#future trr

[alj4890]

Making it Believable

(Prince Emerick Rhys x Juliet Nevrakis-Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance *While We're Young AU* drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge with the prompt: kissing to pretend that you are in a relationship together.

A/N It's been a long time since I've written for this pair. I've had a lot of anonymous requests for more for these two which I've tried to keep up with occasional drabbles. When I saw this kiss prompt, I knew it was made for them and their fake dating relationship happening in the few drabbles since the series went on hiatus (which we will get back to soon). I'd also promised @lodberg another glimpse into their evolving relationship. Here they are doing something I know you've been anxious for. 😉

@lodberg ​​ @hopefulmoonobject ​​ @vickypoochoices ​​ @zaffrenotes ​​   @mynameiskaylabella ​​ @museofbooks ​​ @elbenmond ​​  @gibbles82 ​​  @krsnlove ​ @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @hopelessromantic1352

Rating: G for fluff

Masterlist

"This is a disaster!"

Juliet stormed into the crown prince's chambers and slammed down a stack of magazines on his desk.

"Lady Juliet," Emerick quipped while leaning back in his desk chair, "always a pleasure to see you."

She glared at him. "I don't have time for your ridiculous charm." She pointed at the magazines. "Just look at what they're writing about us!"

He did as commanded, scanning each cover that had a picture of them together. Many of the headlines questioned whether or not their relationship was going to lead to marriage.

Then there were those that were comparing what they were like in previous relationships to the one they supposedly were in.

"I knew it was too good to be true." Juliet flopped across his couch. "After all our hard work to keep you free from marriage proposals and me from annoying noblemen, the people finally realize we aren't really together."

Emerick stroked his jaw while flipping through some of the articles. He studied the pictures of the two of them together that were lined up with them and their exes.

He grimaced somewhat at all the images of himself kissing various women. Juliet's past wasn't much better, but at least she maintained a relationship longer than he did.

"Say something!" She demanded when he remained in silent study.

"We have two options." Emerick declared.

She sat up on her elbows and cocked an eyebrow in question.

"One, we simply ignore this and let the people believe the actual truth about us being only friends."

"Or?" She prodded when he hesitated.

"Or we make it believable the next time we are caught by the press."

"And by believable you mean...?"

"We kiss, Jules." He stated in an even, nonchalant tone.

Juliet sputtered. "Excuse me?"

"Come now." He got to his feet. "We're both adults who have had experience. It isn't like we're teenagers who've never had a kiss in their lives."

Juliet simply stared at him with her jaw dropped.

"What?" He asked.

"I can't believe you're serious!" She shouted. "Emerick, you're...well...you're you!"

He rolled his eyes. "And?"

"And you're talking about kissing me. ME!" She shook her head. "This fake dating was supposed to save us headaches not cause more of them."

"What's worse?" He stopped her from turning away from him. "Kissing me, a man you've known since infancy, one you trust, a friend;" he stressed, "or being mauled by one of the many noblemen who want a connection with Lythikos?"

"Geez, must you put it like that?" She folded her arms.

"It's the same for me." He reminded her. "It's either kissing you for one picture or being hounded by women hoping to become a princess."

Juliet mulled it over.

Emerick knew he'd won when her head dropped back.

"Fine! I'll kiss you."

"You don't have to make it sound like a chore." He teased, winking at her. "I know some ladies who can vouch for my kisses being a rather pleasant experience."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't care if you have a thousand ladies vouch for your kisses." She huffed in irritation. "It's still weird."

"Why?"

"Because we've known each other forever." She snapped. "You're best friends with my brother!"

"So? You're best friends with mine." He countered. "And that whole knowing each other forever bit doesn't really matter."

"Why doesn't it?"

"Look at Nicky and Jackson." He pointed out with a cheeky grin. "They grew up together and clearly have no problem kissing each other.

Juliet closed her eyes and counted to twenty to try and control her temper.

"My brother and Nicky are in love. We are not."

Emerick shrugged as if that was neither here nor there.

Juliet's fists clenched. She might not feel like kissing him but she certainly felt like punching him in his stupid, ridiculously handsome face.

"Look," he tried to reason, "we've had some fun on our," he made quotation marks with his fingers, "dates, haven't we?"

She reluctantly nodded. As much as she wished she could deny it, Juliet really did enjoy her dates with the prince.

"This one kiss isn't going to change anything between us, Jules." He promised. "We do it, make certain the press takes all the necessary pictures, and we can then resume our normal time together fooling the masses."

Juliet ran a hand through her red hair.

"You're right." She mumbled.

"What was that?" He leaned his ear towards her. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said you're right!" She snapped.

Emerick placed his hand over his heart.

"My lady, I am overcome." He dropped to one knee before her and pressed her hand to his lips. "To hear such a sweet declaration from you, it is all I have ever hoped for."

Despite wanting to remain irritated with him, Juliet began to laugh at his overly dramatic teasing.

Emerick beamed at her for being such a good sport throughout these months of subterfuge.

"So when are we doing this?" She asked.

"Whenever you wish." He sat back down behind his desk to check his schedule. "We have a ball at Ramsford in two weeks. There's the dinner with the Chamber of Commerce next Friday. Then--"

"I think we should get it over with as soon as possible." She decided.

Emerick looked up at her in surprise. Was the notion of kissing him that disgusting to her?

Juliet's cheeks heated with a touch of color. "If we put it off, I'm going to be more nervous about it."

Emerick didn't think he could be any more shocked than he was hearing her say something like that. Juliet was a young woman who never got nervous. She had enough of the Nevrakis confidence in her mixed with the Walker's not caring what anyone else thought persona that was simply Jules.

She was typically unflappable in any situation. Her quick, dry wit intermingled with her fiery temper to keep others from daring to say anything cutting to her. She was respected and feared amongst many members of the Royal Court.

He'd come to depend on that these last few months. Though she could drive him crazy at times, he appreciated those personality quirks of hers along with her logical, no nonsense way of thinking. She had surprisingly become a person whose advice he readily sought.

He saw the type of noble she was becoming. Her loyalty and steadfast nature came from both her parents and he couldn't be more grateful to have it for himself.

Of all his friends though, he was surprised how much he had come to enjoy every moment with her. Even their arguments left him feeling energized. There was something about her that he...

Emerick stopped that train of thought.

He did wonder why a simple kiss had the power to make her nervous.

Juliet hated admitting to such a weakness in front of him. She knew it sounded ridiculous. Goodness knows, she'd never been one to try and tame her passionate nature. Emerick had even been one of her friends who'd caught her in more than one embrace with different men over the years.

But the thought of kissing him...

She didn't know what to think about the feelings that particular notion stirred within her. No man frustrated her nor made her laugh quite like Emerick did. He never stepped back from going toe to toe with her, nor was he cowed like many of the other nobles when she was angry.

He was infuriating with how charming he could be. His flirtatious nature had been with him since birth. It was effortless on his part and she realized through her time spent one on one with him that it was typically used to put one at ease.

Though many assumed he was carefree, she'd come to see the more serious side to his personality. She knew how much he valued his family and their close knit group of friends, but she was also catching glimpses into the type of king he would one day become.

She admired him and was usually proud of the decisions and arguments he made in terms of their country. She would have no problem respecting him as her king once Uncle Liam stepped down from the throne.

She did worry though over the thought of some woman coming along and trapping Emerick in a marriage. Like his father, the prince possessed a tender heart. He'd never stepped back when someone was in need. Once he cared about someone or an issue, he threw himself into it with everything he had.

He needed to be protected. She now understood why her father had remained by Liam's side until he met Riley. She realized that it was up to her to be that for Emerick. She knew her brother, Jackson, felt the same way about the prince but he was a little caught up with Lady Nicky Beaumont to give all his free time to this endeavor.

Which might explain why she didn't put up much of a fight when Emerick suggested they do this fake dating for the social season.

At least that's what it was in the beginning...

Juliet put a stop to her wayward thoughts. She was not going to join the ranks of hundreds of women enamored with the crown prince.

But this kiss...what if she...if he...

She got to her feet.

"Let's go out tonight or tomorrow."

Emerick slowly nodded. "If that's what you wish."

"It is." She lowered her eyes. "Something casual. I don't think we need to kiss at some court event."

Emerick's brow furrowed as he observed her.

She really is nervous.

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" He offered.

"Sounds good." She stumbled to his door. "I'll see you for lunch then."

Before he could say another word, she hurried out of his room.

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

The spring day had turned chilly and damp. Emerick and Juliet thought that was the perfect setting to make the kiss more believable. It wouldn't look staged now, especially since they weren't supposed to be posing for the press at an event.

The two walked through the capital, hand in hand, as they made their way to an outdoor cafe they were known to frequent. Other than the palace guards following at a respectable distance, the two basically had the sidewalk to themselves.

Emerick decided during a night of tossing and turning in bed, that it would be best to catch Juliet off guard with the kiss. He worried that if he forewarned her about when it would happen, she would be even more nervous and the kiss wouldn't appear authentic.

She was already clutching his hand and arm. He didn't know if the occasional trembles he felt were from the cold breeze or from her nerves.

Once the two were seated at a patio table and had their orders placed, he reached over and took her hand once more.

He could hear the clicks of cameras from some not so well hidden paparazzi.

Juliet smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

He held her gaze as he lifted their clasped hands to his lips.

Emerick could feel her tense at the touch she'd felt many times throughout the years.

"Jules." He said softly.

She lowered her eyes to his mouth.

He leaned forward and slipped his hand into her hair, tugging her forward as he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

He was doing fine maintaining what was going to be a simple kiss until she reached up and cupped his cheek.

Her lips parted under his allowing him to deepen the kiss. He could taste the beginning of her fiery nature as her tongue caressed his.

Her husky moan took him by surprise as she pulled him closer to her.

They barely pulled apart to catch their breaths, before he dipped back down, sucking her bottom lip.

Her breath hitched, a flash of her green eyes met his blue before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her mouth slanted over his, drawing him back into another passionate kiss.

Emerick nearly yanked her into his lap. If not for their waiter, clearing his throat, their kiss would most likely still be going. And where it would have led, startled them both.

"Emerick?" She whispered. "Stop staring at me like that."

Juliet knew she was looking at him just like he was her, as if seeing each other for the first time.

He lowered his eyes and quickly picked up his glass of water. He hoped as he gulped it down that it would cool the desire he felt for her in that kiss.

Emerick made the mistake of glancing at her again. He saw the slight redness around her mouth where his stubble had rubbed against her porcelain skin. The sight brought on another flash of heat over his body.

Juliet's eyes drifted back to his mouth as she sipped her own ice water. She was tempted to put the glass to her cheeks as she thought of how it felt being kissed by him. It made her want to do it again.

No wonder he said he had numerous ladies who could vouch for his kisses, she thought to herself.

"Well," Emerick tried to joke to break the tension, "I think we managed to make our relationship believable."

Her lips curved a touch proudly.

"Yeah, I think we did."

Their eyes met while smiles formed on their faces.

"Was it as dreadful as you thought it would be?" He whispered.

Emerick expected her to tease him about being a bad kisser.

Juliet instead lowered her eyes to his mouth once more.

"On the contrary," she lifted her water glass as if she was about to offer a toast, "I didn't find it dreadful at all."

Emerick tapped his glass against hers.

With a wink, he said.

"Neither did I."

#thirty kisses in thirty days #prince emerick rhys x juliet nevrakis-walker #choices the royal romance #while we're young a/u #trr future #prince emerick leopold rhys #lady juliet nevrakis-walker

[queenmiarys]

Face claim: Michael Yerger

Name: Jackson Drake walker

Birthday: July. 10th

Age: 29

Height: 6'3

Hair color: Dark brown

Eye color: brown

Family: parents Jackson and Bianca Walker

Siblings: Savannah Beaumont

Educational background: A.M University of Texas

Marital status: Single

Occupation: Private security

Interests/hubbies: camping, hiking, good food, a good movie

Facts about self: I'm real no matter who's around, I'll always be me.

Favorite movie: The matrix

Favorite music: I mostly like adult alternative, jaz-z, and country.

@choicesficwriterscreations @harleybeaumont @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @kingliam-rys @kingliam2019 @yaniradolton @yolandawalker @hanaleeappreciationweek @mom2000aggie @lilyoffandoms @katurrade @shewillreadyou @bebepac @dcbbw @luvquit @lolablackwrites @choiceskatie @tessa-liam @queenjilian @queenrileyrose @ao719

#Drake Walker #trr #trh #future Duke #envy #crossed

[secretaryunpaid]

Happy Holidays & Season’s Greetings From the King & Queen of Cordonia!!!!

#secretaryunpaid #trr fanfic #Day 1 Holiday post/reblog #@becoming mrs. dalton #eyes wide shut au #choices #holidays #love story #family #future planning

[luvevee]

I forgot this was in my drafts lol

Chapter 1/2 of One Last Riot!

Summary: Just before Team Skull's about to disband, Team Rainbow Rocket invades Alola. Plumeria thinks knocking some heads together one last time is just what Guzma needs to finally get his new life in gear, and Guzma thinks the rest of the gang deserves one last beatdown before they hang up their bandanas.

#second part is almost ready but not pushing myself to finish tonight #self care uwu #but yeah guzma should have been more involved in the trr invasion and i'm doing something about it #guzma pokemon #pokemon #rosebud posting 💐 #also yeah I'll start putting the summary of future fics here too so no one goes in blind #i didn't think about it before so ajkdsf #yes I just finished touching up the first part leave me alone jdkf

[choicesficwriterscreations]

It's that time of year again! Thank you to the creators who have shared their Top 5 creations of 2023 according to Tumblr note count. The Creator's Pick Top 5 will be posted this weekend! Links to all fics can be found below the break.

@aallotarenunelma ✒️

So This is Love (BOLAS) - Aerin Valleros x M!elf!MC

Distant Light (BOLAS) - Tyril Starfury x F!elf!MC

Indigo Night (ID) - Cassius Harlow x NB!MC, NB!OC

Répondez, s'il vous plaît! 3 (ILS/ID) - Various Pairings

Sophomore Secret (ILITW) - Dan Pierce x F!MC, M!OC

@angelasscribbles ✒️

A Fervid Fixation (TRR) Ⓜ️ - Drake Walker x MC

In Your Room (TRR) Ⓜ️- Drake Walker x Leo Rys

The Dark Kingdom (TRR) Ⓜ️ - Various Pairings

Dark Elf (TRR) Ⓜ️- Various Pairings

Heir Apparent (TRR) Ⓜ️- Drake Walker x MC, Liam Rys

@baldwinboy5ive 🎨

Blades Coffee Shop AU (BOLAS) - Aerin Valleros x MC

I Will Drag Him Back (BOLAS) - Tyril Starfury & Aerin Valleros

The Spray Bottle (BOLAS) - Imtura, Mal, Aerin

Aerin Instagram (BOLAS) - Aerin Valleros

The Prison Visit (BOLAS) - Aerin Valleros x MC

@cariantha ✒️

Accidental Valentine (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

If Only I Could (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Code Yellow (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

A Kiss on the Hand (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Daddy Distress (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@inlocusmads ✒️

Intro To Negotiation Science (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

A Strange & Sudden Companionship (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Cross Your Hearts & Set it Ablaze (COP) - Trystan Thorn x F!MC

Partner (Disambiguation) (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

New York, June 2014 (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

@jerzwriter ✒️

A Different Fate, Part 1 (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

What Happened in Vegas, Part 4 (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Abundance (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

The Perfect Gift (OH) - Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Take Me Out (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

@ladylamrian ✒️

Welcome to the World of Night (NB) - Nightbound MC

Bound by Fate (NB) - Nik Ryder x F!MC

A Meeting in Wyoming (NB) - Nik Ryder x F!MC

Wedding Proposal (NB) - Nik Ryder x F!MC

OC Headcanons (NB)

@liaromancewriter ✒️

Every Day (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Summer Romance (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Beautiful Stranger (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Sleeping Beauty (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Something to Talk About (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@noesapphic ✒️

The Other Woman (D&D) - Roselyn Sinclaire, Ernest Sinclaire, Duke Richards

A Glimpse of Us (TRR/TRM) - Liam Rys & MC, Fabian Rys & MC

Barcelona | Prince Hamid (D&D) - Prince Hamid x MC

Worthy (TRR) Hana Lee x MC

The Cursed Heiress, Ch. 17 (D&D) - Mr. Sinclaire x F!OC

@peonierose ✒️

Losing Game - Part 1 (OH) - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

Nightbound AU vs. Hänsel & Gretel, Part 3 (NB) - OCs

Nightbound AU vs. Hänsel & Gretel, Part 2 (NB) - Nik Rider, F!MC, OCs

Once, Part 2 (TNA/OH) - Sam Dalton x F!MC

Hau’oli la Heleui (OH) - Bryce Lahela, F!OC, Keiki Lahela

@storyofmychoices ✒️

Go On, Feel It! (BOLAS) - Mal Volari x F!MC

Our Future Doctor (OH) - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

No Kissing! (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Dance With Me (OH) - Bryce Lahela x F!MC

A Theif in the Gardens (BOLAS) - Mal Volari x F!MC

@tessa-liam ✒️

Memories (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

The Sacrifice (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

Regrets (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

Old Habits Die Hard (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

Turning the Page, Prologue (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

@trappedinfanfiction ✒️

Brunette (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Crossroads (OH) Ⓜ️ - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

A New Neighbor (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Midnight Talks (OH) - F!MC, Sienna Trinh

What's in a Name? (COP) - Trystan Thorne

@zealouscanonindeer ✒️

Together (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Company (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Locked In (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

20 Questions (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Long Overdue (OH) Ⓜ️- Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

#choices fic writers creations #tumblr top 5 #playchoices #choices stories you play #blades of light and shadow #immortal desires #it lives anthology #the royal romance #open heart #crimes of passion #nightbound #desire and decorum #the nanny affair #choices fanfic #choices fanart #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanart #long post

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, 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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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

#harper gale #drake walker #drake walker x mc #the royal romance #less than noble intentions #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #bertrand beaumont #hana lee #king liam #madeleine amaranth #Spotify

[burnin0akleaves]

This has been on the horizon for a while, but I think a part of me just didn't want to admit it until recently. I'll cut straight to the chase, you probably won't see much RA content from me anymore.

The topic of the fandom, the tags or quality of the posts have been discussed a few times already -mostly by me I think which should have been a warning sign haha- so I'm not going to go into too much detail. I'll just share my perspective.

The fandom simply just doesn't have much to offer me at the moment.

Everyone knows that a huge part of my interest in RA was and always has been TRR Will. If he didn't exist, I would have lost interest in the series a LONG time ago. But I can cook my own meals for only so long before I get tired and want to eat out for a change, and unfortunately for me no one is serving the food I want at the moment. I still love love love this man, but there just isn't enough content for him in the fandom (except the ones made by me) for me to want to actively keep engaging with it.

Not only that, art just doesn't get the same reception as it used to here. If I can draw another interest of mine and get triple the engagement, then it's just easier for me to be motivated to share my art of that other thing. Sure I draw because I want to first, but suprisingly for everyone I do want to draw things other than RA. And if those other things are more appreciated, then it just means I'm more motivated to keep posting them for everyone else to see. Most people probably remember I used to be very active in discussions and character analyses on here as well, but I just don't see the space for that sort of content here anymore. (Sorry to that one anon who said they liked my writing, you know who you are)

I still love RA and TRR Will, but I'll probably keep my thoughts or the occasional sketch I draw for myself from now on. I just don't feel motivated to share it.

Also just in case anyone asks my opinion after the recent discussion at the ask blog; yes, I don't like the current state of most of the posts here either. I don't want to go out bad-mouthing others though, the current style of content in the fandom just isn't my taste. Which is alright, maybe I've simply grown out of the series! The book getting newer fans is a good thing and I hope they have as much fun as I did when I first joined. This fandom has been my home for years now but I think it's around time I go out and explore more.

I'll still keep up with the series. Again, my fixation on Will is very much alive and well. It sucks that I don't have the energy to share my passion with others anymore, but I'm sure people will do just fine without me mauling every other guy that completely misunderstands his character to death. Don't get me started on the beard shit, genuinely frustrating how a fandom revolving around a book series has 0 literacy at times.

TLDR: I'm not going to be active in the RA fandom anymore because of multiple reasons. I still love TRR Will but I'm not motivated to share my work here in the current state of things. I loved my time here and I hope everyone else does too.

-

Also if my feelings change in the future, then that will be that and I might come back. I'm not sending myself off to exile here. I'm not writing any of this because I believe I have to explain myself either, I'm doing it because I simply want to avoid causing people confusion. Feel free to send me RA related asks still, just don't expect to see me around the RA spaces as much. I'll stay in all the servers obviously, and my presence will be around indirectly since most of my friends are still here. Also, if you draw TRR Will do feel free to send him to me in the dms. Love that guy and his apprentice so much, wish more people did.

#ppsting this and immediately going to sleep gnight #🍂 textpost #rangers apprentice

[mysticalfangirl]

Second chance love

Part 1

Series summary- Liam stopped entertaining the idea of love and marriage after the death of his first love but everything began changing after a certain New York trip.

Book- TRR AU

Pairing - Liam x F!MC (Riley) ; Liam x F!OC(Nicole)

A/n- Using Prompt 2 — “It wasn’t supposed to end like this/that.” from Week #76 Prompts from @choicesflashfics

Rated M for mature audience

This series will contain NSFW .Not suitable for people below 18 years of age.

Warning- Gunshot;Death of character mentioned

No. of words - 1400+

No matter how much Liam wanted, he couldn't stop the constant ringing in his ears, everything around him was falling apart, people were running around trying to save themselves, as he kicked the last assassin in front of him, the adrenaline left his body and he fell down with a thud looking at his trembling hands which was covered in blood. He then looked around and when he didn't see Nicole or any of his friends he sighed in relief.

He was glad that they all managed to escape, he knew he should go but it was as if all his strength was gone and he couldn't get up. He then heard someone calling his name, he lifted his head to see Bastien in front of him.

Bastien sat on his knees in front of him, he put his hand on Liam's shoulder, his gaze filled with sympathy "Liam we have to go to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Liam asked confused.

"Yes, if we don't go now, we would be very late." Saying this, Bastien practically dragged him out of the ballroom.

"Bastien, what happened, who is hurt?"

"You'll know when we reach there, please we don't have much time left."

On the way to the hospital Liam kept asking him who was hurt but he refused to answer.

They reached the hospital around 20 minutes later, Liam was escorted to the VIP section, where he found Drake, Maxwell, Olivia and his father who was supposed to be staying somewhere safe after the assassin attempt.

They looked at him, Constantine pulled him in a hug and patted his back "You have to be strong Liam, everything will be fine"

Liam was not sure how to react, he couldn't remember when was the last time his father hugged him, looking around him he saw Maxwell trying to supress his sobs, Drake was completely expressionless, last time he was like this was years ago when Jackson died, even Olivia who would have berated Maxwell for behaving like a child was consoling him, her own eyes were red and filled with tears.

"You guys are scaring me. Please tell me what is wrong, who is hurt."

"I-I am sorry Liam it was my fault." Maxwell said as he hiccuped a bit. "I should have been careful, I should have stopped her."

"Stopped who Max? What are you saying?" When no one answered him Liam lost his patience "WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT IS HAPPENING. Drake? Olivia? Please, you guys are scaring me."

"It's Nicole. She's shot" Drake whispered

"W-what?" Liam was stunned unable to comprehend what he heard"It's not funny Drake. Please tell me you're joking.

"I'm not. She is in the OT, she had lost too much blood Li, doctors asked us to be prepared for the worst."

Before Liam could react, the doctor came out of the OT, Liam left Drake's side and ran to the doctor.

"She's okay right? Please tell me they are joking?"

"I'm sorry your highness, we tried our best but it was already too late." Doctor told him with a downcast expression.

"Can we see her?" Maxwell asked the doctor as he wiped his tears.

After doctor's permission all went to see Nicole but Liam stayed behind in the corridor, he slumped down on the chair in the corridor , he had lost all hope at that moment, thinking of a future without her in it made him so miserable that he couldn't breathe, his leg felt heavy, he didn't even have the courage to go and see her.

As he sat there, Liam felt someone tapping his shoulder. He turned to see his father standing there along with everyone. "You should go see her my boy"

"I can't father." Liam said looking at engagement ring in his hand . "I was going to propose today, I wanted to get married to her, have children, to grow old together."

When Liam looked back up his eyes were red filled with unshed tears. Constantine knew how his son felt, he was in the same place almost 20 years ago he knew what he sat there beside him giving his silent support

Later Liam took a deep breath and moved towards the OT. Nicole was laying on the small hospital bed, her black ballgown was exchanged with the loose fitted hospital gown, her hair which immaculately set by the stylist had fell open and was sticking to her forehead. Even then Liam thought she was most beautiful woman ever. He went to her held her palms in his own.

Nicole felt her life slipping away, tears streaked her cheeks, her breathing was turning shallow and even when Liam held her hands in his firm grip she couldn't see any light at the end of the tunnel, all she saw was darkness, darkness that was slowly but surely consuming her.

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this. " Nicole sobbed lightly. "I... I don't want to die. Please...." Before she could finish her sentence, the electrocardiogram flatlined. Liam's head snapped to the machine, he frantically pressed the call button. He was pushed away from Nicole, after a while the doctor spoke up"Time of death 00:37"

For few days Liam worked on autopilot, he spent most of his days in either his room or roaming around the wishing well. A week later, during Nicole's funeral, everyone was dressed up in black, her mother was sobbing sitting there, while her father held his wife. They had lost their only child and the feeling was killing them from inside.

Liam arrived later than everyone else, somewhere in his heart he was wishing for everything to be a horrific dream, one that he'll suddenly wake up from and laugh his heart out for having such a ridiculous dream.

He knew nothing like that would happen, Nicole was dead and he had to accept it but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't accept the fact that the love of his life was gone.

At end of the funeral he went to Milton and Genesis Nicole's parents and gave them his condolences, not showing any emotion.

That night when he was wide awake in his room, he felt tears streaming down his cheeks, drenching his pillow, he let out a sob which he muffled through the pillows on his bed, he cried his heart out, slowly his cries turned into sniffle, crying with so much anguish left him exhausted, his eyelids got heavy and sleep consumed him for first time in days.

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

3 years later

Liam was standing near Nicole's grave with a bouquet of white lilies in his hand, he put the bouquet on her grave and sat down there. Her death took away a part of him. He was not happy, not after what happened three years ago but tried his best to live the life to the fullest, even with all the responsibilities, he might be dead inside but he wanted to live for her.

"Hey love l am sorry I wasn't here since past few days, being a king is not easy. You were my anchor and I feel that without you everything is falling apart. I don't want this life but Leo's abdication few years ago compelled me to take the role which was never meant for me. Anyways not to delve into boring stuff, I came bearing good news, Maxwell is getting married next month. Can you believe it, I couldn't." He chuckled lightly "Hana is a lovely woman and you would have loved her. Maxwell wants to have his bachelor party in New York and I'll be gone for 4-5 days. See you soon darling." Liam got up and pressed a light kiss to his fingertip before pressing it on her grave.

Late night after packing everything he needed for the trip to New York, Liam took out his sleeping pills, as soon as the medicine took effect dreamless sleep consumed him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Thank you

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

Tags: @kingliam2019 @kristinamae0093 @kristinamae093 @busywoman @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @malblk21 @ao719 @jerzwriter @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @emersyn-in-cordonia @angelasscribbles @liamrysandme @busywoman @belencha77 @marietrinmimi @bebepac

#choices trr #king liam #liam rys x mc #liam x mc #liam x riley #choices liam x mc #liam x oc #trr au

[the-unconquered-queen]

Feel free to comment some suggestions for characters for future polls! (explained here)

#playchoices #unconquered queries

[nineteen-rats]

Congrats on the TRR Will post with 100 notes, absolute fucking banger. Will you consider drawing him more in the future? I heard the girls and the gays love him

now who could possibly have sent this one 🤔

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #william treaty does not appreciate cowards who hide behind the anon #ra #🐀 art

[alj4890]

The Statement

(Jackson Nevrakis-Walker x Nicky Beaumont) in a Choices The Royal Romance (While We're Young AU) drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge prompt: kissing at a masquerade ball.

@krsnlove @hopelessromantic1352 @lodberg @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @sirbeepsalot

A/N thanks again @hopelessromantic1352 for starting this challenge off with three amazing requests with couples I adore 🥰 *on a side note I would still love help from whoever wants to in choosing couples for the other 27 prompts 🤣

Masterlist

"Nicky!" Emily Beaumont breathed in disbelief.

She couldn't recall any moment in her twenty-one years where her older sister wore red to a court event. After all, St Orella's House colors were a deep royal blue and silver.

It simply wasn't done.

It was a Lythikos color.

Nicky twirled around. She brushed her rich, brown curls back over her shoulder and readjusted her black lace demi mask.

"What do you think?" Nicky asked a touch nervously.

"I think you're wearing the wrong colors!" Emily exclaimed.

She herself was wearing blue with silver sequins dotting here and there. Her own silver mask dangled from her fingers by blue ribbons.

Nicky grimaced. She knew her sister wouldn't understand the meaning nor the reason why she'd chosen to wear another duchy's colors.

But Nicky knew why she'd chosen to do something so...noticable.

She was determined to make a statement, one that would silence the whispers and rumors running amok in the royal court of Cordonia.

She also wanted to make it up to Jackson.

The heir to the duchy of Lythikos had already gone through a very painful year. Nicky publicly dumped him when she realized that the timing was off for them to move forward in their relationship (she wanted to get married while Jackson didn't see the reason to rush).

She'd then left the country with her mom and sister to grieve over the loss of her father, Maxwell. Jax was left behind to weather a broken heart while having to face the press on his own.

While away and trying to move on from Jackson, Nicky began dating one of Hollywood's newest sex symbols. Jax of course also tried to date others in the hopes of forgetting what he'd had in Nicky. Neither was good of letting go of the memories.

And just when she believed he'd never want anything to do with her again after months of silence, he appeared in California and took her to dinner. They were able to talk and be friends. They even planned to attend a wedding for a couple they didn't particularly care for together, as friends.

Then he had to go and be her hero when she was embarrassed over catching the wedding bouquet. He stood in front of everyone, kissed her hand, and said he'd hoped he knew who the lucky man she'd choose to marry, all while giving the illusion to the overly eager court members that he hoped it was himself.

Finally, he caught her alone. When he saw her crying he did what he'd always done before things ended badly between them. He took her in his arms and kissed her.

It'd felt like coming home, like coming to life once more. It was both strange and familiar all at once to be back in his arms.

Then that night Jackson confessed he was still in love with her, that he'd never stopped. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't feel that way towards anyone except her.

He wanted to try again.

Nicky didn't think her heart could take much more in that moment. She felt exactly the same way, she'd always felt like that.

But...

She still did not want to simply spin her wheels with him. She wanted marriage. She wanted a family of their own. She wanted their lives together to truly begin.

"I never said I didn't want that." He'd argued. "I've always known you were my future, Nicky."

Jackson was prepared to get down on one knee if that's what it took to keep her in his life. He was tired of his numb existence without her. Whatever lesson she'd tried to teach him all these months apart, he felt like he'd more than learned it.

Before he could do anything though, Nicky took a deep breath and said they should start over.

His eyes widened. He knew that before they broke up that she felt like they were wasting time. With the death of her father rattling her even more that life was too short and one shouldn't wait on anything, those were the last words he ever thought he'd hear her say.

She stepped out of his arms, determined to do this right. Nicky wasn't going to bully him into wanting to marry her. Perhaps she'd gone about their previous relationship all wrong. She wasn't certain how to change, but she would try and simply be his date, then girlfriend, then love, then...hopefully...

Jackson yanked her back in his arms. His lips captured hers in another deep kiss.

"We're back together?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"Yes, but we're starting over." Nicky's breath hitched over the feeling of his lips kissing along her shoulder. "We'll have a first date and see how it goes."

"I claim this as our first date." He muttered against her skin.

She laughed in the midst of a moan. "I don't allow those types of kisses on a first date."

"Then this is whatever date you would allow these on." He drew her back into another heated kiss.

"Jax." She gripped him close. "I don't want us to end like we did before."

"We won't." He swore. "I'm never letting you go again, Nicky."

That's why she was now decked out in red and black. She was giving a public statement, one that the Cordonian nobles would not be able to misunderstand. She was showing them all that she was fully committed to Lord Jackson Nevrakis-Walker.

"The court is going to flip when they see you tonight." Emily reminded her. "And what's Mums going to think?!"

Nicky wasn't quite certain what their mother would think in seeing the heir to St Orella dressed like this.

"We have to let her see you before anyone else does!" Emily dashed out of the room before Nicky could stop her.

The future duchess silently prayed that her mother's new love, Thomas Hunt, would be enough of a distraction to keep her from being upset.

Amanda walked in with an anxious Emily hot on her heels. Thomas had been dragged along by Emily, who was also hoping that his presence would diffuse a potential fight.

Amanda's hazel eyes drifted along her daughter's pale features made even more beautiful with the rich red of her gown. Her lips curved in approval.

Nicky blinked in surprise. "Mom?"

"You look absolutely gorgeous!" Amanda took her hand and twirled her. "Jax won't know what hit him when he sees you."

Emily's jaw dropped. "You're not upset?"

"Upset? Why would I be?" Amanda asked, thoroughly puzzled over that notion.

Emily gestured towards her sister. "Because she's wearing Lythikos's colors!"

"So?" Amanda prodded.

"So?!" Emily looked about at each person in the room for help.

Thomas held his hands up. "Don't look at me. I have no idea what's going on."

Nicky's nervousness caused a laugh to slip out.

"I know why she's wearing this." Amanda explained. "I did the same thing with your father."

Both girls stared at her in shock.

"But you had the higher title!" Nicky exclaimed. "Dad should have worn your colors!"

"And he did." Amanda replied. "But when we first started officially being together, I wore Ramsford's colors to a ball." She shrugged with a smile. "Just to let everyone know whom I had chosen."

Nicky blinked back tears. She loved not only hearing her parents' love story but also seeing her own follow a similar path. Like her mother and father; she'd fallen for Jackson when they were children, had a major crush on him as a teenager, and fell madly in love with him as an adult.

To see that once again she was mimicking their sweet steps towards a happily ever after, she was more than thrilled with her choice in dress.

She hoped Jackson would understand the significance.

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

"Have you seen Nicky?" Jackson asked.

Emerick and Alec both shook their heads.

"Why didn't you escort her to the ball?" The crown prince asked.

"Because." Jackson huffed to Emerick as he accepted another drink. "She insisted on meeting me here."

"But you two are back together, right?" Alec prodded.

He couldn't take another moment of seeing two of his best friends being heartbroken.

"Yes. I made certain of it." Jax ran a hand through his hair, accidentally knocking his red and black demi mask askew. "She wanted to start over."

Emerick choked on his champagne. "Start over? All the way?"

"Yes." Jax groaned. "I told her we weren't doing that."

"I don't know." Alec chortled. "It would have been entertaining for the rest of us to see you act like you did as children."

Emerick chuckled over that image "There would be a lot of chasing her around the ballroom to pull her hair."

Jackson couldn't help but grin over those memories. He couldn't recall a time in his life when he didn't love Nicky.

"There's a blue dress." Alec pointed out.

Their eyes narrowed as they tried to figure out who it was.

"It's Emily." Emerick announced when he noticed his younger brother, Ellis, making a beeline towards her.

"Nicky can't be far behind." Alec pointed towards Amanda and Thomas taking to his mother, Hana. "Aunt Amanda is here too."

Jackson didn't know why he felt so antsy waiting on her. He was used to Nicky taking longer than usual to dress for a ball. Perhaps it was because after the wedding in Paris, they'd had to part ways while she finished her work in California and he had his duties here.

Now that the Beaumont ladies were back in Cordonia for good, he'd hoped to see more of her. But, she'd been busy unpacking and catching up on duties in St Orella with her mother and sister. They'd ended up spending these last few weeks simply talking on the phone. As much as he loved being able to do so again, he needed to be with her.

He checked the time then handed his glass to Alec.

"I'm going to go find her." He announced.

"Good luck!" His friends called out as he hurried through the crowd.

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

As Nicky descended the grand staircase of the royal palace, she paused at the sight of Jackson's mother staring at her from the foot of the stairs.

Her grace, Lady Olivia Nevrakis-Walker's sharp green eyes took in the young lady who son was in love with. She'd always approved of Nicky, even supported her side of things when the young couple's relationship ended.

But to see her wearing her duchy's colors...she couldn't be more proud of her son for choosing such a woman to love.

"Nicky, you've never looked lovelier." Olivia told her once she reached the bottom.

"Thank you, Aunt Liv." Nicky gave her a quick hug. "I wore this for Jax."

Olivia beamed at her. "You were meant to wear Lythikos colors."

She clasped her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll see you later."

Olivia hurried off into the ballroom to find Drake. She was determined that they did not miss a moment of the other nobles seeing the heir to St Orella make a public declaration to Lythikos.

Plus, she couldn't wait to see their son's face when he saw Nicky.

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

Jackson did his best not to curse too loudly as he waded through the crowd of masked individuals. Laughter and the hum of conversation drowned out his grumblings. There were few people he would willingly seek out in this crowd and Lady Nicky Beaumont topped that exclusive list.

He stepped on one lady's gown, went to apologize, only to end up stumbling into another lady.

He grasped the soft curves encased in sparkling red to keep them both from tumbling to the ground. His dark brown eyes collided with a pair of hazel orbs that he knew so well.

His arms wrapped around her, drawing her close, as his lips brushed against hers.

The tender exchange made Nicky's toes curl.

Jackson deepened the kiss the moment he felt her hands slide up his chest.

"Should we be kissing like this on a second date?" Nicky teased.

Jackson snorted. "This isn't a second date."

"It kinda is." She smiled at him, taking in how handsome he was in all black, save for the red mixed in his demi mask.

Jackson actually stepped back to truly look at her. His eyes widened the moment he saw what she was wearing.

"Nichole Beaumont." He said softly, twirling her to where her red skirt flared about.

"Yes, m'lord?"

His smile slowly grew the longer he admired her.

"Care to explain your choice of colors?"

Nicky lowered her eyes and pulled her hand from his grasp.

"I thought it was rather obvious why I did this." She took a deep breath before lifting her eyes back to his. "I did it for you, Jax."

Jackson felt his heart ache from the sweetness of this public declaration of hers. She couldn't have told the world they lived in that he alone had her love any better than if she'd gotten on stage and announced it. If it was anything Cordonian nobles paid more attention to, it was fashion statements. He noticed that most of the crowd was whispering and pointing towards them.

This was gossip he could easily live with. He knew he'd caused some at Colette's wedding when he'd made such of show of being Nicky's escort. But Nicky...now she'd made certain to end all speculation about their relationship.

Knowing they had an audience and not caring at all for once, Jackson took her back in his arms for a passionate kiss.

He heard the gasps of the crowd followed by squeals and whoops from their siblings and friends.

When Nicky gently cupped his cheek, he ignored all the commotion going on around them. He finally had the one he loved back where she belonged, where he intended to keep her from now on.

Right in his arms.

#thirty kisses in thirty days #choices trr #trr future #while we're young a/u #Jackson Nevrakis-Walker x Nicky Beaumont #the royal romance #choices the royal romance

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted- A Plan (Chapter 2)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR- Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), hints of Liam x Madeleine

A/N1: This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon.

A/N2: Please excuse all errors, I'm posting as I leave for work. No Liam this chapter, but I promise next is ALL Liam.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Soft music filled the ballroom of the Beaumont estate. White tablecloths adorned every table, all complete with centerpieces of white and navy flowers. Servants bustled through the room clearing tables from the dinner that had just concluded, and rounded the room with Ramsford’s own sparkling wine. Nobles circulated and chatted while they waited for the proper party to begin. 

The air filled with tension only a select few could feel. 

Maxwell sat at the head table alone and watched the crowd. This was the point in the evening he would usually become a one man dancing machine, but Maxwell didn’t feel like dancing.

Since Riley disappeared, Maxwell was completely desolate. He felt like he had lost his sister, his best friend. He couldn’t fathom why she would do this. Her departure had come at such a random time, completely out of the blue; nothing about it made sense. She seemed happy. She talked like she was genuinely excited about the future. There was never any sign she regretted her decision to come to Cordonia or wished to return home. His mind’s questions had to be pushed aside, however, as they had to continue forward with the social season. 

As they left Applewood for their own estate, Bertrand’s sadness cleared, and an all-consuming cloud of anger, regret, and panic engulfed him; the realization that they were truly doomed dawned on him. With no suitor, they would face scrutiny and mockery; it was inevitable. The press would surely catch wind of their tanked finances, and now there was no end in sight.

Bertrand was incredibly upset with himself for allowing their reputation to be put in such a situation. But, he found the most fault to ultimately lie with Maxwell, for making such an irrational decision to begin with. He had only been a fool and went along with his ridiculous suggestion. 

When they arrived and found that their cleaning crew had canceled, they had to scramble to get their estate in order for their upcoming doomsday. Drake stayed behind in Applewood with Liam, and nobody else could know their situation; there was no one to call. So Bertrand and Maxwell had to roll up their sleeves and scrub the entire structure from top to bottom. They worked all day and all night; even then, Bertrand still nit-picked the job they had done. 

Bertrand had spent the entire time scolding Maxwell and continuously telling him he was at fault for their predicament. He lashed out and berated an already devastated Maxwell, but in his panicked stupor, Bertrand did not care one bit. Deep down he knew Maxwell did nothing wrong, but any rationality he had left him.

As Maxwell looked throughout the room, he spotted Liam in the corner with Drake, but twisted his gaze elsewhere. He figured if anyone had a right to be mad at him, it was Liam. He knew the turmoil he was experiencing, and couldn’t even imagine what Liam must have felt. Liam’s heartbroken face after he read her note permanently engraved itself in his mind, as well as the animalistic cry that escaped him soon after.

Maxwell had sat across from Liam at dinner, but avoided eye contact. The two didn’t speak; in fact, nobody really spoke. Regina asked about Riley’s whereabouts, but Bertrand quickly steered the conversation elsewhere. The King and Queen were the only two at the table who had even finished their meals; everyone else opted to pay more attention to the wine.  

Maxwell was pulled from his daze by Bertrand, as he tapped on his glass to get the room’s attention. “If everyone would please enter the reception hall, we will proceed with the festivities.” He stated, very matter-of-factly. 

Maxwell continued to sit in his seat and ignored Bertrand’s request. He knew it was time for their infamous toast, and his anxiety heightened the more he thought about it. Everyone expected to see three Beaumonts, and he didn’t know how Bertrand planned to spin things. 

Maxwell caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Bertrand as he stomped towards him. He let out a breath and prepared himself for the tongue lashing he was about to receive. 

“Maxwell! Get up! You have a toast to make!” Bertrand ordered.

Maxwell’s eyes widened. “What? Me? B-but… we’re supposed to do this together!” he stammered.

Bertrand scoffed, “Absolutely not! All night, I’ve had to avoid questions regarding Lady Riley’s whereabouts. Since this is your fault, you will set the record straight.”

“But-”

“But nothing! I will not take fault for the situation we’re in due to your poor choices! It’s time you owned up to your irresponsibilities! Our entire lives, I have continuously bent over backwards to fix the things that you’ve broken, but no more.” Bertrand shook his head. “I still can not believe this is happening! What would father say, Maxwell?!”

“Well, he pr-”

“He would disown you! Our reputation, our finances, it’s as good as gone! All of it! There is no solution! No one will want to do business with us! We’ll be lucky if we can stay afloat until Christmas!”

“I’m sorry, Bertrand! I didn’t mean to-”

Bertrand laughed sardonically. “Sorry won’t save you this time. You’re going to have to take responsibility for what you’ve done and deal with the repercussions. The Beaumont name will be tainted forever, but I will not allow you to bring me down with you. You, and you alone, will take responsibility for this monstrosity you've created.”

“Bertrand please! I didn’t do anything! I swear! I-I’m just as shocked as you are!” Maxwell pleaded. 

“This is not a discussion! I am telling you what is going to happen, whether you agree or not. You can continue to sit here and cry about it, or you can get up and be a man for once in your life, and take accountability for your careless decisions.” 

Maxwell continued to sit and stare wide eyed at Bertrand, as his last statement cut through his heart like a knife. He physically felt his entire soul hit the very pits of his stomach, and shatter even further. He wanted to believe Bertrand didn’t mean any of the crude things he had been saying, but the glare Bertrand gave said otherwise. Bertrand looked completely disgusted, enraged, and disappointed in Maxwell; all because he took a chance on a quirky American who had captured the heart of one of his dearest friends. 

“MAXWELL. NOW.” Bertrand boomed.

Maxwell stood from his seat and looked at Bertrand with a broken expression. “Bertrand, please… Can’t we-”

Bertrand took a step further to stand in Maxwell’s personal space and growled, “No. NO. Get this ‘we’ notion out of your head this instant! You, and you alone, will take responsibility for this; do you understand?” 

Maxwell held his intense gaze for a few brief moments before he finally relented and slightly nodded his head. He could give no other response, as his throat had constricted. He turned and made his way to the reception hall. Maxwell could feel his heart thump rapidly in his chest, as well as the wine from dinner doing somersaults in his abdomen. His hands trembled at his sides, and he felt incredibly dizzy as he slowly made his way to his destination. 

As Maxwell approached the stairs, he stopped and looked back at Bertrand, who had followed closely behind him. Maxwell gave him a look of disdain, but Bertrand gave him a stern nod of the head and ignored Maxwell’s silent plea. 

Maxwell reluctantly turned back around and trudged up the staircase. At halfway, he turned around to address the crowd. 

“H-Hello everyone… Um… So… First off, I’d like to thank you all for coming. We really appreciate you being here.” He stopped to look at Bertrand, who shook his head. “I mean, I really appreciate you being here…” he trailed off.  

Maxwell looked out into the crowd and squinted his eyes to blind his vision from the rays of chandelier lights on his face. As his eyesight re-centered, he saw every gaze in the room intently directed at him. He ran a visibly shaky hand through his hair, and attempted to continue, “Uh … Y-You’re probably wondering where Lady Riley is… And um, well… “ he tucked his chin down to his chest before he quietly and quickly spit out, “she left.”

Maxwell heard a throat clear and looked up to meet Bertrand’s steely gaze. Maxwell looked at him with sad eyes, silently begging Bertrand to end this nightmare. He held his gaze for what felt like a lifetime before Bertrand once again nodded his head in a silent order for him to continue. 

Maxwell tried to swallow the prominent lump in his throat, but it would not budge. He shuffled his feet for a moment before he cleared his throat, and abruptly and loudly blurted out, “Lady Riley is no longer in the social season.” 

Gasps and whispers filled the room. Everyone turned their heads to the person next to them to confirm they had heard him correctly. It was completely unprecedented for a house to lose their suitor, especially so close to the finish of the season. Rumors immediately started regarding why they had lost their suitor, and at such a crucial moment in time. 

Maxwell gulped, and at another stern nod from Bertrand continued. “I’d like to take this opportunity formally to accept responsibility for this……oversight. My brother trusted me to make a wise decision, and I-I failed… I failed him, I failed our country, and I failed myself…”

Drake arrived at the bar shortly later. He exited his truck and leaned up against it as he waited for Olivia’s SUV to arrive. He had tried to get Olivia to ride with him, but Olivia said she ‘would rather enter the pits of hell barefoot’ than get into his truck with him. 

As the SUV that carried Olivia pulled up, Drake crossed the parking lot to meet her as she exited the vehicle. He followed behind her as the two approached the doors. 

Upon entering the establishment, Olivia scrunched her nose. “What is that smell?”

“A bar?”

“It smells like… you… Ugh... It’s repulsive.” Olivia shuddered.

Drake stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her. “Can you not be a bitch for ten seconds?”

Olivia stopped as well. “Sure, when you can refrain from being a neanderthal for three.” she retorted with a smirk as she kept her gaze straight in front of her. 

Drake sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is gonna be a long night…”

A bark of laughter escaped Olivia. “HA! You’re telling me!”

Drake put his hands up in surrender. “Look, I don’t like you. You don’t like me. That’s fine. But we have a common goal here. For the sake of whatever is going on, we need a truce.” 

“Not a chance.”

“Olivia.” Drake growled. 

Olivia let out a huff before she relented. “Fine. Until we figure out this maze of an ordeal, I suppose we can have a truce.”

The two shared an intense glare before Drake extended his hand for a handshake. Olivia glanced at it momentarily before she caved and lightly returned the gesture.

As she released Drake’s hand, Olivia promptly reached into her bag and pulled out a small container of hand sanitizer. She squeezed a generous amount onto the hand Drake had just shook and rubbed her palms together. 

“Seriously?!“

“What? I don’t know where your hands have been.” Olivia retorted with another shudder. She put her head up and walked further into the crowded bar. 

Drake shook his head and muttered a few obscenities under his breath, but followed her path. He scanned the crowd and noticed Maxwell sitting at a secluded table in the corner. He wore a hat and sunglasses, but was anything but subtle. The hat he wore was bright blue, with what looked to be peacock feathers etched in the design.

Drake pointed out Maxwell to Olivia, who rolled her eyes at his ensemble; the two of them made their way over to Maxwell.

As Drake approached the table, he asked, “Maxwell, what the hell are you wearing?”

“A disguise! Duh!”

“Yeah, I get what you were going for. But for the record, dark colors help hide you better.”

“This is the only hat I have!” Maxwell said as he quickly pulled the cap from his head. He tucked it into the seat next to him and took his sunglasses off before he looked back up at Drake. “It’s been a long time, Buddy! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Don’t call me Buddy.”

“But it’s been so long! Cuuummmmmmoooooon Drake, you know you missed me!” Maxwell sang at him. 

“Don’t push it.” Drake grumbled. He took a seat at the table next to Maxwell, which then revealed Olivia as she stood behind him.  

Maxwell gasped and grabbed Drake by the arm. “Drake, are you alright?! Are you sick? Do you have a fever?!” He tried to put his hand on Drake’s forehead, but Drake quickly slapped his hand away.

“I wish…”

“Ha. Ha.” Olivia said as she rolled her eyes and took the seat across from Maxwell.

Drake turned to Maxwell. “So, how are you? And yes, it has been a long time, but you still can’t call me Buddy.”

Maxwell sighed as his peppy demeanor faded, and an air of melancholy overcame his entire being. “I mean, I’ve spent the last two months hiding from the world in spreadsheets and graphs, so…”

“Why do you think you need to hide, Max? What happened wasn’t your fault!”

“Isn’t it, though? I’m the one who invited her here…” Maxwell trailed off as he picked at his napkin on the table in front of him. 

“But you are not responsible for what happened!”

“Try telling that to Bertrand…”

“He still bad?”

Maxwell cringed before responding in a quiet voice. “Yeah… I don’t think we’ll ever be the way we were before. Even with the scandal, he still blames me... Except then it changed to ‘you brought an American harlot here to represent House Beaumont'." He looked down and shook his head. “He’s told me multiple times he doesn’t want me trying to help him salvage our house’s finances. It’s only so I stay in his sight, and don’t ruin our reputation further…” He cleared his throat and looked away.

House Beaumont had been in a tumultuous time, to say the least. Rumors spread immediately regarding their suitor’s sudden departure, each with their own theory as to why. Before they were given a chance to issue a formal statement, Ana De Luca ran her story about their broken financial situation and tied the two together. That rumor ran through the mill until the Coronation, when the new conclusion for Riley’s departure came to light. But the damage had already been done to House Beaumont.

Deals started falling through and donors retracted donations. Nobody wanted to be associated with the sullied brothers; the ones who had sponsored the disgraced suitor to begin with. Stories would still occasionally run, and they were always regarding their continuous downward spiral. They had enough secured transactions to stay afloat this long, but found themselves quickly drowning in a sea of ‘no’s and denial.

Bertrand continued to berate and blame Maxwell, but Maxwell never said a word, nor challenged him; because he truly believed what he was saying to be true. He placed all blame on himself, and could only take his scoldings for his error in judgement like the ‘man’ he thought he needed to be. Maxwell had given up hope a long time ago that Bertrand would forgive him, instead he just did whatever was requested of him without hesitation or question. He did the best he could, but Bertrand always found an issue with the work Maxwell would present. 

“Damn, I’m sorry, man….” Drake responded and gave him a pat on the back, unsure of what else to say.

Maxwell shook his head in acknowledgement before an awkward silence overtook the group. Olivia sat and eyed the patrons critically and questioned why she even agreed to come. Drake took a menu and browsed the drink selection to decide what to order. Maxwell sat and stole quick glances between Olivia and Drake as he tried to decipher why the two of them had arrived together. 

“So……” Maxwell started, attempting to break the silence.

“Something to say, Beaumont?” Olivia quipped.

“Well… I was just kind of wondering why you’re here. This definitely doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

Olivia laughed. “It’s not. Unfortunately, we have business to conduct.”

Maxwell’s eyes grew wide. “Um… We? Like… with me?”

“Yes, you. But before we begin, I need you to understand that this is a delicate situation, and your utmost discretion is necessary. Can you agree to that?”

“Yes?” Maxwell responded with uncertainty. 

Olivia glared daggers at Maxwell. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Of course. How may I be of service, Duchess?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, but quietly told Maxwell about everything that she knew and her suspicions, but didn’t show him the pictures due to the capacity in the bar. Maxwell sat and listened intently to every word she said. He hung on every word she said, trying his hardest to process and keep up. 

When Olivia finished, Maxwell sat and stared into his drink for a long while. Long enough that Drake grew worried. 

“Uh, Max?” Drake asked as he tapped his arm to get his attention.

“I knew it,” Maxwell whispered as he wiped a tear from his eye, “I didn’t know what happened exactly, but I knew something wasn’t right…” he trailed off and shook his head. 

“I know, man. I kinda think we all did. But nobody had anything to back it up…” Drake ran a hand through his hair and fixed his gaze on the table in front of him.

Both men let a wave of guilt wash over them for not acting sooner. Drake and Maxwell each had their doubts with the country, and Liam’s conclusion that Riley had run off to be with Tariq. But Drake knew that with Liam as enraged as he was, bringing up the idea could have gotten him exiled, especially with no proof. 

Maxwell was put to work under Bertrand’s watchful eye, cut off from the outside world. He spent every moment he was awake with Bertrand. The only reason he managed to escape for a night was because Bertrand had a meeting and left the estate. He wouldn’t dare utter a word about his suspicions to Bertrand, as he probably wouldn’t have listened to him, even if Maxwell had said something.

Olivia sat and watched both men get lost in their thoughts. She let them wallow for only a minute or two, before she slammed her palm down on the table; causing Drake to nearly flip over in his chair, and Maxwell to almost knock his drink off the table. 

“What the hell, Olivia?!” Drake shouted.

“You two have to stop sulking! What’s happened, happened. There is nothing we can do to change that. We can, however, try to get some answers for everyone involved.” 

Olivia placed her hands on the table in front of her before she continued. “Now, Beaumont. You were the last person to physically see Riley in Cordonia, that we know of. Does anything stand out from your last conversation with her?”

Maxwell shook his head. “No. Not at all. She said she was tired and was going to head to bed. She even said she would see me in the morning!”

“Do you recall what time that was?” 

“Not really. I know it was shortly after the toasts concluded, though.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “Seriously?! That was super early! I stayed down there for at least another hour, possibly two!“ 

“Was it? I didn’t think much of it. We had been traveling for days on end and any second of down time she had was spent being lectured by Bertrand.” Maxwell responded with a shrug. 

“That would make her one of the first to retire. If she had already packed, she could have easily made an escape in that time frame. Especially with everyone else still at the party downstairs.” Olivia interjected. 

Maxwell shook his head. “Her stuff wasn’t packed, not before the party anyway. I know that for a fact. I was with her before the Jamboree started while she got dressed and what not.”

Drake’s mind started running overtime. He knew he did not hear Riley at all that night. Drake had found her gone at the same time as Liam and Maxwell. He started pondering about her retiring early. If she moved fast enough, she could have packed and left before he had made it back to his room for the night. 

But would she do that?  

Olivia sighed, “Well, I’m not sure if that will be relevant, but it is worth noting.”

“We gotta take all this to Liam!” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“That’s where I started. He doesn’t think the pictures are enough proof, and her retiring early doesn’t prove much at this point either.”

“How?! I haven’t even seen the pictures, but I believe you!”

Drake answered. “I saw it in his eyes when Olivia showed ‘em to us. I know he’s thinking about it. But he’s hurt and has been since she left. He’s channeling all that humiliation and sadness into anger. And a part of me thinks he doesn’t want to admit he was wrong and didn’t jump on investigating sooner.” 

“I’d agree that would be a safe assumption. We have to find more evidence to prove to him that something did happen that night.” Olivia responded with a determined expression.

“But what do we do? Where do we even start? It’s been two months, Olivia! I want to believe that there’s something out there, but what if we’re just chasing a dead end?” Maxwell asked as he dejectedly looked into his drink.

“To start, we need to locate Tariq. I did some searching, and it seems there’s no trace of him. The last time he was seen was at the Country Jamboree.” 

“How do we do that?” Drake asked. 

“I’ll look into it. Thus far, I haven't had any luck. But, I have a contact in intelligence. Maybe I can work out a deal for Tariq’s location.” 

“What about Riley?” Maxwell asked quietly, with his gaze still fixated on his drink. 

“We will get to that. But if what Liam said was correct, Bastien already couldn’t locate her. So we may have easier luck getting to Tariq and making him talk first.”          

“What can we do in the meantime? While you try to find him?” Drake asked.

“Since the engagement tour is starting in a couple of days, we can use that as a cover for our investigation. I take it we will all be in attendance?”

“Yep.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know how much help I can be... Bertrand has already made it very clear that the only reason I’m being allowed to go with him is because the invitation was formally addressed to Bertrand and Maxwell Beaumont.”

“That’s fine. We need to bide our time for the first couple of events until the court reaches Applewood. I’m not sure what we can find, given how much time has passed, but we at least need to rule it out. We must investigate any and every lead, no matter how small, and that was the last place either of them was seen in Cordonia.” 

“I agree. I’ll see if I can get Liam to tell me where they put her phone.” Drake suggested. 

Olivia raised her brows in surprise. “Wow. Good thinking, Walker. Maybe this won’t be as horrendous as I feared.” 

“You’re not the only smart one here, thank you very much.” Drake scoffed.

“Looks can be deceiving, I suppose,” Olivia smirked. 

“I always wondered about that. Why did she leave her phone? What was the purpose of that? Wouldn’t she need it?” Maxwell asked. 

“You’re right. That’s just the start of things that don’t add up, of the things Liam’s turning a blind eye to.” 

Drake nodded. “We gotta get past this wall he’s built up. I know he doesn’t believe that shit for a second.” 

Olivia laughed. “Trust me, Walker. It won’t take much. He can try all he wants, but I am better than him at his own game. I can read right through him. In his heart, he knows the truth. He’s only denying because he feels like he has to.” 

“But why? Why does he have to? He loves her! He shouldn’t be fighting us on this!” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“I know. He shouldn’t be, but he’s been through a lot. He thinks he’s protecting himself. But we will make him see the truth.” Olivia replied with utmost confidence. 

Drake gave her a determined look. “Yeah, we will. You know what? I’m gonna go see him, invite him to Applewood with us. I’ll give it my best shot and hopefully make him see reason.” He turned to Maxwell. “You can come too. Maybe if we leave the intimidating red dragon at home, he’ll actually listen.”

“Awwwww, you think I’m intimidating, Walker? How sweet of you.”

Drake ignored Olivia as he awaited Maxwell’s answer. “I… Uh… I guess I could go…” Maxwell responded in an unsure tone. 

Drake patted Maxwell on the back. “Relax. It’ll be fine. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

“... Okay, but... promise me if we decide to form an official alliance, we will be the Cordonian Power Rangers, and I get to be the blue one.” Maxwell stated with a completely firm expression. He held it for only a few moments before a small smile crept across his face.

Drake and Olivia both rolled their eyes, but Drake subtly grinned. It was nice to see bits of the old Maxwell poke through, despite everything he had been through.

Drake retrieved his forgotten menu, and finally selected a seasonal skull cracker ale; the regular skull cracker, but with a slight spice flavor added. He put his menu back in the holder before he turned his attention to Olivia. “You gonna order something?”

Olivia rose from the table and scoffed, “God no. My business here is done. I suppose I’ll see you two on the engagement tour.”

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[lizzybeth1986]

Skills vs Passions - What's the Difference?

(Read the rest of the "Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure" series here!)

Previous: China, Cordonia and "Home"

I had mentioned, way back in my first essay of this series, that descriptors used for Hana are vastly different from that of the other LIs. The three male LIs got descriptors that emphasized their personalities and loyalty to their loved ones.

Hana's descriptors, on the other hand, came down to two things - what the MC could be physically drawn to, and what the MC could use her for.

Hana can be dedicated, devoted, open minded, explorative. You don't have to look too far to see a consistent display of these qualities in Hana, throughout both series. Yet none of these words - nor the many others that could even slightly capture her personality - are used to describe her.

What the team views as appealing in Hana, boils down to two things. What the MC can find fuckable if Hana is a love interest, and what the MC can use her for if she isn't (though to be honest, even the MC that romances her still benefits disproportionately from her labour).

Her looks...and her skills.

Ironically, even with this lack of care and forethought, Hana's story still manages to retain some nuance when it comes to exploring the things she learned. They are not things she randomly became perfect at. Nor is the process of how she became good at those things, identical.

Most times, there is a story behind how she became that good at those activities, a process that Hana often worked and struggled towards, before she could be the "Jill of All Trades" of TRR.

Her journey to acquiring all of these skills is not the same. If we do not acknowledge the differences in those journeys, we are doing her story a grave disservice.

Acquired Skills.

(Note: In this section I will be leaving out Hana's more intuitive skills, such as stealth, cunning, deep research and resourcefulness, and focusing more on the ones she had to learn. This is because her intuitive skills fit better in a different essay that I will be working on soon)

There are several things the above screenshots share in common.

One is that they are all things Hana learned as a part of her training to become the perfect debutante, the perfect noblewoman, the perfect courtly wife, the perfect hostess. In the Cordonian Waltz scene in TRR1 Ch 7, Hana speaks of being pushed from an early age to learn all the courtly and social arts. She speaks of being "groomed [every day] to bring fame and fortune to my family", primarily because they were devastated she was not a boy and the only way she could possibly be of use to them was by acquiring these skills. These weren't just hobbies she was encouraged to cultivate - they were things she had to do well, do perfectly, whether she liked doing them or not.

Another - and perhaps easier to miss - similarity between all these pictures is Hana's expression in them. Neutral. Unmoved. Bored. None of these activities actually appeal to her, or are things she is happy doing.

We will find out later on, that that was exactly the point. In her parents' plan for Hana's life and future, Hana's own needs and identity are practically a non-factor.

One of Hana's major epiphanies about her childhood, is the recognition that what she wanted, should have mattered. That her needs deserved to be met just for being her needs, not because it served a purpose for anyone else. On more than one occasion Hana tells us that "enjoying myself never factored into my parents' expectations of me".

How damaging can this obsession with making your daughter the perfect noble wife - to the exclusion of any other possible life - be? Let's find out:

Hana isn't just expected to excel in skills that mean very little to her. She isn't just forced to prioritise - again and again and again - the enjoyment of others over her own. She isn't just made to consider the needs of some nebulous future husband, to the point where she cannot even ask herself what she wants.

Over and above all this, she is never allowed to be her authentic self. She is never even allowed to figure out what that authentic self would be. From an early age she is deprived of toys and pets and real consistent friendships, ensuring a complete isolation, ensuring she doesn't even have the opportunity to safely indulge in pretend play. (That she manages to scrape together whatever she can find to make her "toys" is only a testament to her own tenacity; she should never have been put in such a position in the first place). Her parents robbed her of those early, exploratory years.

She has been told how she must be and what she must do; she never has the freedom to decide whether that is something she is even comfortable being. In the context of this scene Hana may be using this skill to help another woman, but the fact remains that even in expressing her femininity, Hana is constantly expected to perform - as if her authentic self was never good enough.

It is no wonder then that the moment she finds herself no longer answerable to her parents, Hana fears that she will discover she's nothing more than a "collection of skills...with no one underneath". TRR3 shows Hana in a full-blown identity crisis once she is completely outside her parents' influence.

In her post "How Parents Fuel Identity Crises in Their Children" on the Good Therapy Blog, psychotherapist Beverly Amsel talks about the effects controlling parenting can have on a child's sense of self thus; "When a loving parent is so certain that he or she knows what is right for the child and does not consider that the child may have valid, different ideas about what he or she wants, needs, and feels, there is no space and no invitation for the child to develop the ability to express his or her own self with separate ideas, feelings, and needs. Over time, as the child grows to adulthood and is exposed to more ways of thinking about things, there is typically a good deal of confusion about identity, thoughts, and feelings. Unless there is an opportunity to develop a separate sense of self, there will likely be a lot of anxious thinking about what is real but little ability to think for oneself in a self-reflective way."

Fortunately for Hana, her time in Cordonia does seem to present those sort of opportunities. There are story threads in TRR3 that address this identity crisis. But does it culminate into something that benefits her, or only the people around her?

Things She Does For Those She Loves

Before we move into passions, it's important to acknowledge a category that toes the line between acquired skill and interest. These involve activities that she's not entirely passionate about, but still derives some enjoyment from doing.

Her enjoyment of these skills is usually less about the activity itself, and more dependent on her fondness for sharing or socializing through it. Despite her mostly-isolated childhood, Hana is by nature a very social person. She is enthusiastic (though initially a bit wary and fearful of rejection) about making friends, loves sharing her knowledge and skills, and does not hesitate to reach out even to people who don't treat her well and accommodation them into whatever she's doing (eg. every single time she included Olivia in something in TRR2). So it makes sense that there are certain things she enjoys doing because it involves her helping someone, or allows her to spend time with them, or helps her relive precious memories.

On some level, you see this with some of her skill scenes. Often a scene will end with Hana following up a confession about her lack of interest in a particular activity with a line about how sharing that knowledge makes her happy. But you also see this enjoyment in other contexts.

Another context where she truly enjoys doing things, is when they're of a competitive nature. She thrives on the thrill of outwitting opponents and friendly rivalries. A great example of this is the dance-off she does with Maxwell in TRR1 Ch 18, where she enjoys pitting her skills against Maxwell's so much that they both agree they'd be great as a dancing duo. You also see this whenever she's competing in games with her trusted friends. This is perhaps why you see at least a handful of sequences where she expresses an interest in sports.

But perhaps the activities she enjoys the most - that aren't for herself - are ones that have her share space with someone she loves and trusts. Cooking and baking rank high among these skills. Baking began as a domestic skill that would serve her well in a noble household, but she loves sampling batter/dough and practically glows on seeing the other person's enjoyment of her craft. Her creating her own recipe for hot chocolate is especially interesting because it's a skill that she values highly, and that she only shares with people very close to her.

Hana's interest in fashion design also has interesting origins. She is skilled in embroidery and knows fashion trends well, and has learned from her grandmother to make her own clothes. Of particular note is the black-red-gold qipao/cheongsam that was the last dress she ever made with her grandmother. Her attachment to the dress is so strong that she experiences intense distress when Lorelai threatens to take it from her in Valtoria. She also loves designing dresses for loved ones - for the MC herself, we see her conceptualize and design dresses at least twice (a traditional-inspired outfit in Shanghai which is appropriately titled "Hana's Heart", and a blue and white dress for their engagement photoshoot).

Through these examples we can see instances of Hana finding joy in things she didn't have as much interest in, just through the process of sharing that experience with someone else. It's great, on the one hand, because Hana is no longer alone and she gains a renewed perspective on something that came from a very painful part of her life.

On the other hand, "I find this more fun now that I'm doing it with you" comes with its own downsides. If you use it too often, you're in danger of using it as a copout that centers the person she is teaching rather than her own journey.

And if you're a writer that makes efforts for her story with great reluctance...such an explanation will rapidly change into an excuse to be lazy with that journey.

Passions

Among the many, many, many skills Hana was made to learn in the bid to make her the perfect debutante and the perfect noble wife...just a few rank as ones she does wholeheartedly, joyfully, passionately. But they are perhaps the most important.

After all, these are skills that Hana had honed for herself. They're meant for her consumption and her enjoyment, and she often shares them only with people she trusts.

Not only are these things, interests that she enjoys and lovingly cultivates...but she is also fiercely protective of them. She will not allow anyone - not even her parents - to turn something so personal into a public spectacle that she's uncomfortable with. This is most clearly seen when she tells us about rebelling against her parents for piano performances. At a very young age, Hana recognises the value of her music, and she pushes back against any attempts to cheapen it or turn it into some warped form of social currency. She takes ownership of her gift, and from that moment on anything she does with that talent is done on her own terms.

Like music, reading was a skill cultivated to make her an attractive prospect for noble matches - only for Hana to find pleasure in the act of reading herself. Here again, building a passion for reading allows her to rebel in her own unique way. She smuggles in books that she knows her parents will find either too frivolous or too objectionable - often by hiding the books, or modifying the purpose of the book to them so it would sound appropriate.

We must remember - this is a woman who still feels nervous breaking rules even a year after she has left her parents' home. It would take such a woman considerable amounts of imagination and courage, to be able to do what she did in an environment as restrictive as her's. For Hana to be able to do this, she must have really valued the joy that reading books had given her.

Flowers are an extremely important part of Hana's life. Symbolically, they are part of her mother's House Crest, and personally, she is someone who is naturally drawn to flowers. In TRR2 Ch 4, she confesses to devouring the words of The Language of Flowers, and knows the symbolic meaning of each one by heart. She can even make her own bouquets. During the Costume Gala in TRR3, she dresses up in a heavily floral gown as the Goddess of Spring.

One of the most captivating sequences that captures her love for flowers in the TRR2 Conservatory scene, where she takes the MC to see the spectacle of a night-blooming flower unfurling under the light of the moon. It is especially fascinating that her already latent passion for flowers grew further with the help of another passion - reading.

Another thing you will clearly notice about each of these "passions" is that when she speaks about them, she is expressive. Liam confirms this in his Diplomacy scene in TRR3, where he tells the MC that her passion always shows in her eyes.

The proof for what Liam says here is in every one of these scenes. In the scenes compiled under the "Acquired Skills" category, her expression rarely changes and her tone is indifferent. In contrast, we are exposed to a variety of moods when she talks of these things that she's so passionate about.

She seethes with anger at the memory of her parents forcing her to perform the piano to crowds, whispers conspiratorially about forbidden literature, loses herself in the scent of flowers. These are moments where Hana acknowledges her individual pleasures, and expresses pride over the way she guards them from people who will not respect what those things mean to her.

These are things she knows forwards and backwards, but not because she was forced to cultivate and perfect those talents. They're things she knows because when Hana Lee is truly interested in something, she will plunge herself into it, body and soul. These are things that gave her comfort at a time when she had no one, and they form the happiest memories she has had for her childhood so far.

These are passions that are so intricately a part of her that it is impossible for her to give them up. Not for her family, not for her friends, not for her wife - no one.

Conclusion

The base of Hana's story has always been rich with possibilities. There were various ways the writing team could have written it to benefit her story. At the hands of a skilled writer who loved the character for who she was rather than for what the MC could gain from her, the writing of these talents could have been used to further enrich Hana's journey and give her a chance to find herself. Unfortunately, the writing team at the helm of TRR were neither.

Over and over again, the writers used Hana's plethora of talents to make her useful to people, rather than turn the focus of that arc back on her. The MC learns these skills and goes up the ranks, the MC benefits from Hana's offers of help, the MC is the one who becomes a Duchess and Champion of the Realm. Even on a level of resolving her issues with her parents, the writers have her prove that she can still be useful to them without getting married to a man. In the eyes of her writers, her skills are still meant to make her useful to someone - just that the person at the center changes from her parents to the MC.

Because the MC is positioned as someone who "enlightens" Hana to how harmful her situation was, and because the narrative expects Hana to be forever grateful to her - the MC is allowed to use her and take credit for Hana's hard work (eg. The windmill move during the polo game) and get away with it.

When you put all this evidence together, and then go back to the descriptors I put up at the very beginning of this essay, you will see what the team's intention with her, always had been. To create a woman the MC could be attracted to, a woman whose skills the MC could use to advance her own interests...while still being viewed as her hero and saviour. Despite being one of the few people to get the most detailed account of her upbringing and struggles, the MC still chooses to view her in the most simplistic ways, still praises her for her skills and "perfection" rather than support her in any consistent way (more on this in other essays).

The fandom wasn't much better in this respect either. Lots of TRR fans still see no real distinction between the skills Hana had to struggle to learn, and the interests that made her truly happy. The writing team itself contributes to this inaccurate conflating of her interests and skills by having multiple characters label her 'perfect' over and over.

This results in a situation where those hard-earned skills and those moments of joy are conflated together, and spoken of like they are the same thing. But they are not. To speak of the two as if there were no difference, is to ignore completely the difficult, even disturbing, history behind how she acquired them.

The skills the MC grinningly labels her perfect for, are skills that emerged from a very traumatizing environment. Her joys - that many in this fandom so mockingly placed alongside the things she forced herself to do - were perhaps the only opportunities she had to take back her agency and claim something for her own.

To pretend that the two are one and the same is a gross misrepresentation of what was actually depicted in canon.

Next: "Perfect!Hana": Author Bias and the Importance of Framing (coming soon!)

#hana lee #hana lee: a study in erasure #hanaleeappreciationweek #HLAW #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #HLAW Day 2 #HLAW Day 2: Skills vs Passions #lizzybeth1986 #content: meta

[angelasscribbles]

In Your Room Chapter 12: Happily Ever After

Series: In Your Room

Fandom: TRR                    

Pairings: Leo x Drake

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None, this is fluff

Song Inspiration for the series: In Your Room by The Bangles

Word Count: 1,331

A/N: Well, here we are at the end. I'm going to miss these two, but they deserve the happily ever after. Tagging @choicespride for marriage and found family. Tagging @choicesjunechallenge for weddings. Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations Pride Bingo for family.

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake and Leo, with Helena in tow, made their way back outside to where their friends and family were waiting for them.

“I made some adjustments, your mom is sitting with me,” Bianca told her future son-in-law.

“Thanks,” Leo pulled her into a hug as he whispered, “I still want to call you mom too.”

Bianca nodded as she hugged him back, “I’d love that, son.”

Leo felt a sense of wonder in his chest. This morning he’d had no moms, now he had two.

When he released Bianca, he turned to his best man, “Thank you for coming all the way from Cordonia, Your Majesty.”

Liam shook his head with a grin as he embraced his brother, “Shut up, man. Riley and I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Besides, I had to return the favor, didn’t I?”

“Wow, I’m impressed. This is more my style than yours, little bro.” Leo let out a low whistle as he took in the moonlit clearing, bonfire roaring on the beach, and lanterns swaying lazily from carefully placed posts. Riley wore a simple floor-length white dress with spaghetti straps while Liam was dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, no suit jacket, no tie. Leo himself had on cargo shorts and a polo shirt, perfect for a casual, and secret, beach wedding.

“Yes, well, after what Dad did to you, I just don’t want to give him the chance to torpedo us the same way.”

“You always were smarter than me. Well, the best man is here, let’s do this thing!”

“I still can’t believe you got married without me!” Drake said with mock indignation.

Liam pulled his best friend into a hug next, “You know I wanted you there, but we had to get married before Leo abdicated and Constantine turned his attention to my love life! It was the only way to ensure he couldn’t interfere in any way. Besides, this guy,” he released Drake and jerked his thumb toward Leo, “was in a hot fucking hurry to get to you, so we were in a time crunch.”

Drake flushed as a sappy grin spread across his face, “Yeah, I know. You’re forgiven.”

Drake Walker was happier than he ever thought he could be. Leo Rys loved him and was about to fucking marry him! The idea that he was about to be someone’s husband was almost surreal, but after everything the two of them had been through together, everything Leo’s father had put them through, it was the happy ending they both deserved. He slapped Liam on the shoulder, “At least you made it to mine, even if your brother did steal you right out from under me to be his best man!”

“Good thing you had a backup best friend I suppose,” Liam teased him good-naturedly.

“Yeah,” Drake laughed, “Where the hell is Beaumont, anyway?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Max jogged up to the group, a little out of breath.

“What’s got you all out of- oh, no, no, man, you better not have just been making out with my sister!”

Max lifted an eyebrow and threw his hands up in the air, “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies!”

“Come on, man! That’s just-“

“She is my fiancée you know.” Max reminded him.

“Yeah,” Liam took Max’s side, “and I put up with you making out with my brother all the damn time!”

“Holy crap, we’re all brothers now!” Max blurted out.

“Heh,” Drake laughed, “Who saw that coming?”

“No one!” Leo scoffed.

“But it’s pretty awesome!” Max grinned from ear to ear. When he married Savannah, Drake would be his brother for real and as soon as Drake and Leo said I do, Drake and Liam would be brothers…which made Max and Liam brother-in-laws once removed or something.

“The girls are all here, so we can get this show on the road now!” Savannah called out as she approached the group of men. Olivia, Hana, and Riley trailed behind her.

Olivia made a beeline for Leo, “Is it true? Your mom is here?”

“Yeah, it’s true, Liv, she’s really here!”

Olivia cocked her head to one side as she regarded him, “You seem pretty okay with it.”

“I am!” He affirmed, “She never wanted to abandon me, my father kept her away!”

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but that’s right in character for him. I’m sorry, Leo.”

“It’s fine. She’s here now and I’m about to marry the love of my life. I’m good!”

“There’s that dimpled smile we all love!” Olivia patted him on the cheek.

“If the wedding party is ready…” the officiant interrupted, “it’s time.”

“Time to get hitched!” Leo yelled.

“Hitched?” Olivia stared at him with wide eyes as everyone else laughed. Turning to Drake she shook her head, “I’m blaming you for this.”

Drake laughed, his chest filled with happiness, “I will take all the blame! Now let’s go get hitched!”

Liam stood beside Leo as his best man with Olivia and Hana as the maids of honor, because why not have both? Maxwell stood beside Drake flanked by Riley and Savannah.

Their mothers were in the audience, and their best friends and siblings were standing by their side but as they stood in front of friends and family, the rest of the world faded away and there was just Leo and Drake.

Leo and Drake running through the palace gardens as children, Leo and Drake channeling their burgeoning feelings into competition and aggression on the soccer field, the polo field, and the fencing piste. Leo and Drake each struggling to make their own place in the world, all the while holding the other in the back of their minds, and the back of their hearts. Leo and Drake standing in the game room at the palace, both eager to give in to Liv’s dare and both denying that eagerness. Leo and Drake slowly giving in to their feelings as the physical attraction between them exploded and grew. Leo and Drake pushing each other away in a futile attempt to protect their hearts. Leo and Drake falling completely in love over the course of one magical year. Leo and Drake fighting to be together, Leo and Drake finally finding peace, love, and acceptance in the heart of the Walker family on a cattle ranch in the middle of west Texas.

And finally, Leo and Drake standing at the altar, ready to entwine their lives with each other permanently, completely, and irrevocably.

By the time they said “I do,” both men were in tears.

In almost no time at all, the ceremony was over, and the officiant was announcing, “Allow me to introduce, for the first time, Mr. and Mr. Drake and Leo Walker!”

Leo had decided to take Drake’s last name. Partly out of practicality. The Rys name was too recognizable. It was also too reminiscent of the years spent in a repressive environment. But mostly because, with the exception of Liam, he already felt more a part of Drake’s family, more loved, more accepted, than he had ever felt at home. Home. Cordonia was no longer that for him. Texas was home. The ranch was home. Drake was home.

Drake had promised not to smear cake on Leo’s face, but he did it anyway amidst cheers from the guests, the camera snaps from the photographer, and Leo’s laughter ringing out across the clearing. Leo returned the favor as Drake tried to dodge him, his own laughter shaking his whole body. He was happy. Happier than he had ever believed he could be.

Both men had overcome their own insecurities to be together. Both men had made sacrifices for love. Both men had allowed their walls to crumble. Both men had reached for happiness and found it, with each other. Nothing would ever come between them again. They had each other, and that was all that mattered. Happily ever after was theirs.

#dreo #the royal romance #trr au #drake walker #leo rys #trr #the royal romance fanfic #choices fic writers creations #angelasscribbles #cfwc fics of the week #choices stories you play #choicespride #choicesjunechallenge

[choicesficwriterscreations]

Thank you to our creators who have submitted their Top 5 fics of 2023! I know this is a terribly difficult task. After all, I did it myself! But I've always felt this list was the more important of the two - it's not about the numbers; it's about the works that nourished their creator's souls and brought them joy. So, thanks to each of you for sharing with us! Links to all stories can be found below the break!

@aallotarenunelma ✒️

Moonlit Hearts (IL/ID Crossover/AU) - Original Characters

Childhood Memories (ILW) - Lincoln McQuoid x NB!MC

Close to the Flame (ILW) - Lincoln McQuoid x NB!MC

Another Sun Will Rise (ILITW) - Dan Pierce x MC

Indigo Blood (ID) - Cas Harlow x MC

@angelasscribbles ✒️

The DeFacto Queen (TRR) Ⓜ️ - Drake x MC, Liam x MC

A Fervid Fixation (TRR) Ⓜ️ - Drake Walker x MC

The Dark Kingdom (TRR) Ⓜ️ - Drake x MC, Liam x MC

In Your Room Masterlist (TRR) Ⓜ️ - Drake Walker x Leo Rys

Laws End (TRR) Ⓜ️- Drake Walker x MC, Liam Rys x MC

@baldwinboy5ive 🎨and ✒️

Aerin Prison Visit (BOLAS) 🎨- Aerin Valleros x F!MC

The Right Path (BOLAS) ✒️- Aerin Valleros x F!MC

Name on the Wall (BOLAS) ✒️- Aerin Valleros x F!MC

Bye-Bye Baldur (BOLAS) 🎨- Aerin Valleros

Aerin x Raine Fanart (BOLAS) 🎨- Aerin Valeros x MC

@cariantha ✒️

All He Wanted (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Hey Stranger (OH) Ⓜ️ - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

For You, I Will (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

War & Peace (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

A Solid Strategy (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@coffeeheartaddict2 ✒️

Everybody Hurts Sometimes, Ch. 7 Ⓜ️(OH) - Ethan Ramsey, MC

Love in all Forms (OH) - Ethan Ramsey, F!OC, Tobias Carrick

Power to Overcome (OH) - F!MC, Aurora Emery

Everybody Hurts Sometimes, Ch. 15 Ⓜ️(OH) - Ethan Ramsey, etc.

Desire Ⓜ️(OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@inlocusmads ✒️

Past Lives (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Music for the Lost (and Found) (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

The Feverish Itch (Guinevere) - Guinevere, Queen Artura, F!Lancelot

Cross Your Heart and Set it Ablaze (COP) Trystan Thorne x F~!MC

The Bow That Burned Bright (BOLAS) - F!Elf!MC, Kade

@jerzwriter ✒️

A Mother's Journal Ⓜ️(WTD) - Eli Sipes

What's Forever For Ⓜ️(OH/AU) - Tobias Carrick, F!MC

Breathe Again (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

A Bit Dark (OH) - F!MC x F!OC

I Do, Me Too (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@ladylamrian ✒️

Welcome to the World of Night (NB) - NB Side Characters

A Meeting in Wyoming (NB) - Nik Ryder x F!MC

Towards the Future (NB) - Nik Ryder x F!MC

Duty & Pleasure (NB) - Nik Ryder x F!MC

Sweet & Tender Hearts (NB) - Original Characters

@liaromancewriter ✒️

La Vie Avec Toi (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC, Sienna Trinh x M!OC

Late Shift (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

The Reluctant Valentine (OH) - Sienna Trinh x M!OC

When the Clock Strikes Twelve (OH/AU) - Sienna Trinh x M!OC

Breaking News (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

@moominofthevalley ✒️

The Haunting, Part 1 (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Turpentine (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

The Girl With the Glass (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

I Will (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Future Days (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

@peonierose ✒️

Wildflower (OH) - Keiki Lahela x M!OC

Kintsugi (OH) - Original Characters

Summer's Kiss (OH) - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

I'm a Sucker for You (OH) - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

Rose All Day (OH) - Bryce Lahela, Keiki Lahela, OCs

@stars-are-within-me ✒️

The Rain (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

Reflections (BOLAS) - Aerin Valleros

A Day Off (COP) - Trystan Thorne x MC

In the Gray (COP) - Eveline Goncharov, Maksim Thorne, etc.

The Lonely Prince (BOLAS) - Aerin Valleros x MC

@storyofmychoices ✒️

Shadows & Deceptions: A Royal Murder Mystery (Crossover/AU)

Can I Have This Dance? (OH) - Bryce Lahela x F!OC

Shadows of Hope (BOLAS) - Mal Volari x F!MC

The Quest for Daenarya (BOLAS) - Mal Volari x F!MC

Dealing with a Narcissist (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

@tessa-liam ✒️

Smoke & Mirrors, Ch. 11 Ⓜ️(TRR) - Liam Rys x MC

Cappadocia Ⓜ️ (TRR) - Liam Rys x MC

Marabelle, Ch. 2 Ⓜ️ (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

Turning the Page, Ch. 5 Ⓜ️ (TRR) - Liam Rys x F!OC

Ti Amo Molto Ⓜ️ (TRR) - Liam Rys x MC

@trappedinfanfiction ✒️

Fast Break, Epilogue (OH/AU) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

What's in a Name? (COP) - Trystan Thorne

Crossroads Ⓜ️(OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

By Your Side (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

A New Neighbor (COP) - Trystan Thorne x F!MC

@zealouscanonindeer ✒️

Dangerous Games Ⓜ️ (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Naughty & Nice (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Like Whom? (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Roots (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

Drunken Nights (OH) - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC

#choices fic writers creations #creator top 5 #playchoices #choices stories you play #it lives anthology #immortal desires #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow #open heart #crimes of passion #guinevere #wake the dead #nightbound #choices fanfic #choices fanart #playchoices fanfic #playchoices fanart #long post

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 17 - News Flash

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper and the Beaumonts get on a plane to Italy… but they are not riding solo

Word Count: 4,500

Rating/Warnings: M (using the Lord's name in vain, shocking revelations, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: And… we’re back! I know this is a bit delayed, thanks to my new Heaven’s Secret distraction, but I am hoping to refocus myself on this continuously neglected series again for the next few weeks/months so we can make some headway towards wrapping it up. Also, I know we all miss him, and he hasn’t had as much page time as we all (Harper included!) probably want, but I promise that after this chapter there will be a lot more Drake again 🥃

A/N2: Astute readers will probably notice that there is nary a train in sight (in this chapter, or any future ones). This is deliberate because (i) I never understood why PB went in that direction in canon (is a travelling boutique really that important?!), and (ii) trains don’t make sense from a security point of view anyway (apparently the UK’s Royalty and Specialist Protection — which provides close protection to the royal family — used to hate it when Elizabeth II travelled by train, because it was always a massive headache to ensure her safety as trains travel on a fixed route and schedule, with no opportunities for diversion or evasion of things go to pot). So… planes it is ✈️

A/N3: Finally, another special shoutout to @thegreentwin​ for giving me the inspiration to have a crack at creating the tabloid cover page featured in this chapter. If you have not read The Rebel Prince, please do so! It is cute, funny, insightful and the gossip magazine covers that accompany several of the chapters are something else!

Chapter 17 - News Flash

"I thought we're going to Italy..." I remark the next morning as we pull to a stop on the tarmac of a secluded private airfield.

"We are," confirms Bertrand, jamming a fedora onto his head to protect against the ferocity of the morning sun... and hide the brutal sunburn he managed to acquire as a result of spending the entirety of yesterday's Festival outdoors without any SPF protection.

"Then what's with the literal mountain of luggage?" I ask as we step out of our customary limo.

Bertrand fixes me with a red-faced glare over the roof of the vehicle. "Have you learnt nothing from the social season?"

I throw him a deadpan look. "You mean apart from the fact that you insist on packing everything, including the kitchen sink?"

Maxwell's snort drifts up from the backseat.

The elder Beaumont is not impressed with my clapback. "The engagement tour will be one high-profile event after the other, which means that we will have neither the time nor the opportunity to engage in slap-dash shopping sprees. Not only would such proletarian behaviour be rude, but it would be misguided as well, given that we need to ensure that for each event we abide not just by the formal dress code indicated on the invitation, but also that we do not clash with, or indeed overshadow the hosts — or the King and future Queen, for that matter! — in terms of style and colour, all while being thoughtful in ensuring that we incorporate elements from both local and Cordonian designers to visually showcase the strength of the bonds that knit our respective nations together. On top of all that, it is imperative that we—"

"How the heck is anyone expected to pull all that off?" I blurt in disbelief.

"Through careful planning and coordination," Bertrand declares as he comes to join Maxwell and me on the other side of the limo. "Which is why I have taken the liberty of pre-selecting each outfit for each event of the tour, in consultation with the Palace's Master of the Robes."

My mouth drops. "You... Put a wardrobe together? For me?"

"Yes," comes the diffident affirmation. "Given that all eyes — not just those of our fellow Cordonians, but of our host nations' — will be on us constantly, we cannot afford any fashion faux pas."

I stare at my former sponsor mutely, mouth opening and closing like a dumbfounded goldfish.

Maxwell attempts to diffuse my slap-faced reaction with a jovial grin. "Bertrand used to lay my clothes out for me all the time when we were younger. I know he doesn't look it, but he has excellent—"

I shove an accusatory finger out. "He tried to foist me into a Medieval cosplay dress! That is the exact opposite of excellent taste!"

The elder Beaumont bristles. "It was hardly—"

"And how the hell did you afford all of this anyway?" I interject, throwing my arm out towards the carefully stacked Eiffel Tower of suitcases. "Because last time I checked, you were flat broke!"

Bertrand's already ruddy complexion darkens further. "There is no need for you to concern yourself with—"

"How?!"

After the way Maxwell had tried to sell covert photos and Christian and me from New York to the press in a bid to make bank, I am not willing to take any kind of half-baked deflection when it comes to the Beaumonts and money. I've been used one too many times for someone else's gain, so my trust is virtually non-existent at this point.

Bertrand swallows thickly as he averts his eyes. "I... I may have made recourse to an old sewing machine I found in the attic..."

My eyes just about pop out of my head. "You what?!"

I'd expected any one of six million other explanations — he'd sold the vineyard... remortgaged Ramsford... auctioned off every last chair and curtain from the manor... Even offered his soul to the literal Devil...

But using a sewing machine...? To make actual clothes...?

I had obviously caught the sun yesterday as well, and am now suffering from heat stroke...

"Bertrand has always been interested in fashion," explains Maxwell with a perfectly straight face. "He even wanted to enroll at the world-renowned Istituto Marangoni International in Milan to study Fashion Design. But then our father took unexpectedly ill, and—"

"Yes, yes..." interjects Bertrand with an embarrassed wave of his hand. "No need to revisit broken dreams and unfulfilled promises. The point is that I made the best use of what meagre funds and resources we had at our disposal to curate a serviceable selection of outfits for each of us. With a little help from Maxwell, of course."

"I was the mannequin," he declares proudly. "I admit, I got poked a few times in the line of duty, but it was worth it. Bertrand did a stellar job – you're going to love what he made for you."

"I... I don't know what to say..." I admit faintly.

And here I'd been thinking that Bertrand's closet Harry Potter obsession had been a big reveal...

"Yes... Well..." Bertrand clears his throat uncomfortably. "We each have our unique talents. Speaking of... I trust you have been practicing your Italian?"

I frown. "My what?"

"You were supposed to give her lessons!" cries Bertrand, smacking his brother over the back of the head.

Maxwell's retro '60s sunglasses fly off his face. "My Prada’s...!"

"What about French?" Bertrand demands, rounding on me with all the intensity of a furious tomato on the verge of exploding.

"Allard and Schweitzer have been teaching—"

"Some initiative at last!" exclaims Bertrand, throwing his hands up in the air in deliverance. "Good — you'll have some semblance of a basis, then. However, while both languages share a common root — that being Latin — and a border, as a result of roughly fifteen centuries of historical and linguistic divergence, Italian has become markedly different from its Gallic cousin, so we will have our work cut out in making you even semi-proficient by the time we land in Rome. So, I hope you brought pen and paper with you."

My shoulders slump as I watch Bertrand stride off towards the waiting plane. "Great..."

There goes the next hour and a half of my life...

"I knew I had forgotten something..." admits Maxwell, rubbing the back of his head as he retrieves his sunglasses from the tarmac. "But I thought it was just my second favourite pair of boxers."

"It's fine..." I assure wearily him as I begin my own trudge towards the jet. "It wouldn't be a true Beaumont travel experience without a droning Bertrand lecture..."

Though I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck on the royal jet with Christian and Madeleine. Which — after what happened yesterday — would be like staging an aristocratic rendition of Squid Game... 20,000 feet in the air. So, on that basis, I'll willingly subject myself to Bertrand's monologuing any day of the week, if it means I can—

"And there she is..." remarks a familiar, though very much unexpected voice as I step onto the plane. "The woman of the hour."

Jerking my head to the right, my eyes land on Olivia, lounging on one of the cream-coloured leather seats, her killer spike stiletto boots dangling over the armrest as she casually peruses a broadsheet.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in disbelief.

Olivia lowers the paper to meet my eye with a quirked brow. "You mean, on my own aircraft?"

I cast a glance in Bertrand's direction as I make my way down the gangway. "Guess your meagre funds and resources didn't extend to sourcing jet fuel?"

Bertrand coughs evasively as he stores his briefcase in the overhead locker. "Since we are all heading in the same direction anyway, Lady Oliva was kind enough to—"

"Shut it, Beaumont," Olivia snaps. "I am doing this as a personal favour, not an act of charity. As Lord knows that I wouldn't normally tolerate sharing recycled air with this many people in a confined space. So, if you want to stay on this plane, you will save the histrionics for the Italian President."

Bertrand promptly clamps his mouth shut to sink into his seat without another word.

"Wow..." I say, settling in across from Olivia. "He must've been really desperate to come to you for help... No offence."

"None taken," she replies with a breezy shrug as she flips the broadsheet closed and nods to the cabin attendant. "Because the request didn't come from the Beaumonts."

My head snaps up in surprise. "Then who?"

She regards me for a long moment, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she lets out a resigned exhale. "Drake."

My jaw hits the floor. "What!"

Olivia scrunches her mouth up ruefully. "He twisted my arm into agreeing to look out for you while he's off playing desert soldier."

I stare at her. "How in the world did he—?"

Maxwell thrusts his head 'round the back of Olivia's seat. "Drake's playing video games! Instead of coming to Italy?”

The Duchess of Lythikos shoves the intruding face away with the palm of her hand. "No, you imbecile! Drake's gone to Dubai." Glancing at me she adds, "I presume they know?"

"They do now," I concede with a sigh.

Thanks to the slew of quick-fire developments at yesterday's Festival, followed by the rabid packing to get ourselves ready for the international leg of the tour, I haven't had a chance to bring the Beaumonts up to speed with everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours.

But they're bound to find out about Drake's last-minute side-trip at some point, so this is as good a time as any to level with them.

Maxwell’s mouth drops with an aghast look. "But I didn't hit him that hard!"

Olivia quirks a brow at me.

"Long story, don't ask," I tell her wearily. Glancing up at Maxwell, I add, "He's gone after Tariq. Bastien found him hiding out on some rich cousin's yacht out in the bay."

"Oh." Maxwell scratches his head abashedly. "That makes more sense..."

"How do you put up with these two?" asks Olivia with a shake of her head as Maxwell sinks back into his seat.

I give her a shrug. "They have a weird way of growing on you..."

"Like some deadly fungus..." she mutters with a roll of her eyes.

"I heard that!" objects Maxwell from behind her.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't eavesdrop, then!" she throws over her shoulder snidely. Turning back to me, she adds, "And speaking of funguses, you can remind your boyfriend when he gets back that you both owe me. Big time."

My gaze darts to hers. "I— We're not—"

"Thank you for confirming it," she interjects with a sly smile. "But also, I'm not an idiot. It's obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that the fool is in love with you... and you with him. It's all quite disgusting, really..."

I feel my cheeks redden. "So, why help us, then?"

She heaves a low breath. "Because you stuck your neck out for me when you didn't have to. Despite everything I did to try and undermine you during the season. And because we have a common enemy."

She tosses the broadsheet that she'd been reading over to me.

Catching the copy of the Cordonia Sun before it has a chance to slide off the table between us, I glance down...

...and my heart sinks as I take in the unflattering picture of myself seemingly facing off against Madeleine under the sensationalist headline.

I shove the paper angrily away. "Hey. I didn't start it..."

"And yet you somehow always manage to find yourself in the middle of it, don't you?" she counters with an arched brow as the jet revs its engines for take-off. "The half-nude pictures... The Beaumonts' financial troubles... The speculations about the real reason Christian gave you a duchy... I mean, even the Duchess of Sussex would have a hard time competing with you when it comes to front-page scandals."

"And you think Madeleine is behind it all?" I ask tightly, indicating the tabloid.

"She would certainly have a lot to gain from waging a targeted media campaign against you," Olivia affirms. "She isn't married to Christian yet, and after what happened with Leo, she no doubt feels threatened by your continued presence at court. So, discrediting your integrity in the eyes of the Council would help her ensure that Christian can never formally pick you over her to become Queen."

"Because she doesn't know I turned him down..." I grumble dejectedly as the plane pulls into the air.

"And certainly would not believe you if you told her, either," she adds. "But she is not the only one with something to lose."

I sit up straighter. "You mean there are other suspects?"

"Yes," she nods. "Namely Godfrey and the Queen Mother."

Bertrand erupts from his seat at the mention of the two names. "That is an outrageous accusation! The Queen Mother would never—!"

"Madeleine is her niece," counters Olivia flatly. "Given that she has no children of her own, she practically treats that golden-haired harpy as if she is her heir. And since she was the one who brokered the original marriage contract between Leo and Madeleine, she clearly doesn't want all that work going to waste."

I frown. "But if everything was in place already, why have a social season at all? Why not just sub out Leo's name for Christian's in the contract?"

"To give Christian the illusion of choice."

My jaw drops. "You're not serious..."

"It would have been in poor taste to simply swap one prince out for another," Olivia advises. "Leo hadn't died... merely abdicated. But that decision nevertheless rocked the kingdom to its core."

"It's true," supplies Maxwell, leaning around with a mouth full of jelly worms. "The headlines were vicious."

"So..." I muse with a frown. "The Palace needed a distraction?"

"Yes," Oliva affirms seriously. "To draw attention away from Constantine's failing health."

"Wait," I cut in. "Constantine is dying?"

Olivia nods. "Prostate cancer. By all estimates, he has less than a year to live."

"Oh, my God..." I gasp, hand flying to my mouth. "No wonder Christian didn't want to talk about it..."

"The Palace is under strict instructions to keep the whole thing tightly under wraps..." she explains. "At least until after the coronation and wedding are both out of the way. They don't want the news to overshadow the first few critical months of Christian's rule."

"So, how did you find out?" I query.

She cuts her eyes over at me. "Like I said at the Masquerade Ball... Christian and I share a special connection. There are no secrets between us. Also – look at who you're talking to. I have files on each of the suitors from the social season. You seriously think I wouldn't know about something as vital to the functioning of the kingdom as the state of the King Father's health?"

"I guess not..." I concede, still trying to process this bombshell. "But how does giving Christian an illusion of a choice during the social season help cover up Constantine's cancer?"

"In the wake of Leo's abdication, support for the Rys family fell to an all-time low. The press started to question Constantine's policies, and the direction that the kingdom has been heading over the past few decades, implying that the country's current trajectory was unsustainable... and uncorrectable."

"I remember reading something about that on the flight from New York..." I recall. "There were suggestions that Leo abdicated because he didn't believe in the future of the monarchy."

"Which wasn't the case at all," she cautions. "But the Palace was worried that such intense media scrutiny would unearth evidence of Constantine's ill health... which would in turn intensify the calls from the republican factions of the country to abolish the system of hereditary rule completely. So, in a desperate bid to reunite the people behind a common cause, and shore up support for the monarchy, the Palace decided run the season again."

"But why?" I ask, still not seeing the connection.

"To charm the country with the fairytale of a royal romance," denotes Olivia sourly. "Because people apparently go ga-ga for that shite..."

Bertrand narrowly avoids choking in his seat across the aisle. "That is a crude and absolutely salacious interpretation of—!"

I whirl across the aisle. "Wait. You knew about this?"

Bertrand folds his arms across his chest. "I am a serving member of the Council. Of course I knew about the Palace's decision to run the social season again. But to suggest that it was all done simply for the sake of—"

"God, you're thick..." interjects Olivia.

Bertrand blanches. "I beg your pardon?!"

"You've been at court long enough to know that the truth is never the whole truth — there is always some hidden purpose or ulterior motive."

"But to suggest that—"

"The Palace needed a believable story — one that could capture the public's imagination — while still serving the needs of the kingdom," Olivia states. "A story of duty and love."

"Between Christian and Madeleine?" I ask sceptically. "But they don't even like each other."

"So?" scoffs Olivia. "The aim was to sell the lie to the populace. Everything else is inconsequential. And can be made to fit the narrative."

"But if you knew all this," I counter, "why did you join the competition?"

"I joined exactly because I knew the season was a sham," she replies heatedly. "To give Christian a genuine choice... not just the one that everyone else was determined to steer him towards."

"Because you love him..."

Olivia nods tightly. "Yes. And I knew it was a long shot. But even if he wouldn't end up being able to choose me — Regina would've made sure to stack the Council votes in her favour — at least I could be there to support him... as a friend."

I feel my heart go out to her, knowing from personal experience how difficult it is to be in a situation where you desperately want to be with someone, but can't because of circumstances that are outside of your control.

"But then, of course..." adds Olivia, once again with her customary breeziness, "you show up from out of nowhere with your hideous accent and relatable backstory—"

"Hey!"

"—and the whole country — Christian included — loses their collective minds. With the result that Regina's plan to make her niece Queen begins to unravel at the seams."

"Which is why she decided to set me up..." I surmise heavily as the jet levels off.

It's been fairly obvious from the start that I'm not Regina's favourite person... But the knowledge that she'd go to such lengths to publicly blacklist me? That's just inexcusable.

"You have no proof of that!" objects Bertrand, butting in again.

"Not directly, no," Olivia admits. "But all the evidence we have to date fits. The money Tariq received for his involvement came from a numbered account located in Switzerland. The blackmail letters distributed at the Coronation Ball were printed on Palace stationery. And as far as motives go, the Queen Mother would have more reason than most to influence the outcome of the social season."

"I cannot believe I am hearing this...!" decries Bertrand with a shake of his head. "The implications alone would be—"

"Ruinous to the Rys family," confirms Olivia. "I am aware. Which is why we must tread carefully in order to avoid tarring Christian with any of this. The monarchy would not survive the ensuing scandal."

"What about this other guy?" I ask. "Godfrey? How does he fit into this?"

Olivia throws her hands up. "Lord, you're more clueless than him!"

"Excuse me for not knowing every single Cordonian nobleman by name," I snark back. "I've only been a duchess for a day..."

"I'll send you my files," Olivia huffs wearily. "All two hundred of them."

My eyes widen. "There's two hundred—?"

"There's more, but those are the important ones," she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And if you want to be an effective duchess, I suggest you study up because you need to have the entire contents of those dossiers memorised and ready to deploy in any given conversation."

"Sweet Jesus..." I gasp faintly, making recourse to Drake's favourite invective, as it certainly fit the magnitude of the task Olivia has just dumped on me.

"You didn't grow up in this world, so you have a lot of catching up to do," Olivia shrugs unabashedly.

"Yeah, I'm very much aware of that..." I concede dryly, rubbing my temples. "So, who is this Godfrey?"

"The Third Earl of Huntford, and Duke jure uxoris of Krona."

My brows furrow in recollection. "Krona... Does that mean he's—?"

"He's Madeleine's dad," supplies Maxwell, popping his head into the aisle again, this time in the company of a CapriSun juice pouch.

My eyes widen. "The man at the garden party! But what does he have against me? I've never even met him!"

"The fact that you are still here..." offers Olivia blandly. "Competing against his daughter for the attentions of the King."

"It's not exactly a competition," I scoff. "I'm not trying to steal him away from her."

"Except that isn't how the press is portraying it," counters Olivia pointedly, tapping the front page of the Sun.

I open my mouth again, but quickly shut it, realising that Olivia is right. As regardless of my personal reasons for being back at court — as the Royal Consort, no less! — the view from the outside presents very differently. And given that Madeleine herself clearly feels threatened by my continued presence at Christian's side, it's no small jump to imagine that her father — who, based on what I saw at the garden party a few days ago, is just as power-hungry and image-conscious as his daughter — would also feel the same.

"Crap..." I huff, falling back into my seat dejectedly.

"Not the most elegant of phrasing," muses Olivia. "But certainly succinct."

"What am I going to do?" I ask morosely, starting up at the cabin's air vents.

"Help me gather as much proof as we can during the course of the tour," Olivia instructs. "So we can narrow down our suspect list... or indict all three of them. In either case, we will be more effective if we work together."

"That plan is akin to sedition!" cries Bertrand, clearly aghast by the very suggestion. "Bordering on treason! All of us are in enough hot water already without—"

"Which is why it is imperative that no word of anything that we have just discussed leaves this aircraft," declares Olivia with a steely look. "Or I will personally hunt you down and turn your face inside out."

I gulp at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "What... What about the staff? Can you trust them?"

"They are all Lythikosians," Olivia states. "Who have sworn blood-oaths to House Nevrakis. They would never dare betray me."

"Good to know..." I admit, watching the cabin attendant re-appeared with a selection of drinks, and wondering if underneath her uniform she is as armed to the teeth as Olivia supposedly is.

"I presume the same goes for your beefcakes?" asks Olivia, nodding her chin towards the back where Allard and Schweitzer have taken up residence for the duration of the flight.

"Yes," I confirm. "I trust them with my life."

She dips her head in approval. "Good. So, as first order of business, I suggest—"

"Can we tell Hana?" interjects Maxwell, bobbing up from behind Olivia again. "She's helping us, too!"

Olivia heaves a breath. "Yes, fine. But—"

I hold up a hand. "And Drake will probably want t—"

"Yes, fine!" she snaps irately. "Anyone else? Your maternal grandmother, perhaps?"

I bite my bottom lip as I peek up at her. "Do we tell Christian?"

Olivia holds my gaze for a long moment. "No. Not until we have concrete proof. One way or another. He has enough crises to manage right now without lumbering him with a major constitutional one as well."

I nod in understanding. The mere suggestion that his godmother and future father-in-law have been conspiring to put Madeleine on the throne (potentially with his fiancée's own buy-in!) would be soul-destroying. Which is why we need to find that smoking gun — ideally several — before we present our accusations.

"Not sure if it will be of any help at all," I say, "but Ana de Luca managed dig up some information on the freelance photographer Tariq was working with on the day of the Jamboree."

"Did you bribe her with another exclusive?" chaffs Olivia dryly.

"We'll need someone to help us set the record straight," I affirm. My shoulders slump suddenly. "But I gave the flash-drive to Drake."

"Which he gave to me," smirks Olivia, pulling the device from the pocket of her jacket.

I gape at the piece of plastic in her hand. "Drake really trusts you, huh?"

"More than most," she shrugs coyly, flipping the drive over to me.

I catch it with both hands. "We should review whatever is on here. Who knows? Maybe the photographer is part of the press corps covering the tour."

"I have my laptop with me," Maxwell offers. "I was going to use it to mix some tunes, but—"

"You'll only get one chance to unravel a high-stakes aristo racket!" I quip, dangling the drive between my fingers.

"God, your incessant American optimism is stomach-turning..." Olivia groans. "And you've clearly spent too much time with Walker."

"Hey," I hit back. "This is the best lead we've gotten yet. We shouldn't discount it. This photographer could be key to linking Regina and/or Godfrey to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season."

"Assuming you can find them..." counters Olivia. "And get them to talk."

I meet her eye with a level look. "Good thing that's your area of expertise, isn't it, Duchess?"

The corner of her mouth lifts craftily.

"But what about Harper's Italian!" disparages Bertrand. "We'll be landing in less than an hour, and she still doesn't know the proper way to greet the President in his native tongue without insulting him!"

I swallow a groan. "Do I really need t—?"

"Being able to carry a conversation with the Head of State in Italian will go a long way in demonstrating to both the public and the press that you are serious about your new role as Duchess of Valtoria," he advises frankly. "And will score you some much-needed diplomatic points with our hosts as well."

"Guess we have our work cut out for us, then," I accede with a sigh. "Any chance for some coffee?"

"Turkish, Irish, or Sicilian?" asks Olivia.

"Which is closest to a latte?"

"Probably the Sicilian," she advises. "If you make it into a granita di caffe."

"I'm feeling Italian already!" I gibe in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

Bertrand groans loudly from his seat. "Oh, Dio..."

The story continues in Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

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