#broadcasts sounded off her searches being called off. the only one who ensured she ate - was clothed - was looked after when she fell ill.

[meatriarch]

im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

#[ ♡ ] ── * maria f. / 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦. #[ 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦. ] ── * queue. #[ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦. ] ── * cold case. #[ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦. ] ── * no one saved you. #for cc maria its just. theres literally no one else. the only constant has been johnny. hes the one who was there with her when the #broadcasts sounded off her searches being called off. the only one who ensured she ate - was clothed - was looked after when she fell ill. #who she could talk to. who in spite of all her escape attempts & all her attempts at trying to kill him kept her around - taught her how to #do things properly - protected her from others that'd be brought down below shack. honestly. her isolation in cc - only having any sort of #connection being with johnny for *months* before he trusted her enough to let her join him for longer periods - like its. complicated. #SO fucking complicated. youre seen as dead to literally everyone else in existence - *except for him*. he who sees you. who hears you. #who talks to you. looks after you. its hard not to find yourself becoming attached/devoted. to the only person who knows you still exist #like i mentioned for nosy its. theres lee there too now so its. a little different. it doesnt hit right away - the almost blind devotion. #but it still happens - over time - with the both of them. the last two people who for a time at least know you were even still living. #and its by the time ch2 rolls in for either cc/nosy its just. its so confusing to her. why they all bother returning then? #for cc its just. you all buried me in an empty box twenty years ago...you all moved on then. you accepted that. so why are you here now. #why are you re-opening wounds that shouldve been long buried - with that empty casket. why suddenly care now? #in nosy she suppresses it w. her bitterness but cc i feel it comes out more like... grief & hurt. all over again. because if you came back #20 yrs after the fact? then why DIDNT you return back then? why *now* and not then? at any point in the last two decades?

[meatriarchived]

i did not sleep yay for me im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

#for cc maria its just. theres literally no one else. the only constant has been johnny. hes the one who was there with her when the #broadcasts sounded off her searches being called off. the only one who ensured she ate - was clothed - was looked after when she fell ill. #who she could talk to. who in spite of all her escape attempts & all her attempts at trying to kill him kept her around - taught her how to #do things properly - protected her from others that'd be brought down below shack. honestly. her isolation in cc - only having any sort of #connection being with johnny for *months* before he trusted her enough to let her join him for longer periods - like its. complicated. #*so* fucking complicated. youre seen as dead to literally everyone else in existence - *except for him*. he who sees you. who hears you. #you speaks with you. looks after you. its hard not to find yourself becoming attached/devoted. to the only person who knows you still exist #like i mentioned for nosy its. theres lee there too now so its. a little different. it doesnt hit right away - the almost blind devotion. #but it still happens - over time - with the both of them. the last two people who for a time at least know you were even still living. #and its by the time ch2 rolls in for either cc/nosy its just. its so confusing to her. why they all bother returning then? #for cc its just. you all buried me in an empty box twenty years ago...you all moved on then. you accepted that. so why are you here now. #why are you re-opening wounds that shouldve been long buried - with that empty casket. why suddenly care now? #in nosy she suppresses it with her bitterness but cc i feel it comes out more like... grief & hurt. all over again. because if you came bac #20 yrs after the fact? then why DIDNT you return back then? why *now* and not then? #[ mf ] ── * 𝐇𝐂 / 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄. { maria. } #[ mf ] ── * 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. { cold case. } #[ mf ] ── * 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. { no one saved you. } #[ mf ] ── * 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. { we saved us. }

[jovialyouthmusic]

Uneasy Lies the Head

A Royal Romance AU fanfic followup to Charlotte’s Choice

1 Mourning and Doubt 

Queen Charlotte of Cordonia deals with the death of her Father King Constantine, and an old enemy strikes.

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1 Mourning and Doubt

Drake had arrived at the King’s room just too late. Charlotte sat by his bedside, the machines switched off, the room silent, her head bowed, holding his cooling hand. He walked rapidly over to her and knelt by her side.

‘My Queen’ he said simply, but she tugged at him to get up, tears in her eyes.

‘Never kneel to me, my love’ she said softly ‘You’re my equal, you’ll be by my side. I’ll announce it after the funeral’ She sent for Hana and told her to remain with the King until she had finished with the Press.

She had washed her face and gone out to the Press, taking him with her to stand by her side, unannounced as her Consort. She told the nation of their King’s death and declared three days of mourning to be followed by a State funeral. She stated that Anton was guilty of treason and stripped of his title and lands, and anyone who helped him would also be accused of the same.  She returned to the silent room where her Father lay lifeless, Hana sitting dutifully by his side, her own eyes red. She looked down at his body.

‘It’s funny, it felt like he was still here before. He’s gone now.’ She turned to the doctor ‘I want his body treated with respect. No more examinations, no post mortem. He’s to be laid in State at the Palace for all to see.’ The doctor protested.

‘Your Majesty, there are things we must do…’ She held up her hand to quiet him.

‘He can be prepared for viewing, nothing more. I am your Queen, and I command it’ The doctor bowed.

‘Yes your Majesty’ he answered. 

She turned to Hana.

‘Hana, I appoint you my personal aide. I hope you will accept – we can discuss terms in due time.’ Hana dropped a curtsey ‘I know laying Father in state at the Palace will create security problems, but I am sure you can liaise with Bastien and Lewis to ensure my safety.’ She put her hand to her face, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. ‘I need to rest. Will it be safe to return to the Palace?’

‘Yes your Majesty’ replied Hana ‘The Royal Guard has combed it from top to bottom. I’ll send for a car to take you back’

 At the Palace an armed guard stood at the gate. It had been night time when the King passed away, and now the clear light of dawn now broke over the capital and a new Monarch reigned. The staff welcomed her with both sorrow and joy and she made her way straight to her suite, Drake following a few steps behind. Lewis was the one to stand guard in the corridor, as Bastein and Hana co-ordinated security details, he from his hospital bed, she from wherever she was needed.

Once in her room, she sat heavily on the bed and turned to Drake. Her whole world had changed in just a few hours, and it all weighed heavily on her shoulders.

‘Don’t leave me Drake, stay with me’ She pleaded wearily. He smiled ruefully

‘I can’t do that right now, not until I’m declared Consort’ She tried to protest, tears starting to her eyes ‘You’re Queen now, nothing must tarnish your image. The country needs you, needs to respect you. Don’t worry, I’ll be seen leaving your room – I’ll sing and dance all the way back to mine if I have to, to make it plain I left. But I’ll come back in secret along the passages, I promise. I won’t be long’ He knelt and turned his face up to kiss her softly. ‘Soon’ he said simply, and she knew he didn’t just mean in the moment.

When he returned she was asleep where he’d left her, laying back on the bed, lower legs hanging over the edge of the high four poster bed. Gently he lifted her feet to take off her shoes and shake her awake.

‘Drake’ she said sleepily ‘You came back. I - I fell asleep’ He chuckled, touched by her trust and her vulnerability.

‘I noticed, Princess – my Queen. You can’t sleep like this, let me help you out of these clothes’ He sat her up and she shrugged out of the clothes she had put on at the lodge Anton had taken her to. It brought it all back – the fear, the sorrow, the realisation that Anton would stop at nothing to get the Crown. But Drake’s token hung round her neck, and he was there – her rock, her refuge, her lover.

‘Father, what happened to grandma? Why isn’t she here any more?’ the young Charlotte asked after the funeral of his mother. He knelt down to her, and scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest. His cheeks were wet.

‘She’s not with us any more my sweet girl. Nobody knows for sure what happens when someone dies’ he set her down and carried on, half crouching on the marble floor of the ballroom ‘She loved you very much, and I’m sure she didn’t want to go, but she was very ill’

‘Will she come back Father, I miss her’ He sighed.

‘I’m sorry my dear, perhaps you will see her in your dreams, but she won’t come back to our waking world. I like to think that wherever she is, she’s watching over us. She’s with all her loved ones – your Gramps who you never met, with her Mummy and Daddy. She’ll still be there in your heart whenever you remember her. I’ll remember her too, and she’ll always be a part of us.’ Charlotte smiled.

‘That sounds nice Papa. Can I go and play with Drake and Olivia?’ He smiled.

‘Yes darling. I’m proud of my little girl for understanding something that a lot of grown ups find difficult. Go and play, your mother will call you when it’s time to come in.’

Charlotte slipped under the heavy covers of the bed. Drake slid in beside her for the first time, and she curled into his side and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The three days of mourning passed in a blur of meetings and office sessions. Drake assisted when he could, even if it was only to bring her fresh coffee or make sure she ate. The funeral had been planned in advance and there were only small details to arrange. She poured her energy into drafting reform, swiftly abolishing the Chastity clause, smoothly and without incident before drawing up other plans to present to the Council after the Coronation. She planned to abolish the obligation of Dukes and Duchesses to serve on the Council, setting in motion the facility for ordinary citizens to be elected in their place – a Council of Citizens that would hold power in tandem with the nobles, eventually merging into one Council. She had Drake draft out a plan to leave a wing of Applewood for her use but turn the rest of the property over to an organisation that would set up a scheme of training for young people. Olivia planned to turn part of her own property over to the orphanage. Brad departed for England to see to his own estate, promising to return for the Funeral.

As Anton had been made landless, she put in motion a plan to hand Valtoria over to Drake as soon as he had been declared Consort and with it a place on the Council of Nobles. She prepared a communication for all the Duchies urging them to stop holding overly ostentatious balls and dinners and spend more on charitable causes. The Royal events would continue, but in a scaled down version, some events being dropped altogether, such as the annual hunt.  

At night Drake came to her room unseen, and left before her staff woke her and brought her breakfast, returning in public to eat with her. When they were alone at night they made love tenderly and slowly, Charlotte taking comfort in their complete union, wondering how she had lived for so long without knowing such bliss.  It balanced out her busy days and she mourned the loss of the carefee days of the social season. She understood why Constantine had thrown her into the world of diplomacy and economics and governance; if she had not had that experience she would be floundering now.

The day of the funeral came, and defiantly she walked behind the hearse with Drake, as she had some months ago behind her stepmother’s cortege. Bastien had urged her to travel in an armoured car, but she wanted to appear free of fear in front of the people. Security was tight, the Guard running ragged after working long hours policing the Palace where Constantine had laid in state, citizens and nobles queuing to pay their respects. Charlotte had promised Bastien that she would hole up in the Palace for three days afterwards to lessen the load on her loyal forces.

Thankfully the funeral passed without incident despite Anton still being at large, no trace of him to be found. The following day she welcomed a television recording crew into the Palace to film an official statement to be broadcast later that day. She recorded it in Her Fathers’ wood panelled study that was now put aside for her exclusive use

‘Citizens of Cordonia, I thank you for the heartfelt sentiments on the death of King Constantine. As you know, there has been no official Coronation, although I am legally the King’s heir. There are many reforms under way that will change the way our beautiful country is run, of which you will be informed very shortly. I would like to announce that in five days’ time there will be a formal Coronation ceremony at the cathedral, but in advance of that, I wish to announce the identity of the man who will serve as my consort.’ She paused, knowing that although she was not being broadcast live, she would need to leave a little time for people to process what she said.

‘You will be pleased to hear that I have chosen Duke Drake Walker, whose support over the years has been so valuable to my Father and myself. You will also know that his status as Duke is unique, his title having been handed to him in honour of his father’s service to the Crown, and coming with no land or property. I hereby announce that he is to be appointed Duke of Valtoria and awarded a place on the Council, in the absence of the traitor Anton Severus, who has forfeited his own title and lands.’ She paused again, to allow her words to sink in.

‘I have already informed the former Lord Severus’s staff at his properties, and offered them a place under Duke Walker if they so wish, providing that they swear their loyalty and fealty to him and to myself. They are free to find employment elsewhere if they wish, but as you know, anyone who retains loyalty to Anton Severus is by implication, guilty of treason, or of aiding and abetting a traitor to the Crown. It saddens me that any of my citizens hold me in contempt and I offer immunity to any who truly wish to give me their loyalty. Again I urge any of you with knowledge of the whereabouts of Anton Severus to step forward and give up that information or hand him over to my Royal Guard. I will be lenient with anyone who does so.’ She paused again.

‘I wish prosperity and happiness to all the citizens of Cordonia, no matter what their status. I look forward to serving my country and helping to achieve that prosperity for all. God Bless Cordonia’ Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief, and the camera crew turned off the lights and started to pack away. The director turned to her.

‘Thankyou your Majesty, we’ll look the footage over for any flaws and get back to you as soon as we can with the film ready for broadcast.’

‘There’s to be no editing of my words, nothing left out or changed around’ Charlotte asserted ‘If anything material is changed, I will bring down the full force of the law on you, is that clear?’ The director swallowed.

‘Of course your Majesty, I just meant that we have to check the quality of the film. There will be no editing, nothing will be changed, you have my word.’ Charlotte smiled warmly

‘I’m sure you will carry out my instructions, I just had to make things absolutely clear. It is vital that everyone understand my intentions. I only want the best for my country.’

Later that evening, Charlotte sat with Drake, Hana and Bastien, who had been discharged from hospital and was on light duties as he healed. She wished she could allow him time off, but the handover of power was her priority, and she was not formally crowned as yet. They waited for the broadcast. The film crew had not been allowed to leave the Palace following the recording and a member of security remained with them until the broadcast was due.

All went as planned, the film crew had not changed anything – but just as Charlotte had come to the part where she reminded her citizens that Anton was a traitor, the picture faded and static appeared on the screen. She frowned, and Drake got up to check the connection at the back of the set, only to hear Charlotte gasp as he lost sight of the screen.

‘Oh my God’ whispered Hana ‘Anton Severus – he’s hacked the broadcast, he’s about to speak’

#charlotte's choice #uneasy lies the head #the royal romance #drake walker #choices the royal romance #trr #trr drake #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr choices #trr au