you think he'll make his move?"

Catherine rubbed her arm, murmuring, "He's already made so many moves I can hardly keep up. It's just like chess."

Ignoring the chess comment, Isobel set her chin in her hands. "It'll probably be at a party. Maybe one at the palace, and you'll both be in the garden, gazing up at the moon. And he'll take you in his arms and say how much he adores you. And how much he wants you to be his, and—"

"Not to get your hopes up but there is a party at the palace on Friday," Catherine said, recalling that Thomas had mentioned the maids' furious onslaught on the banquet hall.

"That's it then!" Isobel exclaimed, beaming at her. "That's when he'll tell you!"

"Probably not. I haven't even been invited yet."

"Well, when you do get invited—and you will—can I tag along? We can ride up together in my coach."

Catherine tilted her head. "Are you offering because you want to spy on me or because Geoffrey's gone?"

"Both. Mostly because Geoff's gone and I want company. But—I also want to go to a party and those bashes they throw at the palace are legendary."

"I'll see about it."

"Thank you. Oh, and are you going to read your note or can I read it?"

"What?"

Isobel dangled the note in front of her, and Catherine grabbed it back.

"Give me that." She started to read, and a smile began to cross her lips. "Tommy said he came by but no one answered the door. He said he'll try to come over again but he doesn't know—"

There was a sudden, familiar knocking at the front door. Catherine, who had been fairly calm up until that moment, dropped her note and felt her heartbeat quicken.

"Oh my giddy aunt he's here!"

Isobel made a face. "Your giddy what?"

"Never mind. I'll just—I need to go out and see him." She took a few steps towards the hallway, uncertain. Then she came back to check her reflection in the silver pitcher.

Isobel watched her friend, grinning. "My word, you're flustered. You look fine, by the way."

"I know but—just—," Catherine took a deep breath.

"Go out and see him!"

"I will, I just—I—what are you going to be doing?"

Isobel shrugged. "I was going to stay here and admire your roses. But if you want, I can go out and tell him that—"

"No. You stay here. And don't you dare say anything!"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But make sure to tell him I want to go to the party. I need to be on the list."

Catherine nodded, saying, "All right. Fine. I—what do I say?"

"'Hello Handsome', for a start. Now get out there!"

Catherine entered the hallway hesitantly, hoping that she did not appear as nervous and excited as she felt. She saw that Emma had already let the prince inside, and that Thomas was wearing some kind of uniform. Both he and the girl were talking as she approached.

"Katie really likes it when you bring her flowers," Emma said, looking up at the man.

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Does she? Well I'm glad to hear that."

"I like getting flowers too."

A small smile crossed his face, and he asked, "Would you like me to bring you some flowers, Emma?"

She grinned, nodding. "If it's not too much trouble. I like purple flowers—and blue ones."

"I'll see what my gardeners can find."

"Emma," Catherine began, coming closer, "don't you have some schoolwork to be doing?"

"I was doing it but no one was answering the door," Emma replied.

Catherine sighed. "Thank you for answering the door. Now get back upstairs and do your schoolwork."

Emma pouted, "Katie, why do you have to be so bossy?"

"Go now, or I'll tell Mother you've been trying out Frieta's facepaints without asking."

"Fine." Her sister turned and began to stomp upstairs, muttering, "But Frieta's not here to use them anyway so I don't see why it matters."

Catherine shook her head, apologizing, "I'm sorry she—she's Emma. Ever since she hit thirteen she thinks she's all grown up."

"Well isn't she?" Thomas asked.

She gave him a sarcastic look, and he shrugged. "Apparently not. Anyway, did you get your roses? I left them on the porch but it seems someone has made off with them."

Catherine laughed. "No one's made off with them. They're in the kitchen next to the others, and they look very pretty."

"Good. Now, I have a question for you." He backed up a few steps and stood straighter, asking, "What do you think? Do I look like an idiot or do I just feel like one?"

She considered the man, taking in his overall appearance. Thomas was wearing a finely-cut tunic of dark blue. It was belted tight at the waist with the lower panels of the shirt resting neatly on his grey breeches. The uniform pulled taut across his broad shoulders, emphasizing the span of his chest; his collar was simple but dignified, buttoned securely at the throat with a golden, sun-shaped badge. There were also gold ribbons marking his shoulders to define his rank, and a thin, sheathed small sword at his waist. His military-issued dress boots were of highly polished black leather, and they squeaked an audible newness as he adjusted his stance.

Catherine then realized that her mouth was slightly open, and shut it quickly. "I think you look fine."

Thomas frowned in disappointment. "Fine?"

"I mean—you look very handsome."

"Really? You think I'm handsome?" He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled, replying, "All girls like a man in uniform. But don't let it go to your head or your helmet won't fit."

His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. "Oh right! I haven't even showed you the best part yet."

"Best part? What do you mean best—oh dear." The man had taken a gleaming, blue-feathered helmet from the side table and placed it on his head.

Catherine stared at him, amazed that even a minor thing such as a poorly designed helmet could ruin a handsome man. Then the prince grinned, and her eyes narrowed.

"What are you—you know you look stupid! Take that off!" Catherine exclaimed, even as Thomas laughed. It was such a deep, infectious laugh she had trouble maintaining a stern expression.

"It's part of the uniform," he chuckled, obediently removing the helmet.

"And it looks ridiculous—besides, you shouldn't wear a hat indoors."

Still smiling, Thomas glanced ruefully at his headgear. "I know. It really is a stupid design. But it's what they have."

"Maybe you can change it once you take the throne?" she suggested hopefully.

"Do you want me to?"

Catherine nodded. "Please. For the sake of all of the other officers."

"Very well. I will do my best."

"Good. Now," she nodded at him, turning her finger in a circle, "let me see the back."

"Why do you want to see the back?" he asked, turning around.

"To make sure that all is… in order," Catherine muttered, studying him. "Ah, your collar's sticking up."

Thomas cocked his head. "So I do look stupid? Thanks, Cat."

"Hold still. I'll get it for you."

Catherine stood on tiptoe and carefully fixed the back of his collar. Then, pretending to smooth down the back of his shirt, she ran her hands over his shoulders. She could feel the strength that he had there—the firm muscles tensing slightly under her fingertips—the way his back rose powerfully as he breathed. And he smelled brilliant, like fresh air and the dusty aroma of stables. What she would give to just bury her nose in his back!

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked, evidently puzzled by the time it took to fix a collar.

Catherine shook her head. "Nothing. You just had something on your shirt."

He turned around, musing, "That's strange. This is a new uniform, fresh from the royal tailor's."

"Never know with tailors."

"Appears so." He smiled at her, his gorgeous blue eyes affectionate and inviting.

Catherine glanced to the side, asking, "Anyway, isn't there some kind of party going on at the palace this Friday?"

"I'm assuming you're talking about the Annual Military Gala? Yes, it's one of the biggest events of the year and it is on Friday. That's partly why I'm dressed like this—the army is doing parade practice today and all soldiers are to be in dress uniform."

"When is the parade?"

"Friday morning. We'll be marching along the wharf and through downtown before making a sharp turn at the guardhouse. The gala starts at seven in the evening. Will you be able to make it?" he asked.

She shrugged, replying, "I'd like to be. But I'm afraid I haven't received an invitation to the party yet. Nor has my ride."

"Your ride?"

"My friend, Isobel, Prince Geoffrey's girlfriend. She said I could ride up in her coach to the palace if we were sent invitations."

The prince inclined his head, promising, "I will make very, very sure that you and Miss Isobel receive the invitations. And your parents, of course. And her parents and, you know, everybody's parents."

"Thank you, Tommy."

"You're welcome, Cat dear."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Thomas coughed, correcting, "Sorry. I mean—'you're welcome, Cat'. I—I misspoke."

"Did you really?" Catherine asked, a slow smile crossing her face. She quite liked that 'dear' added on at the end, no matter how unintentional it had been.

Thomas coughed again, his ears turning red as he stammered, "Ahem, I've—I've got to go before Captain Dansk penalizes me for tardiness."

"You could get in trouble?" Catherine asked, finding the idea of the crown prince getting polishing duty peculiar.

Thomas nodded. "Yes, I could, and it'd be all your fault."

"How is it my fault if you're late?"

"Because it would be. Good day, Cat." He opened the front door and stepped out.

Catherine stared at his departing form before calling: "Hold on a minute—" she came to the door, watching as he turned to walk backwards, looking at her. "I never thanked you for the roses."

"Dance with me at the gala and that will be thanks enough," he said.

She laughed. "All right. As long as you don't wear that ridiculous helmet."

"What helmet? This?" Thomas slipped the helmet on his head once more, grinning cheekily.

"Yes, that one! Take it off!" she pleaded.

"No, take it all off!"

Thomas looked at Catherine quickly, but she shook her head. "I did not say that."

"Yoohoo! Prince Thomas!"

Both Catherine and the prince turned to see Edna and Edith Marigold sitting in the neighboring yard. The ladies waved at Thomas, beaming at him.

He doffed his helmet to them, saying clearly, "Good afternoon, ladies. You both are looking beautiful today."

One the women laughed. "Oh, please, dear boy, how you go on!"

"He's such a charmer, Edith!"

"I know, Edna, I know!" Edith looked over the fence towards Lord Brian's front porch. "Watch out Katie! Your beau will flirt with every girl he meets!"

Catherine smiled, replying, "He's not my beau, Ms. Marigold. He's just a friend. A really, really good friend."

Edna nodded, calling back: "A really good-looking friend! Better hurry soon, Katie, or he'll be stolen off the market before you can blink!"

"You know they're right, Cat," Thomas said, smirking at her. "I am devastatingly handsome and there are a lot of girls who'd love to get a piece of me."

"Only if you can't outrun them," Catherine retorted, waving her hand. "Now go! You don't want to be late for practice."

"Goodbye, lovely ladies!" Thomas said, dropping a deep bow to the Marigolds and earning several giggles in the process. He smiled at Catherine, saying, "See you at the gala. I can't wait to dance with you again."

"Goodbye." She leaned against the doorpost, smiling as the man exited the yard and climbed onto his horse, Maximilian. Thomas kicked the horse into an impressive gallop and had nearly disappeared when Isobel appeared at Catherine's side.

"Dear me, was that flirting I heard, Katie?"

"Go away, Isobel," her friend said mildly, returning indoors.

Isobel followed, remarking, "And he's dressed in uniform too! He looked good."

"I noticed."

"I noticed you noticed. Did you get me an invite?"

Catherine sighed. "Yes, I did. And now I need to go check on my sisters and make sure they are doing their schoolwork."

"I'll be waiting in the sitting room," Isobel replied, watching as her friend began to ascend the staircase. "We can discuss the prince when you get back."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Catherine laughed, responding, "Fine then! We'll talk till his ears are burning!" She continued up the steps, whispering, "After all, his ears look cute when they turn red."