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karahalloway · 4 months

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

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

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

Word Count: 7,300

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

Chapter theme song:

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

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

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

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

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

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

"Yeah, but—"

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

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

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe this is a mistake...

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

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

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

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

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

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

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

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

"No..."

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

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

"Exceedingly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harper!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

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

Some much-needed progress at last!

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

Which reminds me...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

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

I heave a breath.

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

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

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

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

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

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

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

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

My heart drops. Oh, no...

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

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

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

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

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

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

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

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

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We found Tariq."

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

No way...

"Where?"

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

No corner... No mercy.

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

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

"Harper?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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tessa-liam · 3 months

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Marabelle Series

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist

Main Pairing – Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, crude language & innuendo.

Not Beta’d - Please excuse all errors.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff

Words: 2389

The Awakening, Chapter 9

Chapter Summary – The Duke of Ramsford, Barthelemy Beaumont returns to House Beaumont. Liam prepares for the polo match charity fundraiser in support of disaster relief in Portavira. Sophie attends classes at the University of Cordonia. King Constantine reveals his illness.

Music Inspiration: The Crown Prince, Waylon Jennings

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: My submission for Choices Flashfics @choicesflashfics, Week #68, prompt 1 - “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Personal Care Home, Vallenheim

Standing in the waiting room, staring out of the window at the parking lot outside of the personal care home, the gray-haired man appeared aloof and unapproachable to anyone passing by. That was, until he spotted his wife and eldest son step out of the town car. The corners of his mouth upturned as he saw his auburn-haired wife gracefully step onto the curb and walk toward the building. His son, Bertrand, followed behind her, his back straight, his expression stoic.

As the two approached the door, the man straightened his posture and smoothed his salt and pepper hair. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the reunion he had been anxiously expecting after the years apart.

The door swung open, and his wife entered, her dark eyes lighting up as they landed on him. "Barthelemy," she breathed, a smile spreading across her face.

"Bethany," he replied, stepping toward her and taking her hands in his. "It is so good to see you."

"And you," she said, squeezing his hands in return.

Their moment was interrupted by their son, who cleared his throat. "Father," he said, inclining his head respectfully.

"Bertrand," the man replied. "I trust you've been taking proper care of your mother."

"Of course," Bertrand replied, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

Bethany chuckled. "He's done a fine job, Barthelemy, along with Maxwell," she assured him. "I couldn't have asked for better sons."

Barthelemy nodded, satisfied. "Good."

He then turned his attention to the doctor, who had been watching the exchange silently. "Is everything in order, Doctor? I'd like to get home to Cordonia as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Grace," the doctor replied, handing him a thick folder. "Here are all the instructions and prescriptions you'll need. The nurse will be along shortly with the medication you need to take during your trip home. Just be sure to follow the dosage schedule carefully."

"Of course," Barthelemy replied, a hint of irritation in his voice. He loathed being told what to do, even by medical professionals. Unbeknownst to Bethany and Bertrand, he was playing, along with the doctor and nurse, the role of a lifetime: The miraculously awakened coma patient.

The doctor smiled apologetically. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I just want to make sure you have all the information you need."

"I understand, Doctor. And I appreciate your thoroughness."

The nurse entered the room with a wheelchair, which Barthelemy at once objected to.

"Surely, that's not necessary," he protested.

"It's just protocol, Your Grace," the nurse explained. "It's clinic policy.”

"Very well," Barthelemy sighed, reluctantly settling into the chair.

Bethany and Bertrand flanked him, each taking the handle of the wheelchair.

"Are you ready, Father?" Bertrand asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Barthelemy replied.

The Cordonian Royal Polo Club

"Hey, Liam, I thought I'd find you out here," Drake called out as he approached the stable, his boots crunching on the gravel.

"Oh, hey Drake," Liam answered. "I didn't think you were coming until later."

"Yeah, well, I finished my rounds early, and I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing. How was the New Year's Ball?"

"It was excellent," Liam smiled, his mind flashing back to his romantic interlude with Lady Sophie. "We had a lot of fun."

"I'll bet you did," Drake smirked, knowing that his 'smitten' best friend personally asked Sophie to attend.

"It's not like that," Liam protested, though his ears turned slightly pink.

"Mmm hmm.”

"It's not ..." Liam started.

"Whatever you say, Liam." Drake chuckled, shaking his head knowingly.

"Anyway," Liam said, changing the subject, "I'm just getting started on the polo drills."

"Mind if I watch?"

"Of course not."

Drake sat on a bench while Liam mounted his horse. His crisp white polo shirt accentuated his tanned muscular physique with his riding breeches and boots.

"All right, boy, let’s see what you can do," Liam calmly spoke, gently kicking the horse's flanks.

The horse took off like a shot, galloping across the field at top speed.

Liam leaned forward, urging the horse on.

Drake watched, transfixed, as Liam and the horse moved as one, their bodies in perfect sync.

"That was impressive! Excellent!" Drake called out, as Liam brought the horse to a halt in front of him.

"Thanks," Liam replied, breathing heavily. "He's a dependable and efficient steed," giving the horse a pat on the neck.

Liam dismounted and accepted a bottle of water and towel from an attendant. As Liam and Drake walked toward the clubhouse, the ranch hands steered the thoroughbred back to the barn.

“That reminds me, Drake. Are you still available to join my polo team for the fund-raising event in Portavira next week?”

“Yes, Mel and I are looking forward to kicking noble ass." Drake grinned knowing that Neville was on the opposing team.

"I still need to find one more player since Rashad had to cancel."

“What about Sophie? Melanie tells me she played polo in New York.”

“She mentioned she studied dressage back in the U.S. and was thrilled to learn that Marabelle was quite proficient. That skill could come in handy for the team.” Liam pondered aloud.

“Sophie is a skilled rider, and she would be a terrific addition to the team, Li.”

“I can't wait to see her ride again," Liam responded, smiling,

"Uh huh, I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun," Drake smirked.

Liam sighed, shaking his head. "Not everything has to be a double entendre, Drake."

"I know, but it's so much more fun that way," he cheekily responded.

University of Cordonia, Capital

"I can't believe it's been a week since the New Year's Ball," Sophie exclaimed, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Time seems to be flying by."

"I know," Maxwell replied, stirring his salad. "I feel like I need to plan the next Beaumont Bash already!"

Sophie laughed. "Do you ever stop thinking about these events?"

"Not when there's so much work to do to organize," Maxwell grinned. "But that's what makes me so good at it."

"You certainly are, but Max, this is your last semester...don't start something you can't finish."

“I don’t have to worry about my grades; I have already met the requirement to graduate with honors.”

"I've been thinking," Maxwell said, a mischievous glint in his eye, "about a different theme for the next Beaumont Bash after my graduation."

"And what theme were you thinking about having?" Sophie asked, knowing exactly what was coming.

"I'm going to make it a costume ball!"

"I knew it! That sounds like so much fun," Sophie grinned.

"It will be, and you'll be celebrating your first-year anniversary as a Cordonian.”

"Of course, I'll be there.”

"So, how are things with Liam going?" Maxwell asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Good," Sophie blushed. "We had a great time at the New Year's Ball."

"Did you have a good time, or 'a good time'?" Maxwell waggled his eyebrows.

"Maxwell!"

"Okay, okay. I will not push."

"What did I miss?" Daniel asked, as he grabbed a chair to sit down.

"Sophie was just telling me about her New Year's kiss with Liam," Maxwell winked.

"Ooh, do tell."

"There's nothing to tell," Sophie laughed, her cheeks burning.

"Come on, Soph, give us all the deets," Daniel prodded.

"Fine. We kissed. It was amazing."

"I knew it!" Maxwell exclaimed.

"So, when's the wedding?" Daniel joked.

"Shut up," Sophie retorted, laughing.

"Seriously, I'm happy for you. It's been a long time since I've seen you this happy, Squirrel."

"Thanks, Daniel."

"So, how are you doing with your Dad coming back tomorrow, Max?" Daniel inquired.

"I'm okay. I mean, I am glad he is better. But I do not know if I am ready to face him yet.”

"It's still so weird to me that you and Sophie are related."

"Yeah, it's a small world," Maxwell chuckled.

"No kidding. So, what is the deal with your Dad, anyway? What was he doing all that time?"

"He was in a coma," Maxwell replied, his voice soft.

"Oh, shit. I am so sorry, Max."

"It's okay. It's just..." Maxwell paused, looking uncomfortably at his hands.

"What?"

"It's hard to know what to believe, you know? After everything he put us through."

"I get that. But don't forget, he's still your Dad."

"He was a shit one, though," Maxwell pointed out.

Sophie put her hand on Daniel’s arm, “Let’s change the conversation, Dan.”

"It’s all right. I always knew that I would have to deal with it eventually. But right now, I just want to focus on graduating and figuring out my next steps."

"That sounds like a good plan," Daniel agreed.

"Yeah. It'll all work out in the end."

"That's the spirit"

Daniel slid his binder under his arm, "... see you guys later. Oh, and Max, just remember, you've got this."

"Thanks, man."

Maxwell watched his friend leave, feeling grateful for the support.

"He's right, you know," Sophie began.

"About what?" Maxwell looked at Sophie

"You've got this. No matter what happens with your father, you will be okay. You're stronger than you realize."

Maxwell sighed. "I know you are right. I am also grateful that Mom will be there as a buffer for you."

Sophie wrapped her arm around him.

"It will be fine.

Now, let's get to class before we're late."

Sophie and Maxwell walked together out of the dining hall to their next classes, feeling bolstered by each other's support.

Cordonian Royal Palace

King Constantine sat in his study, staring out the window.

After hearing the devastating prognosis about his health from his personal physician, he directed his queen to track down and summon Leo as soon as possible. Regina, to her credit, tried to assuage her stepson’s concerns as to Constantine's urgency when she found him in the palace gymnasium.

However, Leo knew that his father would not have requested his presence so suddenly unless the news was dire.

Constantine stood up as Leo and Regina walked into his office, his posture stiff, his face grim.

Leo looked at his father and at once sensed the seriousness of the situation.

"Father, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, son," Constantine said, his voice low. "I'm afraid I have received some rather unpleasant news."

"What is it?" Leo asked, his concern piqued.

"I've just come from a meeting with the royal doctors, and they've given me a prognosis."

"Prognosis?"

"Yes," Constantine said, his expression darkening. "They've determined that my health has deteriorated to the point where I can no longer carry out my duties as king."

Leo's blood ran cold. He knew what was coming next.

"W-what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that my time as king is over. And yours has begun."

"What?" Leo swallowed loudly.

"You're going to be crowned king, Leo. And you will ascend the throne immediately."

"I have advised the Prime Minister to make the formal announcement tomorrow morning to the country."

"I have begun preparations for your Royal wedding to Madeleine as well." Regina added.

"What? No!" Leo shouted.

"Calm yourself, Leo," Constantine admonished.

"How can you ask me to calm down?" Leo demanded, his hands shaking. "You're asking me to give up my life, my freedom. My future."

"As the Crown Prince, you know your duty to your country is paramount. It is what you have been preparing for since birth."

"No. I won't do it." Shaking his head from this unexpected shock.

"Don't be so dramatic, Leo," Regina said, her tone exasperated. "This is your birthright.”

"It's not drama," Leo insisted. "I will not marry Madeleine. I don't love her. And she doesn't love me."

"Love has nothing to do with it. You are betrothed to her noble house," Constantine stated. "This is about duty and honor."

"And I won't be bound by either," Leo declared, his eyes blazing. "If I have to marry her, I'll abdicate. You can't make me be king."

Constantine's jaw clenched, and he stared at Leo with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

Leo turned and stormed out of the room, leaving his father and stepmother behind him, fuming.

Constantine sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He'll come around, Regina."

‘It’s hard to be the crowned prince

When it all hits home

You can’t hide behind the wall

Around the throne’

💕Thanks for reading

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dcbbw · 5 months

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Commoner, Part 2--Secret

Part 2 of Commoner! Part 1 can be found here. We’re picking up where we left off (Leo left, Sav is pregnant, and no one knows)

This story was born of a long-standing head canon (Sav would crush on the older brother, not her brother’s best friend), and the song inspiration (original version, but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement was invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 62 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,201

Rating: M for Mature themes

I sit in the back of the sleek, black Mercedes that is Duchy Ramsford’s official vehicle with the Brothers Beaumont, en route to the Palace. King Constantine has requested a meeting of the Great Houses.

And me.

I vacillate between relief that he will put those awful rumors to rest, and fear that Leo will be there with that woman.

“You appear to be deep in thought,” Bertrand observes. “Are you feeling well?”

I plaster a quick smile onto my lips. “Merely curious why the King would want me to be present at this meeting.”

The Duke gives me a solicitous nod, and I again wonder why he’s been so nice to me since our breakfast encounter. It’s not that Bertrand is a bad guy; he has taught me a lot during my month at House Beaumont. I know more than I ever wanted to about utensils, glassware, table etiquette, and bloodlines and lineage. I now know that the reason I don’t have the title of Lady, the most ubiquitous yet ambiguous title a woman can hold, is because I don’t belong to a House.

I’m commoner.

But he isn’t a nice guy either, so the attention is a bit … odd.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with Leo, and all the news stories?” Max pipes up. “Although I suppose if Bastien is at the Palace and Leo isn’t, that may be all the confirmation we need.”

Bertrand looks out the window. “We’re here,” he announces.

I swear I feel my baby flip inside my stomach, which is stupid. I’m only eight weeks along.

As we walk up the front staircase, I don’t feel a sense of homecoming. I only feel dread. My throat closes when Bastien opens the door and leads us to the formal living room where the other guests are gathered. Groups are huddled close together; there are murmurs of conversations I cannot hear. I hug my brother and struggle through a curtsy meant to encompass the entire room. No one acknowledges me other than Kiara, who gives me a huge grin and enthusiastic hug.

And I wonder why I feel the need to be a part of this world, to be accepted by the very people who never will.

That it'll never change And it will just stay like this

I catch a glimpse of Madeleine, who is stone-faced; only the paleness of her skin and the clenching of her jaw signals anger, embarrassment, and hurt. I look down at her hands; her fingers are bare of jewelry.

Leo has left both of us.

The King clears his throat, and we all turn towards the front of the room. He is flanked by Queen Regina and Liam; all of them are wearing stoic expressions and I know … in my brain, my heart, my very soul … Leo has run off and fulfilled promises he could never make to me to another woman. I’m a single, teenaged mother with absolutely nothing to my name; I can’t even leverage the child growing inside of me.

There is a buzzing in my ears that drowns out the words my monarch is uttering until he states that Liam will ascend to the throne. There is to be a social season, and I will be the House Beaumont sponsee. The Crown will fund my sponsorship as I was still their ward and had no properties of my own. Drake’s face darkens, Bertrand beams proudly, and Max jumps up and down in excitement.

There’s something about Bertrand’s smile … he isn’t surprised to hear this news. Did he already know what to expect? Was Leo the phone call that morning?

I throw up on the priceless carpet and my hand-me-down shoes.

Three weeks pass, weeks where I scour newspapers, magazines, and the internet for news of my baby’s father. There is a plethora of media, mostly photos of him in motocross tournaments: smiling happily in the Mojave Desert, frowning in concentration as he inspects his vehicle in UAE, sunning on a beach in Greece. The woman is not in the pictures, and rarely mentioned in the articles.

Now she can be his dirty little secret.

And when we spoke for months Well, did you ever mean it? How can we say that this is love When it goes like this?

Meanwhile, in Cordonia, my hips are spreading; my breasts are getting fuller, and my belly is only slightly rounded. Bertrand has ramped up my training but takes care to give me breaks throughout the day and we are now spending our meals together without Maxwell. He shares stories of his education, his time as a fashion designer, and memories of his childhood.

He walks me to my room every evening; occasionally he holds my hand.

I am not in love with Bertrand, but I find myself enjoying his company more and more.

But every time I meet somebody new It's like déjà vu I swear they sound the same It's like they know my skin

We’re sitting in Bertrand’s study one night; he is poring over documents related to Liam’s cabinet. Bertrand and Rashad Domvallier are to be financial and legal advisors to the new future King. I watch him nervously. I’ve decided that tonight is the time to tell him I cannot be the House’s sponsee. It isn’t fair to not tell him; he’ll need time to find someone new and school them in the ways of nobility.

My fingernails pluck nervously at my robe. I could very well be homeless in the next 15 minutes. Bertrand takes his duties as Duke seriously and is extremely rigid when it came to appearances and reputation; an unwed, pregnant commoner could not reside under the roof of House Beaumont. However, returning to the Palace would be a disaster between King Constantine and Big Brother Drake.

But it has to be done. This baby is going to make itself known sooner than later.

He drains his third glass of cognac before sighing heavily and pushing himself away from his desk. With an unsteady gait, he crosses the room to join me on the sofa. He looks almost regal in his gold silk robe with black piping, and black pajama bottoms. He sits so closely, I smell his cologne; it’s Hermès.

Leo always wore Armani.

“Savannah, I’d like to have a … conversation of a different sort with you.” His breath smells of liquor and his words are slightly slurred.

“Isn’t that funny?” I reply in a squeaky voice. “I wanted to have one with you also.”

He pulls one of my hands into his as he begins to speak. “You need to know that while you may be participating in the social season, you won’t win the hand of the Crown Prince. The position requires someone of lineage, with a knowledge of world politics and has a pulse on the fluctuating nature of both Court and Crown. However, the Engagement Tour should afford you an opportunity to marry into a minor house.”

I stare at him dumbfounded. Drunk Bertrand pisses me off.

“However, I do find myself being very attracted to you. I propose an offer that should be beneficial to both of us. I’d like you to be my mistress until we both find persons worthy of our status and station. You would become an honorary member of House Beaumont to assure you have a title, and I can be a very generous lover in more ways than one.”

He drops my hand and rises from the couch on his second attempt. He goes to a coat closet, opens the door, and retrieves a package. The box is emblazoned with Hermès’ name and logo. He brings it back to me, carefully placing it in my lap.

“Open it,” he urges.

I do so to find a limited-edition white matte satchel, made of leather and silk. The tag is still attached: $200,000 USD. I look up at him, knowing that he wants me to know how much it costs.

“Your … mistress?” I ask as my body feels as if it’s going numb.

And it will just stay like this Never really dating, breaking up

“This world is cruel. I’m just playing by its rules. It would behoove you to do so as well. You can’t be anything else to me or anyone of stature. You’re a commoner with the most basic of public education. You are ignorant in the ways of Court, the circles you would need to travel in. I am happy to give you the benefit of my knowledge, but at the end of the day, I am a Duke. Dukes don’t marry commoners.”

He says it all as if he is telling me the sun will rise in the east. Bertrand means no harm; nobles never do. Or so they claim.

Every word they say sounds just like him

My eyes fall back to the price tag, realizing I have my way out. I can keep my secret, and everyone’s precious reputation is intact.

“It’s late, Your Grace and you have given me a lot to process. I’ll have an answer for you in due time.”

He gives me a small smile. “May I … may I kiss you?”

A small shake of my head. “No,” I reply in an almost-rueful tone.

I know my place.

His smile falters, and he nods slowly. “My apologies. That was presumptuous of me.”

I mentally shake my head. THAT is what he considered to be the most horrible thing about his proposition? I box the purse again, and stand.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Three months later, I am standing on the balcony of my small pied-a-terre located in a quaint, quiet Parisian neighborhood, watching the day come to an end. The sun is still bright in the sky, but evening is fast approaching. My fingers comb through my dark, thick tresses before pulling a toffee-colored cardigan tighter across my expanding body.

It’s springtime and I think again how leaving Cordonia to settle here was the best move. Paris had always been my dream destination: red lipsticks, rich wines, decadent perfumes, trendy runway fashions.

The baby and I have even learned to enjoy the food.

My eyes take in the Palais Garnier, also known as the Paris Opera House, not that far in the distance before falling to the cobblestoned streets below: restaurant and café doors open, unleashing aromas of grilled meat and sauteed onions as bakeries pull window shades down. Women with chic hats and impossibly high heels exit dress stores, shopping bags bunched in fisted hands. Street vendors begin putting away their wares.

My stomach rumbles, and I head inside. There had been a late breakfast/early lunch a few hours ago, but the fruit, yogurt, and cheese and spinach omelet have all but disappeared now. My child has a healthy appetite. I walk around a black wrought iron table with matching chairs, pausing to fluff oversized chair cushions decorated with huge sunflowers.

I push the terrace door shut behind me before going into the kitchen. I had taken a chicken out earlier, but I no longer have an appetite for it. Instead, I want pistou pasta with grilled duck and extra mushrooms from my favorite bistro.

But money is tight. Despite having a job and being frugal with the savings leftover from the sale of the purse Bertrand gifted me, I need to be mindful of rent, food, doctor’s appointments once the child gets here and I will be on unpaid leave.

I’m having a boy that I will name Barthelemy, Bartie for short. It’s my way of paying homage to Maxwell for being such an incredible and caring friend during all of this. He doesn’t know who the father is and has never pressured me to tell him. He sends money and has offered to make an honest woman of me.

All of this even though I left House Beaumont without a sponsee, and they now either have to find one that they will have to fully sponsor or withdraw.

A knock at the door captures my attention; I stare at it with a frown. I don’t have many friends in Paris; Maxwell is due for his monthly visit next week. He’s bringing Drake and Kiara with him. They were the only two I instructed Maxwell to tell of my whereabouts. Drake and I aren’t close, but we are all we have left as far as family. He deserved to know. Kiara’s my best girlfriend, and she speaks French. Win-win.

I would like to see Liam, but he has much to learn and do before the social season begins in less than 12 weeks.

I slowly and laboriously cross the small distance between the kitchen and the front door; my eye widens as I peer through the peephole.

Leo.

He looks even more handsome if that’s possible. He carries a bouquet of flowers in one hand as he looks around the hallway. I quietly and cautiously back away from the door as tears prick the corners of my eyes.

And then one random night When everything changes You won't reply And we'll go back to strangers

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet@busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #part 2/2 #savannah walker #bertrand beaumont #leo rys #writer on tumblr

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super-shapeshifter-showdown · 1 year

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LINEUP

I am currently making matchups+brackets, here’s who’s competing

Also if you guys have image suggestions for anyone listed below please send them in asks!

Fandom- character(s)

1. She-Ra - Double Trouble

2. Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard- Alex Fierro

3. The Owl House- Vee

4. Pokémon- Ditto

5. Skullgirls- Double

6. My Little Pony- Queen Chrysalis

7. Star Trek Deep Space 9- Odo

8. Ben 10- Ben Tennyson

9. Teen Titans- Beast Boy

10. CPU Kerfuffle- Larry the Florida Man

11. Super Paper Mario- Mimi

12. Sanders Sides- Janus Sanders

13. Norse Mythology- Loki

14. Adventure Time- Jake the Dog

15. Ninjago- Mystaké

16. Lego Monkie Kid- Sun Wukong

17. Journey to the West- Sun Wukong

18. Wild Kratts- The Kratt Brothers

19. The Shapeshifting Detective- “Sam”

20. Val & Isaac - Space Dread

21. DC- Martian Manhunter

22. Blaze and the Monster Machines- Blaze

23. Final Fantasy 7- Vincent Valentine

24. El Goonish Shive- Grace Sciuridae

25. The Shapeshifter- Dax Jones

26. Encanto- Camilo Madrigal

27. Aladdin- Genie

28. Welcome to Demon School Iruma-Kun- Alikred

29. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure- Mikitaka Hazekura

30. Odd Squad- The Shapeshifter

31. The Thing (1982)- The Thing

32. Critical Role- Yu Suffiad

33. Fullmetal Alchemist- Envy

34. Pizza Tower- Fake Peppino!

35. Star Twinkle Precure- Yuni

36. Sonic the Hedgehog- Mimic the Octopus

37. Sky High- Magenta

38. Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves- Doric

39. Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess- Link

40. XMen- Mystique (Raven Darkholme)

41. Splatoon- Inkling

42. Steven Universe- Amethyst

43. Lovecraft mythos/Call of Cthulhu-Nyarlathotep

44. Heroes of Olympus- Frank Zhang

45. Gravity Falls- Experiment #210

46. Half Life but the AI is Self Aware- Benrey

47. Prototype (2009)- Alex Mercer

48. Danny Phantom- Bertrand

49. Transformers- Starscream

50. Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared- Stain Edwards the Forever Boy

51. A Hat in Time- Shapeshifter

52. MCU- Loki

53. Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door- Dooplis

54. Marvel comics- Loki

55. Animorphs- Tobias

56. Howl's Moving Castle- Howl Pendragon

57. Fairy Odd Parents- Wanda and Cosmo

58. Kirby- Kirby

59. Deltarune- Jevil

60. Ranma 1/2- Ranma

61. My Hero Academia- Himiko Toga

62. Ace Attorney- Maya Fey

63. Undertale- Mettaton

64. Celtic Mythology- Selkies

#not a poll #line up #lineup #update

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darkdisrepair · 1 year

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imogen temult: a retrospective

in honor of the new year, here's a meta about our favorite purple haired girl, by looking back at what's transpired in 2022 and what she has ahead of her in 2023:

topics:

imogen, liliana, and gelvaan | imodna trauma | fcg and therapy |

tw//suicidal ideation, trauma, death

imogen, liliana, and gelvaan

let's start with the most glaring recent plot point- and one of the most painful.

liliana working with otohan was something i had started to guess ever since we learned that she was alive.

did i want them to be gay for each other? i mean, yes.

but how devastating for imogen, to learn that the mother she has been looking for her whole life is working with the person responsible for so much of her trauma: otohan haunts her dreams, killed three of her friends, and- there are probably better words for it- but tortured imogen's powers out of her, essentially.

for someone who claims to have left her daughter to protect her- how is keeping her in the dark about otohan any better? how is any of this secrecy helping her more than just telling her what she's discovered?

and it's worse because imogen craves her mother's love. imogen craves to be loved, in general. she wants so desperately to have a parental figure- someone to relinquish responsibility, someone to cry to, someone to ask advice from- and the more i think about her backstory... she's not given much of it, is she?

shunned by her town, abandoned by her mother in childhood only to be abandoned, again, when she rejects imogen's attempts to meet up, estranged from her father...

all the mentor figures in her life- laudna, bertrand, and eshteross- have died. she has seen all of their bodies, she has seen their blood and for bertrand and eshteross- she has seen them walk into the storm.

i can't help but think: imogen loses, and loses, and loses. the world has taken so much from her and it's heartbreaking because people need things to cling on to.

the lord of the rings is a perfect example of this: tolkien made the shire so idyllic, so beautiful, because the hobbits needed something to fight for. something to come home to.

gelvaan might be beautiful but it is not her safe haven.

her ritual contribution proved that. "i don't know how much longer I would have lasted," imogen said, and that, too, is devastating.

the town drove her to at least contemplate suicide, and even in sleep, gelvaan is supposed to be comforting but heralds a storm.

not that places mean everything, in terms of what to fight for, but that would make it easier, wouldn't it? to have somewhere to come home to, at the end of it all, that isn't haunted by dreams of red storms and the memories of how painful life was, there?

imodna trauma

well speaking of how painful life was- laudna's death still haunts imogen (and laudna but that's a different discussion).

in some ways, their distance now reminds me of the rock "breakup" and yet, it's even sadder this time because they're not not talking because they're angry or betrayed- it's because they both are so insistent that the other be okay that they don't allow themselves the grace to admit that they themselves aren't.

imogen is trying so hard to return things back to normal. she doesn't want to talk about her powers, she doesn't want to talk about laudna dying, she doesn't want to think about it.

i think it's because she can't, because if she starts i don't know if she knows how to piece herself together.

i think imogen is afraid to confront the depth of her pain over laudna's death, in particular, because she's afraid of "breaking" again, like otohan broke her.

it's hard to explain: but laudna's death and otohan pushing imogen to a breaking point was more than just what it was. it also creates this extremely unhealthy relationship with dealing with emotions/having an emotional outlet.

because really the only time in canon that imogen has really, truly been able to break down is in times of immense trauma, and against her will- and that caused a dangerous release of power that (in imogen's mind) could very well have been the final blow in all of her friend's deaths.

so now, you have both the physical trauma of losing her friends to otohan, but also this mental block of "if i let myself feel, i will hurt the people i care about."

bell's hells and therapy

and the pain and the stress doesn't ever stop coming, for imogen, and though the group notices, i don't think they really understand her well enough yet to really see that otohan trauma (and imogen might not, either).

now, this is no hate on fcg- but he in particular seems to call out imogen's pain the most, while presenting very surface-level solutions.

"i'll create a safe space," they say, but then they allude to imogen crying a lot and being fragile and then don't actually?? listen??

i think fearne/ashley has done the best at starting difficult conversations with imogen, and has, more than anyone, pushed both imogen and laudna to having hard conversations in the past.

she tried to get imogen to talk about her new ruidius friend and she asks imogen if she thinks she intended the blast, and she really does seem to listen.

but fcg is prone to bringing things up and then using spells/conventional therapy techniques, or what they see as "what SHOULD be done when x boxes are met" without slowing down and really getting everything out of the therapy that is actually important.

(this is no hate to sam i think fcg's perspective is FASCINATING i just don't think it's right for imogen)

#imogen temult meta #imogen temult #imodna #imogen x laudna #laudna x imogen #laudna #critical role #critical role meta #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #campaign 3 #campaign 3 spoilers #bell's hells

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sourceallthingscinema · 29 days

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𝙇𝙞𝙯𝙯𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧é 𝙖𝙨 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝘼𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙃𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙧 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮: 𝘼𝙨𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙢 (2013)

#lizzie brochere #grace bertrand

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violetskeletons · 7 months

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About me

Name:Madi

My favorite bands:

Pierce the veil

Insane clown posse

Nirvana

The smiths

Linkin park

The Smashing Pumpkins

Hole

TV girl

Fleetwood Mac

My favorite shows:

Ahs

Desperate housewives

Forensic files

Sabrina the teenage witch (90s)

Workaholics

South park

Shameless

My favorite song: Stay away from my friends-Pierce The veil

My current favorite ahs season:Murder House

Favorite ahs character(s):Violet Harmon, Madison Montgomery and Tate Langdon.

I also AM the #1 Grace Bertrand hater.

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alj4890 · 7 months

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Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship AU

Masterlist

A/N I know it's been a while, but I think I can say I'm back 🤞Covid and flu went through my whole family these last couple of weeks and I'm behind on everything, including having fun on Tumblr. I'm starting to catch up on writing, reading, and answering asks. For the time being though, here's something I'd finished right before all the sickness struck. I was finally able to edit it this morning, so here we go with some more angsty romance with Max and Liv.

Chapter 4

Cordonia's Royal Port...

Olivia was seething.

There were a great many things in this world that could make her angry. One that was high on her list was what she deemed: traitor. It just so happened that she was debating on whether or not to assign that particular moniker to one of the men she'd known for most of her life.

Is he betraying me by being all buddy/buddy with Riley? He's pushing so hard for her to win Liam's attention. Shouldn't he be rooting instead for me, his so-called friend?

Her narrowed eyes were riveted upon the joyful trio. It was ridiculous how happy Drake, Riley, and Maxwell were for having won the annual regatta. Olivia felt her temper spike to see her competition engulfing both men in tight hugs before jumping down to the dock to greet Liam and Constantine.

The fact that the three most incompetent people she'd ever known had beaten her soon to be fired crew was absolutely insane.

"Your grace?" One of her crewmen cleared his throat. "Please accept our apologies for--"

"Get everything ready for the party." She snapped. "Guests will be arriving soon. I expect no further failures."

"Yes m'lady." He bowed then scurried away.

Olivia refocused on the various nobles coming towards her yacht. There was only one person she wanted to see from her peer group. She wasn't certain why she wanted to see Maxwell as badly as she did. She chalked it up to her need to set him straight on a number of matters.

Then again, curiosity over their kiss could be another big reason.

She greeted her guests on her way down to the dock, making certain on timing it to where she could run into Maxwell without it appearing planned.

Luckily, he wasn't looking where he was going. His attention was directed upon his phone while a slight frown formed on lips she knew a little too well.

Maxwell bumped into her, nearly sending them both into the water.

"Whoa!" He grasped her waist to help keep her upright. "Sorry."

Olivia's frown deepened over the flush creeping up her neck from their bodies being pressed up against one another for such a brief moment.

Stepping back, she straightened her sweater and waited on him to say something more.

His eyes lingered upon her cold, dispassionate face. Maxwell felt his heart sink at not seeing anything like he'd hoped to after sharing a kiss that had been beyond anything his imagination could conjure.

"Excuse me." He mumbled, stepping around her.

Olivia blinked at that being all he was going to say to her. After that kiss from a few nights earlier, she expected him to say something about why he'd done it.

"Where are you going?" She snapped.

Her waspish tone caused him to freeze.

"Bertrand needs to talk to me." He told her.

"Now?" She asked.

"Yeah." Maxwell sighed. "His, um, his patience is really wearing thin."

He glanced towards her yacht and the nobles already mingling on it. Of all the times his brother demanded his presence for another lecture, it had to be when the woman he was head over heels for threw a party.

Not that she would want me there.

"Aren't you coming to my little get together?" She asked.

His eyes searched hers. Hope flared within him.

Maybe I didn't screw up my chances with her, he thought. If she wants me at her party then my kiss didn't completely gross her out.

"I wish I could." Maxwell ran a hand down his face. "Bertrand is demanding I come find him."

"Are you going to the beach later?" Olivia wanted to slap herself for sounding like she couldn't wait to see him again.

"Yeah," Maxwell replied, "I think so."

His phone buzzed with another irritated text from his brother.

"I'll see you later." He mumbled.

"Hey." Riley greeted, stopping beside Olivia. "Liam said you're hosting the Ladies of the Court."

Olivia watched him walk away. Her brow furrowed in thought over his behavior and her own holding back in telling him off. She wasn't quite certain what game Maxwell was playing with her, but she knew she needed to stop it before it went any further.

Is it a game he's playing with me? Is that why he kissed me? Or am I giving Maxwell too much credit?

"I am." Olivia turned back towards the gangplank, motioning for Riley to follow. "Welcome aboard."

"Thanks." Riley relaxed some once she saw Olivia wasn't her usual temperamental self.

"Of course." Olivia's overly bright smile made Riley pause. "Please, make yourself at home and do not hesitate to ask for whatever you need."

Riley's eyes widened when Olivia called out for a servant to bring her a bright orange life jacket.

"Here." Olivia's smug smile formed. "We can't take a chance on possibly losing you during our excursion."

"Is everyone getting one?" Riley asked.

"No. They aren't as fragile as our newest member of the Court." Olivia replied.

Riley's own smile held a hint of evil. She took the life jacket in her hands and managed to sound like she was overcome with emotion.

Olivia struggled in her embrace.

"Olivia! Aren't you the most precious person to be so concerned about me?" Riley pulled her into a tight hug. "It is so sweet how much you want to keep me around."

Her delighted out urst drew the nobles' attention. Many were chuckling and whispering while watching the two ladies before turning back to the brunch that was being set out.

"There's no need for this." Riley whispered. "This competition doesn't mean we have to keep being mean to each other."

Olivia pushed out of her arms. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. This is a competition. None of us can be anything other than opponents as we fight to win Liam."

"There is no fight." Riley tossed the life preserver into a nearby lounge chair. "Liam is a man who will choose the woman he wants to ultimately spend the rest of his life with. I don't care what Madeleine says about it being to find the perfect queen. In the end, he has to live with whomever he picks."

She gestured around at the crowd. "Those of us who aren't picked will need to continue on in life. Wouldn't it be better to do so as friends?"

Olivia scoffed at that notion.

Riley really is naive.

"Believe that if you want," Olivia muttered, "but in the end, you'll hate the one Liam picks over you."

"Why?" Riley folded her arms. "If I truly care about Liam, then shouldn't I want to see him get the person he wants most?"

Olivia hesitated. Of course, she knew that's how one should feel. Yet, could she take Liam picking one of the other ladies over herself?

"Anyway," Riley continued, "I think we'll all end up with the person we're meant for."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That sounds stupidly optimistic."

Riley shrugged. "I'm a hopeless romantic. It's why I agreed to Maxwell's invitation to be House Beaumont's suitor."

She then nudged Olivia.

"You know, there are a lot of handsome guys here."

"Excuse me?" Olivia sputtered.

"I'm just saying, the ladies Liam doesn't pick have a pretty decent selection to nurse their broken hearts." Riley smiled at her. "I bet there's at least one who's not the prince who has caught your eye."

Olivia paled at the thought of Maxwell telling Riley about the kiss.

"He has not caught my eye." Olivia hissed.

"Who?" Riley asked.

"I don't care what he said to you!" Olivia whispered harshly. "Nothing will ever come from that kiss!"

"Who?!" Riley's eyes widened. "Who did you kiss?"

Olivia realized she'd made a huge mistake. The longer she studied Riley's curious face the more she knew Maxwell hadn't told her about what happened that last night in Lythikos.

Furious over her own stupidity, Olivia spun on her heel and left Riley gaping in confusion.

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

The private beach...

Maxwell did his best not to look around and see where Olivia was. He'd already caught her staring at him twice. He knew he should probably talk about the kiss with her.

But...

He didn't want to hear her say that she felt nothing for him.

He softly groaned as he collapsed back on the towel he was sitting on. Once he saw Liam sneak off with Riley, he knew he could finally relax somewhat. He wished he could get out of his clothes and go swimming with his friends. He knew Bertrand would have a stroke if he found out that he did so and that the entire court saw his tattoo.

Still...it was tempting to rip his black shirt off. Hearing the gasps and whispers over the baby hippo residing upon his chest would bring a smile to his face. It would also temporarily take his mind off one particular subject.

He'd give anything to escape his thoughts. Between the heat of the afternoon sun and the inner heat from the memories of how Olivia's lips felt on his, he needed a cool dip in the ocean.

"We need to talk."

His eyes shot open to see the very person he could not stop thinking about standing over him.

Olivia glanced around. Everyone was preoccupied with either swimming or mingling. No one was paying any attention to them. It was the perfect moment to finally get some answers.

"What, um, what do you want to talk about?" Maxwell asked a touch hesitantly.

"You know what I want to discuss." She hissed. "Now get up and follow me."

He scrambled after her when she darted towards a shaded area filled with palm trees and thick brush.

Once she knew they were well out of earshot of everyone, she rounded on him.

"I know what you're doing." Her tone sent a chill down his spine.

"You do?" Maxwell thought he'd been so careful.

"I'd almost be impressed if you were normally this manipulative." Olivia swallowed, fighting against the frustrated tears that she felt. "But coming from someone like you, all I see is how cruel you really are."

She refused to cry in front of people. It was a form of weakness that a Nevrakis could never show to anyone. The last person she'd ever thought would make her feel this close to tears was Maxwell Beaumont.

Heat rose up her body as she blinked back the telltale signs that he'd upset her to this point.

"Cruel?" His eyes narrowed in concern as he stepped closer to her. "What are you talking about?"

"Your kiss!" She snapped. "You used it to distract me from pursuing Liam all so you're precious Riley could steal him away!"

Maxwell's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe she'd jumped to that conclusion. Didn't she know he was hopelessly in love with her, that he'd never use that as a weapon against her? How much more obvious could he be in showing Olivia how badly he wanted to be with her?

"Listen closely." She poked his chest with each word. "I will win Liam. You and I will never, ever speak of that kiss again after today. I know your tricks now and will never falter again."

"Tricks?!" He finally found his voice. "Liv, it wasn't a trick! I didn't do anything to make sure Riley wins Liam's attention."

"Bullshit!" Olivia hissed. "You knew what you were doing when you came to my room that night! I let my sentimentality over our childhood friendship keep me from seeing just how far you'll go to make Riley be Liam's choice."

"I swear I had no plans to do anything that night!" He cried out. "I honestly wanted to check on you! Don't you know..."

He trailed off, lowering his eyes. He knew deep, deep down he had kissed her in the hopes she would be distracted from pursuing Liam. It just had nothing at all to do with Riley or winning this asinine competition.

He only wanted Olivia to fall in love with him.

Swallowing, he reached for her hand.

For some reason Olivia allowed him to do so.

His thumb brushed over her skin setting off tingles for them both.

"Don't I know what?" She bit out, refusing to relax her fingers.

He lifted his eyes to hers. Olivia took a step back from the undeniable emotion swimming in those ocean blue depths of his.

Maxwell wanted to tell her everything that was in his heart. He knew he couldn't and even if he did give in to his weakness for her, she'd never believe him now. He could only hint at what he felt for her.

"Don't you know me well enough to see that I would never do something like that to anyone, especially to you? "

His voice cracked towards the end of his question. He didn't bother to try and hide how hurt he was. What was the point?

Olivia felt her suspicion begin to dwindle the more she studied Maxwell. He'd always been nice, especially to her. Could he truly have kissed her without any ulterior motive?

She knew he'd had a crush on her since forever. Did he actually kiss her because he wanted to? Or was it to help her know if Liam was what she wanted?

"All I want," he squeezed her hand before letting go, "all I ever wanted was to see my friends happy."

He stepped away from her.

"And since you've always been important to me, that's all I want for you. Whether it is with Liam or..." he grimaced, "or some other lucky guy, I want you to be with someone who appreciates the kind of woman you are."

Olivia folded her arms.

"That's all you want?" She snorted. "Nothing for yourself?"

"I didn't say that." He snapped.

Maxwell could feel the irritation well within him that she was completely blind when it concerned him.

"I want something that I know is becoming more and more impossible with each day this damn competition continues." He explained in a bitter tone. "And I hate that since it is the only thing I've ever wanted that I'm stuck watching from the sidelines as all my hopes get destroyed one by one."

Olivia's lips parted. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he wanted. If he truly wasn't trying to distract her, knowing she was one of the top picks for Liam, then it really could only be one thing.

He wants me.

Maxwell waited a couple of heartbeats for her response.

When she parted her lips, he'd hoped she would say something. Though he wanted it to be what his desperate heart needed, he almost wished she'd tell him to give up. This torturous longing for her was getting worse now that he knew how her lips felt pressed against his. The way her body fitted his like a puzzle piece and the taste of her skin had kept him awake the last few nights. He didn't know if he could continue to be a passive observer for the rest of the season now knowing that what he'd once imagined paled in comparison to the real thing.

Her hesitation in responding caused him to stumble back.

"I need to go." He mumbled, averting his gaze from hers once more. "I'll see you around."

Olivia let him go without a word. She watched him scoop up the beach towel he'd been sitting on and leave the area without saying goodbye to anyone. The lack of both his warm smile and the typical spring in his step let her know that their conversation had hurt him.

Her eyes narrowed once more. She could see that she was nowhere near getting Maxwell Beaumont off of her mind. If anything, this conversation alone would have kept him there. Add the kiss and the unusual feelings that were creeping up each time they touched, and she knew that it was only getting worse.

She returned to her lounge chair to think on what to do about this unexpected complication in her life.

As the sun set, a gasp slipped past her lips. Her fists clinched as a more pointed realization struck. It was unbelievable what she'd done.

She'd spent the entire day thinking of and interacting with only one man.

And it wasn't Liam.

#choices the royal romance #maxwell beaumont x olivia Nevrakis #choices trr #maxwell x olivia #can't take my eyes off you #choices fic writers creations #choices crackship #crackship au

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eadanga · 2 months

Text

The Royal Romance Chapter 8 Part 1

The car pulls up to a large estate Riley exits the car as servants come and gets all the luggage inside. Riley’s looks around taking in the view of the Alps

Maxwell stands beside her grinning “Here we are welcome to Lythikos! The Land of ice, snow and mountains”

Riley turns to him “This is where Olivia lives?”

Maxwell nods “Some of time yeah she’s primary at Lythikos Hall which is further south but she’ll host us up here for the social season so we can take advantage if the snowy activities”

Riley sighs “And so she can take advantage of the Prince”

Hana places a hand on her shoulder “She does have an edge here but that’s no reason to admit defeat!”

Maxwell nods “That’s the spirit!”

Drake steps up “Maxwell what happened to your brother? I noticed he’s not around lecturing Brooks I thought he’d hate to miss out on a chance to eat fancy food and rub elbows with the royals”

Maxwell sighs “Bertrand was called away for some business having to do with our estate”

Riley smirks “I already miss his protocol quizzes”

Maxwell grins “If you want I can quiz you on how to best stand behind a chair”

Drake rolls his eyes “Please don’t we’re about to have a nice time”

Riley and Hana giggle as Maxwell playfully pouts

Hana smiles “I agree it’s beautiful out here” She shivers “Even if it’s very cold!”

Drake raises an eyebrow “Didn’t you pack anything warmer?”

Hana sighs “Not exactly I didn’t know it’ll be snowing this much but I’ll survive what say we check the inside of the chateau”

Maxwell nods “Good idea! Riley let’s go I’ll show you where your room is” Riley nods as she follows Maxwell inside and he guides her to a lavish grand bedroom he grins “Come on Riley put your stuff down and let’s go!”

Riley laughs “What’s your rush?”

“We got the entire day in snow planned out! Plus I already see Olivia and Liam on the ice better put on something warm”

Riley sighs as she gets her coat and boots Of course they’re already on the ice we haven’t even been here that long and she’s already sinking her claws into him Riley heads down the stairs and meets Maxwell outside he hands her a pair of ice skates

“You know how to ice skate right?”

Riley smiles “I know the basics of it try to stay upright and don’t fall I used to skate all the time down at Rockefeller center even once for a date”

Maxwell grins “Good enough and you’re gonna have to relay the details of that later”

Riley smiles and she heads out onto the ice with Maxwell out the corner of the of her eye Riley spots Liam and Olivia skating she can hear snippets of their convo

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how well I can skate?”

Liam smiles “Oh I very much remember”

Riley sighs I know he’s tying to be polite but it won’t be long before she starts flirting

Maxwell skates up to her “Remember eyes on the prize now et out there and grab some time with the Prince while I distract Olivia” He grins and waves at Olivia “Olivia! You gotta see me do a spin don’t move!” He winks then hip checks Riley sending her sailing across the ice “Go get them princess!”

“Whoa! Dammit Maxwell why’d you do that!” Riley holds out her arms to keep her balance and she runs into something hard and feels a pair of arms wrap around her she looks up

“Liam”

“Are you alright?

Riley feels her face heat up and her face turn bright red and she slowly moves away from him “Just fine thank you for catching me”

He smiles “It’s a pleasure to see you always you’re a vision of grace on those skates”

“After you just saw me flailing around?”

Liam chuckles “No but I did see you skating with Maxwell on the ice you seem to be an expert”

“I’ve had some lessons but it’s been a while”

“They paid off I take it you’ve come to skate with me today”

Riley grins “That was my hope”

“Then please accompany me” He offers his hand

“Gladly” She takes his hand and entwines his fingers with hers

Liam grins “You look very lovely today very warm”

“Yup definitely glad I put on this coat do you and the court come out here regularly”

“Not often but Olivia’s been very generous by having us at our estate but actually I used to come out here frequently when I was younger Olivia and I will play in snow together”

“You and Olivia huh? Tell me more about that”

Liam nods “We’d build snow forts on the banks and catapult snowballs at each other the lake was too dangerous to play on since we were young but sometimes we’d sneak out onto the ice and hope we will see the fish beneath the surface we never did but we had some exciting false finds”

“You two must have been close”

Liam sighs “We were it’s hard watching her become the person she is I know she’s a tough person to get along with”

“She’s basically the opposite of you”

“Olivia had a difficult childhood her parents were killed in a political assassination when she was only 5 years old she was alone without family at her estate for the better part of the year before my family and I officially visited” He frowns “She was supposed to be in the care of her great aunt but that woman left to summer on the Riveria abandoning her Olivia didn’t have anyone she was alone”

“But didn’t she have the servants?”

“The servants were doing their best but they we’re traditionist Nevrakis family trained for decades after a lifetime of holding the nobility up on a pedestal they weren’t prepared to give Olivia what she needed the most…love”

Riley feels her heart break as Liam continues

“The first few days of our visit she was sullen and withdrawn I thought she hated me but one night I heard her sobbing through the walls I actually believed it was a ghost at first but when I got over my fear and investigate there she was little 5 year old Olivia weeping and clutching one of her mother’s gowns saying over and over again come back please come back I knelt beside her and held her until she cried herself to sleep I knew I couldn’t leave her there then I convinced my parents to let her live at the palace with us for almost 2 months she wouldn’t leave my side just about drove Drake crazy but”

Liam stops mid sentence as Olivia skates over

“That Maxwell is a persistent one”

Liam grins “He can be of high energy”

Olivia sighs “Yes I can tell” She turns to Riley with a mocking smile “So Riley I bet you’ve never seen a countryside this spectacular are you impressed?”

Riley smiles “Actually yes it’s gorgeous your home is truly lovely the snow the lake the trees it’s absolutely breathtaking”

Olivia looks at her surprise “Oh well yes it is”

Riley smiles to herself Not gonna be rude not after hearing all that from Liam

“I’m glad even someone like you can appreciate the elegance of splendor and nature”

Riley sighs And there she goes just when I was feeling bad for her

She wraps her arm around Liam’s “Now Prince Liam I believe you owe me a round across the lake”

Liam nods “Excuse me Riley I do owe her I will see you later”

They skate off together

Riley sighs Just because we’re at her place she uses the opportunity to be clingy with him but after hearing her history I can see why

Tags: @mfackenthal @indiacater @the-soot-sprite @gkittylove99 @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @princess-geek

#choices fanfiction #choices fan fiction #choices fandom #the royal romance #the royal finale #trr liam #trr fanfic #choices trr #liam x mc #king liam

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

Unexpected Chapter 5: The Bargain

Series: Unexpected

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Maxwell, Riley x Liam

Rating: MA

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,272

A/N: This chapter is tame. It's Riley and Bertrand discussing the terms of their agreement.

My other stuff: Master List.

“What do you want?” she asked without preamble as she took her seat at the small corner table in the upscale tearoom he had invited her to.

Invited? More like demanded her presence.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Bertrand stood and motioned to the chair across from him before pulling it out for her. He suppressed a sigh of frustration. He despaired of ever teaching her proper manners.

She took her seat and reached for the linen napkin, placing it in her lap as she spoke, “Cut the crap, Bert. What was so fucking important that I had to drop everything and meet you for tea?”

“Lady Riley!” He retook his seat as he snarled at her through clenched teeth, “Must you always be so crass? How do you expect to survive at court if you don’t understand and employ discretion, decorum and-“

“Please,” she rolled her eyes as she loaded her plate from the gleaming silver tiered serving tray in the center of the table, “I handle myself just fine when there are stuffy nobles around!”

“Hmph,” he sat back heavily in his chair as he gave her an appraising look. She wasn’t wrong. When they were at court events, she sparkled and dazzled, charming everyone, especially the crown prince, which was the whole point. Still, a little respect was the least she could afford him, “I’m one of those stuffy nobles,” he reminded her.

“The stuffiest!” She laughed as she took a bite of a tiny cucumber and rye sandwich, “but there’s no need for artifice here, Bert.”

He flinched. He hated it when she called him Bert, “My title is-“

“I know what your title is, Your Grace,” she made the word sound dirty somehow, “but you and I are past all the pomp and circumstances, aren’t we?”

“That depends,” he leaned forward and fixed her with a level stare, “Are you still planning to hold up your end of the bargain?” He had called her here for a status update and he expected one.

She cocked her head to the side as she chewed, giving the appearance that she was considering his question. Instead of answering, she turned to flag down a waiter, “Could I please get an iced tea, with plenty of sugar in it?”

“Iced tea, my lady?” the waiter sounded confused.

Riley dropped the crumpet she was about to bite into onto her plate with a sigh so she could focus on the waiter, “Yes, black tea, brewed, cooled, sweetened with table sugar and poured over ice, in a glass this size!” she held up her water glass. Last time they had brought her a coffee cup of hot Earl Grey tea with three paltry ice cubes melting in it.

“Um…” the waiter glanced uncertainly from her to the duke, “it might take a minute to make…”

“That’s fine,” she assured him, “and while you’re at it, could you bring more of these,” she pointed to the miniature mushrooms quiches, “they’re delicious!”

“Certainly, my lady, right away!”

The waiter hurried toward the kitchen, and Riley turned back to find Bertrand frowning at her disapprovingly.

“What?” she asked, “No one from court is here, I don’t have to pretend that I don’t need food to live!”

“Iced tea!” He huffed under his breath, “Barbaric!”

She rolled her eyes again. She did that a lot around him, “You know you really should see someone about removing that stick from your ass.”

“Lady Riley!” His face darkened as his head swiveled around the room to see if anyone had overheard.

She tipped her head back and laughed, “Don’t worry, no one heard me, but even if they did….” She leaned toward him across the table and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “it isn’t a secret. Everyone knows you have a colossal pole rammed so far up your rectum that you can’t shit!”

His jaw twitched in annoyance, but he had learned that engaging her only made it worse. How the hell this woman was in the running to be his future queen was completely beyond him.

Oh, right. That was Maxwell’s fault.

Of all the asinine, coarse, crude, sordid, uncouth things his brother had done in his life, and there had been a lot of them, like really a lot, bringing a waitress from the filthy streets of New York to represent their house as a suitor for the crown prince had been the worst.

It had been misguided and it had definitely been selfish on his part. Maxwell had brought the girl home with him because he liked her, not because he thought she was queen material.

Still. Bertrand couldn’t deny that Riley held some sort of power over Liam. Men in general did seem to fall at her feet. Why, he couldn’t fathom.

While he didn’t see the appeal, he couldn’t deny the facts. She had spent the night with Liam in New York, Liam did seem smitten with her, and she was handling the press, the council and the king and queen beautifully.

There was an outside chance she could actually pull this off. Marry the prince, redeem and elevate the status of House Beaumont and cement his position in Cordonian government.

Assuming he could keep her in line.

Straightening his lapel, he tried again, “Answer the question please. How are things progressing with the prince?”

“Fine,” she shrugged as she reached for a chocolate ganache cookie.

He slapped her hand away from the tray, “Answers first, then cookies!”

“Ow!” She glared at him, “Things with Liam are fine. He’s mine…. if I want him.”

Bertrand’s eyes narrowed to slits, “What do you mean if? That’s the whole arrangement!”

“My part. What about your part?”

“I have been holding up my part!” He sneered as he pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and slapped it down on the tabletop before sliding it across to her.

Riley picked it up and looked inside, rifling through the contents, “Yeah, but….I don’t really need you for this anymore,” she smirked, “What about the money and making me an official member of House Beaumont?”

Bertrand scoffed loudly, “That is contingent upon an officially announced and royal council approved engagement to the crown prince! You present me with a copy of an iron clad marriage contract between you and Liam, and I will file the papers to make you an official member of my house, complete with title and bank accounts! Until then, the photos are all you get! Isn’t that enough? You have me spying on my own brother!”

“Something you were more than willing to do, this is a nice one,” she pulled a photo from the envelope and thrust it at him. It was a picture of Max sprawled out on a deck chair beside the swimming pool at Ramsford.

Bertrand paled as he snatched it from her grasp and turned it upside down. Pushing it back into her hands, he hissed, “Be careful with that!”

She waved it teasingly in the air, “Don’t want anyone to know you’re selling out your own brother?”

Bertrand flushed but he bit his tongue as the waiter dropped off her tea and more food. Once the server had retreated, he fixed her with an icy glare, “It’s nothing compared to what he has put me through! He has besmirched our good name! The shame and dishonor he’s brought to our house-“

Anger flared through her eyes, “Don’t you dare talk about him like that! He’s just misunderstood! All he needed was the right person to-“

“The right person? What are you saying? Are you implying that you and my brother are embroiled in a…”

“What I do in my personal time is none of your fucking business!” She snapped; her cheeks still hot with anger as she recomposed herself.

“You have no personal time!” he hissed at her, “You’re on the clock until a marriage alliance is secured!”

“Liam isn’t around twenty-four-seven,” she said flippantly, “I’m allowed….diversions in my down time.”

“Whatever you’re doing with my brother,” he forced out through clenched teeth, “stop! It won’t end well. Not for him, not for you and certainly not for Liam.”

“I realize you haven’t known me very long, Bert,” she smiled in satisfaction at the way he twitched when she used the shortened version of his name, “but I don’t really take orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“If you don’t abide by my wishes, I’ll stop supplying you with photos of Maxwell!”

“I don’t need you for that anymore,” she reiterated, “I can take my own pictures of him anytime I want now.”

Bertrand felt irritation and confusion bubble up in him, “You’re still interested in him even after seeing his criminal history? Did you read the file I gave you?”

She had asked him for photos, she had asked him for medical records, she had asked for college transcripts, but the criminal history report had been his idea. He had been sure that seeing it would dissuade her from any further pursuit of his errant sibling.

“I read it,” she shrugged as she blithely spooned orange marmalade onto a scone.

“And none of it concerns you?” he gasped in astonishment.

“No,” she shook her head as she ate.

Bertrand had rarely been shocked into silence but that did it. This woman was more deranged than he had initially thought. He had a momentary pang about continuing his sponsorship. Surely anyone not bothered by Maxwell’s antics was not an appropriate contender for queen!

But his own self-interest quickly overrode his qualms.

He glanced around the room again before leaning in and lowering his voice, “Just in case you have any ideas about switching potential mates, I think it’s only fair to warn you that if your little dalliance with my brother interferes with your mission in any way, I will disinherit and disown him! No one would blame me after what he’s put this house through! Good luck living as paupers with a man who’s never held down a job or learned to do his own laundry!”

Riley paused licking marmalade from her fingers to stare at him “What if I do my best, but Liam still doesn’t pick me?”

“Well, that would be unfortunate for you. The terms of our agreement are clear. You must secure the crown for house Beaumont, and deliver me a high-ranking cabinet position. Otherwise, you get nothing!”

“You’re an ass,” she resumed licking her fingers, “but it won’t be a problem. I told you; Liam is mine and Max understands the need for discretion.”

Bertrand pinched the bridge of his nose, “Maxwell most certainly does not understand discretion!”

Maxwell’s entire personality was literally the opposite of discretion.

“It’s fine,” she assured him dismissively, “I can handle Max and I actually like Liam. I think everyone is wrong about him.”

“In what way?” he demanded. She had known the man for all of two months.

“You only see the charming and accommodating Liam. You think he’s weak, malleable, easily manipulated. He’s not.”

Stunned outrage spilled through him, “I never said any such thing!”

“You didn’t have to.” Riley was observant, she prided herself on her ability to read people. She could tell what the Duke of Ramsford thought about the prince. And she could tell that he was wrong.

Many people mistook Liam’s open and welcoming demeanor for biddability, but she had been paying attention during all those late-night talks in the garden. As they had grown closer, she had gotten more and more glances behind the mask.

She’d also watched that congenial act snap into place when he was annoyed.

Liam Rys had hidden depths.

“Fine, believe what you want,” he stood from the table, ready to be done with the whole exasperating ordeal that was Riley Brooks, “But whatever you’re doing with my brother….”

“Yes?”

“Just…please be careful.”

Was that a flash of concern she saw flit through his eyes? “Ah, Bert, I didn’t know you cared!”

“I care about my investment,” he told her flatly before turning on his heel and striding away.

Yes, that tracked.

She watched his retreating back in amusement. She was about to ask for more iced tea when her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her purse and glanced at the screen. Her eyes scanned the incoming message, “I need to see you tonight.”

With a soft smile, she typed a reply, slipped the brand new Samsung smartphone back into the Hermes Special Order bag she had dropped thirty thousand dollars of Beaumont money on, smoothed out the Valentino midi skirt that had set the duke back seventeen thousand dollars, stood up on her four thousand dollar Louis Vuitton heels and made her way out to the Rolls Royce limousine and driver that Liam had placed at her sole disposal.

She relaxed into the plush leather upholstery as her finger absently toyed with the Bulgari diamond bracelet at her wrist, a gift from Liam. She reached for the bottle of chilled Louis Roederer champagne and poured some into a Versace long stem crystal flute. Bringing it to her lips, she sipped it as her eyes took in the passing Cordonian landscape.

There were a lot of things about her situation that she didn’t have answers for yet. But the one thing she did know for certain was that she was never going back to that roach infested tenement she’d been living in before.

Riley Brooks had gotten a taste of the finer things in life and damned if she was giving any of it up, no matter how intriguing she found Maxwell Beaumont.

#unexpected #trr au #maxwell beaumont #riley brooks #maxwell x mc #max x riley #creepy max #creepy riley #evil bertrand #trr #the royal romance fanfic #angelasscribbles #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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