#choices liam

[ao719]

Vancross

Vancross - Real As A Dream (Chapter 14)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.  

Title inspiration: Infinitely Falling - Fly By Midnight

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading! Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

After arriving back to their suite and quickly packing their bags for their impromptu weekend trip, Croía and Alia walked out of their building, flanked by their guards who were carrying their bags. Liam had told them not to worry about finding something to bring for the ball because the palace had a boutique with an array of gowns for them to choose from.

“Ready?”

Croía heard his voice and looked up, seeing Liam, grinning as he walked toward her. “Yeah,” she smiled.

They walked to the waiting SUV that was parked at the back entrance of campus and loaded their bags before slipping inside. Anthony, Liam’s guard, promised updates to the others before driving off and heading for the airport.

Liam leaned over to Croía. “I’m really glad you’re coming,” he said before kissing the top of her head.

“Me too,” Croía smiled as she looked at him.

Blaine’s head suddenly poked between them from the back seat. “What about me?” he asked, tapping his cheek to Liam.

Laughing, Liam palmed his face and shoved him back. “I think you have enough to worry about once Lena gets wind you’re there.”

“Why does he need to worry about that?” Croía asked.

Blaine, Alia, and Liam all chuckled. “My sister is absolutely smitten with Blaine, and she makes no attempts to hide it, either.”

Croía stared at him; she found herself a little nervous about meeting the rest of his family. “What are your brother and sister like?”

“Lena is your average, obnoxious little sister,” Liam chuckled. “But she’s a good kid. Leo … Leo is …”

“Awesome,” Blaine laughed.

Liam chuckled. “He’s very carefree and laid back, a bit of a jokester, says what he means and means what he says. And I’m sure he’ll try to embarrass the fuck out of me in front of you.”

“Yeah, he will,” Alia laughed as she and Blaine nodded in agreement.

“So, what are the plans, anyway?” Blaine asked.

“Nothing until the ball tomorrow evening,” Liam subtly rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a small smile. “And then coming back sometime Sunday. So tonight and most of the day tomorrow we can do whatever.”

After a short drive, the SUV pulled up to the tarmac alongside the waiting jet. When Liam exited the vehicle, he was approached by Jackson. “Hello, sir,” Liam chuckled.

Jackson shook his head with a good-natured grin as he shook his hand, then looked at the others that gathered around him. “Rashad and Olivia are already on board with your parents, I just need to add these guys to the manifest. I already know you two,” he nodded with a smile toward Blaine and gave a bow of his head to Alia before gesturing to the jet; they grinned before heading for the stairs.

Liam slid his arm around Croía’s waist. “Croía, this is Jackson Walker, my parent’s head guard. Jackson, this is my girlfriend Croía.”

Jackson bowed his head, already having been made aware of Croía’s title. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well,” Croía smiled.

“Jackson here is like my second father,” Liam chuckled as he looked at her. “You remember my best friend Drake that I told you about, the one that lives in New York with our other friend?” She nodded in reply; he had talked about them on several occasions since she’d first met him. “This is his dad.”

Croía smiled with a nod of understanding as she glanced back at the guard. She already knew her upbringing was different, but hearing that truly solidified it. Liam’s childhood best friend — a man he spoke so highly of, a man he made sound more like a brother than a friend — was a commoner, the son of a guard. Her parents would never. She was barely allowed to associate with their court of nobles let alone anyone her parents deemed beneath them.

“Yes, yes. I can tell you loads of stories about this one growing up,” Jackson tilted his chin toward the Prince.

“Whatever do you mean? I was a saint,” Liam grinned. “Still am.”

Jackson arched a brow and looked at Croía. “You’re not really buying this illusion of perfection, are you?” She laughed as he glanced back at Liam and dropped his voice. “I could write a book.”

Liam smirked. “But you won’t.”

“Can’t,” Jackson corrected him. “It’s in my contract,” he winked as he clapped him on the shoulder before gesturing to the aircraft.

Liam laughed as he and Croía walked toward the jet and climbed the stairs. When they turned the corner into the cabin, he smiled at his parents in the front; Blaine, Alia, Rashad, and Olivia were all in the back.

“Hello, again,” Eleanor smiled. Liam kissed her cheek before shaking his father’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it, Croía.”

“Me too,” Croía smiled. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Constantine nodded. “The flight is a couple of hours. Why don’t you two go get settled?”

Liam nodded before he and Croía headed toward the back of the cabin, and after greeting Olivia and Rashad, they settled in their seats. Several minutes later, the aircraft was turning onto the runway. Croía looked out the window as they started to lift into the air; she felt Liam’s hand slip into hers, and she looked at him. “Are you excited?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Croía grinned. “I’ve only ever been to two places outside of Drakovia — New York once, and then school.”

Liam leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We won’t have time to really explore and show you the sights, but I promise to make it worth your while,” he smiled.

****

A couple of hours later, Liam glanced up at the cabin light above upon hearing the soft chime, signaling the passengers to fasten their seatbelts for landing. He smiled as he looked beside him and gestured to the window. “Welcome to Cordonia.”

Croía looked out the window as Liam leaned forward to peer over her shoulder; the jet dropped from the clouds and the island below came into view. A wide grin spread across her face as she took it in.

Sandy beaches and a bustling city boarded the seaside below, and far off in the distance toward the other side of the island, Croía could just make out the silhouettes of mountain peaks against the dusky sky. As they circled toward the airport, Liam pointed out the palace, perched atop a massive hill above the rest of the city.

“It’s beautiful,” Croía smiled. It truly was. It looked like something out of a dream and not a place she would have expected to visit just a mere few months ago. At that moment, she only wished she had more time to be able to explore it.

When the jet landed, everyone was escorted off to the waiting vehicles. Rashad and Olivia said their goodbyes; they were heading back to their duchies just for the night. The others climbed into the three-row SUV and took off for the palace.

After a short drive, they pulled through the gilded gates at the bottom of the hill; Croía looked out the window, taking in the pristine grounds as they drove up the long drive. When the palace came into view, her eyes slightly widened. No, it wasn’t the first palace she’d seen — she grew up in one — but the welcoming bright colors and Baroque architecture of the Cordonian palace were vastly different in contrast to the dreariness and isolation of the one she grew up in.

The SUV came to a stop outside of the doors and everyone climbed out; they were greeted by staff as they came to retrieve their bags from the motorcade. Croía stared up at the structure in awe.

“Welcome to our home,” Eleanor said as she came beside her.  

Croía looked at her. “It’s beautiful,” she smiled.  

“Wait until you see the inside,” Blaine chuckled from behind her.

“Come on,” Liam grinned, taking her hand and leading her inside.

Croía didn’t think the place could surprise her anymore, but when they stepped into the foyer, it blew her away. A panoply of historical paintings lined the walls, and two massive staircases curved around from either side of the foyer, leading up to the second level. To her left was a great room and what appeared to be a few small offices. To her right, two opulent white and gold doors were opened, leading into an enormous ballroom.

“Li!”

At the sound of the voice, Croía glanced over to see a man walking down one side of the staircase; he had the same height and build as Liam as well as the same blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a smile as he approached. There was no doubt who he was, but she waited for the introduction. She looked up at Liam who was grinning as he took a step forward; the two shook hands before pulling one another into a hug, but a moment later, their feet shifted, and in that hug, they began to playfully grapple.

“I can still kick your ass,” the man grumbled through a laugh.

“Bet,” Liam chuckled before swinging his arm up and wrapping it around him in a headlock.

“Whenever you two are done acting like children, there are introductions to be made,” Constantine said.

Liam and the man stood upright with smiles, both combing their hands through their now-disheveled hair. “Missed you, little brother,” the man laughed.

“Missed you, too,” Liam snorted. He glanced over, gesturing with his hand. “You know Blaine and Alia.”

“Alia, you look lovely as always,” Leo crooned, kissing her on the cheek. He then looked at Blaine. “You’re still ugly.”

“Still better looking than you,” Blaine quipped.

“That’s not what your mom—” The man paused, sliding his eyes to Eleanor who was arching a warning brow as Blaine coughed to cover up his laugh. “Heh.”

Liam silently laughed, shaking his head as the man turned back to him; his eyes fell on Croía with a broad grin. “Croía, this is my brother, Leo. Leo, this is Croía.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Leo said as he stepped up and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“You as well,” Croia smiled.

“Liam here hasn’t shut up about you since the start of the school year when you two got paired up on that project together,” Leo smirked.

Liam’s brows shot up. “That’s not—”

“It’s true,” Leo interrupted. “He talked about you non-stop like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

Blaine and Alia laughed as Liam furrowed his brows; he shook his head, looking at Croía. “I-I didn’t—”

“And he went on and on and on about how beautiful you were,” Leo interrupted again, “but his words didn’t do you justice.” Croía’s cheeks flushed, and beside her, Liam shook his head with a smile, not bothering to try to correct his brother’s exaggeration that time. “So, Trystan Thorne’s baby sister …” He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “How is your brother?”

“He’s doing ok,” Croía smiled. “I heard you two were suitemates the year he attended Vancross.”

“We were,” Leo nodded with a grin. “We certainly had our fair share of fun. I’ll have to get his number from you so I can call him and catch up … and to badmouth Liam, of course,” he smirked before dodging a punch from Liam.

“You’re here!” another voice sounded from the top of the stairs. Croía glanced up to see a girl with blonde hair coming down the stairs. When her eyes fell on Blaine, they widened along with her smile as she picked up her pace. She went to Liam and wrapped her arms around him. “Hi.”

“Hey, yourself,” Liam replied as he hugged her back. When she stepped back, she looked at Croía and tilted her head to the side. “Lena, you know Blaine and his girlfriend Alia.” She gave him a sideways glance at his extra emphasis on Alia’s label before smiling at the pair. “And this is Croía. Croía, this is my sister, Lena.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Croía smiled.

“You too,” Lena grinned. “I’m glad to see you’re still with us after Liam cooked you dinner.”

Constantine, Leo, Blaine, and Alia barked out a laugh as Eleanor shook her head with a faint smile. Liam narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you have a tea party or something to go to?”

Lena’s eyes slid to Blaine with a smile. “Nope.”

“Alright,” Eleanor said. “It’s been quite a long day and we have yet to eat. Liam, why don’t you take everyone to your wing to get settled, and you can call down to the kitchens to have something brought up for all of you.” Liam nodded before kissing Eleanor’s cheek. “Lena, have you eaten, sweetheart?”

“No,” Lena replied. “I’ll just go with Liam.”

“No, you won’t,” Liam shook his head.

“Come on! Let me come hang out with you!”

“No, because you’re not coming to hang out with me. Go with Mom and Dad and eat with them.” Liam looked at Leo as they started toward the stairs. “You wanna eat with us?”

“Liam!” Lena bemoaned.

“Don’t worry, little sis,” Leo smirked. “I’ll flirt with Blaine for you,” he laughed. Lena’s cheeks burned as she narrowed her eyes while the others started up the stairs.

When they reached the landing, Leo said he needed to stop in his wing but would meet them at Liam’s before disappearing down a corridor. Blaine and Alia turned one way while Liam, who was holding Croía’s hand, turned another. “Where are you going?” Blaine asked when he realized.

Liam glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not in the east wing anymore,” he replied, gesturing his head for them to follow. As they walked and turned down a few corridors, Croía took in her surroundings; the entire place was luxurious.

“Why did they move you?” Alia asked.

They finally neared the backside of the palace and Liam pushed open a door that led into an antechamber and a set of double doors. “After the abdication, they said I should have a bigger space, so they put me in the south wing.”

Liam pushed open the doors and they stepped inside the sprawling wing. Blaine grinned as he looked around. “Hell yeah, they did!” It was much grander than Liam’s old space.

The first level housed the kitchen, living, and dining areas spread out through an open-concept floor plan; it was painted a deep black, and the floor was a combination of marble and black wood. Near the massive chandelier that hung by the entryway was a staircase leading up to the second floor.

“Ok, Crown Prince,” Blaine rocked his head before feigning a hair flip.

Liam laughed, shaking his head. “They had it remodeled. It didn’t always look like this.” They grabbed their bags that sat at the bottom of the stairs before heading up. He turned to Blaine and Alia once they reached the top. “Guest rooms are down there. Pick whatever one you want.”

“Where’s yours?” Blaine asked, and Liam pointed to a lone door that stood at the end of a small hall at the opposite end of the other longer one in response. “A master suite. Noooice,” he shook his fist.

Liam chuckled. “What did you guys want to do for dinner? I’ll call down to the kitchens while you get situated.”

“I’m good with whatever,” Alia answered.

“Pizza and wings?” Blaine suggested. “Something easy and greasy.”

Liam looked at Croía, who nodded in agreement. “I’ll make the call and meet you guys back down in the living area.”

Blaine and Alia turned to find a room while Liam, still holding Croía’s hand, led her down the other hall. He pushed open the door, and she looked around as they stepped inside the massive bedroom. Like downstairs, it was painted in a deep, rich color. A door leading to a master bath and another leading into a walk-in closet was on one side. A king-sized bed was against the back wall, covered in stone-gray bedding. And along the other side was a set of double doors that led onto a balcony.

“This whole wing is yours?” Croía asked as she moved to look out the balcony door window.

Liam smiled sheepishly as he came up behind her. “When Leo and I turned 18, we got our own wings. Lena will get her own next year. It’s just to give us our own space within the palace. No one comes unannounced … except my mom, only on birthdays, though,” he chuckled. “She lets herself in every year to make a birthday breakfast, and the rest of the family comes to eat. So Sunday, she and the others will let themselves in. But other than that …” He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s my place.”

“It’s amazing. This whole place … I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Your room at your palace isn’t like this?” Liam quipped with a chuckle.

“No,” Croía shook her head. “I have a room. Not a wing. And it looks nothing like this …” She turned in his arms and peered around his broad shoulder. “And I don’t have a king-sized bed.” Liam bit his lip through a smile as he pulled her back until they collapsed on the mattress. “And mine isn’t this soft.”

Liam propped himself up at her side, looking down at her as he smiled. “I know I already said it, but I really am glad that you came.” She smiled up at him as he leaned down, capturing her lips in his. His hand settled on her bare waist where the hem of her shirt had risen as the kiss deepened.

Croía slightly arched into him when his thumb brushed against her stomach. “You have to call down for dinner,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again.

“Mmm,” Liam hummed with a smile before pulling back. “We can pick this back up later.”

****

A short while later, Liam, Croía, Blaine, Alia, and Leo sat around the living room with various pizzas and flavors of wings set out on the large coffee table. The others caught Leo up on life at Vancross, and Leo asked Croía more about Trystan and his life in New York; he kept his questions as casual as possible, careful not to ask about his banishment from their country or the rumors that went along with it as for the reason why.

A knock on Liam’s door caused them to fall silent for a moment. “It’s probably Lena,” Liam chuckled. “Wanting to hang out.”

“I’ll run her off,” Leo smirked as he stood from his seat. As he rounded the corner to answer the door, the other four continued talking. A moment later, he came back. “Hey, Li …”

Liam looked over his shoulder, and a broad grin spread across his lips. “No fucking way.” He stood, and Croía looked behind her to see two men standing on either side of Leo, both with grins of their own as Liam approached them.

“Hey, brother,” the one man said as Liam shook his hand and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Liam asked as he stepped back and moved to the other man, greeting him the same.

“Like we’d miss your birthday weekend,” the second man chuckled.

“You didn’t have to come all the way home for this,” Liam shook his head as he stepped back. Despite his words, Croía could hear a happiness in his tone that said he was glad they were there. “You guys hungry?” He asked, gesturing to the pizza and wings.

“Starving!” the second man said as he walked by Liam, rubbing his hands together. “Hey, Blaine. Alia,” he smiled as he greeted them. He then looked at Croía. “I don’t think I know you …”

Liam chuckled as he, Leo, and the other man approached. “You know Blaine and Alia,” Liam said, gesturing to the pair on the loveseat; the first man tipped his chin toward them in silent greeting. “And this,” he said, taking Croía’s hand, helping her to stand to bring her beside him; he slipped an arm around her waist. “Is Croía. Croía, that’s Maxwell,” he pointed to the one now shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth; she chuckled with a wave before looking at the other man. “And this is Drake.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Drake said, tilting his chin toward Liam with a grin. “Nice to meet ya.”

“You as well,” Croía smiled. “And Liam’s talked a lot about you, too.”

“I told her how Liam hasn’t shut up about her,” Leo chimed in. “Isn’t that right, Drake?”

“Oh, yeah.” Drake knitted his brows, nodding as he sucked in a breath; he knew what Leo was doing, and what kind of guy would he be if he didn’t give his best friend a hard time every once in a while? “He’s had it real bad for you from day one.”

“Really?” Liam scoffed, cutting his eyes to Drake. “You too?”

Drake shrugged, clapping Liam’s shoulder. “Honestly, Croía, this poor little prince has been a walking hard-on for you,” he snorted as he dodged out of the way of Liam’s fist. Blaine choked, spraying beer from his nose from the sip he’d just taken as Leo threw his head back with a bark of laughter.

Liam looked at Croía, shaking his head as he stifled a laugh. “Please ignore these assholes that I call my friends and family.”

****

After visiting with Drake and Maxwell for a few hours, the two-headed home for the night; they made plans to meet up with the others at the private beach the next morning to relax and hang out before Liam’s birthday ball. Leo went back to his wing and the other four called it a night.

Once changed, Liam sprawled out on the bed and closed his eyes; it was much larger and more comfortable than the one in his suite back at Vancross.

Croía stepped out of the bathroom after changing and brushing her teeth, walking around to the other side of the bed. She clicked off the light on the nightstand and slipped beneath the comforter, letting out a content sigh a moment later. “I think this bed is the softest thing I’ve ever laid on.”

Liam looked over at her and began scooting closer. “I’m glad, but you’re too far away.” She giggled when he draped his arm over her waist, pulling her back flush against his bare chest and molding her body to his. “That’s better,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. Croía tilted her head back; a stream of moonlight coming through the balcony door illuminated his face, allowing her to make out his smile. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow kiss. When he drew back, he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “Where were we earlier?”

Croía quietly chuckled as his lips found her neck and his fingers grazed her thigh beneath the hem of the shorts she was wearing.

*******

Croía felt the bed shift and her eyes fluttered open to see Liam sitting on the edge beside her. “Good morning, beautiful,” he smiled, leaning down to smother a kiss against her cheek.

“Morning,” Croía smiled. When he drew back, she saw a sparkle in his eye as he grinned. “What?”

“I like waking up with you in my bed,” Liam chuckled before kissing her lips.

Croía smiled. “You’ve woken up with me in your bed before.”

“Yeah, but not here … in my home … in Cordonia. It feels different,” Liam grinned.

“You’re so cute,” Croía giggled.

Liam smiled, leaning down to trail his lips up her neck before finding hers again. When he drew back, he brushed his hand across her cheek. “We’re going to eat breakfast then head down to the private beach to meet the others. Leo and Lena are both tagging along.”

“Ok,” Croía nodded as she sat up in bed.

****

At the beach, Croía lounged beside Alia in a chair; on her other side was Olivia, and next to her was Lena. On the sand, the guys were playing a three-on-three game of volleyball — Liam, Blaine, and Drake against Rashad, Leo, and Maxwell.

When they first arrived, Croía sat and talked with Drake and Maxwell, getting to know Liam’s two oldest friends a little more. They told her about school and life in New York, and Drake talked about Riley, who had been unable to make the trip due to work she couldn’t get out of. They told her stories about them growing up while playfully poking fun at Liam a bit more, but also telling her about what a great person he was.

Croía smiled to herself as she watched Liam laughing and joking with his friends and brother. She’d never met anyone so well-liked by so many people. He was the golden boy at Vancross but here in Cordonia as well; the people’s Prince and future King, a bright spot in the lives of his friends and family. It wasn’t like she couldn’t see why, though. From the moment she had met him, he treated her with nothing but respect and kindness, two things she hadn’t exactly been used to. And he continued to treat her in ways she wasn’t used to … to make her feel things she wasn’t used to.

The way Croía felt about Liam was something she had never felt before; not too long ago, it wasn’t something she’d even thought possible for herself with the way she had been isolated in Drakovia. And her feelings seemed to grow stronger every day, but as someone treading in very unfamiliar territory, she wasn’t sure exactly what to call it. Sure, she’d heard about love, she’d read about it in stories and watched it play out on television screens, but she’d never experienced it. Maybe it wasn’t yet something that she could call love, but it was, at the least, heady infatuation.

“Hey,” Liam’s voice pulled Croía from her musings and she glanced up as he approached her, shading her eyes from the sun. He leaned down, kissing her cheek. “Want to go for a walk with me? There’s something I want to show you.”

“Sure,” Croía smiled.

“We’ll be back,” Liam called out to the others as he helped her to stand from the lounge chair.

As the pair walked down the beach hand-in-hand, Drake watched as he stood next to Blaine. “If he’s going where I think he’s going … that’s a pretty big deal.”

Blaine furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say he’s never taken anyone else there before … ever.”

“Not even Kennedy?” Blaine questioned, not sure of the ‘where’ he was even referring to. “All those times she came to visit?”

Drake shook his head. “Not even her.”

“Well shit,” Blaine chuckled, looking back as Liam and Croía disappeared into a pathway between the trees. “Our boy’s in lurve.”

****

Liam silently led Croía along the path deep into the trees that bordered the beach. “Where are we going?” she finally asked.

“It’s just up here,” Liam replied.

A few moments later, Croía could make out a burble of water; it continued to grow louder the deeper they walked into the path until the sound surrounded them. She glanced around but saw nothing of its source until he veered off the pathway.

Liam led her to a clearing, and glanced down, watching her face light up at the sight. “This is the Forgotten Falls.”

Croía grinned as they walked toward the edge of the plunge pool, looking up at the massive waterfall. “Liam, this is amazing!”

“There’s a folklore behind it,” Liam said. “The story goes that hundreds of years ago there were two lovers from warring clans. They were forbidden from being together, but they would meet here, at this hidden cove, and make their plans to run away together. When the day came for them to leave, they vowed to meet here at dawn. When dawn came, the woman waited and waited, but her lover never appeared. It’s said that he was caught by her people and killed. But she never had the heart to leave this spot. So she knelt on the cliffs and wept, and her tears became the waterfall … until that’s all that was left of her.”

“That’s beautiful. Heartbreaking … but beautiful,” Croía smiled sadly.

“Well, there’s a little silver lining,” Liam smiled. Croía could hear a hint of mischief in his tone and looked over at him. “It’s said that if two lovers climb to the top of the waterfall—” he pointed up to it “—and jump in together, they’ll get the blessing of the lady of the waterfall.”

Croía chuckled as she looked back at the falls; her gaze abruptly snapped back to him once she realized what he was saying. “You want to jump?”

Liam nodded with a grin. “If you’re up for it, that is.”

Croía looked back at the falls again, glancing up at the high cliff above. “And we have to climb? There’s no other way up?”

“We have to climb,” Liam nodded, taking her hand and leading her toward the wall of rocks and vines; she glanced at him, mirroring his smile as she gave a nod. “You go first, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Liam helped Croía get situated on the first few notches on the wall, pointing out a clear path for her to go up; she scaled, and he followed right behind, watching her carefully to make sure she didn’t slip. After several long minutes, she disappeared over the ledge; Liam’s head popped up, and he smiled at her as he hoisted himself onto the edge of the cliff.

“How was that?”

“Not bad,” Croía chuckled. They both stood and she peered over the edge. “I didn’t realize how high up we were.”

“If you can do the skycoaster at the amusement park, this will be a piece of cake,” Liam smiled, reaching out his hand.

Croía took it, and he laced their fingers together as they took several steps back. “Are you sure the water is deep enough down there? How many times have you jumped off this?”

“It’s deep enough, I promise,” Liam chuckled. “And by myself, I’ve jumped loads of times.”

“And with someone else?”

Liam glanced at her, his blue eyes sparkling against the sun. “Never,” he smiled. No, she might not pick up on the significance of that, but he knew. “Ready?” She nodded and they looked straight ahead. “Three … two … one!”

They took off in a run and flung themselves over the edge; Croía let out a scream as they fell, and Liam laughed beside her before they hit the plunge pool with a splash.

When they surfaced above the water, Liam wiped the water from his face and looked at her with a grin. “Verdict?”

“Amazing,” Croía chuckled.

****

After several more jumps off the cliff, Liam and Croía stood in the plunge pool; his feet were anchored in the sand with her legs and arms wrapped around him as he held her tightly. She glanced up at the falls above them. “Do you believe it?” she asked as she glanced back at him. “The folklore behind it?”

“I’m sure along the way any truth became stretched and fabricated to sell the tale.” Liam chuckled when she gave him a look. “I believe in the message about love behind it.” He smiled sheepishly.

Croía held his gaze as that question she’d been asking herself floated in her mind. “Have … have you ever been …”

“In love?” Liam questioned, and she nodded. He smiled, scanning over the details of her face before meeting her gaze again. “I thought I had been … but I’m not sure that’s exactly what it was.”

Liam wasn’t sure because what he felt before didn’t feel like this. It didn’t make him feel the way he felt when he was with Croía. His feelings for her had grown into something he never saw coming, and it happened rather quickly. If what he felt before was love, this was a vastly different kind of it, so different that there wasn’t even a comparison to make between his past and present.

Leaning in, Liam captured her lips in his; when he drew back, she rested her forehead against his. “We should probably head back. We’ll be leaving soon to go get ready for the ball.” Croía nodded, kissing him once more as he lowered her to stand in the water, feeling him smile against her lips.

****

That evening, Liam and Blaine stood in the living area of the wing, waiting for Alia and Croía. When they returned from the beach, the two had gone into the palace boutique with Lena to pick out their gowns.

“They’re probably doing each other’s hair,” Blaine chuckled.

Liam laughed, glancing down at his watch. “We have plenty of time. It’s not a typical ball anyway; there’s no receiving line or announcing anyone in. I asked them to keep it as casual as possible.”

“A casual ball,” Blaine snorted. “Sounds like a bit of an oxymoron to me.”

“Look at you using your big words,” Liam teased, laughing when Blaine flipped him off.

Just then, Alia rounded the corner from the stairwell; Blaine grinned as he took in the sight of her wearing a champagne-colored fitted twist front halter top gown. “Baby,” he crooned as he approached her. “You look damn good.” Liam nodded his agreement as he offered her a smile.

“Thanks,” Alia giggled before kissing him.

A moment later, Croía came into view and Liam’s heart stuttered. She wore a one-shoulder A-line gown with a thigh-high slit in a dusty shade of mauve. Her hair was loosely swept back in an effortless low-twisted bun with a few curled tendrils falling to frame her face. It was the first time he’d seen her this way, the simple yet elegant dolled-up version of the Princess of Drakovia. “You look …” Liam trailed off, his smile growing with each sweep of his eyes. “Wow.”

Blaine laughed. “I think the word he’s looking for is—”

“Incredible,” Liam interrupted with a sheepish smile. “You look incredible.” He approached her, leaning down to place a tender kiss on her lips.

Croía’s cheeks blushed. “Thank you.”

“Shall we?” Liam smiled, holding out his arm. Croía chuckled as she switched her clutch into her other hand and linked her arm through his.

****

More than halfway through the ball, Croía headed to the bar to get a refill. Despite it being a ball, the evening was as Liam promised: casual and laid back. It wasn’t something she was used to seeing. When balls were held in Drakovia, which wasn’t very often, the atmosphere was entirely different.

For starters, everything had to be perfect and grandeur beyond reason. The timing for every moment of the ball was planned down to the wire; nothing was to go a second more or less. Her parents would sit predatorily in their thrones on the dais the entire evening, eyeing the guests as if they were prey. They greeted no one until they came to them, and even then their conversations were no more than a mere nod of acknowledgment to their subjects, perhaps a hummed hello if they liked them enough. The few dances they allowed were all traditional choreographed numbers. And Croía was expected to be barely seen and never heard; it’s what had made sneaking out so easy … until it wasn’t. After the incident where her sister caught her and the son of her mother’s guard, she was not allowed to leave the dais beside her mother unless she was asked to dance in one of those choreographed numbers, which was a rare occurrence.

This ball, however, was unlike one she’d ever seen. The King and Queen of Cordonia wandered around the room, greeting every guest with smiles, taking time to speak with each of them as if they were all old friends. There had been only one choreographed number — The Cordonian Waltz — at the beginning of the evening to officially commemorate the start of the ball. After that, Liam stayed with Croía and his friends, laughing, drinking, and dancing, but spoke with the guests in attendance, introducing her to each of them, and thanking them for coming to celebrate his birthday.  

As she waited for her drink, Croía’s eyes fell on the table that housed the multi-tiered birthday cake that was now cut into; the crowd had gathered around it not too long ago to sing happy birthday to Liam. It was beside another table that was piled with gifts, despite Liam’s request that in lieu of gifts, a donation be made to one of his charities instead. It was another reminder of how much his court adored him.

Just as Croía grabbed her drink, she felt a pair of hands curl around her waist, and she smiled when Liam nuzzled into her neck. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“I am,” Croía chuckled.

“Want to go get some fresh air with me before the fireworks?”

“Sure,” Croía nodded. She followed Liam toward a set of doors, setting her clutch and drink down on one of the tables before taking his offered hand. He led her out onto the balcony, nodding to a few others who were out there as he headed toward the stairs. “Where are we going?”

“I want to show you one of my favorite places,” Liam smiled. He guided her away from the palace toward an entrance between a row of hedges that arched to create a canopy above a pathway. “My mother designed this maze,” he said as they started down the path; it was lined with lights, as was the canopy above them. “I used to come in here and stay for hours … and Drake and I would play maze-tag,” he chuckled.  

“Maze-tag?” Croía giggled.

Liam looked at her with a lopsided grin. “Yeah,” he nodded. “We’d run through to the large tree at the center of the maze.” His grin grew. “Wanna play?”

“I don’t know where I’m going,” Croía chuckled as she looked up at him. “You would already have an advantage.”

“I’ll give you a head start,” Liam smiled. “I’ll even turn around so I don’t see which way you go.”

The playful spark in his eyes caused Croía to laugh; she turned to face him, walking backward as he bit his lip through a grin. “Turn around then.”

A low rumble of mischievous laughter escaped Liam as he rubbed his hands together and turned his back to her. Croía slipped off her heels to quiet her steps before turning and sprinting down the pathway to the first split. She veered left and kept running, to where she didn’t know. The center. A large tree. That’s all she knew.

Croía took a right, another right, and then a left, glancing over her shoulder; she could hear his footsteps, but couldn’t tell which direction they were coming from.

“Oh, Croía,” Liam loudly singsonged, causing a giggle to erupt from her as she continued to run. When she took another right, she halted to a stop when Liam came around the opposite bend. “Fancy running into you here,” he smirked. She eyed the entrance to the next path and she knew it had to be the one to the center just by the way he was also eyeing it. She took off toward it as he did the same, both laughing. “No, you don’t!” He lunged for her but she dodged his grasp with a melodious laugh, and he swore he could listen to that sound all night … for the rest of his life … and never tire of it.

With Liam hot on her heels, Croía raced toward a large tree she could see beyond the pathway. She turned as she exited the hedges into the clearing and he swept her into his arms as she laughed again; he swung her around before placing her back on her feet.

Croía turned and a soft breath fell from her lips; the center of the maze was covered in dim twinkling lights and flowers. A large-flowered rope swing hung from the tree, which was also wrapped in lights. “This is beautiful.”

“Do you have mazes at your palace?” Liam asked.

“Yeah,” Croía nodded. “But they look nothing like this … they have more of a horror film vibe.” Liam laughed as he slipped an arm around her waist. Just then, a whistling sound pulled their attention to the sky; the first of the midnight fireworks went off, exploding in the air and sending streams of gold down. She turned in his arms as they wrapped around her and she looped hers around his neck. “Happy birthday, Liam.”

Liam smiled. “Thank you.”

Leaning down, Liam captured her lips in his. Sure, he had been surrounded by family and friends celebrating him that night, but that particular moment with Croía was what made his heart feel so full he thought it might burst. And that feeling further solidified what he knew was happening.

Drawing back, Liam met her gaze when her eyes fluttered open; he smiled as he brushed his lips against hers. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his. “We don’t want to miss the whole show.”

****

That evening, after the ball had ended, Croía and Liam headed back to his wing with the others; Drake and Maxwell were staying the night to have breakfast with everyone in the morning before they headed back to New York.

After changing out of her gown, Croía had realized she’d left her clutch down in the ballroom; Liam had offered to go get it for her, but she told him she’d run down.

Once she had retrieved her clutch from the table she’d left it on, Croía headed up the grand staircase, back toward Liam’s wing. “Croía?” She glanced up upon hearing her name to see Eleanor standing at the end of the main corridor, holding two full bags in her hands. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh … yes,” Croía nodded. “I just left my clutch in the ballroom.”

Eleanor nodded as Croía fell into step beside her. “Did you enjoy yourself this evening?”

“I did,” Croía smiled before she glanced down curiously at the heavy bags in her hands.

“I had to raid the big kitchen for some ingredients,” Eleanor chuckled.

“For breakfast?” Croía asked, and Eleanor nodded. “Liam told me you make him breakfast every year,” she smiled.

“Well these—” Eleanor struggled to raise the bags “—are for one dish in particular. Liam has quite an affinity for baklava, so while it’s a dessert, I’ve always made some for him for his breakfast every year,” she chuckled.

“Let me help you with those,” Croía offered to take one of the bags. “They look heavy.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor smiled appreciatively, handing one to her. “I know it’s late … but if you’re up for it, would you like to help me with the baklava? I can show you how to make it for him should you feel like spoiling him one day,” she chuckled.

Croía met her gaze and smiled. “I’d like that.”

Eleanor led her to the west wing of the palace and into the King and Queen’s quarters, and Croía looked around as she followed behind her. She was surprised to find it a little smaller than Liam’s; it had a similar layout and was just as grand but in a simpler, more homey way. She glanced over to the open living area as they walked to the kitchen; the first things she noticed were the walls and fireplace mantle decorated with family photographs. Again, her parents would never; they didn’t have a single photograph of any of their children on display.

Croía set the bag on the counter next to the one Eleanor had set down and placed her clutch on an empty stool. “We’re not going to wake His Majesty, are we?”

Eleanor laughed as she began to empty the bags. “No. That man can sleep through a bomb.” Croía laughed before looking over at the edge of another counter where a trio of framed photographs sat; they were all of Eleanor, each photo with one of her children when they were younger, helping her in the kitchen. She giggled when she saw Liam’s; he was covered in a deep red substance. “I was teaching him how to make jam,” she chuckled. “He made quite the mess as you can see.”

Croía glanced back at her. “You’re very close with all of them,” she smiled. Even Leo, who Croía knew wasn’t biologically hers, seemed to have such a strong bond with her. She wondered what that felt like … to have that close of a relationship with a parent.

“They drive me up the wall sometimes,” Eleanor chuckled. “But I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

“Liam’s always spoken very fondly of you and about how close you two are.”

Eleanor smiled at her. “And he speaks just as fondly about you.” She noticed the blush that crept up Croía’s cheeks as she smiled sheepishly … and she also noticed the look in her eyes. She knew that look and what it meant, and she felt her heart swell a bit for her son. “Alright,” she smiled, stepping away to grab two aprons from a hook; she handed one to Croía. “First thing … the phyllo dough …”

*******

The following morning, Liam awoke to Croía nestled in the crook of his arm, sound asleep. Not remembering her coming to bed, he winced, realizing he had fallen asleep before she’d gotten back from grabbing her clutch; he hoped she hadn’t gotten lost. He softly kissed her forehead before slowly slipping from the bed, careful not to wake her. After throwing on a shirt, he crept out of his room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Liam quietly padded down the hall from his bedroom and down the stairs, smelling the aroma that wafted in the air; he knew exactly what to expect once he rounded the corner. As he suspected, he chuckled when he saw Eleanor in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. “Good morning.”

Eleanor turned with a grin. “Good morning,” she replied as he greeted her with a kiss on her cheek. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Liam smiled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He inhaled the scent of the French toast she was making as he turned back to the counter; his eyes scanned the food already prepared for what he knew was there. When he spotted it, he grinned and grabbed a small plate, layering two slices of baklava onto it before taking a seat on the stool.

“You can’t even wait for the others?” Eleanor chuckled when she turned, watching him take his first bite.

Liam covered his mouth as he chewed, hiding his grin behind a fist. “It’s my birthday,” he laughed.

Eleanor shook her head with a good-natured grin. “And how is it?”

“Amazing, as always,” Liam chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Well, you’ll have to thank Croía, too,” Eleanor smiled, and Liam gave her a curious look. She turned back, checking the food on the stove. “I saw her last night on her way back from the ballroom after she retrieved her clutch. I asked her if she’d like to help me. We talked a little while we made it.”

Liam looked down at the plate as a warm smile curled on his lips. “Thank you … for being so welcoming to her.” When Eleanor turned back, she gave him a look, and he chuckled. “I know it’s how you treat everyone, but to her … I can almost guarantee it means so much more than you just simply being nice.”

Eleanor studied him thoughtfully as the thoughts she had the night before crept back into her mind. “You really care about her … more than I’ve seen before. Not that you didn’t care about others in the past, but this … seems different for you.”

Liam let out a breathy laugh as he glanced back down at his plate; he stayed quiet for a moment before the words came tumbling out. “I think … I think I’m in love with her …” When he looked back at his mother, she was smiling. “I know it might sound crazy—”

“Why would it sound crazy?” Eleanor questioned.

“Because I know it probably seems soon … we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, but …” Liam shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought I’d been in love before … but it wasn’t … it didn’t feel like this.”

“Perhaps you should talk to her …”

“I don’t want to say anything yet,” Liam shook his head. “I don’t know how she feels. And I know this is all new for her, so I don’t want to … spook her or make her feel like I’m trying to rush things to a place she might not be ready for.”

Eleanor was fairly certain she knew how Croía felt for him, but she didn’t want to insert her opinion. This was something Liam needed to figure out on his own. “Well … just be patient with her then,” she smiled.

Just then, the door to Liam’s wing burst open; Constantine, Leo, and Lena trailed inside. “There he is!” Leo grinned. He came behind Liam and wrapped his arm around him in a chokehold. “Happy birthday.”

Liam chuckled, receiving more birthday wishes from his father and sister. “Thank you.”

“I smell bacon,” a voice came from the archway. Liam glanced over to see Blaine with a sleepy grin standing next to Alia.

“I smell it too,” Drake mumbled as he strode into the room. He, Blaine, and Alia greeted the royal family and wished their friend a happy birthday before moving to the coffee pot.

“Happy birthday!” Maxwell grinned as he rounded the corner.

“Thank you,” Liam chuckled. A moment later, Croía walked around the corner, and he grinned when her eyes fell on him. She greeted everyone else as she made her way towards where he sat on the stool at the counter; his arm curled around her waist as hers went around his shoulders, and he pulled her to him. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Croía smiled. “Happy birthday.”

Liam placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Thank you.” He turned toward the counter a moment later, watching as the others began to load their plates. “And I hear I also have you to thank for this,” he said as he grabbed another slice of baklava.

Croía glanced at Eleanor, sharing a smile with her before looking back at Liam. “You’re welcome, but your mom did most of the work. But she did show me how to make it.”

Liam grinned as he kissed her cheek. “Do you want coffee?”

“I can get it.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“It’s your birthday. Get your breakfast,” Croía chuckled. She moved to the coffee pot while Liam filled a plate; she made herself a plate a moment later and joined him and the others.

Eleanor smiled as she looked at the crowded table, her heart feeling full.

****

The staff loaded bags into a waiting SUV as Blaine, Alia, Croía, Rashad, and Olivia said their goodbyes to Liam’s family; Drake and Maxwell had left an hour beforehand, catching their flight back to New York.

Liam made his rounds to his father, Leo, and Lena before stopping in front of his mother. “Thank you,” he said as he hugged her.

“You’re welcome,” Eleanor smiled. “I’m glad you had a decent birthday.”

“It was perfect,” Liam grinned as he stepped back. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Break, right?” Eleanor said.

Liam nodded. “We have the ski trip in a few weeks followed by a long weekend the week after, those last four days for exams, then break.”

Eleanor smiled. “Well, I’m sure I’ll talk to you beforehand, but just in case, be careful on your ski trip.”

“It’s just a weekend ski trip,” Liam chuckled. “What could go wrong?”

#choices crossover series #the royal romance #trr #choices trr #choices the royal romance #liam rys #prince liam rys #trr liam #choices liam #choices liam rys #liam x oc #trr liam x oc #choices liam x oc #choices foreign affairs #choices blaine #blaine hayes #choices crimes of passion #choices trystan #trystan thorne #trr fanfic #trr fan fic #choices trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #trr au #choices trr au #choices au fanfic #trr au fanfic #cfwc fics of the week

[txemrn]

Pour Two Glasses

Chapter 4: "... We Are One Breath Apart"

Need to catch up? Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (post series)

Word Count: 6070 (+/-)

Series Synopsis: In the midst of a violent political war, Queen Riley Rys’s life is dismantled overnight, forcing her to flee Cordonia to live in hiding as a commoner with a loyal, best friend

Series Song Inspo: “Pour Two Glasses” by the Movielife

Chapter Song Inspo: "Speak to Me" by Amy Lee

Series Warnings: 🔞 For Mature Audiences Only 🔞angst; profanity; major character death; grief and mental health discussion; discussion of violence & war; alcohol use; NSFW material

A/N: Characters and some plot references belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Special thanks to my sweet friend @charlotteg234 for brainstorming with me and helping me work out some sections; and special thanks to one of my fanfiction godmothers @ao719 for pre-reading for me.

~🖤~

"Are you sure we have permission to do this?"  Riley stands under an umbrella, trembling in the rain as she watches Drake unlock the large wooden door to the entrance of the Bossina Cathedral.

"For the last time," he stops fidgeting with the old, rusty key, looking back at his best friend's wife. "Yes. Why else would I have the key? Besides, you're the fucking Queen of Cordonia. What are they gonna do?'

That earns him a subtle smile before she continues to anxiously peer through the dark, overgrown courtyard of the church. 

Suddenly, a short shrill of metal reverberates into the night as the massive barrier is unlocked. Drake tugs on the ring pull, the swollen, damp wood of the door letting out a groan. He turns to Riley, motioning for her to follow him.

Once inside, she deposits her umbrella while her eyes adjust to the dimly lit vestibule. Top cathedral-shaped windows litter the long hallways, raindrops drumming their solemn chorus of a silent requiem against the panes. Candles dedicated to prayer and supplication for the deceased illuminate the stoned walkway, leading to the sanctuary, leading her to Liam. The familiar scent of stale air and burnt incense flood Riley's senses, sending her to memories from what seems like a lifetime ago.

As her personal guard runs on ahead to notify the other men of her majesty's presence in the building, Riley wanders around the entrance hall to the nave. Has it always been this grim? Her fingertips brush against the cold brick, showing its age through fine cracks and missing fragments. 

She turns to the opposite wall, noticing a large picture depicting the crucifixion of Jesus, framed in a rustic, yellow gold. Stepping closer, she focuses on the anguish of his face, his body strung out cruelly and naked. Blood pours out from his arms, his feet and even his side. 

Her lips twist, her eyes flinching at the painted brutality as she trains her focus to a brushed-bronze placard nailed to the frame: Questo é amore.

"This is love," she whispers to herself. She takes a tentative step back, soaking up the scene. Wearing Liam's favorite burgundy sweater, she hugs her body tightly, the light remnants of his sweet scent wafting to her nose. She looks at the painting again. The torment. The heartache. The loneliness. And all anyone could do was… watch.

Her lashes dust her cheeks as memories of that day swirl in her head: the gentle, scent of pink lilies she holds in her hand; the soft vintage pattern of white chantilly lace she wears on her arms; the romantic swell of Pachebel ushering the bride to her groom. The love she shared with Liam was overwhelming, oftentimes breathtaking, like diving into the deep end of the sea and never wanting to emerge. A love that was all-consuming, holy and perfect in its own right; a love that represented everything that was good in her life.

Or so she thought. 

In losing Liam, Riley has discovered that because of her love, she is filled with unspeakable anguish, being tormented day and night with a pain that she bears alone. God, she wishes her heart could be pierced by a spear… afterall, wasn't it?

This is love.

“...what matters most is that you found happiness…”

The sudden articulate voice from Ramsford has her whirl around, the enunciation so close, so real.

"Whoa," Drake holds out his hands, "I didn't mean to scare you. Are you… ready? To go in, I mean?"

Riley nods, watching her dear friend open the door. She looks back at the picture of the Christ one last time. Love? It wasn't just butterflies and stolen breathless moments. It wasn't just inside jokes, midnight tickles and surprise gifts. It was more than just knowing the number and placement of freckles on his shoulders, the cowlick that would never lay down on the right of his crown, or the hum on his lips when he was trying to conceal his concern.

She looks forward through the threshold into the nave, taking in the steep ceiling space, the uniform of empty pews, the bounce of the old crimson carpet. But as she looks towards the altar, it glows like a lighthouse in the night, like a single candle in a storm. At the end of the long aisle, a pristine white casket illuminates in the darkness. The Cordonian flag lays respectfully on top of the lid, accompanied with two white roses per tradition, representing the second day of Liam's Royal Wake.

But, something curious sticks out like a sore thumb in the sanctuary, something that is clearly out of place. Situated in front of Liam's casket was a cluster of pillows and blankets on top of an army cot.

Her breath catches. "Drake?" She looks to him with questioning, yet appreciative eyes. She anxiously chews on her lip as she glances at the intimate set-up.

He pivots around, noticing her bewildered expression. "Don't worry, your majesty," he kindly grins, offering his elbow as a single tear rolls down the slope of his nose, "he's … he's been waiting for you."

With her attention sealed onto her husband's casket, a pained look of joy washes over her, a grin crawling across her mouth. She takes Drake's arm, and together they walk down the aisle.

"Now, the cathedral closes to the public after dark, and the nave is locked to everyone until 9 AM. The church council has agreed to let you stay here at night during the Wake, and I've got you covered with extra security so, hopefully," he exhales fluidly, "you can get some sleep."

"Every night?"

His lips coyly curl, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Every night."

"Drake, I–" She looks to the pile of bedding before smiling back at him. "I don't know what to say–"

"Oh! One more thing." Drake digs into the front pocket of his chambray shirt, pulling out a single silver chain with two pieces of metal attached, gently tinkering together. 

"His rings," Riley gasps. "Drake–" her voice disappears into sniffles at the sight of these handsome treasures, now on a chain where she won’t lose them.  She steps forward, cradling the rings in her hand as Drake holds onto the ends of the necklace. 

He smiles proudly, motioning for her to spin around, her back facing him. He fastens the closure, pulling her espresso waves out from under the chain. She turns around to model it for him as he gives an approving nod. Seeing her attention fixed on her late husband’s wedding band and signet ring, Drake gives an appeasing grin, his fists finding his pockets.

"Well," he sighs, "is there anything you need? Something to drink?"

She threads the jewelry onto her slender fingers, a somberness floating over her as she watches her personal guard slowly mosey backwards up the aisle. "No, I… I guess not." 

"K, well…" He combs his fingers through his hair, pushing back a cascade of strands. "I'll be right outside if you need me–"

"Wait," Riley interrupts, taking a few stutter steps towards him. "You're leaving?"

Drake turns around, studying her. "Not leaving leaving. I'll be in the foyer with my sleeping bag."

"Oh," Riley responds dryly, trying to sound understanding. But as she glances around the still blackness of the nave, surrounded by relics and religious imagery, her heart becomes anxious.  “Hey, Drake,” she calls out to him. He glances up, gesturing with a shake of his head. Her eyes survey around the room, spooking herself with the shifting shadows. “You have been so kind, And–and–and I know you’ve already sacrificed so much for me already, and please know that I… well, I hope you know that I’m–”

“Brooks,” he holds up a hand to slow her down. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning up. “What do you need?”

Fidgeting with her new piece of jewelry, she swallows thickly. “Can you maybe stay in here with me–just until I fall asleep?”

Drake lets out a big, sardonic sigh, taking a seat in the front pew.  He pats the hardwood next to him, inviting Riley to take a seat. The antique furniture creaks under her weight as she pulls her knees up to her chest. Drake puts a friendly arm around her as she relaxes her head on his shoulder. Together, they fall into a quietness as they stare reverently at the casket before them.  

“Thanks again, Drake. This is all… just so special.”

Drake gently rests his chin in her hair, the subtle notes of lavender tickles his senses. His eyes float closed, a smile growing with each passing moment.

Riley yawns. “Your friendship… I feel like it’s the only thing I’ve got right now, one of the only things connecting me to Liam.” She quickly looks up at him, creasing her eyebrows. “How are you doing, by the way?”

Drake adverts his eyes quickly back to his best friend’s casket. “Uh…” he clears his throat. “I–I don’t know. Some moments… it’s like a bad dream.” He breathes out heavily. “Sometimes I think he’s just on his trip, and he’ll be barrelling through those doors any minute,” he chuckles. “And then other moments…” he stops, staring at the flag-adorned coffin.

Riley removes Drake’s arm from her shoulders, taking his large, calloused hand in her own as they both stare in silence at Liam’s resting place.

“Can I ask you another question?” The queen quietly requests. “A personal question?”

“Hrmmm?” Drake warmly hums, gazing at her with tired, hooded eyes.

“Do you… believe in God? The afterlife? In–” she motions aimlessly around herself with her hand, “–all of this?”

Drake bows his head for a moment. He then lets go of her hand, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Rubbing his hands together, he remains thoughtfully quiet.

“I–I’m sorry,” Riley whispers. “That was maybe too personal–and terribly morbid on my part–”

Drake subtly turns his head, shaking it. “No, no, you’re fine.” He turns back to face the altar, a large crucifix hanging above the choir stall. Not saying a word, he finally closes his eyes. 

Riley relaxes into her seat, folding her hands into her lap. A warming guilt rakes at her nerves, regretting that she ever asked the question. That is, until Drake took a deep breath.

“I lift my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?” Drake smirks, opening his eyes to stare at the ornate cross on the wall. “My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” He falls silent again, chewing on his mouth, Riley’s full attention on him. He nervously looks down at his mindless hand-wringing as he takes another deep breath. “As kids, anytime we had a problem, Moma would say, ‘Fix those eyes to the hills. The Lord promises to help you.’” He becomes quiet again, his eyes rapidly blinking as he sucks in his bottom lip. “Then Dad died.”

Riley endearingly pats his shoulder, tears slowly cascading down her cheeks.

“And–” Drake sarcastically chuckles, forcing away his own sobs, “I looked. I looked, and I fucking kept looking to the hills because ‘he promises to help you.’” He blows out a breath, wiping at his lower eyelids. “Dad was gone… and God was no where to be found.” His jaw becomes rigid, his words cutting like a blade. “The Crown cut the funds almost immediately after Dad died, leaving us stranded. I looked, but there was no help from… from God. And then Moma left us…” He sniffles, his hands casually balling into fists. “She just… left us. And I looked–I fucking begged for God’s help. If not for me, then at least for Savannah. But... ” He shakes his head.

Riley remains silent, taking in Drake’s painful memory.

“But,” his voice lightens, more hopeful, “I still keep looking–as fucking stupid as that sounds,” he laces his fingers together, “I have to believe and look for him–for God.”

“Why?”

“Because the thought of being alone–completely alone in this world with no one to turn to?” He peers intently into Riley’s eyes, his voice softening into a small whisper. “That terrifies me… but the thought that my dad is really gone? That–that I can’t talk to him in heaven–?” Drake chokes up. “And now Liam? And–and soon my… my Moma?” He runs his hands down his face. “I have to believe, Ri. I just… have to.”

Riley slips her arm around Drake's elbow, hugging his arm. Quietly supporting one another, both Drake and Riley stare towards the front of the church in reverent thought. Riley considers Drake’s words, her heart touched by his own hope in the midst of so much tragedy. But then, her forehead creases in curiosity. 

“Wait… you talk to Liam?”

“Well, I mean…” A rosy pink rolls across Drake’s neck and face, “Yeah… I try.”

“Does he… talk back?”

Drake sighs. “I don’t know. I’d like to think he does, and I just… can’t hear him.”

“What about your dad?” Riley gently asks.

“Yeah,” Drake snickers at himself, feeling slightly foolish of his admission. “Yeah, I talk to him a lot.”

“And?” Riley smiles.

“That man does not talk back; he fucking yells at me.” The pair fall into much needed laughs, kindly smiling at one another. Drake relaxes back in the pew, crossing his ankle over his knee to turn towards the brunette. “You should try it… talking to Liam.”

“What?”

“I’m serious.” Drake's expression is still slightly embarrassed. “If that boy’s gonna talk to anyone, it’s gonna be you.”

Riley chews on her bottom lip, not convinced at what her guard is suggesting. She looks away, towards Liam’s casket before turning back to Drake. “What would I even say?”

“What would you say to him right now?”

Riley giggles to herself, bowing her head as a flush overcomes her cheeks. Her eyes fill with more unshed tears, thinking of all the conversations that she was yet to have with her husband. Is it possible that she could still talk with him? Even now?  

God, I hope Drake’s right…

“Well, my good friend,” Riley stands up, smiling back down at Drake. “I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“Are you going to be okay in here?”

Riley nods thoughtfully. “I think so. Thanks for talking with me, and… well, you know. Everything.”

“Anytime, your majesty,” he jovially winks. “Oh hey,” he stops her as she starts making up her cot. “What’s ‘PTG’?”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Drake rakes his fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.  “Well, when I was fixing up the necklace–” he points to the new jewelry Riley was wearing “–I saw that there was an engraving inside Liam’s ring, and… well, they were clearly not your initials,” he titters. “What does it mean?”

Riley looks down at the etching inside Liam’s wedding band before fidgeting with her own ring that had the same inscription. “Pour two glasses.”

Drake raises an eyebrow. “Pour… two glasses? Of what? Like, wine?”

Riley snorts, shaking her head.  “It's…" She shakes her head. “It's silly."

"Oh, c'mon," he encourages. “It can't be that silly if y'all put it on your wedding bands."

Riley nervously chuckles. "Well, um… It was our promise to each other, that even though we may be apart,” she sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes fluttering to the coffin, “our love will always reunite us again. So, go ahead…” She smiles brightly, “Pour up the drinks: one for you and one for me,” she shrugs shyly. “And… we will be united again soon to drink together.”

“Hrmmm,” Drake thoughtfully takes in the romantic sentiments. “You two,” a crooked smile grows across his face as he massages his neck.

“We’re pretty gross–”

“Nah,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at Riley. “Y’all were just in love.”

------

Feeling emotionally exhausted, Riley crawls into her bed for the night, hugging a goose-feather pillow tightly in her arms. With the atmosphere becoming instantly still around her, she rolls over to face the grand white casket.

And he's there. She knows her husband is there with her, separated only by a few inches of distance, separated only by sturdy-aged oakwood and fire-pressed metal, separated only by a single breath.

Then why did she feel so alone?

------

Five Years Ago (During Liam's Social Season)...

"Lady Riley, are you out here?"

The American suitor quickly dabs her eyes dry from her anxious tears, hoping the moonlight wouldn't give away the rosy worry of her cheeks. 

"I'm here," she softly speaks. Adjusting the fullness of her petal pink ball gown, she stands from the balustrade, making her presence known. She forces a smile, but her eyes train to his loafers, unable to match his handsome gaze as she fidgets with her fingers.

"There you are," Liam strides closer in the moonlight with a bottle of champagne in his arms. "I've been looking every–" He stops, noticing her troubled look. His pearly white smile dissipates as he sets down the bubbly drink. "Riley? Is something wrong?"

"I–I’m fine," she sniffles into a forced smile. "I guess… I'm just a little homesick is all.” She dares to look into his powder blue eyes, glittering with pure adoration. She quickly turns away, biting her lip as a single tear spills onto her skin.

"Just a little homesick?" Liam echoes. He brushes the back of his finger against the soft planes of her face, offering her a crooked smile. "This would be easier if you would just tell me.”

She takes a deep breath, considering her words carefully. “You know I am so incredibly grateful for this opportunity. Because of your generosity, I am experiencing things I never–”

“Riley,” he takes her hands into his secure hold, “it’s me. You’re talking to me. Not ‘Prince Liam.’ Not the king or–or queen or any other noble for that matter… it’s me. It’s just you and me.” 

She sighs, slowly turning away from him, her heels clicking against the stone floor. She finally stops, pivoting to look up at the tall blond. “It’s just…” She exhales, tittering to herself. “This is foolish,” she waves her hand, walking towards the door to exit the balcony. “You have the other suitors to attend to–”

Liam grabs her arm, pulling her pack into himself. “And they can wait because I’m with you. Come on,” he brings her hand to his lips before giving her a toothy grin. “I happen to be an excellent listener.”

Through the curtain of her tears, Riley titters as she blushes at the touch of his lips on her skin. “I… I just…” She pulls her hand back; taking a big breath, she stares back up at Liam. "What are we even doing?"

"I… don't quite follow–"

"Us, Liam," she fixes the lapel of his tux, running her palm flat against his chest. "I'm talking about us. This… I don’t even know what to call this anymore." She shrugs, letting her arms fall carelessly at her sides. "Are we dating? Or am I being foolish? Living out some silly fairy tale fantasy?" She looks up, dabbing under lashes to keep from ruining her make-up. “And I know this hasn’t been easy for you either, having to abide by so many rules--God!” Riley covers her face with her hands, “how can I even be complaining right now?”

Liam gently takes her wrists, pulling her fingers from hiding her face. “Because it is hard for both of us.” He pulls her into his strong embrace, Riley instantly finding comfort in his warmth. He tenderly traces circles across her back. “I’m sorry. I… I wish there was some way I could make this easier for you–”

“I just want to know that this will all be worth it, which is so selfish of me. I have no right to demand that of you… I feel so selfish, vying for your attention even now… because you have several beautiful and intelligent suitors in there that could all make an excellent queen–”

Suddenly, Liam’s phone begins to ring in his pocket. Mouthing the word ‘sorry,’ Liam takes the call. With a nod, Riley quickly crosses to the otherside of the balcony to give him privacy, wrapping her arms around her body. She looks back out across the city. Is this her home? Could she someday be responsible for this, for these people? For their livelihood? For this country?

“I–I’m so sorry Riley,” Liam furrows his brow as she turns towards him. “I’m–”

“Needed elsewhere,” she sighs before politely grinning. “I know.”

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Liam hastily grabs the bottle of champagne before gathering Riley into his arms. “Take this.”

Her expression turns inquisitive as she inspects the bottle before surveying his face.

“We will talk about this later, Lady Riley,” he nods, “and I promise you… I will prove it to you that this will all be worth it.” He cups her cheek tenderly before turning to quickly exit the balcony.

“Liam?” Riley holds up the bottle with an unspoken question as he glances back to her.

“Go ahead… and pour two glasses. I promise I’m coming back to you. Tonight.”

------

Unable to fall asleep, Riley reaches for her phone to check the time: 1:12 AM. She sighs to herself as she rolls over, readjusting her pillow under her head. Staring out her window, she notices the clean cuts of the crescent moon, its silver glow captivating her as the stars in the blue velvet sky dance and twirl for her entertainment to their own rhythm–that is until a different beat raps against her door. 

Startled, she sits up staring at the large shadow standing outside of her quarters. She grabs her satin robe, cinching it around her waist as she lightly pads to the entrance to her room.

The knocking becomes more vigorous, making Riley accidentally yelp. She grabs a stiletto shoe, hoping to use the heel as a weapon if needed as she reaches for the doorknob. But to her relief, when she opens the door, Liam is waiting for her, leaning his shoulder against the doorway.

“Liam!” she quietly shouts, her voice husky as she tosses her shoe to the ground. “You scared me.” She motions for him to come in as she reaches to turn on a lamp. With her back still to him, she continues. “What are you doing here so–?”

Liam grabs Riley’s hand, and suddenly she whips back, falling into his strong embrace. Before she can protest, his mouth blissfully pushes into her pout. Her eyes flutter close as her lips savor every tug, every lick of his fervent touch. Parting her lips, his tongue is hungry, but gentle; his mouth is greedy, but tender. He wraps his arms lovingly around her body as her fingertips wander to the back of his neck, her foot gently popping out freely behind her.

They abruptly pull apart, gasping for air. Staring longingly at one another, their chests violently rise and fall, desperately wanting more of each other.

“Whoa,” Riley pants, the taste of Liam’s tongue still intoxicating her senses. “You… you came back.”

The corners of Liam’s reddened mouth begin to curl. “Yeah.. of course, I came back,” he chuckles, a blush swirling up his neck. He finally steps forward, cupping the velveteen skin of her face with his hand, her body trembling at his touch.

“Liam, I–”

“Shhh,” he sweetly hushes her, painting his thumb across her lower lip. “I’m so sorry, Riley... I–I should’ve done this a long time ago. You have so many questions, so many fears,” he swallows thickly. “I should’ve told you the moment I knew.”  

Her eyebrows raise, her heart crescendoing in her chest. “Knew what?”

“The moment I knew you were the one.” He combs her hair behind ear as a solemn tear spills out joyfully on her skin. “I have to finish out the social season to maintain suitable connections with our allies… but damnit,” he bites his lip mischievously, “I’m in love with you, Riley Brooks.”

“I’m in love with you too, William Rys.” She wraps her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him into another heated kiss. His hand finds the back of her neck, his fingers tangling intimately into her raven waves. 

“Wait a minute,” he pulls away, “I almost forgot.” Liam quickly darts towards the door, stepping outside the quarters, only to return seconds later with a pink gift bag. There’s a subtle clinking coming from inside before he hands the surprise to Riley.

She raises a playful eyebrow. “What is it?”

“You’ll see,” he winks.

Riley carefully reaches inside, pulling out two finely etched pieces of stemware. She smiles widely, snickering at the sentiment.

“They’re champagne glasses… You know, so we can enjoy the bubbly together–”

“You goofball,” she giggles as she admires the brushed-gold rimming. “And forgive me if I’m mistake, but I do believe… well, at least according to Bertrand, that these are champagne tulips, your highness.”

He chuckles, pecking her lips. “No,” he leans in again, kissing her tenderly, “this is my promise to you.” He takes the glasses, and safely puts them on her dresser before taking her hands in his. “You don’t have to worry anymore, my love. No matter how hard this road gets for us, I promise you… I’ll always come back to you.”

------

Present

Riley clings to Liam’s metal bands around her neck, holding them close to her heart as his last words resound over and over in her head. 

“Pour two glasses, my queen. I’m coming home to you.”

What she wouldn't give to actually hear those words pass through his lips, to hear the tone and sultry timbre of his rich Cordonian accent, to hear him say, ‘I love you’ just one more time…

Remembering that final day when she saw him off in the motorcade, Riley wishes she could’ve known it was the last time. Maybe she would’ve paid just a little more attention to the smile she already knew so well. Maybe she would’ve savored his coveting touch, dedicating it more to her memory. Maybe she would’ve kissed him longer, harder, more passionately, memorizing over and over the restraining tug of his mouth on her lips. 

Or maybe she would’ve begged him not to go.

With these intrusive thoughts swirling around in her head, Riley is unable to fall asleep as she previously thought. She considers retrieving Drake, thinking that maybe having some company would relax her, saving her from her own mind. But as she sits up, she looks back to Liam’s casket.

You should try it… talking to Liam.

Riley nervously picks at her nails as she mindlessly surveys the dark, empty nave. Is she really doing this? She begins to rub her hands up and down the soft weave on her arms, finding a snagged, loose thread in her husband’s old sweater. As she fidgets with the string, twirling it around her finger, she hesitantly steps closer to the white casket. 

She carefully touches the polished exterior, her fingertips brushing against the gold handles and intricately designed filigree. Taking a deep breath, she pulls back the Cordonian flag before pressing her palms to the cold, sturdy lid where he lies.

“Liam?” Her voice is low, barely even a whisper as her eyes shift up and down his resting place. At first, she feels silly, her cheeks reddening despite her solitude. She’s not sure what to expect or what she even wants to happen by talking to Liam; but Riley can’t deny the sudden rush of comfort she feels calling out to her beloved. It feels nice to imagine, even if for a moment, that she’s conversing with him, as if life was back to normal.

Her breath hitches in her chest as storm clouds gather in her eyes, tears eroding across the curves of her face. She trembles as she traces figure-eights across the surface. 

I happen to be an excellent listener…

Riley drapes her arms across the top of the coffin, resting her head against the hard lid. She pinches her eyes closed, overcome with the torrential downpour of her tears. 

In her personal darkness, she sees Liam, those handsome dimples, the peaceful warmth of his strong embrace, the vast galaxy of stars in his eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but her sobs rob her of her voice. 

It's just you and me…

Riley tucks a closed fist under her body. She nuzzles her head like a kitten against the lid as her bottom lip quivers. With her thoughts hazy on what to say, she finally chokes out in a single, desperate breath the one thing–the only thing–she can muster. 

"I miss you." 

Seized by her sadness, uncontrollable tears pour out as her hopeless cries reverberate through the sanctuary.

In the back of the darkened nave, a hidden pair of chocolate eyes takes in the scene as they begin to sting with bitterness at the sight of his best friend’s widow.

------

It has been a little over three weeks since Liam's death. Riley has spent twenty of the past twenty-one nights of his Royal Wake at his side, finding comfort in the memories of him, in talking about him.

In talking to him. 

Although the thick cloud of grief haunts stagnantly around her, the river of tears and the uncontrollable cries have become manageable. Discussing Liam, his honorable death and legacy has become slightly easier. Little reminders around the quarters, like his empty coffee cup, his untouched tennis racket, even his empty laundry hamper, aren't so jarring anymore.

As she slowly transitions into a new era of her life, Riley recognizes that she isn't healing or moving on from the death of her husband. Rather, she has become numb, barely existing. Her body gasps for survival, moment by moment, minute by minute, breath by breath.

Perhaps this is what happens when a beloved dies. The heart doesn't bruise or break; it's a treasure, sealed by love in the arms of a lover, never meant to be returned. But, what is life without a heart?

Riley's heart remains steadfast with Liam and always will. 

Today, he will be buried. He will be honored before the heavens in a televised mass before his body is escorted to his final resting place, next to the great rulers that came before him. 

Today, she slips on a knee-length black peplum dress with a modest black heel. She fixes her dark waves into a low bun while adorning a black fascinator to her crown, pulling a veil over her face.

Today, her family, her friends and her country will gather one last time to say those unimaginable words just one more time.

Goodbye.

The service is lovely, at least that's what Maxwell whispers to Riley as they form the processional for the exit from the cathedral. Her eyes refuse to leave Liam’s casket as six guards prepare to move him. With delicate precision, they fold up the Cordonian flag and gather the twenty-one white roses that once decorated the lid, and hand them respectfully to her.

She clutches the gifts dearly to her chest, her fingers finding her necklace with her husband’s rings. Her eyes well with tears as the men begin to walk Liam carefully down the aisle to the back of the nave.

A warm hand gently touches Riley's back, guiding her into the open aisle behind the casket. She looks up to see a tear-stained Drake, motioning for her to follow.

Without saying a word, she offers her arm, her eyes pleading with him  to walk with her.

Drake drops his mouth to her ear. "Brooks, I'll be along in a minute. It’s family first–"

"You are family." A corner of her mouth curls as Liam's best friend finally takes her arm.

Feeling more at ease, they somberly follow in the processional. Exiting the sanctuary, they continue down the stoned corridors, brilliantly colored by the stained glass in the daylight. Once they reach the antique, double wooden doors at the front of the church, they take a moment to ensure the lineup.

"Excuse me?" Riley softly calls to the guards. "I… I was wondering if I could just have a brief moment. With my husband? Just one last time while we’re here in the church."

With the nod of their heads, she steps forward to the pearlescent casket, laying a single hand on it. She begins to whisper sweet sentiments unheard by everyone present, tender words only meant for heaven’s ears. Riley then kisses her palm before pressing it once more over the smooth surface of the lid. She hugs the flag and flowers back to her body before giving a subtle shake towards the guards.

As the large doors swing open, the thunderous creak of the wood reverberates through the foyer. And in an instant, the Mediterranean sunlight pours in, particles of dust dancing amongst the golden rays. As the guards proceed with Liam, her eyes adjust to the abrupt punch of brightness to her swollen eyes. The warmth of the day washes over her skin as if to welcome her into a new life. She remembers once upon a time feeling this way, walking out of this very cathedral hand-in-hand with Liam, and the sweet bathing of the Cordonian sun felt like a renewal, as if the universe was greeting them into their new life as husband and wife.

As the cozy, familiar feeling melts over her senses, her long, dark lashes flutter shut as she remembers that special day, her wedding day. 

Riley Brooks, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?

“Riley?” Drake breaks her reverie, giving a kind, yet pained grin as he offers his arm again. “Are you ready, my queen?”

Unfortunately today signifies a different kind of beginning for Riley. A new life. Without her Liam.

Fixing her tiny hand to him, Riley takes a deep breath, and steps into the light. She sees the stairs and then a distinct pathway marked off with large crowds of people on either side. As she and Drake ease down the entrance from the cathedral, she trains her eyes onto her husband's casket as they make their way to the royal motorcade. 

The crowd is still, completely quiet as the late king passes by. Many bow their heads in reverence; others cross themselves in prayer.

Do you vow to love him, comfort him and cherish him…

Suddenly in the distance, Drake hears a familiar sound causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. He and Riley continue to proceed, but he anxiously surveys the crowd, both to his right, and then carefully to his left.

…for better or worse…

With the crowd still silent, Drake hears the distinct noise again, only this time it’s closer. Louder. Echoing off the side of the building.

A glock.

…for richer or poorer…

"Switch sides with me," Drake demands in a low, stern voice, trying to guide Riley from his left side to his right.

Riley knits her eyebrows together with curiosity, pivoting her body to face her dear friend. "What’s wrong?"

 ...in times of joy and in times of trial…

Drake looks over Riley's shoulder, his eyes growing wide as he watches a man dressed in a dingy military uniform with dark-complected skin step forward in the crowd, something hidden in his hand. A member of the Les Combattants. 

And now it’s clear what he hides: a gun.

"Oh, fuck me," Drake mutters, grabbing the queen’s shoulders. "Riley, get down!"

Violent echoes like the crack of a whip strike terror in the gathered masses. Frightened screams pierce into the air as people flee the grounds in horror. The gunshots continue, one after another after another, popping incessantly until the cries for help cease, and the grounds of the cathedral choke back into silence.

… till death do you part?

Twenty-one long stem roses scatter chaotically across the stoned pathway; crushed and bruised white petals have been ripped and casted into the wind like chaff.

The neatly-folded Cordonian flag that once adorned the late King's casket lays untucked on the ground…Only its sharp colors are no longer bold and pristine as a deep shade of crimson soaks into the fabric.

I do.

~🖤~

Tags (if you wish to be added/removed, please DM me; if your name is crossed out, Tumblr won't let me tag you):

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam  

ALL TRR/TRH

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ANYTHING LIAM

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POUR TWO GLASSES

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@choicesficwriterscreations

#pour two glasses #the royal romance #the royal romance post series #the royal romance au #liam rys #liam rys x riley brooks #king liam #king liam rys #choices trr #choices liam #drake walker #trr liam #trr drake #choices drake #choices fanfic #trr fanfic

[sincerelyella]

Feelings Circle

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella); Drake x OC (Alyssa)

Characters belong to Pixelberry; Ella Brooks belongs to me; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to @burnsoslow and is used with permission

My brand spanking new and beautiful poster for The Loft was made by the amazing @gokushairgel ❤️ she is a gem and so dang talented. Thank you for creating this masterpiece!

Summary: An AU based on the show New Girl (my favorite can you tell??) Just a collection of one-shots and shenanigans that allude to the show. This will NOT be canon, that means this won’t be in Cordonia and Liam isn’t a King. If you have watched the show before, you know they are in Los Angeles, California.

A/N: This little chapter takes place after the birthday fic I wrote for Burnsy called Lifetime. You don’t need to read that one to know what’s going on in this fic though ☺️

A/N 2: It’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything - mostly because work has been crazy and studying related to work has also taken up a lot of my time. My taglist is very old so feel free to ignore should you not want to read this mess lol

Thank you Burnsy, my tumblr and real life friend, for letting me borrow your best girl, as well as looking over this fic and not saying it completely sucked big donkey balls lol I love you.

Warnings: Adult language; sexual innuendos; some overall inappropriateness because it’s the Loft 🤷🏽‍♀️

Words: 1258

Alyssa opened the door and to her surprise saw a large package that was on the floor addressed to her. She grunted as she pulled and pushed it inside the loft. “Ella!”

A voice came from one of the rooms down the hall. “Yeah?”

“Did you order something for me again? I just returned the freaking roundabout dildo!” Lyss shut the door with her foot and crossed her arms across her chest.

“What’re you talking about? I didn’t buy anything,” Ella bounced into the living room. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Lyssa bent down to take a look at the label on the box. “It says it’s from Texas.”

The girls pawed and pried open the box and saw that it was a bread maker. “A bread maker? What the fuck?” Lyssa saw a note tucked on the side and tugged on it. “It’s from Drake’s mom!” Drake and Alyssa just got engaged and FaceTimed his family and her cousins and friends to give them the news. Drake, not being too close to his mom and Aunt Leona, still felt like giving them a call about their engagement was respectful. “‘Dear Alyssa, So glad we got to meet you even though it was when you and my son were already engaged,’” Lyss read out loud. “‘Please accept this as an engagement gift, hope to meet you soon.’”

“What the fuck kind of gift is a bread maker?” Ella asked as she poked the box. “She doesn’t even know you. Why not send a toaster or coffee maker or something?”

Alyssa gasped. “Maybe she thinks I can’t take care of her son!”

Ella’s brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, I heard she treated Drake and his sister like shit and abandoned them,” she explained with a wave of her hand. “So maybe this is her way of being petty. Maybe she thinks I can’t cook!”

“But you can’t,” her friend pointed out.

“That’s beside the point! She thinks I can’t take care of her only son!”

“How can you say you don’t take care of people?” Ella put her hands on her hips in a huff. “You take care of me! You’re fierce and strong and you would stand up for anyone that you love. You’re like a big, scary, protective mama bear!”

“I just make sure you don’t kill yourself when we’re drinking El,” Lyssa’s eyes watered. “What if Drake’s mom hates me?”

The girls were interrupted by the front door opening and the guys of loft 4D barged inside, already mid argument.

“If I’m not having sex in this loft, then nobody is having sex in this loft!” Leo roared as he marched towards the kitchen.

“I am so aware of my nipples right now,” Maxwell hissed as he hugged his chest tightly.

Ella and Lyss glanced at each other, then turned back to the boys. “What in the fresh hell-”

“Just don’t make any sudden movements,” Ella whispered out of the side of her mouth.

It was Liam’s turn to speak as he turned to his fiancé. “Love, did you know about this?”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what’s happening right now. I need context.”

Leo ripped open a box of condoms, dumped them onto the kitchen island, and pulled open drawers.

“What the fuck is going on?” Lyssa asked as she turned to Drake.

“I’ll tell you what the fuck is going on!” Leo answered as he lifted up what he was looking for - a pair of scissors. “I’m going to cut all these condoms up!”

Drake, Max, and Liam lunged toward Leo, Drake reaching him first and tackling him to the ground. Max kicks the scissors away from him and Liam tries to pull his best friend off of his brother.

“Get ahold of yourself, you crazy oaf,” Drake grunted as he struggled against Liam’s strong hold. “Just because you fucked up and aren’t getting laid anymore doesn’t mean you can fuck it up for all of us!”

Leo huffed, his face red. “If any one of you try to have sex up in this loft I’ll body block! No love making! All love making will cease!”

“Everybody shut up!” Ella screamed. Everyone went silent and turned their attention to the small woman in front of them. “All of you, just shut up and sit down at the table. We’re going to talk about this like adults.”

Alyssa grinned. “I’ll get the-”

“Aw,” Maxwell whined. “Not the-”

“You bet your ass!” Lyss waved the feelings stick in his face. As a teacher, she brought home a lot of popsicle sticks, yarn, felt tipped markers, and crayons. But the feelings stick was used religiously in case they needed to have a loft meeting. The girls usually bring it out when there are some kind of feelings involved and the guys don't want to talk about it.

“Feelings stick is in effect,” Ella began as everyone took a seat, grumbling as they went. “You know the rules, one person speaks at a time and no interrupting.”

“Everyone deserves to be heard at the table,” Alyssa continued as she stood behind her new fiancé and bent down to kiss his cheek.

Ella plopped herself onto Liam’s lap, his arms automatically settling around her hips. “Who wants to go first?”

Maxwell reached for the feelings stick now in the middle of the table. “We all were at the store and Leo saw Hana there with another guy. He got upset and jealous and was trying to follow them down the aisles! As a distraction, I told him that the store ran out of cheddar cheese blocks and he went into some kind of rage and twisted my nipples,” he turned to look at Leo as he wrapped a free arm around his chest. “That really hurt and now I’m pretty sure you ripped some chest hair out of my skin.”

Leo snatched the feelings stick out of Max’s hand. “I felt like that was the wrong time to yell about my favorite cheese, and you knew how distraught I’d been over my … situation with Hana!”

Drake leaned over the table and grabbed the feelings stick from Leo. “I feel like you are being a real bitch about this Hana issue, Rys!“ Alyssa and Ella flinched at the harsh words; Leo’s face turned a dark red color. “You cheated, and she dumped you. Come to terms with it and fucking let it go!”

Liam held his hand out towards Drake, motioning for the feelings stick, and like a baton, Drake passed it over. “Leo, I don’t think it’s fair that you purposely bought condoms for everyone with a plan to just cut them up since we’re all in relationships and you’re not.”

A knock on the door interrupted their feelings circle. Alyssa walked over, flung the door open and her brows raised in surprise to see Hana on the other side. “Hana! Hey … uh, what’s up?”

Wringing her hands together, Hana gave her friend a nervous smile. “Hi Lyss, is Leo here?”

A screeching of a chair and stomping of feet sounded a moment later, and an out of breath Leo stood at the door next to Lyssa. “Hi! Hana … hi! How are you?”

“Leo …” Hana chewed on the inside of her cheek.

An awkward silence settled between the two and Lyss became increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m … just going to walk away,” she bent down under Leo’s arm that was holding the door open and scampered off.

“Did you want to come in?” Leo asked softly.

Hana nodded. “I think we should talk.”

#liam x mc #trr fanfic #trr fandom #liam x ella #trr #choices trr #the royal romance #liam rys #choices the royal romance #trr au #the royal romance fanfic #king liam #choices liam x mc #choices liam #choices trr au #the royal romance au #choices #trr choices #the royal romance fandom #pixelberry #choices fanart #trr fanart #trh fanart #playchoices fanart

[imseriousirius]

Had a Cronut in work today. Living for you Liam 😌✊

#playchoices #choices #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr liam #choices liam #hi guys

[criston-cole]

Side note, it’s really fun watching you guys. I was like, ‘I. Love. This Game!’

#critical role #criticalroleedit #laura bailey #marisha ray #ashley johnson #matt mercer #travis willingham #sam riegel #liam o'brien #taliesin jaffe #myedit #critical role spoilers #still obsessed with the choices laura made #within like a split second she did that

[lovely-v]

The more i watch of the Witcher season 3 the more sadistically excited I get to see how on earth they explain Geralt’s doctor who-like regeneration into Liam Hemsworth at the end

#veesaysthings #the Witcher #it’s such a mess I don’t know why it’s happening but it’s going to be a disaster #no hate to Liam hemsworth at all but the fact that they’re going to change the actor for the main character is ABSURD #(I know it was Cavill’s choice to leave but STILL) #people are going to hate season 4 and I’m so excited to see it

[tessa-liam]

...Marabelle Series

Crown Prince Liam Rys & Lady Sophia Taylor

Six Sentence Sunday

...future chapter

...Liam's heart was racing as he leaned in, his lips a fraction of an inch away from hers. But suddenly, he felt Sophie's hand pushing him back, her expression sad.

"I can't do this," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Liam froze. "Why not?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because we can't be together, Liam," she replied, her voice cracking with emotion.

"What are you ... but why not?" he persisted, his heart sinking.

"Because you will be king, and I ... I am just a commoner." Sophie covered her now tearful face, as she broke down in despair.

"I don't belong here..."

Marabelle Series Masterlist

❣️art commission by @/artbyainna❣️

📌taglist in notes

👑Whatcha working on?! @ao719 @ladylamrian @kristinamae093 @jerzwriter @karahalloway

#tessa liam writes #the royal romance #liam rys #trr fanfic #choices fic writers creations #sophie taylor #marabelle #six sentence sunday #cfwc sunday six

[jaredwalkertexasranger]

Walker Month || March 26th || Fave Season || Season 3

#walkeredit #Walker Month #Walker #Jared Padalecki #cordell walker #Liam Walker #cassie perez #Kevin Golden #Jake Abel #myedits #Walker Season 3 #it was a hard choice between #S1 and S3 #but S3 has fantastic performances #and some great quotes

[marvelstars]

#Lol XD #I personally still think it was partial abduction given Shmi didn´t have much choices but yes the prodracing and slavery works #to keep Liam out of jail #George Lucas quote #anakin skywalker #shmi skywalker #the phantom menace #qui gon jinn

[ao719]

What's Already Mine

A/N: This is a part of my Us Again series. Submission for @choicesflashfics using prompt #2. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Title Inspiration: Already Mine - Us The Duo

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x MC (Katherine)

Rating: G • Warnings: None.

Word count: 2500

Catch up here

Both my suit jacket and arm are draped over Katherine’s shoulders as we walk back towards the hotel from her old bar where I found her. 

We’ve walked in silence for a few blocks and it’s deafening despite the bustling city around us. We’ve seemed to have only a silent understanding of the situation; neither of us has said a word. 

My mind is too muddled to speak. I don’t know what to say because there’s so much to be said but nothing all at once. I don’t want to ask if she’s alright because obviously she isn’t. I don’t need to ask what’s wrong because I know. I know why she was there. I know why she broke down when she saw me. 

Despite knowing, I don’t know what to say … and I hate myself for it. 

I glance down at her when I hear a sniffle; she’s staring at the ground as she walks holding my jacket securely around herself. I watch her hand poke up from beneath the lapels to wipe a tear from her cheek and I feel my heart break a little more. 

I want to tell her it’s ok, that it’ll be ok, that we’ll be ok. I want her to tell me the same. But I know that neither of us can say that right now with certainty. 

So we continue to walk … in silence. 

****

Once back at the hotel, Katherine and I step inside our suite. I shut the door behind me and start to follow her as she walks into the bedroom; now that my arm isn’t around her, I notice that she’s a little wobbly on her feet thanks to her slightly tipsy state. She didn’t have much to drink, only a couple of glasses of wine at the gala, and based on the tab I paid at the bar before leading her out, I’d surmise no more than two drinks there, but I know she’s barely eaten anything today which is doing her no favors and she’s always been a bit of a lightweight as it is. 

When I enter the bedroom steps after Katherine, I see her draping my suit jacket on a chair. She then reaches back, attempting to grab the zipper of her gown, but she can’t quite reach it. When she becomes frustrated, evident by the small huffs of breath she keeps releasing, I step up behind her and gently cover my hand with hers. She goes completely still. After a moment, she glances over her shoulder; her eyes are rimmed red and still misty when she meets my gaze. I give a soft nod, and she slowly lowers her hand as she looks straight ahead again. 

As I lower the zipper of her gown, I let my thumb graze her spine, and I swallow thickly. When was the last time I touched my wife like this? The last time that my fingers brushed against her bare skin? I think back … it’s been a year. We were in Ramsford for the Beaumont Bash and we both had a lot to drink that night. I vaguely remember stumbling into our room, my hands tugging at the fabric of her dress and her arms wrapping around my neck as I kicked the door shut. Before that night, it had been months since we’d last been intimate, and before that, even more months. When we woke the next morning, we showered and dressed without a word, and when we arrived back at the palace, she went to the east wing while I headed to my study. It was awkward in a way and treated like it never happened. I think that’s when the deteriorating state of our marriage started to slowly consume my thoughts. 

Once her zipper is lowered enough, Katherine takes a step away and turns to face me, holding the front of her gown against her chest so it doesn’t fall. I slip my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her because I don’t know if that’s something I’m allowed to do anymore. We stare at one another, and my eyes are silently pleading with her. Talk to me. Please. Talk. To. Me. I can swear I see a similar plea in her own eyes. I open my mouth to speak but quickly snap it shut because I still have no idea what to say. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

“Of course,” I nod in reply. After staring at me almost expectantly, she lets out a soft breath and turns. “Katherine, I …” 

She stops and looks back at me; I see a flicker of something … of what I think is hope mixed with desperation and worry. “Yeah …?”

I hold my breath and her gaze for a moment before shaking my head. “Nothing …” 

Her breath subtly hitches in her throat as she drops my gaze and nods. When she disappears into the bathroom, I hang my head, squeezing my eyes shut in disappointment. 

Disappointment with myself, where we are, and my inability to grasp how to fix it. 

I begin to loosen my tie, but I freeze as my eyes shift to the bathroom door when I swear I hear a muffled cry from behind it. 

Where did it go? The love I once knew? It’s lost in the dark The light can’t shine through Where did we go? I can’t see it now I’m fighting the night To find you somehow…

*******

My fingers are steepled over my lips as I stare out the window of my study. My mind is in the same place as it has been for the past week since returning home: my marriage. Hell, my mind was here before our trip, but now, it’s all I can think about morning, noon, and night.

Katherine and I have yet to speak about what happened in New York. The morning after finding her in the bar, we sat through a silent breakfast followed by a few appearances that were scheduled before heading to the airport for our flight home. On the jet, I almost said something but decided against trying to have that conversation 35,000 feet in the air with no escape if we needed one. 

In hindsight … maybe that wouldn’t have been the worst idea. 

Since we’ve returned home, things have gone back to exactly how they’ve been. I work through the day and go to the east wing for our nighttime routine with the children. But instead of leaving the moment they go to sleep to go back to my study or the west wing … I’ve lingered. I think she believes I’m just waiting to be sure the children are asleep before slipping out, not realizing I’m there for her. I’m trying to give myself the courage to bring it up, but I find an excuse every damn time. It’s not good timing. It’s late. The kids are there. Whatever my mind can conjure up, it does. My fight or flight has turned to strictly flight; I flee every time. And either she’s having the same thoughts and coming up with the same excuses to not bring it up herself … or she’s completely given up, which after what happened in New York, it’s plausible. 

The bottom line is this: I know we’ve reached our limit. I know, one way or another, a very difficult conversation is eventually coming. 

At this point, it’s inevitable … and it fucking terrifies me. 

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even register the knock on my study door. It’s not until I feel a shove against my arm and hear my name that I finally snap out of it and glance up to see Drake staring at me questioningly. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head as I straighten in my chair. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“No shit,” Drake playfully scoffs. “I knocked a few times … called your name when I came inside, but you were zoned out.” 

I release a breath and nod, rubbing my eyes with the pads of my fingers. “Yeah … sorry. It’s been a long week.” I blink a few times to focus my vision and when I do, I see Drake now sitting across from me. His arms are folded across his chest and his brow is arched. “What?”

“Seriously, Li … what’s been going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you like this over the last few months. You seem like you have a lot more than just the stress of running a kingdom on your mind.”

I look away, unable to hold his gaze. Neither Katherine nor I have ever mentioned anything to our friends pertaining to the state of our marriage. We’ve put on the same show in front of them that we have in front of everyone else. 

“Liam … talk to me.” 

I look at my best friend again, trying to rein in the sadness I feel. If I can’t talk to Katherine, maybe talking to someone will help. I clasp my hands together and lean forward against my desk as I let out a heavy sigh.

And I end up breaking down as I tell him everything. 

Drake listens without interruption, but he doesn’t hide the surprise in his expression. When I finish, I can see him still trying to process everything I’ve just told him. 

“I never would have guessed … any of that,” Drake finally says. 

“We’re good at hiding it,” I say. Too good. “It’s just … it’s become our norm. It’s like second nature now … putting on the front.” 

“Why haven’t you guys ever said anything?”

I can hear the hint of hurt in his tone. “I don’t … I don’t know,” I reply truthfully. “I can’t speak for her, but for me … I guess it’s … I feel like I’ve already let her down … and the kids. I didn’t want to let my friends down, too.” 

“Liam, you’re not letting any of us down.” 

“I’m supposed to maintain this image of my life. Acknowledging that my marriage had completely fallen apart to myself was hard enough. Saying it out loud to someone else …” I shake my head. 

“So what the hell are you going to do?” Drake asks. “I mean, you’re going to fix it, right?”

“I don’t know,” I scoff with a shrug. “I don’t know if it can be fixed.” 

Drake’s brow furrows. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that …” I trail off, chewing the inside of my cheek, not wanting to say my next words, but they come anyway. “I’m saying that perhaps this is the end of our story.”

“What the fuck, Li?” Drake barks as he abruptly stands from his chair. The reaction startles me, and I look at him, unable to hide my surprise. “How could you even say that?”

“Do you think that’s what I want?” I snap. “Because it’s not! But I can’t force us to get back to where we once were!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Drake chides, and when I open my mouth to retort, he leans forward, getting right in my face. “It’s bullshit. And. You. Know. It.” He stands upright. “To just accept defeat is not only the easy, coward’s way out, it’s not you!”

“Drake—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Drake interrupts. “What you and Katherine have … it’s the fucking dream, Li. And I’m not talking about the literal fairytale crap,” he says, waving his hands dismissively. “I’m talking about the real shit. I watched you two; I had a front-row fucking seat. I watched your story unfold. I watched you both fight like hell to be together. And here you are now, a decade later, and you’re ready to wave the white flag because you two hit a rough patch that you won’t acknowledge to each other? Fuck. That.”

As I stare up at him, I feel a tear slip down my cheek … because I know he’s right. I clear my throat and snap my gaze toward the window, trying to fight back my emotions.

“I know you both, Li, and neither of you would keep putting yourself through this if you truly wanted to walk away. That’s gotta stand for something.” 

My gaze shifts up to his again. “I don’t want to walk away,” I say through a cracked whisper.

“Then you fight.”

Where did it go? The passionate fire? We can’t find the flame And now we’re both tired What do we do When all we have left Is dying for life But on its last breath?

****

That evening, as I’m finishing up my work for the day and finalizing some plans I’ve set into motion, I hear a knock on my study door and call for them to enter. When I look up, Katherine steps inside. “Hi,” I greet her as I rise from my chair.

“Hello,” Katherine responds. She quietly closes the door behind her. “I’m sorry to bother—”

“You’re not bothering me,” I interrupt as I walk around my desk. 

Katherine swallows, holding my gaze as she subtly nods. “I, uh … I was just trying to get things in order with my schedule for next week, but it’s … did you have it cleared?”

“I did,” I answer, and my heart is pounding in my chest as I watch the confusion fill her expression while I try to keep mine impassive. 

“Why?”

“Because we’re going on a trip.”

Katherine’s brows raise. “We?”

“Yes,” I nod. “We … as in you and me.” 

“A trip for what?”

“That’s still to be determined,” I say cryptically. 

Katherine furrows her brow. “Is it a work-related thing?” 

Even though I expected her to think that, it still hurts when she asks. “No,” I shake my head. “It’s not.”

“I’m confused …” 

“About?”

“We … we haven’t gone on a trip that wasn’t duty-related in a long time,” Katherine says. “At least … not together.”

“I think it’s safe to say we’re a bit overdue,” I quip. 

“But what about—”

“Eleanor and Lucas are going to have some quality time with their Uncle Drake,” I interrupt again, knowing what she’s wondering. “I spoke with him and made all of the arrangements already.” 

Katherine lets out a sigh as she continues to stare at me. “I …” She trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t understand …”

My impassive wall drops and I sigh as I let the emotion I’ve been trying to conceal fill my features. “Katherine …” I speak just above a whisper. “You and I … we’re lost.” 

I see her eyes slightly widen as she lets out a breath before she drops my gaze, but not before I see the pain fill her expression. It’s as if hearing me finally acknowledge the truth we’ve both known but have remained silent about out loud has gravely wounded her. 

“We’re lost and we both know it. And we can’t keep running from it. We need to face it. We need to … to talk about it and figure out if we’re going to find ourselves again — find us again — or …” I trail off, struggling to say the next words out loud. “Or if we’re going to walk away from this … from each other … because we can’t keep living this way.” 

When Katherine looks back up at me, tears trickle down her cheeks. She parts her lips to speak but stops as she lifts a hand and rests it against her throat to where I assume the lump is that’s stolen her voice. More tears fall and more confusion crosses her expression as she continues to hold my gaze. 

“I cleared both of our schedules for the next two weeks,” I continue to explain, “and made arrangements for this trip … just for us.” 

Katherine’s breath hitches. “Where … where are we going?”

“To the private island …” 

I hear the soft breath of acknowledgment Katherine releases. 

We can’t run there; we can’t hide or avoid each other. And she knows it. We’ll be left with no other choice but to face this … to face one another. 

We stare at each other, and I’m certain the worry and fear of the unknown of what this trip will bring that I’m feeling is the same thing she’s feeling. 

We both know we’re going into this completely broken. And we both know that we’re either going to come out pieced back together and on the mend to being whole again … or we’re going to come out irreparably shattered.

I can’t control you Or what your heart will decide But I’ll never stop Trying to fall back in love with what’s already mine…

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

Perma Tags (if you’d like to be added or removed for this story, please let me know): @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @emichelle @sweetest-marbear @indiacater @gibbles82 @the-soot-sprite @esmckenzie @dcbbw @burnsoslow @deb-1106 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @foreverethereal123 @choiceskatie @sirbeepsalot @gnatbrain @openheart12 @sincerelyella @superharriet @queenrileyrose @aestheticartsx @kingliam2019 @indiana-jr @bascmve01 @rainbowsinthestorm @emkay512 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @forallthatitsworth @walker7519 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @21-wishes @appleone @tessa-liam @pixelatedpassion @malblk21 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @forthebrokenheartedthings @nomadics-stuff @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#the royal romance #trr #choices the royal romance #choices trr #liam rys #king liam rys #trr liam #trr king liam #king liam #liam x mc #trr liam x mc #choices liam x mc #king liam x mc #trr king liam x mc #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #trr fan fic #trr au #trr au fanfic #choicesflashfics #cfwc fics of the week

[sincerelyella]

The Only Gift - The Loft

I know it’s been a long, long time since I’ve been on here and posted anything but I wanted to share this gorgeous fanart done by the amazing @gokushairgel 💝💘💖 thank you for bringing my babies to life and being my popcorn soulmate!

My taglist isn’t up to date at all so I apologize if you’re there and you don’t want to be. Please let me know and I’ll remove you asap, no hard feelings ☺️

“What do you want for Christmas this year?” Ella tossed a kettle corn up into the air and Liam caught it in his mouth.

“I don’t need or want anything, love,” he tossed one up in the air and cheered when Ella caught it.

“You say that every year,” she protested.

“It’s true though,” Liam caught another kettle corn in his mouth before doing the same for her. “I just want you.”

“Fine, I’ll figure out something,” Ella munched as she shook her head.

“Alright, alright, I do want something,” Liam smiled as his heart thrummed in his chest.

“What?”

“A fiancé.”

Ella froze mid-throw, the kettle corn landing on the floor next to Liam. “A-”

“You heard me, I said fiancé,” he smirked as he looked down at her bag of kettle corn. She followed his gaze and gasped when she saw a diamond ring. “Ella Christianne Brooks, will you-”

“YES!” She tossed her bag into the air and jumped up to tackle him onto the wooden floor. “Yes, Liam!”

“Ouch, love,” he murmured between kisses. “Can you maybe find that bag with the ring?”

“I don’t want anything but you,” she mocked.

“Very funny … but seriously it was really expensive,” Liam pleaded.

“Okay fine,” she stood and began to look around the room. “Put it on my finger and we’re doing it in the living room.”

Liam’s jaw slacked. “Against the window?”

“Yep,” Ella’s smoldering look made his cock jump in his grey sweats. “With all the lights on.”

“Merry Christmas to me,” Liam yelled as he searched for the engagement ring.

**

Permatag @ao719 @burnsoslow @aestheticartsx @ofpixelsandscribbles @hopefully-sky @thegreentwin @alyssalauren @cordonia-gothqueen @twinkleallnight @charlotteg234 @kat-tia801 @debramcg1106 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @neotericthemis @ladyangel70 @forallthatitsworth @princessleac1 @gabesmommie1130 @emkay512 @sfb123 @foreverethereal123 @lovingchoices14 @21-wishes @karahalloway @tessa-liam @mom2000aggie @tinkie1973 @emersyn-in-cordonia

TRR/TRH @jared2612 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @iaminlovewithtrr @nikkis1983

#liam x mc #trr fanfic #trr fandom #liam x ella #trr #choices trr #the royal romance #liam rys #choices the royal romance #trr au #the royal romance fanfic #king liam #choices liam x mc #choices liam #choices trr au #the royal romance au #choices #trr choices #the royal romance fandom #pixelberry #trr fanart #playchoices fanart #choices fanart

[dwiankus]

The S-Tier LI *male edition*

I am proud of my babies

#choices #choices stories you play #immortal desires #high school story choices #pixelberry #desire and decorum #blades of light and shadow #the elementalists #open heart #choices the royal romance #trr/trh #choices trr #the freshmen series #crimes of passion #king liam #liam rys #cas harlow #cassius harlow #zig ortega #bryce lahela #tyril starfury #aiden zhou #ernest sinclaire #beckett harrington

[luckthebard]

#it’s my poll so it’s my choices of who I think would kill it in this system #and genre in terms of their character creation strength #I’d have added Liam tbh but I think he’d be a better fit as a GM for this system rather than a player #candela obscura #critical role

[shorthaltsjester]

once again, begging, BEGGING everyone in the cr fandom to stop making posts critiquing how the fandom is being weird about one cast member by saying "if it was x, the fandom would love this/hate this even more." it turns out the cr fandom contains Multitudes of weird ass people and just because you haven't seen those reactions (or, even funnier if you are making claims about what the fandom does/does not do to other cast members, were not in the fandom during c1/c2) does not mean they do not exist. like there are certainly different social dynamics and injustices at play in some of the reactions the audience has to cast members, but almost always it is less a case of misogyny/queerphobia and more a case of people forgetting that storytelling is about understanding choices you would not yourself make and watching characters develop through conflict/struggle.

like, you can have the most salient point to make in the world about how shitty the reaction of the fandom to a certain cast member's (not their character, but the cast member as a person) choices but you immediately undo that if you make a claim like "if liam did this, the fandom would love it." perhaps the part of the fandom you are in, but certainly not the fandom that wanted to persecute him for having vax choose keyelth over gilmore, certainly not the fandom that consistently manufactured actual dislike between him and marisha throughout campaign 2 because of character choices.

likewise you might be absolutely right in criticizing the choices of the character that one of the cast members is playing, but if then in turn you say, "if this was a female cast member, everyone would hate it." my brother in christ, You are already the person who hates that character choice and it Wasn't a female cast member, so what is the truth? unless you have the statistics on the opinions every person who engages with the cr fandom has, truly just. you can make your point without appealing to a sense of misogyny/queerphobia/favouritism or whatever that you have no actual grounds for believing exists except for the fact that misogyny in general exists.

this isn't to say that things like misogyny don't influence how people react to things, all of our opinions are mediated through the social and material conditions in which we live. obviously, misogyny exists. however, truly, truly, the bigger problem in the cr fandom (at least on twitter/tumblr, idk about reddit and that is a choice I've intentionally made) is the consistent expectation that the cast adheres to what so many fans call 'comfort media' and a requirement that one's own opinions be validated by what the majority of the fandom believes (which aside from the obvious, is also an absurd expectation because trying to gauge the 'majority' of the cr fandom would be truly so much data). the cast have made it explicit many times that they value things like high stakes and big risks in their storytelling, and sometimes that means stupid character choices, character deaths, or interparty conflict. so much of the fandom has decided to engage with cr regardless of this and then gets upset when the liveplay of a ttrpg built around conflict contains conflict. similarly, people who claim to enjoy this conflict then get pissed off when other people in the fandom disagree with them and give away the ghost that what they want is validation by arguing that it is somehow problematic for the other side to have their opinions. it is much easier to blame any lack of satisfaction on how, actually, your section of the fandom has the right opinion and, actually, if everyone else wasn't queerphobic/misogynistic then they would see the proverbial light.

anyway, this is just me ranting out of both literal and metaphorical exhaustion with the "persuasive" (heavy quotes) tactics that some people in this fandom use. please look up some tips on like, how to avoid logical fallacies or formal critical thinking or just like. state your opinions and say you dislike the other options without thinking you need to provide some (often blatantly and horribly incorrect) rationale for how you're right. accept the pretentious bastard within yourself and stop seeking validation for your opinions in the fandom around you, your opinions are already correct if you assume them to be.

#yes this is about the recent ashton shit #yes ashton is a bastard. yes much of the fandom hates what he did. another bunch of the fandom Loves what he did. #i promise if liam had done it the same would be true it would just be different parts of the fandom #likewise if say laura had done something like that it might be opposite parts of the fandom than the opinions on tals choice as ashton #but the fandom would very much still feature both opinions heavily #anyway from one pretentious and exhausted grad student to a multitude of people in the fandom who have accurate things to say that get #undone by their false generalized claims about the fandom. you can just say something is fucked up/fantastic without having to address at #all the people who disagree #critical role #on fandom #my post

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

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[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page  

A Step Back in Time, chapter 11

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M🔞 - Warnings - Series will contain crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 3268

A Step Back in Time, Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: Liam, Riley and William arrive for a weeklong retreat in Lythikos. Olivia takes Riley ‘under her wing’ to mentor and to offer advice for her return to court. Olivia was determined to get her friend into the right frame of mind and to ultimately get the sparkle back in her eyes. 

Music Inspiration: What Was I Made for? Billie Eilish ; Lose Control, Teddy Swims 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

‘Cause I, ‘cause I 

I don’t know how to feel 

But I wanna try 

I don’t know how to feel 

But someday I might 

Someday I might 

Think I forgot how to be happy 

Something I’m not, but something I can be 

Something I wait for 

Something I’m made for 

Something I’m made for’ 

Cordonian Royal Palace, Capital 

If you told Riley Brooks that she would be living in Cordonia, in the Royal palace, with the King of Cordonia just last summer ... she would not believe you. She would tell you that ‘once upon a time’, she fell in love with that King and competed for his hand in marriage in his social season. By reason of the cruelty of fate, and the callousness of the Royal court, that dream would be ripped away from her by a world that was foreign to her. Where outsiders, or commoners, were frowned upon and/or deemed lesser than the noble class. She would be relegated to be the other woman, the mistress to that immensely powerful man whose duty to his country dictated that he must marry a ‘chosen’ woman, even though he did not love her. 

...and she had to watch that man she loved, marry another. 

...because she loved him, she remained. Confiding to him, ‘I’ve made my decision ... I want to be with you. I don’t care what it looks like.’ 

...and it broke her. 

In the Royal east wing, inside William’s bedroom, Riley meticulously packed his clothing into a large suitcase. Carefully selecting each item with love and care for their winter vacation in the Alps of Lythikos, she folded his small woolen sweaters with matching pants and jeans. Soft mittens and a woolen cap were nestled next to his favorite plushie, Scooby; ready to go with him on his snowy adventures. 

"Li Li, sweetheart, come here please," Riley called out, her voice echoing through the spacious room. William bounded towards her; his eyes wide as he watched his mother pack his belongings. 

"We go away, Mama?" William asked, his voice filled with wonder. 

"Yes, my sweet boy," Riley replied with a smile, scooping him up into her arms and placing him down on his bed. "We're going to the mountains with your father to visit a good friend of ours. It's going to be so much fun." 

William's eyes sparkled with delight at the mention of his father. In the five short months since he met his father for the first time, the bond between father and son had grown stronger exponentially. William adored Liam, who always had time for his son's playful antics in New York and now, here in Cordonia, as well. Despite his Royal duties, Liam made the point to spend as much time with William as possible. Riley was not surprised. Liam often spoke about what kind of father he wanted himself to be. The exact opposite of his own father. She could tell that Liam was trying his best to make up for all the time they had lost. And she could not be happier. 

Riley continued to pack, tucking away William's favorite books and toys to keep him entertained during their trip in Lythikos. She had already arranged for snacks with the kitchens, ensuring they would have everything they needed for the long drive to the northern chateau.  

Riley looked up, catching Liam's gaze.  

Liam stood and silently watched, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. A gentle smile played on his lips as he watched Riley packing their son's belongings for their trip, while William happily tried to help his mother. 

"Come, my King," Riley softly spoke and smiled with a playful glint in her eyes. "Help me double-check if we have everything for our little adventurer." 

Liam pushed himself away from the doorframe and strolled over to Riley; he crouched down beside William, who was wide-eyed with anticipation. 

“Daddy, look.” William pointed to the large suitcase, smiling happily at his father. 

"Hello, my little prince," Liam greeted, ruffling William's hair. "Are you ready for an adventure?" 

William giggled and nodded his head vigorously, his eyes reflecting the admiration and adoration he held for his father. Liam chuckled, “I see you have lots of toys packed.” 

William climbed over to the suitcase and plucked his favorite plush to show his father. 

“Ah, I see you packed your little dog. Is he your special friend?”  

“Yes, Daddy. I love puppies.” William grinned, squeezing his toy. 

“You do? That is good to know,” Liam winked at Riley as William returned his toy to be packed. 

“I will meet you two in an hour. All right, love?” Liam asked Riley. 

“Okay, Daddy,” William answered as Liam and Riley chuckled together at his response. 

As Liam left to go to his study, Damien entered, bowing to Liam, “Your Majesty”. 

Liam smiled and nodded 'hello' in response as he walked towards his assistant waiting in the hall followed by his security detail. 

Nevrakis Chateau, Lythikos, Cordonia 

Driving through the majestic mountains, Riley stared at the vista overlooking the Nevrakis chateau. Memories flooded her mind as they passed the frozen lake below. The lake where she, along with the other suitors skated on, with Liam during his social season years ago.  

Riley shivered. Was it from seeing the beautiful winter landscape or from those memories of past competitions for the man she loved? Riley’s thoughts were interrupted by the happy sound of her son’s voice. 

William giggled; totally enthralled by Liam’s storytelling of his past adventures in the snow. The sight of father and son was precious to Riley, as she softly smiled at the two of them. William was sitting on Liam’s lap as he pointed to the large chateau coming into view ahead. 

The escalade stopped at the grand entrance of the Nevrakis chateau as members of the royal guard went into formation and opened the vehicle doors. 

As they made their way toward the entrance, a flurry of snowflakes fell from the sky, adding a layer of white powder to the ground. 

"Wow, this is beautiful.” Riley raised her arms to the sky. “I remember my first visit here during your social season.”  

"It is. If I remember correctly, it was just as cold." Liam quipped adjusting William’s scarf. 

Members of Olivia’s waitstaff greeted the party as they entered the lavish and grand estate. Standing at the base of the grand staircase, Olivia grinned as William squealed at the pair of Alaskan malamutes sitting inside the foyer. 

“King Liam, Lady Riley and Prince William ... welcome to my quaint northern lodge. I am delighted to host the three of you.”  

Liam approached Olivia and kissed her cheek, then gestured to Riley and William to join them. 

"Olivia, it's been far too long since I last visited. The grounds are magnificent.” 

"Indeed, thank you, Liam.” Olivia beamed with pride. 

"Thank you for hosting us. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.” Riley added. 

"Anything for my dear friends." 

Olivia's attention was drawn to William, who was petting the dogs and giggling. 

"Well, hello again, prince William." Olivia walked over and knelt beside and offered treats to her two canine companions. 

William looked up at her and smiled. 

"Hewwo." 

"He's even cuter than I remember," Olivia grinned. “This one,” she motioned to the brown tipped dog, is ‘Mischa’. And this big guy is ‘Zeus’, "she cooed. 

"Now, Riley." Olivia stood and walked forward slowly, looping her arm through Riley's arm and leading her inside. "We have lots to catch up on. Liam, make yourself at home. Your Royal suite is ready for you. Gustav will be your personal attendant for your stay." 

"Thank you, Liv. That is much appreciated." 

"You are quite welcome. Now, Riley, let us get started on our girl time.” Liam winked at Riley, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled at Riley’s faux scared expression. 

"Okay, sounds good." Riley shook her head grinning as she walked by Liam. 

Olivia and Riley climbed the grand staircase and disappeared around a corner while William sat on the floor playing with the dogs. 

"William, let's get you changed and settled." Liam extended his hand down for his son to take. 

"Okay, Daddy." 

“Bye bye puppies.” William exuberantly spoke to the large dogs. 

***

 Riley and Olivia sat on a plush sofa in front of a large window overlooking the mountains. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the snowy landscape. 

"It's so beautiful here." Riley marveled at the picturesque view. 

"I'm glad you like it.” Olivia proudly acknowledged as she handed a large glass filled with chardonnay to Riley. 

Olivia sat back and watched Riley; her expression turning serious. 

"Riley, I know that things have been difficult for you since you've come back, but you have to remember, you're a force of nature. You are stronger than you think.” Olivia was continuing the conversation of their last visit at the palace.

Riley looked down at her hands, which held onto the wine glass with a death grip. She knew the invitation to spend the week in Olivia's duchy was not just a holiday for her, Liam and William. Her once adversarial friend, and now, her good friend, wanted to assist her with reuniting with Liam.

"I can see the pain and sadness in your eyes." Olivia continued. 

"Oh... "  

"How is it really going? Riley, how is everything between you and Liam?" 

Riley sighed and set her wine glass on the table. 

"I'm...I'm not sure." 

"Do you still love him?" 

"Yes, of course. I have never stopped loving him.” 

"Do you think he loves you?" 

"Yes.” There was a small smile followed by biting her top lip. 

"Then what's the problem?" 

"I'm not sure."

Olivia shook her head and sighed. 

"You have to trust him, Riley. He loves you. And I can see how happy William makes him.” 

"I know that.” 

"But there's something else, isn't there?" Olivia eyed her friend for clues.

"It's just that... we've spent so much time apart. And now that we are back together, things feel different.” 

"I think I understand. That is quite normal, all things considered." 

"And I'm worried that he'll eventually resent me for leaving him while I was pregnant with William." 

"He could never resent you, Riley. You are the mother of his child. It'# not in his DNA.” 

“I keep thinking that that there will be another scandal around the corner. That something or someone will tear us apart.” 

"What happened to that confident and free spirited American girl? The one who turned the court on its' head. Where did she go?"

"I know what you are asking. I feel scared; waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

"Scared of what? And why?" 

"That he won't forgive me." 

"Riley, listen to me. That is your guilt talking.” 

Olivia reached over and grabbed Riley's hands, looking her in the eye. 

"Liam loves you. He will always love you. You and William are his world. And I know that he wants nothing more than to make you happy.” 

"But..." 

"But, nothing. There is no 'but'.” 

"Okay." Riley was not convinced. "But, Madeleine ..."

"Is out of the picture; where Liam is concerned. You have the power of position now, make Madeleine feel it." 

Riley looked at her friend and took a staggered breath.

"Most importantly, you hold the King’s heart...show the world, show Cordonia, show Madeleine what that means...you will bring her to her knees." Olivia sneered. 

"This is why I wanted you to come for a visit. To remind you of who you are and what you are capable of.” 

“Olivia ...” Riley sighed, shaking her head, ‘no’. 

"Now. Come with me." 

Olivia stood and motioned for Riley to follow. 

Olivia took her down to an armory in the bowels of the chateau. 

"Here we are." Olivia turned and motioned to a wall of weapons. 

"What are we doing down here?" Riley asked, eyeing the collection of weapons displayed on the wall.

"We're going to do some training.” 

"Training? For what?" Riley questioned, perplexed. 

"For the press." 

"Why do I need training for the press? With weapons?" 

"Because they're vultures. They will try to get a rise out of you. They will ask rude and invasive questions. They will try to trip you up.” 

"But why do you think I need training? I know you haven’t forgotten that I was subjected to them during Liam’s social season." 

"Because they're relentless idiots.” Olivia sneered. 

"Okay, but ...” 

“Now that you are back in Cordonia, the mother of the crown prince, no less ...they want to find out your intentions with their king.” 

Riley took a deep breath, closing her eyes. 

"Don't worry. I'm going to teach you how to handle them.” Olivia confidently proclaimed with a smirk. 

"Thank you, Olivia.” Riley sighed as she eyed the collection of pointy weaponry again. 

"Of course. Now, let us get started.” 

Riley was grateful for Olivia's help and advice. She knew that she was right about the press, having dealt with them through the engagement tour, after the scandal was brought to light. 

Riley didn't have to know that. At least, not yet. 

And she knew that she needed to be prepared. Riley understood the extent to which the press would dig and manipulate information to get a juicy soundbite. But she was not aware that Madeleine would have her own agenda to discredit and sabotage her at every chance she got, all the way from Morocco. However, Olivia was well aware of Madeleine’s spite and her bitterness over losing the crown. 

"First off. I want you to choose a weapon." Olivia pointed to her collection of weaponry mounted on the wall. 

"A weapon?" Riley’s eyes were wide looking at the selection before her.

"Yes. You cannot fight the press with words alone.” 

"Um...okay." Riley answered sceptically. 

Riley looked at each weapon closely. There were swords, halberds, axes and daggers, among others. 

She picked up a sword. 

"Hmm...a sword? Interesting choice." 

"It's light and I can move fast.” 

"Good. Particularly good.” Olivia nodded approvingly. “That would be a weapon that Liam would choose.” 

“Really?” Riley admonished. 

"Now, we'll practice some moves.” 

"Moves?" 

"Yes. Maneuvers. Stances. Blocking and parrying.” 

"Wow. This is serious.” 

"Indeed. I'll start slow, but don't let your guard down.” 

"I won't.” Riley responded warily. 

"Good. Now, attack me." 

"What?" Riley looked aghast.

"Attack me." 

"Oh, um ... okay." 

Riley raised the sword and ran at Olivia, who easily dodged the blow. 

"Is that the best you've got?" 

"No.” 

Riley lunged at her again, and again, Olivia sidestepped each attack. 

"You're leaving yourself open.” Olivia challenged.

"I am?" 

"Yes. If this was a real fight, I would have cut you down by now." Olivia chirped. 

"Oh.” Riley let out a large breath, wondering to herself how this lesson was going to end. 

"Here. Let me show you." 

Olivia demonstrated a series of moves, her sword flashing and swooshing in the air. 

"Now, you try.” 

Riley imitated the movements, her sword swishing through the air. 

"Better.” Olivia critiqued. 

"Thanks." Riley answered questionably. 

"Again.” Olivia commanded with Riley going on the defensive. 

They continued to spar, their swords clashing together. Riley was impressed with Olivia's skills and ability to read her opponent and react accordingly. 

As they continued to fight, Riley became more comfortable with the sword, her moves becoming more fluid and graceful. Liam slipped into the back of the room, quietly watching the sparring.

"Excellent.” Olivia praised.

"Thanks.” Riley smiled at the compliment, picking up a bottle of water.

"Now we need a target." Olivia led her to a stuffed, practice dummy.  

Riley chuckled as she watched her friend attach a large face photo of Madeleine onto the head with a dagger.  

"Here, let me help you." Olivia handed her an assortment of knives, before she expertly threw her dagger.

Riley's first few throws landed wide, but she quickly found her mark, sinking several blades into the center of the picture. 

"Nicely done.” 

"Thanks." 

"Feel better?" Olivia snickered as Riley laughed. 

“Yes! Yes, actually I do. But I don't understand. How is this going to help me?” 

 "When the press asks you questions, you need to stay calm and confident. If they try to rattle you, throw them off balance. Focus on your target.” Olivia pointed to the picture. 

"Let's practice."

"All right."

"Imagine I'm a member of the press. And I ask you, 'Lady Riley, where have you been all these years?'"

Riley cleared her throat and straightened her posture. 

"I've been raising my son in New York. It's where he was born and raised.” 

"Why did you leave Cordonia?"

"I left to protect my child. And because I knew that King Liam had an obligation to the Queen.” 

"What are your intentions now that you've returned?” 

"I'm here to support my son and to be a part of his life.” 

"Do you still love the King?” 

"Yes, of course." 

“No! STOP!!!” 

Olivia moved assertively towards Riley. "This is where you say, 'that's all the questions for today’ and then you walk away from the microphones. Show confidence. Show determination. Show stoicism. Control the narrative.” 

Riley raised her eyebrow. "How did you get so good at this, Olivia?" 

Olivia shrugged, her shoulders rising slightly. "I'm the duchess of Lythikos. People talk. And sometimes they don't realize I'm listening." 

Riley nodded, a new respect for Olivia blossoming in her heart with a renewed sense of determination in her step. 

Feeling his arms, Riley giggled and leaned back against him with a content smile. 

Liam sauntered up to Riley from behind, wrapping his arms around Riley’s waist. 

Riley turned around to look at Liam, her eyes filled with love. 

“The Royal guard will then lead you away from the gathering,” Liam interjected. “You will never be left without protection.” 

"Thank you, Liam.” Riley tearfully smiled.

"I want you to know that while I am alive, you will always have a home in Cordonia. And I will never let anyone threaten that ... or you ... ever again.” 

Riley felt a warm feeling in her chest and a sense of calm.

Maybe everything was going to be all right, after all. As long as she had Liam and William, she knew she could face anything.

"Liam, I love you."

"I love you, too, Riley."

Liam pressed his lips to hers, and Riley melted into his embrace. They kissed for a long moment, savoring the feel of each other's bodies.

"Come, let's go get some sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

"I'm ready.*

"Pleasant dreams you two. Good night."

"Olivia, thank you for your expertise. It is much appreciated.

"Your welcome, Liam. It's my pleasure."

Good night." Riley called out.

Riley followed Liam out of the room, her hand firmly grasped in his.

And for the first time since she had come back to Cordonia, she truly felt like she was home.

"Thank you, Olivia," she whispered as she lay in Liam's arms, his steady heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

Thanks for reading; please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this series.

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