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karahalloway · 13 days

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

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: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 (Coming Soon!)

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

At the bridal boutique: Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Out and About Par ici - This way

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Por mi amore?* - For my love? *This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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fadingreveries · 2 months

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The Royal Romance Retelling Masterlist

Series Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

The Royal Romance, Book 1 🏰 - Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (part 1/part 2/part 3/part 4/part 5/part 6/part 7) - Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia - Bk1 Ch3: Reunited

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justcallmefox89 · 8 months

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Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia - Chapter Seventeen

An AU of The Royal Romance with a male MC and a bisexual prince.

Masterlist

Callum speaks to his former competition and receives an offer from Madeline.

“What just happened?” Drake asks, stunned.

Liam slowly shakes his head. “I honestly have no idea.”

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

I lean my head against elevator doors, the cool steel soothing the sharp pain stabbing at my frontal lobe.

Hi, God. It’s me, Callum. I say this with full disrespect… you have a sick sense of humor. Believe me when I say I am not one of your strongest warriors; I definitely don’t need to be tested any further. And another thing –

The doors spring open, interrupting my impromptu heart to heart with God. I unobtrusively straighten my jacket as I step out of the elevator and back into the ballroom, and quickly work my way to the bar, keeping an eye out for Maxwell and Hana as I do.

I slide onto a barstool, coming face to face with the bartender from earlier.

“Back so soon?” he asks coyly, leaning his elbows onto the bar top, bringing his face close to mine.

“Couldn’t stay away.” I manage to give him a half-hearted smile. “Could I get a bottle of the Baird Dark Sky and two shots of the seventeen year old Hibiki whiskey, neat? Please?”

“Anything for you, sir.” he says playfully, smirking as he turns away to get my order.

Hi, God. It’s me again… am I a joke to you, old man?

“Here you are, sir.” The bartender slides my order to me, peeking up at me from beneath his lashes. “I was wondering if you had any plans – ”

“Seducing the help already, Callum?”

I’d know that shrill voice anywhere. I still hear it in my nightmares.

“Excuse me, darlin’. I need to speak to Satan’s mistress for a moment.” I twist on my barstool to come face-to-face to with her. How’ve you been, Smokeshow?”

She takes a sip of her drink, gazing at me over the rim of her glass, and shrugs one delicate shoulder. “Busy. Traveling with the court as we partake in this,” she grimaces. “Engagement tour.”

I toss back my first shot, chasing it with a sip of beer before I say anything. “Yeah, about that.” I lean forward and lower my voice. “What the hell happened? Madeline? Madeline, of all people?!”

“She was the best choice out of all the remaining suitors,” Olivia says sourly. “Liam had very few choices by the end of the social season.”

“Where the hell were you when he was making his choice?”

“I was forced to leave the competition shortly after you dropped out.” She gives me a tight smile.

“Why?” I squint at her suspiciously.

“Someone had information about my parents. Something that could hurt them, damage their memory. I couldn’t let that happen. Not even for Liam.”

“Somebody was rigging the competition,” I realize. “They wanted Madeline to win.”

“Exactly,” Olivia says grimly.

“Did you ever figure out who it was?” I ask, sipping my beer.

She looks away, draining the last of her drink before answering me. “Constantine.”

“Why am I not even surprised?” I mutter, throwing back my second shot. “Does Liam know?”

Olivia nods.

“And he still chose to go through with this?” I raise my eyebrows.

She shrugs. “Liam agreed with Constantine that Madeline was the most qualified suitor left. He wasn’t willing to leave Cordonia without a queen.”

“And he’ll do anything for Cordonia,” I finish her thought.

“What else could he do? You had already left; all Constantine had to do was eliminate the remaining competitors until the only appropriate choice was Madeline. He backed Liam into a corner.” She gracefully slides off her barstool. “As fun as this little reunion has been, I’m ready to leave now.”

“See you around, Smokeshow.” I give her a slight finger wave, watching the back of her red dress until she disappears into the crowd. I swivel in my seat, leaning back against the bar top and gazing out into the ballroom. I slowly sip my beer as I study the party guests, scanning carefully as I attempt to locate a certain former king.

Gotcha, old man.

Beer in hand, I slide off my barstool and weave my way into the crowd, moving towards a recessed corner of the room where Constantine stands, accompanied by two bodyguards.

Where’s Bastien?

I leave a few people between myself and the trio, patiently waiting until Constantine becomes distracted by the mayor, who draws him into a lively conversation. A few seconds later the bodyguards turn their attention away from the king and begin scanning the ballroom for threats, each one looking in a different direction. Using the surrounding party goers as cover, I slink over towards Constantine, coming to a stop directly behind him.

“Don’t move,” I say quietly as the mayor moves away, drawing my index finger down his back until it rests between his shoulder blades.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, stopping himself mid-turn.

“I didn’t appreciate you leaking all the private details of my life to the Cordonian media,” I say conversationally.

“MacKenzie.” Constantine clenches his jaw so tightly I can hear his teeth grind together.

“I heard you threatened to do the same thing to Lady Olivia.”

“Liam could not be trusted to make the decision on his own. I needed to make sure that he would make the correct choice for Cordonia,” he says coldly.

“He deserves to have better than you as a father,” I seethe.

“Think what you want. Liam’s decision to wed Madeline is final, and there is nothing that can change that. Did you come over here just to discuss my son’s engagement?”

“No,” I say softly. “I just wanted to let you know I know exactly what you did. And to you remind that no matter how many bodyguards you have, someone will always be able to get to you. Have a lovely evening.”

I melt back into the crowd, quickly putting some distance between me and Constantine’s bodyguards. I spy Hana and Maxwell on the dancefloor, and move to take up a spot nearby to watch them, hoping to speak to them when the song is over. After a few moments, someone steps over to stand next to me. I glance down and see Madeline scowling at me.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

“I was invited,” I say in a bored voice.

Madeline snorts. “If you’re back in Liam’s life that’s fine. Have all the feelings you want for one another. A tryst here and there can be managed but do not embarrass me.”

“You don’t care that you’re about to marry a man who is in love with someone else?”

“When you’re behind closed doors, you can have his heart and whatever other part of him you want. As long as I have the crown and an heir and a spare, I really don’t care what he does. This is practically the best thing that could’ve happened to you.”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “I think you’re severely overestimating my interest in your future marriage.”

“I’m trying to work with you,” Madeline sighs.

“Once again, not interested.” I shrug my shoulders. “But… if I do decide I want Liam again, I won’t be sharing him. Don’t get too comfortable, Madeline.”

She opens her mouth to snap back, quickly closing it as she sees Maxwell and Hana hurrying towards us. Madeline sneers at me one last time before stalking off.

“Was that Madeline?” Maxwell asks, peeking around me. “Where’s Drake? Have you talked to Liam yet?”

“Drake is with Liam. I’ve talked to him… we’re just taking some time to think about things.”

“We don’t time to think about things,” Maxwell replies. “Liam is getting married in a few days!”

Hana gives him an exasperated look. “Callum is well aware of that, Maxwell.”

“As fun as this has been, I think I’m ready to call it a night,” I quickly interject. “Hana, I’m going to text you my address. If you happen to see Liam or Drake…”

“I’ll be sure to pass it on,” she assures me with a smile.

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

One long Uber ride later I’m finally back in my building and unlocking the door to my apartment. Sashimi meets me at the door, purring and winding herself around my ankles. I bend down to scratch beneath her chin, and she rumbles with happiness. “Hey, my beauty. How was your night? Did grandda stop by and feed you?”

After living in the same building as my father and his boyfriend for the past nine months, my girl has become accustomed to their visits and the pampering the two of them shower on her. I shed my suit jacket and dress shirt as I move through my apartment, dropping them on the floor as I make my way to my bedroom. I fall backwards onto my bed and stare up at my ceiling with a deep sigh.

What a fucking night.

I close my eyes and sink deeper into my mattress. They shoot right back open a few seconds later as someone loudly knocks on my front door. Groaning, I roll off of my bed and shuffle towards the door. I press my eye to the peephole and have to stifle a gasp when I see who is standing outside in the hallway. I quickly unlock my door and throw it open.

“Now what are you two beauties doing here?” I ask, leaning against the doorjamb and raking my gaze over Drake and Liam.

“We need to talk,” Drake says bluntly.

I arch one eyebrow in interest and step aside, silently inviting the two best friends into my apartment. I wait until we’re settled in my living room to say anything. “So… who wants to start?”

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alj4890 · 1 year

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***shortcuts to my masterlists posted on @alj4890masterlist ***

Mixed Signals (Ethan Ramsey x MC) (Tobias Carrick x MC) (Bryce Lahela x MC) Open Heart AU

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You (Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) TRR Crackship AU

Worth the Wait (Thomas Hunt x OC) in a what if to A Second Chance AU

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days (various)

Choices Drabbles and Requests (various)

All Through the Night (Dark TRR AU)

While We're Young (TRR Future AU)

And Then I Met You (Thomas Hunt x OC) (TRR/RCD/PM crossover AU)

And Then I Left You (Thomas Hunt x OC) in a what if to And Then I Met You AU)

A Second Chance (Thomas Hunt x OC) (TRR/RCD/PM crossover AU)

None But You (RCD Regency Era AU)

Misfortune's Intentions (TRH AU) (Liam x OC) (Drake x Riley)

Delicate (TRR/OH crossover AU) (Olivia Nevrakis x Ethan Ramsey)

Another Night/Another Dream (TRR/PM/RCD crossover AU)

The Courtship (TRR Regency Era AU)

Winner at a Losing Game (TRR/RCD crossover AU)

A Million Dreams (TRR/The Greatest Showman AU)

Just a Glimpse (TRR AU)

The Other Friend (TRR AU)

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harleybeaumont · 2 years

Text

Unintentional

Chapter 4 - The Nightclub

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairings - Liam x Hana, Drake x Riley, Maxwell x OC

Synopsis- Since childhood, Liam has held a terrible secret that even he doesn't know about. As the years go by, he suspects more and more that there is something wrong with him. Can he put his life together and find happiness?

A/N- The first 4 chapters will have the feel of a one-shot, as each one is a glimpse into Liam’s past. But as the story goes on, they will all tie together.

A/N 2- This story is a bit different than what I usually write.. Ok a LOT different. Some terrible things have happened during Liam's life.. But the story isn’t without humor or joy. I swear it’s not all bad! The characters are still canon in the sense of their whole overall personalities, but of course there are several changes to fit the story.

**A/N 3- This is the last flashback chapter! The next chapter will start what is currently happening in Liam’s life!

Series Warnings- oh so many: language, drinking, violence, sexual assault, abuse, murder, homophobia, bullying, mentions of suicide.. Also there will be some lemons in later chapters.

Word count- 3,620

18+ only

Click here to catch up.

Chapter 4 - The Nightclub

The fourth time it happened, he was twenty-four. Liam and his girlfriend were headed out for a group date with Drake and his fiance and Max and his boyfriend.

Liam and Hana met during Leo’s social season where the older Rys brother courted several different suitors, trying to choose a suitable bride. Unsurprisingly to Liam, Madeleine used every trick in the book to get Leo to fall for her. Poor guy. Liam tried to warn him, but Maddie was determined to be queen someday and changed herself to be the exact woman Leo wanted. They were married a few months after the social season ended.

Hana, on the other hand, was a sweetheart. She was always smiling and doting on Liam and he felt comfortable around her. They had been dating for six months and the two got along well. Maybe they didn't love each other, but.. he was happy. And so was she.

Drake met Riley Brooks while visiting one of his fraternity friends in New York after graduation. Riley was a waitress at a bar they went to and they immediately hit it off. Riley kept Drake from being what Liam called a ‘bro.’ She moved to Cordonia with Drake after only knowing each other for three months and he proposed after six. It was an extremely un-Drake-like thing to do, but they were clearly in love, and Liam was happy for them.

Max met Hunter at a nightclub. Hunter was working as a bartender, and like everyone else in the room, was entranced by Maxwell's dancing. The two had been dating for a couple months. Liam was surprised that Hunter was Max’s type. He was a bit more.. rough around the edges than the guys Max usually went for. But sometimes opposites attract.

Liam and Hana stepped out of the car and found Drake and Riley both walking in the restaurant at the same time as them.

“Hey Hana!” Riley threw her arms around her. Hana and Riley quickly became best friends once they met, and were inseparable.

Drake nodded to Liam. “Max and Hunter are already inside.”

“No hug for me?” Liam joked with his friend as he watched the girls giggling together while they spoke in hushed tones.

Drake shook his head with a smirk. “You know I’m not a hugger.”

“Hey!” Riley jumped on his back. “You hug me all the time!”

“You're an exception.” Drake smiled as he pulled her around to him and gave her a quick kiss.

“Awww.” Hana beamed at them. “I can't wait for the wedding!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Drake said and Riley frowned at him. “What?” He looked at her nervously. “I’m just saying that we haven't set a date yet! We have plenty of time!”

Riley punched his arm. “I know what you meant. I just like fucking with you.”

“Don't I know it.” Drake rolled his eyes teasingly.

They walked into the restaurant and headed back toward a private room where Max and Hunter were waiting. Maxwell hopped up and ran over to the group.

“My frieeeeends!” He took turns hugging each of them.

“We just saw you like a week ago!” Drake said as he pried Max off of him.

“I know, but I just love you guys.” Max winked, hugging Liam next.

“We love you too Max.” Liam chuckled as he patted him on the back. Liam nodded to Hunter, who was looking at him and Hana strangely. “Hunter, how have you been?”

“Fine.” He said coldly and looked down at his phone.

That was weird. Liam shrugged it off and sat down between Hana and Maxwell. The night was full of laughing and drinking as the friends enjoyed each other's company.

Hunter put his arm around Max. “So you guys wanna get out of here and do something fun?”

Max looked at him in surprise. “I thought we were having fun?”

“I mean real fun! How about a nightclub?” Hunter pressed a kiss to Maxwell's cheek. “I wanna see you get out there and show everyone why my boyfriend is the best dancer around.”

Max blushed. “I mean.. If you guys are up for it.”

Liam and Hana shrugged, “Sure!”

Drake groaned and Riley covered his mouth. “We’d love to!”

They all piled in the back of Liam’s limo and made their way to a club Hunter frequented. As they pulled up, loud music poured out into the street and Drake gave Liam a disgusted frown.

Liam chuckled and nudged Riley. “You’re gonna have to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t sneak out.”

She winked, grabbing Drake's arm tightly. “Don’t worry. I got him. He wouldn't dare leave me alone in a club when I look this hot!”

Liam put an arm around Hana, as Hunter led them to the front of the line. Liam always tried to keep his head down in public so he wouldn't be recognized. Sometimes it was embarrassing that he got preferential treatment just because he was royalty. Hunter grabbed Maxwell and shoved him a bit too roughly toward the bouncer. “You better let us in! I've got Lord Maxwell Beaumont here.” Liam scowled, feeling a familiar spark of anger in his chest at how this guy treated Max. Hunter continued, “And if that’s not enough to sway you, in the back is the actual fucking Prince of our great nation!”

Shit. Liam cringed, trying to look away as people began to stare and gossip. The bouncer took one look at Liam and Max and let them all right in.

“You promised you wouldn't do that anymore!” Max whispered to Hunter.

“What?!” Hunter glowered at him. “It worked didn’t it? Gotta use that title for something, right Max?”

As Max and Hunter walked ahead, the other four exchanged wary glances. “This guy won't last long.” Liam said quietly to Drake.

Drake shook his head, “God I hope not.”

Riley, Hana, Maxwell, and Hunter ran out to the dance floor and Drake and Liam headed to the bar. Liam wasn’t much for club dancing, and Drake definitely wasn't. At least not until he was drunk. Liam and Drake sipped their drinks, watching their friends dance.

Drake cleared his throat. “So, um.. I have something kind of.. awkward to tell you.”

“What's that?” Liam eyed him curiously.

“God I don't even know how to say it. I don’t want to piss you off, but I just.. have to tell you.” Drake cleared his throat. “Riley.. Uh. She asked if Hana could have a threesome with me and her.” Drake was blushing furiously and staring out on the dance floor.

“I know.” Liam chuckled.

“You know?” Drake snapped his gaze to Liam as his mouth dropped open in surprise.

Liam smiled. “Hana told me. She said Riley and her had discussed it before and she wanted to see if I was ok with it.”

“And you are?” Drake raised an eyebrow.

“Sure. I don’t own her.”

“But.. Hana’s your girlfriend. You don't care that she wants to sleep with me and Riley?”

Liam shrugged. “Nah.”

Drake was quiet, but his brow was furrowed and Liam could tell his mind was racing. “Drake.. Hana and I..” Liam sighed. “I mean.. we're good friends, but we just don't really see each other that way. I’ve tried, and so has she.”

Drake looked dumbfounded. “What?! Why are you two dating then?”

“Companionship, I suppose. It’s nice to have someone who’s there for you.” Liam turned to Drake. “And if I’m honest.. I think Hana is more into women.”

“I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.. How have you never told me any of this?!”

Liam laughed loudly. “I don’t know! I just thought it was obvious!” Liam nodded toward Hana who was grinding against a woman on the dance floor. “I mean, look at her. You ever see her do that with a man before? With me?”

“I.. guess not.”

Liam chuckled. “Enjoy your threesome.”

Drake burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “Um, ya I think I will!”

The two of them laughed together and sipped their drinks. After a few more songs, Riley made her way back over to Drake and plopped down in his lap.

“I’m so tired and sweaty! How can anyone keep up with Max?” She panted as she grabbed Drake's whiskey and turned it up, downing it in one gulp.

Drake wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “A question for the ages.”

“Where is Hana by the way?” Liam looked around the dance floor, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maxwell was still dancing, but Hunter was gone too. “I’m going to go look for her. I don't want to leave her alone in here.”

“I’ll check the restroom.” Riley said as she followed Liam. The two of them made their way to the back of the club and Riley checked all the stalls, but Hana wasn't there.

“She’s not answering her phone.” Liam tried calling her again, but it went straight to voicemail.

“That’s weird.. She always keeps it on.” Riley gave Liam a concerned look.

“Let’s look around.” Liam was actually getting worried now. Hana never went off by herself. They found the woman who she had been dancing with earlier and asked her if she knew where Hana went. The woman said she went to get drinks with a man.

“What did the man look like?” Liam asked.

“Um.. tall.. tan skin..” The woman spotted Maxwell, “Oh! He was dancing with that guy before!”

“Thank you.” Liam walked back to the bar with Riley, feeling confused. “So she left with Hunter? Where would they go?”

“I know she wouldn't leave without telling me.” Riley shook her head, her brow still knit with worry.

“Stay here and keep looking around. I’m going to check outside.” Liam felt his pulse quicken as he made his way across the room and out the back exit. Surely Hana was ok. She was with Hunter.. And he was their friend. Kinda.

Liam stepped out into the dark back alley and glanced around. If the guards knew he was doing this, they would lose their minds. He had convinced them to let him go out tonight with only minimal security stationed at the entrance and one undercover at the bar. They obviously didn’t know where he was now.

Liam cautiously walked down the back alley. There was no way Hana was out here. It was way too creepy. He started to walk back inside when he heard a muffled shout. “Hana?” Liam called out as he made his way over toward the noise.

“Get off of me!”

Liam’s eyes widened. That was definitely Hana’s voice. He ran around the side of the building and found Hunter holding a hand over her mouth while the other was pulling at her clothes. He began kissing her forcefully and Hana was trying her best to fend him off. Liam grabbed Hunter and threw him to the ground. This fucker is dead. Hunter groaned in pain and Liam knelt over him, punching him repeatedly as he tried to escape. Liam knew deep down that he should stop, but he was so consumed by his anger, he didn't think he could.

“Liam!” Hana yelled, and as always, her voice instantly calmed him down. “You have to stop hitting him! You’re gonna kill him!” Liam’s heart was beating out of his chest as he stilled his hand, and a bloodied man lay beneath him, moaning in agony.

Liam stood up panting and wrapped his arms around Hana tightly, as she sobbed into his chest. “I’m ok. I swear, I’m ok..” She spoke between sniffles. Liam reached in his pocket for his cell phone to call the guards, but it was gone. It must have fallen out somewhere on the ground.

“Do you have your phone, Hana?’ Liam still had his arms wrapped tightly around her. He was afraid to let her go.

“No. I forgot it in the car.”

“Go inside and get Drake. Tell him what happened and to send my guards out here.”

Hana squeezed him tighter. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Liam’s heart ached for her. “Come on. I'll go with you.” Liam scowled at Hunter who was still writhing on the ground, before giving him a swift kick to the ribs. “Don't move motherfucker.”

Liam quickly escorted Hana inside the bar where she fell into Drake and Riley’s arms. “Call the police. Hunter just assaulted Hana behind the club.”

Liam motioned for his undercover guard, who was currently looking around for him frantically. They burst through the back door into the alley, but Hunter was gone.

Later that night, everyone returned to the Palace. Hana and Riley were staying up watching movies together to try and relax. The police were out looking for Hunter, but so far, they couldn't find him anywhere.

Maxwell was devastated. “I just.. can't believe he would do this!” He sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should have known!”

“Max, how could you have known?” Liam wrapped his arms around Maxwell on the couch, letting him cry against him. “First of all, you didn't even know he was interested in women.. He told you before that he wasn't, right?”

“No.. I mean yes I thought he was gay. He said he was.. And believe me, we had been intimate before. Maybe he's bi.. or maybe he was just using me.. I don't know.”

Liam sighed, as he rubbed Maxwell’s back. “And you said he’s never been violent before?”

“Not.. really.” Max shrugged, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

Liam glanced over at Drake, who raised his eyebrows in question. “Max. What did he do?” Drake said quietly.

Maxwell shook his head. “I mean.. I didn't think anything of it at the time. But sometimes he was a little pushy when it came to sex.. Ugh, this is embarrassing.” Maxwell looked down, not wanting to make eye contact with them.

“It’s ok. You can tell us.” Liam shrugged. “Or not tell us.. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

“He just.. wanted what he wanted. And it didn't matter if I wanted it or not.” Max put his head in his hands. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Liam had so many emotions bubbling up inside that he wasn't sure which one to deal with first. “Maxwell, please stop blaming yourself.. You’re obviously a victim here too.”

Max shook his head about to spout out more excuses, but Liam stopped him. “Max.. don’t. You always do this. You have to stop blaming yourself for everything.”

“Sorry.”

Liam put his hand under Maxwell's chin, forcing him to look up at him as they were seated beside one another. “You have to see that you are an amazing person. I’m sorry that so many people take advantage of you because of that.. But it’s true. You are amazing. And you deserve someone who realizes that.”

“Liam.” Max looked up into his eyes in surprise and Liam sucked in a sharp breath, turning away slightly on the couch.

“Um..” Liam cleared his throat and glanced over at Drake, who was slack jawed as he looked between the two of them. “I’m going to.. check on Hana.” Liam said as he stood up and quickly left the room.

Hana and Riley were laying on the bed eating popcorn and watching Legally Blonde.

Liam entered quietly and took a seat on a chair in the corner of the room. He wasn’t sure if Hana would even want to see him after witnessing him beat that man so mercilessly. “How are you feeling?” He asked Hana cautiously.

She gave him a small smile and sat up. “I’m good. Thanks to you.”

Liam looked down and shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about..” He blew out a long breath and looked away. Hana walked over and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you Liam. You’ve always been there for me.”

“Of course.” He gingerly returned her hug. “That’s what friends are for.”

They smiled at each other and Liam stood up to leave. “So, are you sure you’re ok? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good. I swear.” Hana smiled and sat back in bed grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Night Liam.”

“Goodnight Hana. Night Riley.”

Liam went back downstairs into the empty sitting room and dropped down on the couch. What a horrible fucking night. Maxwell came back in and sat on the couch adjacent to the one Liam was on.

“Can I just crash on this couch tonight?” Max asked as he lay back onto the plush cushions, pulling a blanket over himself.

“Of course.” Liam said before chugging some cold water, trying to fend off his exhaustion. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure!”

Liam settled down on the couch and turned on the tv. “What do you want to watch?”

“You know.” Max chuckled.

“No.”

“Pleeeease?! It’ll make me feel better!”

Liam gave him a playful sigh. “Fine.” He scrolled down the list until he found it. “Billy Madison.. for the thousandth time.”

Maxwell laughed, and Liam couldn’t help but join in. It was nice to see him happy after such a horrible night. They lay on their respective couches watching the movie until Liam’s eyes began to close.

Max spoke quietly. “I hope the police find him soon.”

“They will, Max.” Liam rubbed his eyes, trying to keep himself awake.

“There’s nowhere for him to hide. He doesn't have any family here. The only other place I can think of is the park. That’s where we always went after our dates, to feed the ducks.”

Liam nodded and felt his eyelids get heavier and heavier until they finally closed.

4:15 am, Liam shot awake, panting. Where the hell am I? Oh fuck, not again! He squeezed his eyes shut tightly trying to will himself back into the Palace on the couch, but of course it didn't happen. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. Shit. They were dirty and he had what looked like rub burns on his palms. Liam glanced down at himself, checking for anything out of place or injured, but other than his clothes being a bit disheveled, he looked fine. Liam breathed out shakily as he stood up, trying to figure out where he was. Why does this keep happening to me? He felt sick to his stomach. Every time this happened, Liam tried his best to block it from his memory. But he couldn't keep doing this. And he didn't want to admit to himself, the horrible realization that was going through his mind.

Liam stood up and dusted himself off. It was dark and quiet outside. He knew where he was. In a field about a half mile from the Palace. He sat off, walking back in the dark, hoping and praying that no one would see him. Liam crept through a back door in the kitchen and a guard gave him a strange look as he entered. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Liam jumped in surprise and nodded, looking away. “Just coming back from a walk.” Liam paused for a moment, considering. “Did I, uh.. come through this way earlier tonight?”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “No, Your Highness.”

Liam gave the guard a quick nod and took off toward the sitting room. The movie was over and the soft glow from the tv menu lit the room. Max was still sound asleep on the couch. Liam grabbed the blanket that had fallen on the floor and covered him up, then dropped back down onto the other couch in a huff. Why does this keep happening to me? What is wrong with me? Liam stood abruptly and stalked to the kitchen to get a drink, trying to stop his mind from racing.

The next morning, Liam was shaken awake by Drake. His back and neck ached, and he realized he was slumped over on the kitchen table with a quarter of a bottle of scotch in front of him.

“Shit, man. Did you drink all this?” Drake said sadly as he examined the nearly empty bottle. “What happened last night at the club must have really fucked you up, huh?” Drake sighed. “What am I saying.. Of course it fucked you up.. Sorry. I should have stayed up with you.”

Liam sat up rubbing his head. “Ya, I guess it did. I’m fine. Other than this tremendous hangover.”

Drake grabbed Liam a bottle of water and pulled out his phone. “Let’s order something greasy to eat. Best cure for a hangover.”

“Sure.” Liam tried to force out a laugh, but he felt horrible. Between the hangover and what happened last night.. It was all he could do not to vomit.

Max trudged into the kitchen yawning. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Something that will surely clog our arteries.” Liam had his eyes shut tightly as he massaged his temples.

“Liam, what… Did you drink all this last night?” Max said, giving him a worried expression.

“It’s fine, Max. I’m fine, I swear.”

Maxwell's phone rang loudly and he put it to his ear. “Yeeelllllo?” His face paled and his eyes were as wide as saucers. “No.. Are you serious?”

Liam felt like he couldn't breathe. Surely this wasn't what he thought it was.

Max spoke quietly. “Ok.. well.. Thank you for calling.” He hung up the phone and looked over at Liam wide eyed. “They found Hunter..”

Liam held his breath. Please tell me he's not dead.. Please tell me he’s not dead.

“The police said he threw himself off of the bridge by the duck pond. He’s dead.” Max started crying and Liam was frozen in place. Not again.

#trr fanfic #the royal romance #liam rys #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #drake x riley #hana lee #choices fanfic

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alj4890masterlist · 1 year

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1st set of Choices drabbles and request

2nd set of Choices drabbles and requests

Everything's Sweeter with Three (Liam x Riley)

One Night (Thomas Hunt x OC)*NSFW*

Premiere Date (Thomas Hunt x OC)

The Getaway (Ryan Summers x Holly Chang)

Trapped in Awe (Thomas Hunt x OC)

Baking Woes (Matt Rodriguez x Addison Sinclaire)

Hollywood Magic (Seth Levine x MC*Jessica Clarke)

An Ugly Time of Year (Victoria Fontaine x Jessica Clarke x Chadley Fortnum) *platonically*

Change of Plans (Thomas Hunt x OC) *NSFW*

It's Unavoidable (Thomas Hunt x OC)

Tis the Season (Thomas Hunt x OC)

The Christmas Card (Liam x Madeleine) (Liam x Riley)

Another Chance (Thomas Hunt x OC)

Christmas Journal (Liam x Riley)

The Christmas Card (prologue to L-O-V-E) (Liam x Riley)

L-O-V-E (Liam x Riley) part 1

L-O-V-E (Liam x Riley) Part 2

L-O-V-E (Liam x Riley) Part 3

Time Together (Thomas Hunt x OC)

Right by Your Side (Maxwell Beaumont x MC)

Something Sweet (Jax Matsuo x MC)/On a Rainy Afternoon (Thomas Hunt x OC)/Addiction (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Don't Let the Light Go Out (Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Interrupted Plans (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

A Couple of Drinks (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

The Date (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

The Reason (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Mine (Tobias Carrick x F!MC) *NSFW*

The Offer (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

The Wake (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

On the Run (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

A Glimpse (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Meeting the Family (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Tobias x Chris artwork (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Holding On (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Tea Time (Naveen Banerji, Ethan x F!MC)

Something Sweet (Ethan Ramsey x OC)

Something Sweet Part 2 (Ethan Ramsey x OC)

The Morning After (Thomas Hunt x OC) *NSFW*

A New Kind of Intimacy (Trystan Thorne x F!MC

The Babysitter (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

No Time Like the Present (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

What Might Have Been (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Nope (Trystan Thorne x F!MC)

Whose Is It? (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

#choices the stories you play #choices red carpet diaries #choices the royal romance #choices open heart #choices the unexpected heiress #choices thomas hunt #thomas hunt x oc #thomas hunt x amanda #liam x riley #drake x olivia #maxwell x oc #hana x rashad #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #bryce lahela #choices blood bound #jax x mc #hugh crawford x mc

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astera-rising · 1 year

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I NEVER CONNECTED THE PARALLEL OF THE LAST DANCE WITH LIAM IN BOOK 3 AND THE FIRST DANCE IN BOOK 1 LITERALLY THE SAME CHOICES FOR A RESPONSE

jdbfbe I'm not crying, you are

#playchoices #liam x mc #liam x riley #the royal romance #pixelberry #drake walker #hana lee #maxwell beaumont

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queenmiarys · 1 year

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BOOK: TRH

Summary:Maxwell spends quality time with his boys and friends.

Warning : None

Rated: Teen

The best Ramsford has to offer.

One shot

It had only been a day since Juliana had left her husband with their two children under 3

Julian was getting used to sleeping on his own,so his parents thought Maxwell turned over feeling something wet. "What the." Stopping himself from saying the rest when he saw Julian.

Maxwell woke his son and he immediately started crying. "It's okay buddy daddy got you, come on, he ran his bath water and picked out a new set of pajamas he, once he was done his son had no problem with falling asleep, he placed him in his bed then went down to the Landry room.

Juliana had taught him how to do laundry and some simple homework, besides it was after 1am and everyone was sleeping, he started a load of laundry and watched a movie. He was not sleepy at all, he heard the baby monitor come to life it was near 3 am at this time

"Hey little guy, are you looking for this?" Yes you are." He said as he waved the bottle in front of his son. He sat in the rocker feeding Cam and thanking God for his family.

After his feeding, he changed his diaper and burped him before placing him back in his crib.

Cam was a quiet baby. He only cried when hungry or he needed to be changed, completely opposite of his brother Julian, who wanted to be held a lot and cried just because.

Maxwell made it back to his room and went to the hall closet and replaced the Mattress pad and the sheets and duvet cover. He fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

___________

"Maxwell get up it's after 7, this little guy is hungry and Julian is up also; Bartie at a sleepover. So I'm afraid you're on your own with the boys today." Bertrand said

" It's okay, I can handle them. " Did Juliana ask you to help me?"

"Maxwell we are family, it's been plenty of times that you and Juliana has helped with Bartie."

"Thank you brother, go enjoy your day."

__________

"So little ones, what are we to do today?

He took the boys to kitchen placing both in their high chair. Both boys laughed as he danced around the kitchen while cooking Julian scrambled eggs, you could definitely tell that his son got his eating habits from his mother, Max, couldn't stand eggs not eating them.

After they all ate he let Julian play with his cars , he heard a vehicle pulling up. Max wanted to surprise his son so he didn't tell him that Drake was coming.

Julian got up and ran over and peeped out the window "Uncle Drake Yay Uncle Drake! Max watched his son jump up and down in total excitement.

He opened the door. "Drake my friend you do love me." he said as a joķe.

"Pipe down Beaumont, I'm here to see my Godson and see his cute brother too, besides Hana went on the trip too."

Patience, his 1 year old, was hiding behind his leg, Julian went around Drake leg "Pactance he giggled. " I got you," do you want to play with me?" She shook her head "yes,daddy can we play?"

They all went towards the playroom.

" Man I can't believe you have two children, me and Hana can't wait to meet our son soon."

A few hours had passed when Liam and his four year old twin boys Wyatt and Leo

Rashad with his two year old son pulled in around the same time

"Hope you don’t mind, Liam said."

"Not at all buddy, I consider all of us as brothers, that includes you Rashad."

"Daddy, I think Cam needs changing." They all laughed

After changing him, they went to fix the children's launch. Everyone was surprised at the meal Maxwell made for children.

After the kids ate, they all took a nap, except Zane, who no doubt was a lot like his mother Olivia.

After the kids woke up, Liam scheduled for a nearby Theme park to be closed down for them.

The kids loved Fun World Theme park, they rode several kiddie rides, visited the haunted house, they were now playing in the bouncy house, when all the kids started saying they were hungry, even little Patience.

Maxwell took everyone to Dilights in downtown Ramsford, it was one of Juliana's favorite restaurants, they ordered spaghetti and meatballs for the kids. Maxwell asked for 4 extra plats. For Patience and Julian, Zane, he put a spoonful of spaghetti, a small piece of garlic bread and a small amount of salad,

They all were amazed that all the smaller children ate all their food, especially Drake because Patience was very picky and oftentimes didn't eat.

Zane and Julian had very similar eating patterns. Maxwell phone rings

"Hello beautiful, I hope your trip is going well, oh glad to hear it, the guys and I took the kids out; can't wait until you get home love you."

Cameron started to cry, Maxwell went to the bathroom to check Cam's dipper and ask one of the staff members if they could his bottle.

"Thank you so much for this fun day with the kids, you have changed a lot since you meeting Juliana and had children." Liam said.

"Thank you buddy, Jewel changed my whole life when she blessed me with Julian, then Cameron I knew I had to change my ways to be a better man."

"Beaumont don't make me regret this, but you are a wonderful father and I'm learning a lot from you." Maxwell rushed over to Drake, thawing his arm around his shoulder.

"I love you guys; best friends in the world, we should get them home, they're all worn out.

"Hey if you all want you all can stay over, it's after nearly 9, I'm sure the kids are pretty tired "

Once they got back to Max house, all the kids were sleeping, they put them to bed, then the guys met in the media room, they had a few drinks, watched a movie and talked.

________________

The next morning, it was time to go to the airport to meet their wives, he was grateful for the friends he had but even more for his beautiful queen and his boys, he was pretty sure the guys felt the same.

He watched as Olivia came into sight first picking up Zane and hugging him, then she remembered her husband and pulled him in for a hug Rashad smiled because he knew how tough she acted, but she was so gentle with their son.

As soon as Hana emerged Drake wrapped his arm around her, and Patience hugged her leg until she picked her up .

Mia was attacked as soon as Liam and her boys saw her, they gave her a group hug.

Finally my beautiful wife stepped out, of course Julian was the first to hug her and then she grabbed Cam, and hugged me,right now everything feels right again.

_____________

@honey358luv @angelasscribbles @maxwell-beaumont-appreciation @choicesficwriterscreations @harleybeaumont @dcbbw @bebepac @bertrandbeaumontfan @tessa-liam @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @yolandawalker @yaniradolton @queenjilian @queenrileyrose @queenmiaandkingliam @ao719 @alj4890 @luvquit @twinkleallnight @

#SoundCloud #MBAW #Maxwell n friends #Maxwell x Juliana #Drake x Hana #Olivia x Rashad #Liam x Amelia #TRH #TRR

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zahrafilms · 2 years

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"─ Oh goddamnit! I don’t want to be related to anything with Hana's charity and fame, this is beyond absurd. It doesn't do justice for what's worth. Don't get me wrong, I love she’s passionate about helping the others, but she is not JUST that. She’s a amazing pianist, a endless dreamer, an a genius herself, and a fucking great person, she is better than anyone in the room. Hana Lee makes me feel like I can do anything I want 'cause she believes me, that's why I love her. Because at her side, i would do whatever it takes to make her the happier person in this world. I almost lost her once, I won't make that mistake again. ─ Drake blurt out in a single breath all of his feelings, nothing matters than assuming what should be in the first day. And it's glorious finally talking about the perfect woman who's standing by his side, still startled about the whole speech, but he can't not notices who flushed Hana looked, an enraptured gaze on him.

Drake wished to kiss her until the next day, loving that fucking perfect woman."

#wip: the royal romance #*my fics #choices #choices stories you play #drake walker #hana lee #drake walker x hana lee #the royal romance choices #playchoices

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karahalloway · 22 days

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)

A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.

"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."

My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"

"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"

"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.

"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.

"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."

I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."

"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."

"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"

"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"

"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."

"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.

Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...

Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!

"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"

"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."

"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.

"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."

"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.

The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.

I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.

Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.

And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.

Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...

I heave a breath.

I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.

Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.

Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.

But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.

Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.

"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.

"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."

I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.

"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.

"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."

"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.

Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.

Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.

"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"

"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."

"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.

There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!

Rome really is the Eternal City...

Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.

It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!

"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"

"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"

"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.

"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."

"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."

"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.

"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."

"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"

I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.

Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.

When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...

With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.

Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.

"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.

Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.

Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.

Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.

"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.

"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."

"Why?"

The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"

"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"

She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"

"I... No," I admit.

She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."

Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.

Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.

"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.

"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.

Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.

To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.

"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"

"I—"

"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.

"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.

Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"

"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.

"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"

"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"

"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."

I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.

Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.

"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.

"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.

A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.

Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.

I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."

"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!

"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.

My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."

"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"

"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.

Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"

"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."

"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."

"It really is a—"

"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."

Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"

"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.

"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"

"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"

"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."

The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."

"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.

"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."

Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."

The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."

"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."

The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"

"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."

The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"

"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"

"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."

"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.

The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."

"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"

"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."

"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."

"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"

Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"

"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.

"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"

"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.

The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.

"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."

"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.

As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.

"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.

"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"

"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."

"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."

"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."

My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"

"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."

My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"

"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"

"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.

Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."

"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."

"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."

"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"

Hana blushes. "I—"

The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.

Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.

"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"

As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.

A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.

Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.

Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."

"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.

She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."

"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.

"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"

Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"

"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."

"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."

"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."

"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"

"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."

I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."

"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."

I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"

"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."

"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.

"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."

"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.

"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."

"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."

"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."

"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."

"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"

"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."

Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."

"Actually, he—"

"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"

I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"

"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."

"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

En route Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.

Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II

At the Presidential Palace Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.

Certamente - Certainly

Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.

Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?

Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.

Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.

Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.

E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.

E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.

Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.

E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.

Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian. *Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!

La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)

Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.

Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—

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cordonianroyalairlines · 2 months

Text

Staking a Claim

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 2,340

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language mostly

A/N: This is for the @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompts: "Be my fake date for a wedding."

The hair color is wrong for my Riley, but this image was perfect!

The copilot twisted around in his seat one too many times, craning his neck as if searching the cabin for something, jostling the pilot in the process.

Liam grunted in consternation. “Drake!”

Drake spun back around, “What?”

“What is your malfunction?”

“What do you mean?” Drake blinked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean what do I mean?” Liam grunted, “We haven’t made it through the preflight checklist because you keep turning around to stare into the cabin! What the hell is so interesting out there?”

“Nothing!” Drake rolled his shoulders, stared blankly out the cockpit window for a moment then turned back to Liam, “Can you see the guy in 12B?”

“What?” Liam’s head swiveled around and then back. “No. Why?”

Drake’s bottom lip protruded as he shook his head. “No reason.”

Liam watched him skeptically. Drake had been visibly agitated since he’d reported for duty. “There has to be a reason.”

“I…he just….he looks a little squirrely. You know what I mean? Untrustworthy.”

Liam’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is he a threat? Do we need to alert security? Did you see a weapon?” He whipped his head around quickly to try and get a good view of the man in 12B. “I can’t see anything. Riley’s blocking my view.”

“Is she talking to him?” Drake’s entire body moved just as Liam turned back around. Their heads collided with a resounding thwack.

“Ow! Fuck!” Liam grabbed his forehead.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Seriously man, tell me what’s going on right now. I’m calling security!” Liam reached for the microphone but just as he got it to his mouth, Drake slapped it out of his hands.

“No!”

Liam watched in astonishment as the microphone flew out of his grip and hit the window then bounced off the dash. “Are you on drugs right now? Do I need to get another copilot?”

Drake gaped at him. “Seriously? When have I ever done drugs?”

“I don’t know man, but you’re acting really fucking weird.”

Hana ducked her head in to ask, “Are we almost ready? A couple of the passengers are getting antsy.”

“Which ones?” Drake asked.

Hana’s brows pulled together for a moment then smoothed out as she chuckled. “Oh. You know Riley’s ex is out there, don’t you?”

“What?” Drake’s eyes shot to Liam then back to Hana as he denied it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

A relieved breath whooshed out of Liam. At least he now knew Drake wasn’t on drugs and there wasn’t a terrorist on board. He stifled a laugh. “Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t!” Drake glared at them both.

Hana giggled as she backed out of the cockpit.

They finished the checklist and got airborne, but Drake’s agitation quickly returned. “Do you think he’s better looking than me?”

“Who?”

“The guy! In 12B.”

“How would I know?”

“You’re bisexual, right? You can judge that kind of thing.”

Liam scoffed. “First of all, I haven’t laid eyes on the guy. Second of all, I thought you didn’t care.”

“No, I don’t! I mean….just objectively speaking, out of curiosity….I overheard Hana call him eye candy. He can’t be that good-looking, can he?”

“I dunno Drake, Riley is a ten, so I imagine her ex is no slouch in the looks department either.”

“Great.” Drake huffed as he spun around in his seat again.

“Oh, for the love of God, just go look!”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know I care!”

Liam cocked an eyebrow at him, “So you do care?”

“I mean she’ll think I care!”

“You’re really an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Of course you don’t.” Liam shook his head. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself. Put the rest of us out of our misery and just tell the girl that you like her already!”

“I’m not going out there.”

“Okay.”

Drake tapped his fingers on his knees for several seconds before jumping out of his seat. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Sure you do.”

“I had a lot of coffee before we boarded.”

“Sure you did.”

“Fuck you. I’m going to take a piss.”

“Great. Tell Riley I said hi.”

Drake ignored him as he exited the cockpit and headed for the back of the plane where the restrooms were located. He slid his eyes sideways as he passed aisle 12 and scoffed to himself. The guy wasn’t that good-looking.

He was clean-shaven with a strong jawline, and raven hair swept back and gelled to perfection. Was that an Armani suit? How were his eyes that blue?

He slammed into the lavatory and locked the door to glare at himself in the highly polished silver surface of the mirror as he regarded his deep copper-colored eyes and messy, fly-away hair that barely saw a brush, much less hair gel. He ran a hand across the stubble dotting his jaw. It was a strong jawline, wasn’t it? Should he shave?

The guy in seat 12B looked like a CEO or something. Did she like that type? Drake was far more likely to be found in a tent than a boardroom. Did he even own a suit? He owned uniforms. Didn’t women like men in uniforms?

He made pretty good money as a first officer for Cordonian Royal Airlines.

Not CEO money.

“Fuck!” He spun and lashed out at the toilet. His foot connected to the stainless steel sending a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his leg.

There was a knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?”

Shit! It was Riley! “I’m fine. Dropped my…. Wallet…” Fuck, Walker! What the shit is wrong with you, man? Your wallet really?

“Are you sure because that didn’t sound like—”

“I said I’m fine!”

“Okay. Just let me know if—oh, excuse me what?”

From the other side of the door, a man’s voice murmured something he couldn’t make out then both people moved away.

Was that the ex talking to her? He forced himself to count to twenty so he didn’t just barrel out of the bathroom after them. He took several deep calming breaths like Max had tried to show him last time he had been upset about something. At least he thought it was what Max had done. At the time, he had mostly ignored him.

With an air of calm he most certainly did not feel, he exited the lavatory. His eyes went straight to seat 12B. Empty. He backtracked and ducked into the crew area.

Sure enough, there was Riley standing in the middle of the empty inflight catering kitchen talking to Mr. CEO.

All his jealousy evaporated in an instant as he took in her demeanor. Her arms were folded defensively across her chest and her face was furrowed into a frown. She was shaking her head as she leaned forward, her voice lowered but her entire body radiating her discomfort with the conversation.

The guy reached out and grabbed her arm.

She flinched away.

Oh hell no.

Drake didn’t remember moving but he was suddenly next to them, his hand wrapped firmly around the man's wrist. He flung the other man’s arm away from Riley and through gritted teeth asked, “Is there a problem here?”

The man gave him a startled look then annoyance flashed across his face. “We were just having a discussion.”

“Doesn’t look like the lady’s enjoying the conversation.”

“Mind your own business,” he shook his head dismissively and reached for her again, “Riley, if we could just talk privately—”

Drake intercepted the motion before he could touch her. “If you’re attached to that hand and wish to keep it, then I would strongly advise you against touching her again.”

He jerked his hand out of Drake’s grasp and rubbed his wrist. “Was that really necessary?”

Drake never took his eyes off the man as he leaned his body toward Riley, “Do you want to talk to this guy?”

“No.”

“But, Riley—”

“We have nothing to talk about, Nick!”

Drake angled his body so that he was blocking Riley from Nick’s view. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard her.”

Nick looked like he wanted to press the issue, but after taking in Drake’s stormy expression, thought better of it. He straightened his suit jacket with a sharp tug. “Fine. I’ll see you at the wedding. We’ll talk then.”

“You’re not coming to my sister’s wedding!”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ll be there as Clarissa’s plus one.”

Riley shook her head back and forth. “Seriously? When we were dating, you couldn’t stand her!”

A gloating smile crept across his face. “Jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Because you’re not over me, Riley. If you were, you’d have bothered to line up a date for the wedding.”

“I—”

“She has a date for the wedding.” Drake cut in as he casually slung his arm around her shoulders.

Nick turned his gaze to Drake for a long, evaluating moment. “Are you the new boyfriend then?”

“Yep. And I’m only going to ask you once to return to your seat. If you don’t stop harassing the flight crew, I will land this plane and have security escort you off of it.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly as he huffed out, “You wouldn’t dare!”

Riley ran her hand down Drake’s arm as she smirked at Nick, “He would. He’s very protective when it comes to me. I wouldn’t test him if I were you.”

“Whatever,” Nick bumped Drake’s shoulder as he shoved past them and exited the kitchen.

Drake’s arm was still around Riley as he turned his head to watch Nick leave. “Let me know if he bothers you again and I’ll—”

Riley spun on him in fury, her fists raining blows on his chest. “What the fuck did you just do, Drake?”

His hand flew to his chest. “Ow! What the hell, Riley? I just rescued you from that guy!”

“I didn’t need rescuing, Drake. I can handle Nick. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a serial killer or something!”

Drake scoffed with a shake of his head, “I think the phrase you’re looking for is thank you.”

“Oh yeah? Really?”

“Yeah, really!”

“Do you know what you just did? Do you?”

“Um…got the asshole ex-boyfriend to leave you alone?”

“No, you fucking jackass.” She slapped his arm. “You just told him that you’re my boyfriend and my date to my sister’s wedding!”

“So?”

“So?” She threw her arms up in the air. “So when I show up at the wedding with no date and no boyfriend he’ll know that was a lie and I’ll be humiliated!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…oh!”

They stood in silence for a long moment, Drake rubbing his chest and Riley fuming. Then Drake quietly said, “I’ll go to the wedding with you.”

“What?”

“I mean….if you want me to.”

“I…”

“I did get you into this situation. Let me make it up to you by getting you out of it. One fake boyfriend slash date for sister’s wedding coming right up!”

All the fight went out of her as she took in the hopeful smile on his face. “I can’t ask you to do that, Drake.”

“Why not?”

“Because the wedding is on Valentine’s Day and I’m sure you already have plans. I can’t ask you to cancel—”

“Pfffftttt.” He waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I do not have plans for Valentine’s Day!”

“You don’t?”

Did she sound hopeful?

“No, I do not. No girlfriend, no friend with benefits, no romantic entanglements at all.”

Except with you.

A delighted smile broke out across her face. “Okay, then.”

“So, we’re good?”

She gave him a flirtatious smile as she flipped her hair and turned to leave. “We’re good.”

“Okay, good.”

He watched her walk away with a contented smile on his lips then followed her out of the kitchen and back to the front of the plane. He glowered at Nick as he passed aisle 12.

Nick returned the glare as he adjusted his headphones and slid down in the seat.

When he stepped onto the flight deck Liam greeted him with smug satisfaction. “That was the longest piss in the world.”

“Shut up.” He slid into the copilot seat without looking at his best friend.

“So how’d it go? Did you get a good look at her ex?”

“Um….yeah… he’s a pushy bastard. I had to tell him to keep his hands to himself and….”

“And?”

Drake released a long-suffering sigh knowing Liam was going to find out sooner or later. Riley would tell Max and Max would tell everyone else. “I’m going as her date to her sister’s wedding.”

“Wow! That’s quite a jump from ‘I don’t like her like that’.” Liam chortled gleefully.

Drake kept quiet but his foot started tapping nervously.

“Oh, shit, there’s more! What is it?” Liam prodded.

“Ah…”

“Don’t make me call Max and find out.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Come on, what else?”

“It’s on Valentine’s Day,” he answered with a resigned sigh.

Liam practically danced out of his seat. “This is amazing! This is epic! Mr. I will never take a woman out on Valentine’s Day because that’s far too much pressure and it’s all about commercialization anyway is taking a woman out on Valentine’s Day. To her sister’s wedding!”

“Why does this make you so happy?”

“Because I get to say I told you so forever!”

“It’s not even a real date.”

“Sure it’s not.”

“It’s not!”

“Does she know that?”

“Yes! I just said I was her boyfriend so that Nick guy would stop—”

“Wait! Wait! You played the pretend boyfriend card to back off her ex?”

“Yeah…so?”

Liam threw his head back and belly laughed. “You are such a goner!”

Drake pressed his lips into a tight line and returned his attention to the control panel. He wanted to argue, he really did. But he couldn’t.

He was absolutely a goner.

And he was going to have to buy a suit.

Shit.

#cordonianroyalairlines #trr au #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #choicesholidays #liam rys

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justcallmefox89 · 9 months

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Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia Masterlist

An AU of The Royal Romance with a male MC and a bisexual prince.

Callum's Playlist * Lord Huron - The Night We Met * Allen Stone - Consider me * Sleep Token - Chokehold * Hozier - Tell It To My Heart * LP - The One That You Love * Wonho - Losing You * The Struts - One Night Only * Foxy Shazam - Holy Touch * Post Malone - I Fall Apart * Meg Myers - Desire * Jidenna - Little Bit More * Troye Sivan - Rush * Foster the People - Sit Next to Me * James Bay - Us * Foy Vance - She Burns * The Civil Wars - Poison and Wine * Grace Potter and the Nocturnals - Things I Never Needed

Chapter One - The Meet Cute

Chapter Two - Callum gets his first taste of life in Cordonia, reunites with Liam, and meets his competition.

Chapter Three - Liam and Callum enjoy some time alone together, Callum meets the other Beaumont brother, and Liam makes an uncomfortable request.

Chapter Four - Callum sees Liam for the first time since the conversation in the garden, Bastien keeps a close eye on the American, and Constantine reveals how he truly feels about some of the suitors.

Chapter Five - Callum encounters Madeline for the first time and the group sneaks out of the palace for a nighttime pastry run. Bastien discovers one of Callum’s secrets.

Chapter Six - Bastien and Liam finally learn the shocking truth about Callum’s life in America.

Chapter Seven - The court visits Lythikos, Callum and Liam heat things up.

Chapter Eight - On the last night in Lythikos Callum reaches his breaking point.

Chapter Nine - Liam and Callum learn that there are some choices that you can’t take back, and everything has a consequence.

Chapter Ten - It’s been over a year since Callum fled Cordonia in disgrace and went into hiding, but now some familiar faces are back in New York and searching for their missing friend.

Chapter Eleven - It’s too late to turn back now.

Chapter Twelve - Drake, Hana, and Maxwell reveal their grand plan; Drake makes a confession.

Chapter Thirteen - Thirteen has always been Drake’s lucky number.

Chapter Fourteen - Callum realizes he isn’t as over Liam as he thought he was.

Chapter Fifteen - The truth always comes out.

Chapter Sixteen - It all comes out.

Chapter Seventeen - Callum speaks to his former competition and receives an offer from Madeline.

Chapter Eighteen - A late night visit to Callum results in an unexpected offer and an explosive argument. Bonus: Papa MacKenzie makes an appearance!

Chapter Nineteen - Liam finally faces the consequences of his actions.

Chapter Twenty - Drake and Liam learn more about Callum's past.

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bebepac · 4 months

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Traditions

This is a special holiday edition of School Dayz. To catch up on the series in general please click School Dayz

I am participating in @choicesdecember2023 for Christmas

I am also participating in @choicesprompts holiday rewrite challenge in which I used the candy cane gram scene from Mean Girls.

I am also participating in @choicesflashfics christmas prompt # 59: "Ice-skating? Do you seriously trust me with knives on my feet?" will appear in bold. I also used a previous prompt as well Are you seeing this too or am I having a stroke?

Series: School Dayz

The Book: TRR (no royals)

The Pairings: Liam x Riley

Word Count: 1464

Warnings and Ratings: None. This is for anyone who has eyes. A total fluff piece.

Original post: 12/31/23 at 7:15PM EST.

Science class was different for me now that I no longer sat next to Liam, and shared a table with my sister, since Mrs. Barbour decided to make the class sit in alphabetical order, which I think the only reason for the change was to make taking roll easier. I glanced across the room to Liam whose partner was now Rashad.

My adorkable boyfriend who caught me watching him, smiled and held up his hot cocoa cup to toast me from across the room. Liam was the sweetest boyfriend and stopped by the local coffee shop Brew Bros and always got hot chocolate every morning the way that I liked it.

So I smiled while holding up my cup.

“Oh my God, can you two be any more nerdy?” Taylor asked.

“He’s nice, and you reap the benefits of it too. My boyfriend brings us both hot chocolate, or in your case a coffee drink you like every day without us asking.”

Taylor cocked her head to the side and air toasted Liam, taking a sip from her drink when the door opened.

“Ho , Ho, Ho!!!!! Candy Cane Grams, sponsored by the National Honor Society.”

“Make it quick, Santa.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Mrs. Barbour’s voice as she went to sit at her desk for a moment.

“And his lovely assistant Max Noel!”

“Wait… a sec… Are you seeing this too or am I having a stroke?”

Taylor doubled over in laughter “It is!!!! It’s Drake Walker-Claus.”

Taylor’s laugh seemed to antagonize Drake for a second, but good thing he had his assistant Maxwell. His brooding mood was offset by Max Noel making the class laugh with his dance versions of Christmas music as he followed around the room behind him.

“Hana Lee one for you.”

“Chris Powell four for you, you go Chris Powell!”

“Do we have a Riley Brooks here?”

“That’s her Max Noel. She’s Riley Brooks and looks nothing like the girl sitting next to her. Those two can’t possibly be related.”

“Riley Brooks here you go, one for you.”

“Thank you Santa.”

“Um….”

“And nothing at all for Taylor Brooks, not even coal or black licorice, bye.”

Drake and Max ran out of the room.

Taylor looked at me with curious eyes at the candy cane gram in my hand.

“Who’s that from?”

It wasn’t any of her business. I opened the envelope and read silently to myself.

Liam’s sweet words made me smile, and I didn’t have to answer her, and I looked at him from across the room.

“Oh my god. You guys are too much.”

Taylor looked upset, even though she shrugged it off. Later I found out why at her locker.

“I told you to get me a candy cane gram Nico!!!!”

“Well you telling me to do it, takes the surprise out of it. Me not doing it, guess what you were surprised weren’t you?”

My sister who was always loud looked at him and said nothing.

Before I knew it the words flew out of my mouth.

“Wow, you’re a really bad boyfriend Nico, my sister deserves better than you.”

I slammed my locker walking away from the two of them. I found out later that day, my sister broke up with him, in front of everyone in true dramatic Taylor fashion. I was proud of her.

Christmas Eve

Everyone had come over and was enjoying mom’s Christmas cookies and snacks. My dad brought in a big box sitting it down on the floor.

“I want to thank everyone for coming over tonight to spend time with our family. Our children picked people they care about to spend this time together with you. Ren and I are happy to have you in our home. We both grew up in the foster care system, and learned early in life, sometimes the people that care about you most, are not your blood relatives. So we try to celebrate that.”

“And when we had the opportunity to open our home up to two adorable identical twin girls, we couldn’t say no.” My mother chimed in.

“It’s the best decision they ever made. I went to sleep one night wishing I had a little sister. The next morning I woke up with two.” Jaiden spoke up.

“And we know what it’s like to be alone on Christmas, or missing someone special on Christmas that you were once close to. So we wanted to do something special. Liam would you mind sharing the Christmas Eve tradition you had that you told me about?”

“Christmas was my Mom’s favorite holiday. Every Christmas Eve that I can remember she’d dress us up in these ugly Christmas sweaters

and we would go ice skating on Lake Pine. She loved to ice skate. Then she’d make us take these dorky pictures in our Christmas sweaters that matched. I miss her a lot.”

“I miss her too. I’m not adopted, but Liam’s Mom always made me feel like I was her son too. So I really get what you’re saying about family not always being blood related. She was my mom too.”

Liam hugged his brother.

My dad opened the box.

“With a little help from Riley I found some what I would think are hideously awesome ugly Christmas sweaters, and am secretly happy for your love of Star Trek too. I’m sorry Liam, you can’t be the Captain, this is mine. But this one is yours.”

“Well if I can’t be Captain, being the science officer is the next best and most logical choice.” Liam took his blue sweater graciously.

“That’s what I said! Dad please say you got me a blue sweater too.”

“I did.”

After all the sweaters were handed out, there was still one left in the box.

“Guess you guys bought this before I broke up with Nico. No big deal.”

Once everyone was dressed, they headed out to the vehicles, and Liam stuffed the extra shirt into Leo’s trunk.

“I really don’t know how this is going to go Liam.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ice skating? Do you seriously trust me with knives on my feet?”

“Well good thing you’re not just Riley Brooks today, you’re the science officer for the USS Enterprise. Live long and prosper.”

Liam expected Riley to be as horrible on ice skates as she had been on roller skates, but Riley amazingly was incredibly balanced.

“Have you ice skated before?”

“No! I don’t know how I'm good at this! I usually have no natural balance.”

“You’re a natural at skating…”

“Ice skating. Let's clarify that.”

Taylor was still sitting on the bench watching the couples skate by. “She still hasn’t gotten out on the ice yet. I think she’s feeling lonely and the extra shirt probably made her think of Nico.”

Liam’s phone beeped. “Why don’t you go sit with her for a little bit, and I’ll be back in a few with some hot cocoas for us all.”

“Is cocoa your favorite drink?”

“Yes, and my mom used to always say your heart won’t feel cold if you always have a nice warm cup of cocoa. It always makes me feel better.”

I went to sit with Taylor and Liam continued walking toward the concessions stand.

“You okay?” I asked Taylor.

“I just don’t feel like skating, and look over there.”

Nico was there, with another girl on his arm.

“To be honest I never liked him Taylor. He called you T, like you were a drink or a shirt or something. He wasn’t even really that nice. Good riddance, I say.”

“I never thanked you for standing up for me that day Riley. It really meant a lot.”

“You’re my sister Taylor. I will always have your back, even when you pull me into a tornado.”

“Not on purpose!” She laughed.

“Oh it never is.” I remarked pulling Taylor closer to me in a hug. After a few seconds she pulled away from me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Helping Liam deliver hot cocoa. This one is yours.

I don’t like all the extra stuff in mine.”

Drake handed Taylor her cocoa, as he sat down next to her.

“Just hot and cocoa pretty much then right?”

“Exactly. I’m not that difficult to understand.”

“Do you like to ice skate, Drake?”

“Like it? It’s okay, but I can. Would you like to skate Taylor?”

Drake took off his coat wearing the remaining ugly sweater.

“Okay.” Taylor said in a nonchalant voice.

Taylor’s mood picked up immediately as she skated around with Drake on the ice. She never once glanced in Nico’s direction.

“That was really nice of you to do Liam.”

“He really does like her, you know. Maybe now she can finally see him with Nico out the way.”

“You’re so adorkably sweet Liam.”

“I know Riley, I know.”

#bebepac writes #bebepac still writes #christmas fic #choices fandom #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trr liam x riley #school dayz #adorkable liam #adorkable riley #trr no royals #choicesprompt #choicesflashfics #choices monthly challenge #choices fic writers creations #fic of the week

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