#and he visits every so often to talk with King and learn like. positive coping strategies. and hes trying not to bottle up feelings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ruewrites · 3 years

Text

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 13: A New King

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 5026

Warnings: Injury, Body Horror

A/N: Comments are appreciated! My inbox is always open for y'all.

Solomon could feel both Simeon and Luke snickering as Asmodeus fussed over him. He straightened out his lapel, straightened his coat out, and double checked the cuffs of his jacket. He only stopped him when his hands went for his head.

"But I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours!" Asmo whined, trying to free himself from Solomon's hands around his wrists.

"Isn't it your brother's big day?" Solomon tutted, "You shouldn't be looking at me."

Asmo only responded with another whine and more squirming. With a roll of his eyes, Solomon twisted Asmo around and pulled his back flush against his chest. "I can push it back myself," he murmured against his ear, pressing kissing under his ear and down towards his neck. They were gentle and sweet and made Asmo close in on his neck and laughter escaped him. Solomon nuzzled in closer in an attempt to separate his shoulder from his cheek with a laugh of his own. The only thing stopping the pair was a gagging noise from Luke.

"Gross," Luke had his eyes covered with both hands, as he spoke, "Can't you do that some other time? Or maybe never?"

"You are in my room Luke," Solomon delivered one last loud kiss to Asmo's cheek, "But as you wish."

He nudged Asmo towards his door, "You need to finish getting ready too, I can take care of myself."

"I've already gotten ready! You think I would wake up late for my own brother's coronation? Please. I-"

"I know, I know," Solomon cut him off and repositioned the two of them so that they were face to face, "But I need to make sure I'm ready, and you are quite the distraction."

Asmo scoffed as Solomon tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, "As if. To me it would seem like you needed my touch!"

"Your touch is wonderful, but I'll relish in it later. For now," Solomon tilted his chin upwards so that they were making eye contact, "I must send you off. It's going to be a rather long day."

"Few days," Asmo corrected, "Normally it would be longer, but we have a celebration on our hands. Sure the whole kingdom wasn't allowed to come this time, but I suppose that the main sector will have to do."

It was almost like he forgot about the assasination attempts.

But Solomon didn't want to spoil his fun. Besides, the number of guards had been raised to keep an eye on things. Today was a day to celebrate, and next would be his own wedding. Time had slipped by them so fast.

Asmo leaned up to peck at his lips before pulling back and making his way down the hall. "I'll see you out there then!”

“I’ll be sitting with you,” Solomon called back, before returning into his room. He looked himself up and down in his mirror before pulling his bangs back slightly. It didn't look bad. It wasn't something he was used to, but he didn't mind it too much.

"So he liked it?" Simeon asked.

"I think I'm safe in saying that he did."

"It was quite a lovely dagger."

Solomon took a jar that Asmo had left behind and started to slick his bangs back in the mirror. He could see Simeon standing behind him ever so slightly in the mirror, Luke's head barely popped up on his other side.

"You've been glowing a bit yourself," Simeon continued, "Have you changed your opinions of him?"

"Yeah, you've gotten gross," Luke finished.

Oh Solomon would definitely be tucking things away for when Luke was older. "I suppose I have," he smiled, checking his hair over one more time. When he was satisfied, he stood up a little straighter, "I enjoy his company. He's a good man, and he has plenty of wonderful traits."

"See what happens when you put your work down for a few minutes?" Simeon moved closer and leaned over his shoulder, "You actually get to learn about people."

"Oh please spare me from having to tell you that you may have been right."

"I'll think about it."

Luke had gone about placing his things into Simeon's satchel and making sure he had everything in order. Solomon went over his checklist a few more times and made sure he was in order with Simeon before he prepared himself to leave.

"Are you ready?" Simeon asked, fastening Solomon's cloak into place.

"Ready to sit for hours on end to the point where my joints ache when I am allowed to move."

It was partially a joke, partially serious. Events like this aged him, or at least they made him feel old. Hopefully he got enough sleep the night before. Asmodeus had been insistent about spending time with him in the library. They talked about nothing really, but the moment was sweet. Asmodeus also still looked gorgeous in the light of a flame, especially with how it flickered in those beautiful amber eyes. If it hadn't been for Asmo's strictly scheduled routine, he probably would have stayed with him all night.

At least he could spend some sort of time with him today, even if that was just sitting in close proximity to him.

The main hall itself had been entirely transformed. Banquet tables stood in rows before him as servants rushed back and forth to finish any last minute touches under Barbatos' watchful eye. The curtains behind the throne were open for once revealing a grand staircase. Speaking of the throne, Solomon couldn't help but notice that it had been moved to an upper balcony along with two other seats. The others were still in their normal position, but spread out a little more. However, he didn't have time to question the change. Asmo had spotted him from the little crowd and immediately clung to his side once more. He scanned over Solomon’s appearance and his eyes lit up. He lingered on his slicked back hair for a moment before his fingers brushed against Solomon’s cheek.

“You look handsome,” Asmo purred, leaning into his side, “Too handsome, I thought you wanted me to focus on the coronation.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to cope,” Solomon replied, leaning over to press a light kiss on his forehead, “Where is the man of the hour anyways?

Asmo scoffed, as if he was offended by the question, “Well he has to make an entrance of course! What kingdom wants a boring king? If Lucifer had it his way this would be so much more straightforward. Luckily he could be convinced to add a little more flair.”

Solomon felt his smile grow a little wider as he listened to Asmo ramble on. He was like a small firecracker, bright and full of energy. Solomon could sit and watch him for hours. His passion was admirable, and every day Solomon felt more honored to be his fiance.

Hesitant citizens made their way inside, attempting to find a place to stand amongst the tables and decorations. The family members themselves had started to gather towards their positions to the front, Asmodeus dragged him towards the front and Solomon was aware of the eyes on him.

They didn’t know him.

The thought struck him once more. It made him squirm a bit. Solomon was the one with the power in his and Asmo’s relationship. It didn’t matter that his fiance had been born into the family, Solomon had a higher rank. In their eyes, Asmo was under his thumb and his word was law.

He dwelled on this for a moment until another thought struck him: how often did they get to see all of their royalty in a situation like this? Did they ever get to see the family together? How aware were they of the other siblings that weren’t the crown prince? Arcadia was secretive, but how secretive were they? Solomon himself hadn’t even been aware that Lucifer was married. For being such a large kingdom, it’s amazing how much they kept under wraps.

“Hey,” Asmo’s voice pulled him back to reality. When had he sat down? When did he get to his place on the platform? “Are you okay? You looked like you went away for a while.”

Solomon leaned into his comforting touch and let out a soft sigh, “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“You don’t have to think so much you know.”

“I wish I thought the same way.”

The other brothers had gathered closer, Mammon’s seat now sat closer to the center with Leviathan and Satan on either side of him. The twins sat on one end while Asmodeus and Solomon sat on the other. Solomon was close to Leviathan and Asmo was on the end. All eyes would be on them, well above them. Thinking of the staircase made Solomon realize how little of the palace he actually explored.

He was only a small pebble in the sea of Arcadia.

“I still can’t believe Lucifer was convinced to have an event this big,” Mammon leaned over towards Leviathan, “Like, we were all banned from visiting our own districts without guards, and now we’re having this big event.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be one to complain about big events.”

“I ain’t complainin! I just think his mind changed a little quickly ya know?”

“It would be like him to move on from something quickly,” Belphie chimed in. The youngest prince looked like he was about to fall out of his seat, and his eyes were struggling to stay open. Beel moved ever so slightly to push his shoulders back in an attempt to keep him from toppling forward out of his seat.

“While I normally don’t hesitate to criticize our eldest brother, I would disagree,” Satan leaned forward, “Usually he’s rather steadfast in his decisions, I would say that someone has probably been chipping away at him for a while when it came to this, especially when the change was made so last minute.”

“Or it was made without him knowing.”

Solomon was almost startled from the way Asmo leaned over him to join in on the conversation.

Beel nodded along with Asmo’s words in silent agreement, but nothing more came from the conversation as they were abruptly interrupted by the sound of trumpets blaring. Solomon couldn’t help but turn around to look up towards the highest point. Azazel came into view first along with two servants, one carrying a scepter and the other a crown. Each of the items glittered in the lights filtering in from the stained glass windows. Diavolo followed through next, his smile shined better than the glinting gold that the servants had been carrying. He held out his hand taking Lucifer’s as he stepped out from the darkness, they shared a smile before Lucifer came forward. He stood tall next to his uncle, the very definition of a proud king in Solomon’s eyes.

The crowd quieted and looked up. All eyes were fixed on Lucifer.

"Citizens of the main court," Azazel's voice was amplified much louder than it should have been. Solomon was certain he used a spell, it was the only logical conclusion, "We gather here today for a momentous occasion. Today, your crown prince will be named king!"

He was certainly putting on a show. Azazel was acting a little more grandiose than what Solomon knew him to be. He was basking in the cheers and applause that erupted from the crowd, bathing in gratitude that was not meant for him. Azazel held up his hand, settling the crowd before continuing.

“Not too long ago now, we had to bury our great king, my own brother. But I know he’d be happy knowing that his son is his successor. Today is a day of celebration, and we will continue to celebrate as we finally pass on the crown,” Azazel gestured downwards, “Each of the sections of Arcadia have done their part in preparation for today. It serves as a symbol that even though we are many, Arcadia will always be one.”

He turned to Lucifer, who started to bow his head, “And now, without further ado, it is with great honor that I can finally place the crown atop Lucifer’s head.”

The entire hall held its breath as the crown rested on top of black locks. As soon as Lucifer raised his head, he took the scepter in his hands and turned to address the audience. "Arcadia, I stand before you today as your king. As such, I promise to uphold both you and your honor and that I will lead us into a prosperous and bright future. You have cared for me since the day I was born, and now it is my turn to care for you," he started. Solomon noted that his voice was not as amplified as Azazel's. Another figure stepped out behind Lucifer, a jar in hand. They wore long robes and their face was covered with a mask. They dipped their fingers into the jar and murmured a few words, moving towards Lucifer's forehead and then to each of his hands. Solomon could vaguely see the images being traced and for a moment he was taken back to his own coronation.

He could imagine all of the feelings running through Lucifer at the moment.

Solomon hadn't noticed the musicians gathering on the staircase until the remaining people on the platform had left and Lucifer took his seat with Diavolo and Azazel on either side of him. Asmodeus ascended to the center of them. He'd been so quiet, Solomon hadn't even heard his steps when he left his side.

Asmo looked up towards Lucifer who nodded and offered him a smile. It was the same reassuring one that he gave Asmo when Solomon first arrived in Arcadia. The musicians tuned their instruments and then the room went quiet. Then Asmo took his first breath.

Solomon had never been so captivated before. Each note that came out of Asmo's mouth was crisp and clean as they pierced the air. The song flew through the air like a dove and cradled him with the same warmth that Asmo held in his hands. Solomon couldn't pull his eyes away, he was almost completely turned around in his chair, craning his neck to catch a glance of his beautiful songbird.

He couldn't focus on the words. He couldn't understand the words, it sounded like another language to him but it didn't matter. His entire world narrowed down to Asmodeus. He was ethereal.

Was he still breathing?

He couldn't tell.

He started to come back to himself when the crowd started up again, clapping to celebrate the official crowning of their new king.

"You might wanna close your mouth there your highness," Mammon snickered, "You're gonna catch flies."

"Mammon! Don't be rude," Levi shoved at his shoulder.

Solomon quickly snapped his mouth shut. Had he been gawking? How long had he been in such a state?

***

Asmodeus hadn't been joking when he said the celebration would go on for days. This was an entirely different side of Arcadia that Solomon had never seen before. It was lively and bright. The streets were filled and decorated in beautiful colors. Canon fire from the navy marked the end of each day, and each time Leviathan nervously checked his watch counting down the second to when they were supposed to go off. Lucifer had also seemed to flip over a new leaf. He was all smiles and laughter. He was warmer than the man who had greeted him here in Arcadia.

He was open enough that Solomon felt comfortable enough to finally approach him.

"You're starting to resemble Diavolo."

Lucifer chuckled as he brought the wine glass down from his lips, "He has rubbed off on me I suppose. It's hard to not be infected by him."

"I suppose I know the feeling." Solomon adjusted his focus to the little group in the distance. Once again he found himself captivated by Asmodeus who was in a rather lively conversation with Diavolo.

"I look forward to ruling by his side, he makes me a better man," Lucifer said, "He's one of the best men I've ever met."

"Are you nervous at all about taking the throne?"

Lucifer hummed in contemplation, allowing his wine to roll in his chalice, "A little, I think, but I do have quite the group by my side. I know my uncle does not share my opinions, but I wouldn't want anyone else beside me when I already have my brothers and my husband."

He was a little envious. Solomon had been virtually alone when he took the throne. Lucifer was lucky to have the support he had, so incredibly lucky. Of course he'd had Simeon, but that was it. In comparison, Solomon's life was very lonely.

"I think that you are absolutely correct, you are an incredibly lucky king, Lucifer. Incredibly Lucky."

Solomon turned his head and met Lucifer's gaze. He nodded, and a silent understanding passed between them.

They were two kings with two very different backgrounds.

Two incredibly different lives.

Two different histories.

Yet, now they both held one mutual respect for each other.

Solomon understood so much more than when he had first come to Arcadia. He had been an invader to this family, someone who was coming in to take one of their own away.

Lucifer cared for his brothers, and Solomon was taking Asmodeus away.

Solomon wouldn't always be in Arcadia, and Asmodeus would be going with him.

"Arcadia is lucky to have you."

They're lucky to have you.

His eyes went over to scan the crowd once more. Luke was holding up a piece of cake excitedly towards Simeon, Barbatos standing not too much farther behind. He also caught the glances that Simeon threw towards Barbatos and it was something that he quietly tucked away in the back of his mind. Azazel was off to the side conversing with a few of the servants. Beel was loading his plate full of food from the table, standing in between Levi and Mammon who were lightly jabbing at each other, Satan seemed to be attempting to get Belphie to join their little group, and Solomon swore he caught the slightest of smiles on the younger's face.

Everything was perfect.

The minstrels struck up their instruments once more. Diavolo's ears perked up and his head immediately snapped towards Lucifer, his expression nothing short of elated as he strode his way across to close the distance. "It's our song," he grinned before bowing down and offering his hand.

"They are indeed," Lucifer then turned to address Solomon, "It seems I must bid you adieu for now." Then he allowed Diavolo to whisk him away without a second thought.

Solomon admired them for a moment. They glided like a singular being. Diavolo seemed to be nothing but adoring, and Lucifer's face was the fondest he'd ever seen it. When he first came here, he didn't think it was possible for royals to form deep romantic connections. Yet the bond between Diavolo and Lucifer was undeniable. Every touch between them held a secret meaning and every look held a deeper conversation. They were two halves of the same whole.

Maybe destiny did bring people together.

Perhaps there was such a thing as soulmates.

Solomon's gaze drifted back towards Asmodeus. He was also gazing at the couple longingly, and finally Solomon understood why. It wasn't until he had gotten close to him and held out his hand that Asmodeus noticed him.

"You mentioned you liked dancing once. Would you indulge me?" Solomon asked.

Asmo didn't even take a single second to think. He took Solomon’s hand and almost removed his arm in his rush to join some of the other dancing couples. Solomon swore he caught a glance of Levi approaching one of the knights. Once he composed himself, he let Asmo decide what position he wanted to take.

Nimble arms wrapped around his shoulders and held on tight. He hoped his steps were confident enough. It wasn't often that he danced for pleasure.

"You're stiff," Asmo noted as they twirled between other couples.

"I remember mentioning that I haven't danced much," Solomon was trying to keep the tone light despite how nervous he currently felt.

"Well you'll have to fix that before our wedding," Asmo giggled, pulling Solomon into a twirl. That earned his fiance a smile. Despite the position he took to dance in, he still wanted to have a little bit of the lead, and Solomon wasn't about to start complaining.

"I will certainly try to, for you," Solomon moved his thumbs over him, gently caressing the skin he could reach, "Will you sing at our wedding? You have a beautiful voice and I'd love to hear you sing for me again."

"Oh I would love to!" Asmo squealed, "Even if not at our wedding, I'd enjoy singing for just you. Although, I might pick a different song."

"And why do you say that?"

Asmo pondered the thought before he spoke again, "Well, the song we used at the coronation is an old Arcadian story about the first ruler of Arcadia. It talks about how ancient deities took pity on them after they lost everything. They gave them magic and still stay with the royal line to this day, or at least that's how the song goes."

Pity?

This version was different from the one that Solomon had read. He'd heard that it had been a gift, but one of pity?

"Does it include the Heart?"

They twirled again.

"Another section. It's my favorite part," Asmodeus sighed, "It's a love story. Well, a tragedy… A tragic love story. Two people fall in love. A love so wonderful that it transcends the very fabric of existence itself. They're destined to be together in this life and any one that comes after." He leaned closer against Solomon, head close to his chest. Solomon swore he could hear the soft thud of his own heart. "However, one of them dies. There's different variations on how, but in all their love is still distraught. So, the royal takes a dagger and cuts out their own heart and fuses it with their dead lover so that they may live on together forever. To this day the Heart of Arcadia still beats beneath the land, bringing life to all," he finished, "I think it's beautiful. Knowing that you're that dedicated to someone, knowing that someone loves you that much."

Solomon caught his faze wandering again and followed. He was looking at Diavolo and Lucifer again. Diavolo was laughing as Lucifer rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings. Asmo clenched the back of Solomon's collar a little tighter.

After a few moments of silence, Solomon spoke up, "They're happy together."

"Incredibly so. They're perfect."

There was that edge of longing again.

Solomon cleared his throat, "Asmodeus, you are aware that I meant what I said in the woods, back when I gave you your gift?"

The skeptical look Asmo threw his way said otherwise, "You didn't just say it because I was kissing you? People say rash things in the heat of the moment."

He shook his head, "No. I'm sure I meant it. I do genuinely think I'm falling in love with you. I don't know how you charmed me but here I am."

"You promise?"

"On my honor."

He felt Asmodeus' muscles relax. Solomon hadn't even been aware that he was tense. They continued to dance together well into the next couple of songs. Every now and again the two

Would start up a new conversation, and the longer they danced, the more confident Solomon became in his footing. Dare he think it, but he was actually having a bit of fun dancing.

***

It happened as the celebration was ending.

Asmo was curled up on his arm, whispering quietly into his ear as they waited for Lucifer to make his final remarks to end the ceremony.

The family was gathered together, preparing to send everyone off back to what was considered normalcy. They'd go back to empty streets and quiet days. Back to staying inside palace walls.

He was just about to lament their return to normalcy when the glass above them shattered. It took his brain a while to catch up with him as the stained glass window rained down upon them. He vaguely felt himself go to cover Asmodeus as the shards hit the pavement.

“Lucifer!”

The voice drew Solomon’s attention. He turned his head just in time to watch Diavolo throwing himself in front of Lucifer, engulfing him in his arms. Screams were deft to his ears. They sounded so far away as the crowds scattered and the guards tried to calm them.

But the image that would stay ingrained in his mind for years to come was the arrow that pierced Diavolo’s back.

His mind tried to take in too much at once. The way Diavolo and Lucifer’s eyes met. The confusion and horror written on the king’s face.

Mammon was the first to jump into action. He bolted off, pushed past the crowds and out into the streets. Asmodeus, scrambled out of his arms and was quick to follow in pursuit, and Solomon found himself in hot pursuit.

His legs were moving without him, he was deaf to the voices of the others and the guards telling them to wait. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Confusion quickly turned to anger. How could they? How dare they? Mammon was pulling ahead, but Asmo was staying hot on his heels. The closer Solomon came to him, he saw hot angry tears brimming at his eyes.

Out of every person in the crowd, out of every one of them, Diavolo was the least deserving of death.

Diavolo was a kind man. He tried to make Arcadia feel like home. That arrow had been trained on Lucifer, and Diavolo wasn’t about to let his husband take the fall. The image of them dancing together crossed his mind again, then them sitting at breakfast. Images kept flashing in his mind.

Something blurred past his vision, hopping off one of the buildings and ducking back into an alley.

Mammon didn’t need to process, his heels turning sharp into the alley in pursuit of the invader. There was a crash, dust flew up from the ground as Mammon grappled with the assailant. The three of them didn’t say a word, not even as Mammon slammed the figure against the wall. His teeth were bared. “I should kill you myself. You low life piece of shit,” he growled, Solomon swore his eyes were glowing, and he had no intention on stopping Mammon from whatever he had planned “What gives you the right to-”

As quickly as the anger flared, the words died on his tongue as the hood fell to the side.

Something was incredibly wrong.

The mouth was a little too wide.

There were too many teeth.`

Too many rows of teeth.

The skin had a sickly greenish tint.

The texture looked too rubbery

The pupils and the irises were ovular.

This was wrong. It was incredibly wrong.

The creature tried to let out some attempt at a gurgle, eyes narrowing and coming into focus. Was Mammon too close or was the sun hurting it’s eyes? Was it human? Or was it something else entirely? Strength seemed to be a weak point in it. Or was it just confused?

“What the hell?”

They were the last words before the guards came rounding the corner after them. Solomon had to wonder if they had the same thoughts running through their heads. Finally one of them stepped forward. “My lords, we’ll take it from here,” he said, “Please step away from… from the suspect.” He was at a loss for words just as the rest of them were. Mammon, while in shock, struggled with the idea of letting someone else take them from him and the guard stepped closer.

“My lord, please step away,” the guard’s voice was more forceful this time.

Finally Mammon let go, but not before shoving his prisoner against the wall, “Make sure it suffers Henry.” His voice cracked. Asmodeus nodded in agreement, and Solomon found himself mirroring him.

Whatever the creature was, it did deserve to suffer for making Diavolo fall.

Solomon did not consider himself a vengeful man, but he craved bloodshed. He wanted to avenge his friend.

“I assure you that we will find a suitable punishment,” Henry motioned for his men to detain the creature, “But my job now is to also escort you three back to the palace.”

With adrenaline pumping through his blood, the three of them were guided back to the palace grounds. The crowds were completely dispersed. Decorations were scattered, broken, and dulled on the ground. Tables were overturned. Food laid wasted. Doors were locked tight.

Had they even had a celebration?

Lucifer was on the ground, stroking back Diavolo’s hair. His lips were moving, but Solomon couldn’t make out any words. Leviathan was close to his one side and Beel was on the other. Belphegor’s expression was unreadable, he seemed to be somewhere else far from where he was. Azazel stood behind Lucifer looking down at him as a healer and a stretcher came before them. Diavolo himself appeared to be teetering on the edge of consciousness as his eyes were fixed on Lucifer. A dark crimson puddle dripped from him and onto the ground below.

Lucifer seemed reluctant to give up his husband, but Solomon didn’t think he had a choice.

Slowly, Solomon let his gaze wander upwards. Lilith’s window was shattered. The first shotey had been so crude. Why had the second one hit? Why didn’t they move? They’d been taken completely off guard.

Slowly Solomon reached out to intertwine his fingers with Asmo’s. He wasn’t sure whether he was attempting to give comfort or looking to receive it. Whatever the case, Solomon felt Asmo squeeze his hand.

For the first time in a while, Solomon found himself being left with more questions than answers.

19 notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

the interview [drake walker x mc]

So I wrote this a while back (actually before I joined Tumblr) and it’s been festering in my document folder. I thought I would share just because? It sort of links up with the rest of my fics, except for the mention of the assassination attempt at the palace. It’s a different style of writing than I do usually, I read a lot of Vogue and Red so I hope I’ve managed to show that this is from a journalists POV? It ends abruptly because I gave up on it after a while. p.s is it tragic that I made a magazine cover to go along with it?

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @drakesensworld @moonlightgem7 @tacohead13 @sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @ifyouseekheart @notoriouscs

NOTE: They say in the interview that they were ‘just friends’ first and they ‘didn’t sneak around’ which the journalist believes as they’re so convincing, but we all know that’s not the case, am I right?!

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

‘At the end of the day, we’re just a normal couple thrust into this world together.’

When Trend suggested that I spend a week with the most famous Duchess in the world right now and shadow her, I laughed. I didn’t expect her to agree to it and I certainly didn’t expect to be sat opposite her a few days later for breakfast. But here we are.

if you have been hibernating under a rock this past year, I will summarise. Camille Montespan, the Duchess of Valtoria, married Drake Walker a year ago. The Duchess - though she tells me to call her Camille- was originally plucked from obscurity when she met the King of Cordonia on his pre-bachelor trip to New York. In a perhaps ridiculous turn of events, she was taken to Cordonia to compete with other noble women for his hand in marriage. Instead, she found herself falling for his best friend, Drake, and turned down the King’s marriage proposal to be with him instead. She and Drake married at the Walker family ranch in Texas (no media presence was allowed) and the King honoured them with their own duchy. They are now the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria.

Camille bursts out laughing when I relay the timeline to her. ‘Oh my God, it sounds like a cheesy Hallmark movie!’ She apologises for the laughter, wiping at tears that have formed. ‘It’s just… that is exactly how it played out and it sounds ridiculous whenever someone summarises it for me. I lived it but it is still so strange to hear it from another perspective…’

This morning, I am sat opposite Camille to have a relaxed breakfast out on the terrace, which overlooks the mountains of Valtoria. Drake is running late but will be joining us soon. Camille is wearing a cashmere grey sweater, ripped blue jeans and a pair of TOMs plimsolls. Her dark hair has been pulled up into a messy bun. She looks like one of my friends who I grab brunch with back home, not a Duchess. She had even made sure that it’s just her speaking to me with no PR or assistant hovering around. It is honestly refreshing. Camille pours me a cup of coffee. ‘Do you take sugar or milk? Just sugar? Or just milk? Or even just black?’

I tell her one sugar and a slug of milk, commenting most people I interview tend not to offer. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and blushes. ‘Well, I did used to be a waitress… also, it’s rude not to ask!’

It’s hard to believe that Camille used to be a waitress in New York, working overtime and trying her hardest to earn tips so she could afford to rent her studio apartment. Despite her casual outfit and hairstyle, she exudes an air of elegance. Her posture is straight and she makes eye contact when speaking, her voice clear and confident. Clearly, her time at court when she was vying to win the King’s hand rubbed off on her. I am about to ask how married life is going when the man in question enters the terrace. I stand up to greet him and he shakes my hand, smiling broadly. He apologises for being late, ‘I was finishing a call with Liam.’ He means the King. Drake is tall, broad shouldered and rugged. His dark hair is tousled and he is wearing a blue denim shirt which is open over a white vest, jeans and boots. He looks like he should be outdoors chopping wood. Drake throws Camille an apologetic smile and leans down to give her a soft kiss. He settles himself into a chair beside her. ‘Sorry, please carry on,’ he tells me, smiling warmly. I feel positively gooey with his eyes on me.

‘How is married life treating you both?’

The couple look at each other, smiling. ‘I love it,’ Drake says first, surprising me. I have been told he is this brooding and silent type, but so far, he is proving this wrong. ‘It’s crazy to think we’re at this place. We are together, married, united… our own little family.’ He places a hand on Camille’s stomach and the couple beam at me. That is the other reason for my article. Camille and Drake are expecting a baby.

The couple announced the news two weeks ago. The media frenzy was relentless. Everyone wondered how the Duke and Duchess would cope with their own duchy and a new baby all in the space of a year. ‘People tend to think we’re going to fail,’ Camille says quietly. Drake squeezes her hand and I realise what makes them work. For them, it is Drake and Camille vs the world.

Camille apologises for her admission. ‘It’s just that we have had to deal with everyone’s eyes on us. Many people -mostly nobles- are waiting for us to trip up, to prove that we’re just commoners who don’t deserve our place in Cordonia. That we made a baby quite soon, as if it was a mistake…’ she trails off. Drake sighs. ‘We constantly expect to be met with criticism because that’s how it’s always been,’ he finishes.

He is right. Ever since Camille arrived at court, the media made sure to follow her everywhere, trying to find moments when she was wearing the wrong outfit to a court event or if she addressed a noble incorrectly. She was expected to learn all about Cordonia’s traditions and take part in their national games to prove she was worthy of the crown, with many nobles hoping she would fail. Drake was part of the crowd at court. His father had been part of the Royal Guard, so Drake, despite not being a noble, was a permanent fixture at court and King Liam’s best friend. ‘I never fit in at court. I still don’t,’ he admits. ‘I will never see the point in having all the different types of cutlery at dinner or the tiny finger food they serve at parties. I can’t stand champagne.’ He gives a smirk and looks down. ‘I’m much happier when I’m outside, hiking, fishing or camping.’

Camille takes his hand and smiles at me, the past awkwardness now gone. ‘We’re trying our best to make our lives as normal as possible.’

Their routine entails waking up early to have breakfast out on their balcony - the terrace we are currently sat in is only for guests. The balcony juts out from their bedroom so it is a private space for them. After breakfast, Drake calls King Liam to discuss matters while Camille sets herself up in her office, answering emails and making appointments to meet with the citizens of Valtoria. I ask her how she is finding this sudden change in career path. She considers her answer.

‘It’s a monumental shift… I’ve never felt such enormous responsibility before. I often worry that they might realise how bad I am at this and will be sent packing.’

Luckily for her, the public adores her. They see her as one of the people because she is. They see a genuine woman who wants to do right by Valtoria and prove that she can help. She tells me that she has five public appointments a day. Those appointments vary from visiting hospitals to cheer up sick children, meeting potential charities to add to her charity list and meeting with the governor of Valtoria to discuss policy. She also hosts an open house every Thursday from 1pm-4pm, whereby the public of Valtoria can visit her actual home and discuss important matters with her. An open house hadn’t been done in 200 years, until Camille asked the King if she could start it up again. ‘I enjoy meeting the public, it’s nice to get to know them and work together to make things better.’

As an added touch, if a commoner visits the open house with their children, Camille makes sure a box of toys is laid out in the Garden Room so that the children can play and not feel bored while their parent talks shop. It is a hint of the kind of mother Camille might become, making sure that even her young public are looked after. I ask what Drake does while she is doing all of these things. She grins. ‘He goes out and meets with farmers. He wants to keep the natural beauty of Valtoria with its rivers and trees, he hopes to make sure that the land is preserved.’ Drake nods and joins in. ‘I want to make sure the farmers are growing their best produce and that the animals are well fed and keep producing. I’d like to see Valtoria prosper, perhaps make large parts of it into conservation areas.’

I ask Drake how he is finding being a Duke. He winces. ‘I still can’t get my head around it. I’m still that guy who stands in the corner of the room at a ball, not wanting to dance, not wanting to eat any of the fancy food, I just want a drink…’

I have to ask the all important question. Camille was at court to win the King’s hand but she decided to be with Drake instead. How did that even happen?

‘I’ll be honest, I barely saw Liam,’ Camille says. ‘He was always busy with other engagements, he had to meet other noble families and get to know the other ladies. Often, I would be on the sidelines since I didn’t know anybody apart from the Beaumont brothers or Hana Lee [fellow suitor in the competition and her now best friend]. Drake was there because like me, he was always on the sidelines too.’

Drake takes her hand. ‘When I saw Camille trying her best to make it up through the competition, I worried she would lose sight of who she was. I wanted to be there to keep her grounded.’

Camille blushes. ‘It definitely worked.’

I ask if they had a first date while the competition was still going. They both take a moment to think. ‘Well…’ Camille starts.

‘It wasn’t a first date as such. More a visit to the local bar where we could hang out, just us two and get away from the court,’ Drake answers.

‘We played a drinking game!’ Camille whispers, winking at me. Which one?

‘Never Have I Ever,’ Drake groans. ‘Such a terrible game.’

‘Shut up, you so enjoyed it!’ Camille protests, smiling her mega watt smile again. More hang-outs like their drinking game occurred. It becomes clear that the two of them are peas in a pod. Best friends wrapped up in a marriage. Camille is even partial to a glass of whiskey - ‘my kind of woman,’ Drake smiles. Before long, the two of them were sharing private moments but not once ever blew their cover. ‘We weren’t sneaking around!’ Camille says. ‘Just if the two of us were alone and wanted to hang out, we did. There was nothing else to it. He was my friend first.’

‘It’s true,’ Drake says. ‘At first we were distant then became closer as friends. I could open up to her which I’d never been able to do before with anyone. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She just got me. We are both the same.’

I bring up the event that made worldwide headlines. A year ago, the court of Cordonia was hit by an assassination attempt. Camille was in the firing line but Drake took the bullet for her, injuring his shoulder. At that point, Camille had still been in the running to marry the King and when the world read the story, they did wonder why Drake had jumped in front of her.

Drake shrugs. ‘I loved her. I had been pushing away those feelings but when it came down to it, I never wanted to see her hurt or taken away from me. Instinct made me dive in front of her.’

I ask her how it felt when she saw Drake had been shot. ‘It was terrible. Time stood still. I saw the bullet coming towards me and Drake’s body moving to block it. When he was down on the floor, I shielded him with my body-’

‘Did you?!’ Drake asks. Camille nods. Drake stares at her. ‘I didn’t know that. I barely remember being taken out of the palace. I didn’t know you shielded me after…’ He’s gone very pale. His hand grips hers and Camille strokes his hair. ‘It’s okay. I was fine.’

Again, it is Drake and Camille vs the world.

#drake walker x mc

13 notes · View notes

elane-in-the-shadows · 7 years

Text

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 12

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Gisa POV

Cameron looks cute with her hair open, positively pretty, and I tell her so. She laughs, slightly embarrassed but also … something else. She lowers her eyes to face me, excitingly slow. She smirks after a breathless second and I do the same, hoping to convey the message, “I like you,” without voicing it.

Maybe I should. Clear words can be such a relief. But I just lay my hand over hers and the way she avoids glancing at them although she’s obviously touched in more than one way says a lot. Rejoice prickles inside of me.

“Though it gets annoying after a few days,” Cameron says, tugging at a curl. “Especially when, you know … “ She sighs deeply.

My mood drops from soaring to crawling. Her smile vanishes and familiar feelings wash over us; finality for her, dread for me. She’ll go back to fighting, like too many of my family.

“Hey. Gisa,” she nudges me and I startle. Her expression softens again. “I’m not – well. They asked us who’d go to New Town and I volunteered. I can see my parents again and do something for the other techies.”

I step away, my eyes turned to the ground. I shouldn’t sulk like this, and when Cameron touches my shoulder, I feel even more embarrassed and selfish.

“I’m sorry to leave you alone again, so soon after,” Cameron says. I nod. Of course, she does as she must.

“Good luck,” I wish her; she hesitates to reply. I don’t wait and simply hug her. She’s surprised but embraces me back after a second. “You’ll come back,” I demand.

“For sure,” she whispers into my hair. “You got to meet my family after all.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, warring with suppressed tears. “Oh,” I say, “oh.”

Cameron clears her throat, it has been a slip. I look up into her face. “I didn’t know we’ve come that far already,” I say. “But I’m glad?”

Her smile emerges slowly but it’s certainly beaming. “Me too. And you know, Rafe comes with me, because an electricon in New Town? Assured to create a mess.”

I pull away a bit, rise to my toes, and kiss her cheek. “Or sure to bring you a quick victory.”

“Right,” she agrees, then hugs me again.

As if the general mood on the base hasn’t been serious enough, the returnees from Corvium and the – hopefully decisive – battles looming ahead turn it positively grave. Everyone trains harder, most of all Mare. Not only her ability but her body as well, and she even eats more to build more muscles. Tramy, Bree and Diana advise her on this, as they occupy each other with more planning and discussions. Meanwhile I stick to Kilorn, Cameron, and her brother Morrey. Sometimes I accompany Lacey again, but with Diana’s return, her restrictions seem to have lessened, allowing her to become more involved. Tramy doesn’t bring her to our house anymore but doesn’t meet her less often as far as I notice. He’s as in love as before, if I interpret his glances and expressions right. And our eyes meet frequently when the family sits together.

Each of us copes in their own ways. In the evenings, Diana visits with Clara when she has the time. Dad enters Bree’s and Mare’s war talks while he avoids the certain royal topic carefully. Everyone does this around Mare, maybe apart from Mom, Kilorn and Diana in more private conversations. Thus, Mom fusses on the whole family, similar to before, Dad supports her, Bree and Tramy tell stories, Mare tries to fit in and I keep my hands busy and watch; taking Kilorn’s advice to crack jokes to lighten the mood, although not with as savage ones as his.

I live well with the illusion, it’s helpful, and nice, to feel joy and relatedness every now and then. Although I can’t look at Clara without thinking that Shade’s not here to dote on her with pride or that Mare’s lost any light-heartedness she ever had.

Every night I expect her to approach me, to hug me, to start crying. But she doesn’t. She’d learned to sleep alone, she claimed the first night after her return. I offered to listen to and help her, in awkward words, which I repeat sometimes – but I don’t ask her about it. I never know what to do besides stating my readiness.

Until Mare starts to talk by herself while I’ve no idea what’s made the difference. I can’t ponder on that. “The worst thing,” she begins, “is that I know Tiberias truly loves me. Yet he did that, and it’s like he never really knew me. While the same applies to me, doesn’t it? I believed he wouldn’t go back to his throne, so did I ever fully know him?”

The words fill our room with a gloomy heaviness, so my lack of an answer doesn��t become disturbing. Even though I feel like I have to say something to comfort her, I can only move closer to her, careful and inch by inch, until she leans against me, with a pillow in her arms.

“I hate the lies, the illusions,” she mumbles. “But I have to go on with them, until … “

“You don’t have to,” I blurt out; fortunately, Mare isn’t bothered. She inclines her head but doesn’t agree. Of course not.

“Maybe you should talk to Kilorn again, because I’m so bad at comforting you,” I say.

It startles her. “Gisa, you said nothing wrong!”

I wave off. “Believe me, he’s a true master, compared to me. But you know that, don’t you? I tried so often to … provoke him into a, umm …” Mare stares at me curiously. “But well, he never exploited the situation – to my chagrin.”

Mare sneers. “I’d hope so, anything else would’ve made him a scoundrel.”

“Oh, he’d never. Not that I care anymore … “ I sigh.

“You don’t?” The corners of her mouth twitch. What luck.

“No, as I … might like someone else now,” I tell her, suddenly eager to lift the secret.

“Do I know – “

“Her? Yes, it’s Cameron.” Her amusement, built up so carefully, dims for a moment.

“She’ll go to her family soon, to stir unrest in New Town,” she explains like I don’t know this already.

“For sure.” I shrug. “And Rafe goes with her.”

“Then I’ll be the only eletricon here.” Mare looks away. “And sooner or later, I’ll leave as well.”

I take a sharp breath. “When?”

She shrugs, I wait. “Difficult to say. ‘Timing is essential,’ Farley claims all the time” She turns it into a silly impersonation but she’s never been good at telling jokes. I laugh anyway.

The next days are stressful and busy, hardly offering a calm time before the storm. While Cameron, Rafe and a handful more Newbloods and operatives develop a course of action for New Town, another regiment prepares to accompany Volo Samos on his campaign against the Lakelands. Unlike the usual skirmishes, forages and sparring fights, this hits me harder and unforeseen, reminding me of the war that’s already come. I start to pester Diana about it, to reassure myself through information. It unsettles her at first, she hesitates to talk about it. Although neither mission is a secret here. For some reasons, she agreed to the Samos cooperation quickly, and it’s only volunteers who are sent to the Rift. They’re mostly Lakelanders, with her father among them.

“So, what do you think about the book?” I add one time.

She frowns as she figures out my meaning. What a terrible operative I’d make. Despite my initial resolve, I’ve procrastinated asking her about the old logbook from Monfort eternally. I don’t believe Lacey hid it from her. But thousands of Silvers killed on purpose by the spreading diseases is disturbing to imagine. Was that a good deed? Or wrong? How would a Silver like Lacey judge this –

Diana hushes me before I explain myself in the middle of the street. “Lacey Ventos is a good operative,” she says. “Well-connected, quite committed.” You needn’t doubt her, she leaves unsaid. As well as, unlike others.

“Her friends at Maven’s court are a main asset for us, bleeding intelligence to us even the twins can’t find.” Diana chews on her lips as if this intelligence is something gnawing on her. “Gisa,” she adds, “this book that you two found is very valuable. Just wish we could use its information on greater scale…”

“Diana?” I tilt my head in surprise.

“Well, we won’t do the same thing, of course. But we can compare the political developments in Monfort and project them on Norta and work out whether Monfort tells us everything. By now I’m almost certain the current Monfort government had nothing to do with this. It was more than twenty years ago. For example, Davidson was still in Norta at the time it happened.”

“And do you trust him?” I ask.

She cocks her head. “What do you want to know about him?”

“Just curious. You’re usually relying on yourself the most.”

She cackles. “You aren’t wrong,” she admits. “But difficult times demand difficult measures.”

Cameron and I steal away the last evening before she leaves and I help her re-braiding her hair. A storm rages outside, the sky burning bright with jade and amethyst lightning. It’s Mare and Rafe calling forth that storm for a last time, because they’re stronger together. They turn the sky into a loud and feral beast that obeys them, reminding me and everyone else of the storms of war to come. In a moment when their lightning illuminates the room, Cameron and I share our first kiss.

More weeks pass while Diana continues to wait for the right timing. It frustrates Mare who trains harder still, until she commands the storms as well as the small electrical gadgets in our house. Sometimes I can feel her invisible current buzzing on my skin. Stupid static electricity. Yet the training leaves her too tired to do much else. She likes the distraction, since from what I’ve put together, her next battle will be alongside Cal – who she calls Tiberias now – probably against King Maven himself.

Diana leads several smaller missions and skirmishes in the meantime, sometimes with my brothers or Kilorn coming with her. Mom always scolds her when she comes back and Diana merely listens calmly, yet resolved. But I notice the letters she gives to Dad for safekeeping before she sets out every time. “They’re for Clara,” he tells me after I’ve asked for the fifth time.

The Piedmont fall arrives beautifully although hardly anyone can spare time to contemplate or admire it. Not even me, usually quickly entranced by rich colours. Nature is nothing compared to hearing from Cameron or the soldiers fighting in the Lakelands, or seeing my family remaining safe.

We’re together on the first anniversary of Shade’s death, with all of us in tears sooner or later. The sad date is followed by Clara’s half-birthday which we celebrate two days before Mare’s 19th one.

The two parties are needed as a goodbye, since the period of waiting finally ends. While Diana heads into her own direction with strong determination, Mare and the majority of the Newbloods and the Guard’s forces are called to enter a full-scale attack on Archeon.

@clarafarleybarrow @calliopexclio @mareshmallow @lilyharvord @inopinion @redqueenfandom @ssingerqueen @spookysamos @hannaharies @runexandra @iris-cygnets @breebarrcw @red-queen-united @asewhj @redqueenforever @calmareforever

#red queen #red queen fan fiction #red queen fanfiction #war storm #war storm fan fiction #king's cage #blood curse #gisa barrow #cameron cole #marecal #mare barrow #diana farley #blood curse ch 12 #storm born #camisa

32 notes · View notes

ollyarchive · 7 years

Photo

Olly Alexander, interview: I want to have the most queer positive message possible

Years & Years’ Olly Alexander admits struggling to cope with his rise but is now excited about the future, he tells Samuel Fishwick

Years and years ago — seven, to be precise — it was his rendition of Killing Me Softly in the shower that catapulted Olly Alexander from waiting tables at Polpo to fronting one of Britain’s best-loved pop groups.

“It’s become a weird myth,” says the 26-year-old Years & Years singer. “My bandmate Mikey [Goldsworthy, the bassist] stayed over at ours after a house party and heard me singing the next morning. I don’t think I was trying to get noticed. That’s my top tip, though: always sing in the shower — you never know who’s listening.”

It didn’t take long for everyone else to start listening too: along with keyboardist Emre Türkmen, the electronica trio won the 2015 BBC Sound of 2015, were nominated for four Brit awards, hit number one with their single King and set off on a tour with their album Communion. To top that they headlined Glastonbury’s Other Stage in 2016 and sold out Wembley Arena.

For Alexander, though, success is not just about the music. “If you have a platform, that gives you a privilege,” he says. “Your voice is being heard, so I think you should make use of that.”

A proud “Leftie” and LGBT rights campaigner who has previously admitted to having a crush on Jeremy Corbyn, Alexander recently teamed up with Charli XCX and Pixie Geldof as part of the Bands 4 Refugees “supergroup” which performed at last month’s NME Awards, raising money and awareness for the refugee crisis.

Along with Lily Allen, Labour MP Clive Lewis and journalists Caitlin Moran and Owen Jones, Alexander signed an open letter in The Guardian condemning Donald Trump’s “toxic agenda” and joined the rally against the President’s proposed state visit to the UK.

“I think we’re living through an interesting and potentially critical time in history,” says Alexander. “I don’t want to get to 60 and have young people ask what I did at the time, only to have to say I didn’t do anything.”

He’s “not a fan” of Theresa May. “As a leader I think she’s sneaky. She comes across as competent and strong but I think she just says whatever she can to make political ground.”

More personally, he’s spoken out about his own struggles with mental health, and admits that the speed of the band’s success created challenges.

“With anxiety and depression, what’s been most helpful to me has been learning a toolbox — a set of skills I can use when I’m in periods of low mood or feel an anxiety attack coming on. When Years & Years took off it felt like I needed that toolbox really quickly.”

He says he was lucky to “have a good support network and access to therapy and medication. That’s how I coped. I’m sure anyone can imagine what being exposed in that way is like.”

‘You need a level of confidence to feel you deserve an opinion, so I’ve worked on that over the past few years’

Does he find it difficult to talk about his mental health publicly? “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable because these are all areas which I feel are very authentic. I think there’s strength in being honest and open about yourself and your struggles,” he says. “But it can also be a challenge. This is my life, I live with my own mental health, and that is happening to me every day. I can talk about it from a position of ‘Oh, I’ve done this’ but I’m still living that existence.”

Having received treatment both on the NHS and privately, Alexander admits that he has “lots of thoughts about how difficult it is for people to access mental health support, and how many people are going through struggles with their own identity”.

Importantly, he says the Government should introduce sex education as early as possible. “I never had any sex education at all, let alone any LGBT sex education. I think it would be incredibly positive and an amazing thing if we could introduce that to young people,” he says. “If you grow up being LGBT society teaches you that you’re wrong and to be inherently ashamed of who you are. I think that then feeds through into every aspect of your life.”

Alexander was born in Blackpool and later grew up in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire. Was shame something he felt then? “Oh my God, 100 per cent. As young as 10 I started fancying boys. It’s a common experience but I just wished I wasn’t gay up until the age of 18 or 19.”

He says he struggled with confidence, spending years trying to convince himself he fancied girls. “You have to have a level of confidence to feel like you deserve to have an opinion, so I’ve tried to work on that a lot over the past few years. I’ve always had opinions.”

Now they’re out. Last year’s Glastonbury coincided with Pride weekend, so Alexander took to the Other Stage in a giant rainbow bird outfit and a pair of personalised Converse trainers (he is the new face of the brand alongside Games of Thrones’ Maisie Williams) with the word “queer” stitched on to them. “I just thought that if I’m going to be on this huge stage at Glastonbury I wanted to have the most queer-positive message possible,” he says.

Confronting negative messages about his sexuality online with wit is an Alexander trademark. Last May he mocked a picture on Twitter of Years’ Communion in the “gay music” section of an unnamed store. “What does that even mean?” he laughs now. “I mean it sounds great, I want to go to a gay music shop where it’s all gay music, but I don’t know what that is.”

Star turn: Olly Alexander showed his support for Pride at last year’s Glastonbury by performing in a giant rainbow bird outfit (Rex Features)

Grand Tour presenter Richard Hammond’s comment that he doesn’t “eat ice-cream, it’s something to do with being straight” drew short shrift. “It’s not as if I’m looking for Richard Hammond to be the social justice crusader of the century — he’s Richard Hammond,” says Alexander. “But that kind of casual misogyny or homophobia is insidious, and often people don’t realise they’re doing it.”

He says he often gets responses telling him to chill out. It makes him angry. “People say, ‘Oh, it’s just a word, words can’t hurt you’ and you’re like, ‘No — language is how we communicate, that’s how we live’. Words are important. They do matter.”

Alexander regularly has two-week social media breaks, deleting Instagram and Twitter from his phone “because it can feel really hostile and mentally damaging sometimes... You can’t have a nuanced debate on Twitter, it’s just people shouting.”

So how does he relax? He says exercise really calms him down. “I just listen to true-crime podcasts, do some weights and pretend I know what I’m doing,” he laughs. Alexander also suffers from tinnitus, and listens to BBC World Service to put him to sleep. But the best therapy, he says, is music.

Single, and having just moved to Stoke Newington, he’s excited about the next 12 months. Years & Years hope to have their second album out before the end of the year, and Alexander has been enjoying writing and recording again (with some help from the Pet Shop Boys, he adds excitedly).

“I’ve been writing a lot of songs about my personal life and identity,” he says. “That can be a real healing process. If you’re making something tangible, whether it’s clothing, a song, a piece of art… when you create something that’s outside of yourself you take a bit of the pain and it’s released, you let it out a little bit.” He pauses, then smiles. “That’s my Oprah Winfrey moment.”

Alexander’s jet-set lifestyle may come with baggage but, by the strength of his own admissions, he has nothing left to declare.

#olly alexander #interviews #years & years #yearsandyears #music #lgbt #issues #articles

12 notes · View notes