#liam beaumont

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC questionnaire

Thanks to @drchenquill here, @somethingclevermahogony here and here, @mk-writes-stuff here, @elsie-writes here, and @dyrewrites here!

My last questionnaires:

Robbie, Gwen, Maddie, Noelle, Jedi, and Kelsey here.

Carmen, George, Akash, Sam, Lexi, and Ash here.

Gabriel, Carla, Parker, Rose, Alex, and Ewan here!

Below the cut I'll do: Liam, Hye-Jin, Wendy, Wade, Issa, and CJ!

#1- Liam

Which color do you hate?

“Beige. Oh my God, it's just a boring color. I thought that we were past this. Different shades of beige and brown are being used to be the ~aesthetic~ of so many people on Tiktok. Ma'am, where are you from, Boringsville??? I'm not dissing brown. Brown is a great color. But beige??? Who thought this would look nice on anything, much less everything? Why are all of your walls beige--you look like you live in a sandcastle. Man, I feel bad for Hye-Jin. Her powers appear beige! You poor thing. I have brown. An awesome color, remember. So earthly. Anyway, beige can go die with the sand in the Yukon River Basin for all I care. If I go into your house and see one beige wall, I'm leaving. A rainbow is weeping. You disgraced the rainbow. How dare you.”

If all the sounds in the world would cease to exist, which sound would you miss the most?

“I don't see the point in making me choose a favorite sound. Also, how do you know sound stopped? Ceased to exist? Sound exists as a vibration through matter. Why would that vibration suddenly stop? How do you know we didn't all just go deaf? That's a significantly more logical explanation than sound disappearing. And if you think I don't have an answer and am just avoiding the question, you're very mistaken. I'd miss people's voices. For a variety of reasons. Connection, analyzing tone, nuances of emotion or thought, even my own voice. Sure, I'd be able to learn a gesture-based language--I am not saying voice is the most important thing to hear. But considering I like a good oral debate, I would still miss it, even if it would take me time to adjust to the new mode of speaking. Next!”

What is the first rule you learned as a child?

“You are going to have to rebel and argue your way out of everything. You may or may not be able to tell, but I am a strongly opinionated person. I can make an argument out of everything. Knowing how to back stuff up with logic and facts to get your way. Push and push and push. Know your shit. If you're wondering how this was the first rule I learned, one of my first memories is refusing to eat my carrots because they were bad. I was...three and a half maybe. And I told my mom, 'if I eat these carrots, I will throw up, and then I'd have to eat more food, and you get mad when food is wasted'. I then ate carrots and threw up. Never had to eat them again.”

#2- Hye-Jin

What is one embarassing memory from your childhood that you can't shake?

“Oh, oh no. First day of class, kindergarten. I had to introduce myself in front of the class. I was so excited for my first day of class. I wore this cute little dress, my hair in high pigtails and bows. But when I stood in front of everyone else, I got so sick I threw up. I think I ate something like prune juice in the morning. My dress was ruined. Had to be walked to the nurse to change. Wore that the rest of the day.”

What would you take with you if you were trapped on a desert island for one week?

“Food, water, and shelter. Sunscreen. I'm not pale, but that doesn't mean I'll be protected from UV rays. I would like a change of clothes just so I feel clean. I wouldn't mind bringing one person along with me, but you said what, so that may not be an option. But I really think I could do it.”

What is your favorite animal?

“I actually really like snakes. They're super cool in terms of design. Love reading about them, and I have a snake themed room!”

#3- Wendy

What is your favourite animal?

“Changes depending on the day. Yesterday it was tigersharks. Today it's a water dragon. Tomorrow it may be a capybara.”

Do you have any obscure skills? What are they?

“I can basket weave. Some people think that's obscure.”

If you could change one thing about the world you live in, what would it be?

“More hours in the day so I can do what I want to do.”

#4- Wade

What is your favorite song?

“Rasputin. How can you not love that song? Mr. Brightside is up there, too.”

Do you like consuming happy, positive media, or sadder, more thought-provoking media?

“I like both. You need a balance in life. But thought-provoking in general. I like thinking about things, analyzing them. Not necessarily sadder stories, but thought-provoking.”

What is your favorite type of weather?

“I like it warm and sunny, but enough cloud coverage. The kind of weather where everything is greener, that makes you say out loud, 'it sure is a beautiful day.'”

#5- Issa

When is the last time you were afraid?

“Last week, I was staying up late working on an essay. I was home alone--something I rarely am with six siblings. It was eerily quiet. I already felt uncomfortable. I was on the phone with Alex, multitasking, so I could have someone to talk to to ease my nerves. She got up to pee, which left me alone in my living room for a few minutes. In that time, I heard a banging on our garage door. It was harsh, constant. I thought someone was trying to break in. Then as quickly as it came, it was gone. Alex got back on the line then. I would've felt much better if whatever that was happened any other time.”

Does the fear haunt you still?

“Not really. It was only a minute, maybe two. Took about an hour talking to Alex. But I stopped working on my essay for the rest of the night. Not that I didn't try, but Alex convinced me to stop when I couldn't concentrate due to my heart pounding.”

What do you do when you're afraid?

“What's with all the fear questions? Well, I usually stand my ground. I yelped a bit when that happened. I was frozen for a bit, but I actually was about to get up to check what the banging was when it stopped.”

#6- CJ

What was your favorite toy as a child?

“I had little mini figurines of a bunch of Puppets* characters. I liked them because most of my playtime consisted of me ordering them based on height. After I lined them up, I would play. I also liked burying a bunch of rubber balls in the yard, leaving them there for, like, a week, then digging them up again. My shovels were definitely a favorite. There was also some cool Alii tech thing that simulated growth of a plant. The entire life cycle, in fact. Man, that was awesome.”

What makes you laugh every time you see it?

“Issa and Alex invite us to their improv shows each Friday. Issa is the best at anything they give her. I could watch her all day. She loves putting inside jokes in her skits for me, and is great at linking back previous gags. And then Alex wins Can You Ask a Question? each time. But it's hilarious how she and Issa interact. One time, Wendy laughed harder than I'd ever seen, and she spit out her drink. Then this one asshole Ellie slipped on it during her turn. So yeah, the improv shows.”

Who is the most annoying person you know?

“Issa is annoyingly optimistic sometimes, but that's why I love her. Parker is also a bit annoying at times, but he's funny as shit, so I don't care. Gabriel is quite annoying. Everyone tells me that we're very similar, but I don't see it. Honestly, yeah, it's Ellie. I didn't want to say she was annoying cause she's mainly rude. She's constantly making fun of me for everything I do. Like she doesn't like how organized and specific I am for some reason. She asked for a pencil once, and I told her no, I have my pencils for a very specific reason, and don't let anyone else use them. I think she's hated me ever since. It's probably not as petty as that, unless it is. I don't know. Thankfully, I don't know her well enough to answer that question.”

*this universe's Muppets

TSP intro

I'll tag @gracehosborn @little-peril-stories @willtheweaver @willowiswriting @rickie-the-storyteller @mysticstarlightduck @badluck990 @unrepentantcheeseaddict @winterandwords @oh-no-another-idea @awritingcaitlin @cwritesfiction + anyone else who would like to play!

EDIT: I DID NOT GIVE YOU QUESTIONS OH MY GODDDDDD I'm so sorry

What's something that was horrible in the moment, but in hindsight is hilarious?

Do you often get lost in thought? Where does your mind go? How do you focus?

Who do you worry about the most?

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

#the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #oc questionnaire #oc tag game #my ocs #liam beaumont #hye-jin song #wendy amante #wade attwood #issa johansen #cj reynolds #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community #writing tag game

[lizzybeth1986]

TRR's Alternative LIs: The "Romances" that Didn't Happen

A complaint that often emerges from readers about the TRH series, is the amount of time that LIs who are not married to the MC spend hovering around her. They seem to be ever-present, ever- ready to do her bidding, give her attention, and shower her with praise. They hardly seem to spend much time at their own homes, don't date, and haven't settled with anyone in the five year-timeline of the series.

"It's almost as if they have no life of their own!" we complain.

Yet this wasn't always the case. TRR was in fact one of the rare Choices series' that had intended - at different points in the first 3 books - for an alternative romance for each of the LIs. So what happened? Why did these attempts fail?

It is easy to assume that the answer would be the same for every alternative pairing - the "crazy stans" threw a tantrum, and the writers backtracked. But one has to only look at the trajectory of each pairing to realize that this reading doesn't apply equally to all of them.

Many factors played into why the writers did a full about-turn and left all their LIs single. Some related to the writers' attitudes towards an LI, some related to how they felt about the side characters they paired the LIs with. And often, the fan response to each fed into those biases and opinions. This essay is an attempt to explore these factors and give as full a picture as I can manage, to answer the question of "why did these pairings not happen?". I hope I can succeed in that.

I will be tagging all those who had responded to the previous feeler post on this or showed interest earlier, but if you see this and would like to be tagged in this series, do let me know!

Intro: A Brief History of Alternative Romances in Choices

Liam and Olivia: When You Prefer the Side Character to the Main

Maxwell and Penelope: When You Like the Side Character So Much, You Gift Her a Shiny New LI

Hana and Madeleine: When You Reward Your Favourite Bully with One of Her Victims

Drake and Kiara: When You're Fucking Racist

#liam rys #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #drake walker #kiara theron #olivia nevrakis #penelope ebrim #madeleine amaranth #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #essay series: trr's alternative LIs

[karahalloway]

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

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

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

Word Count: 7,300

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

Chapter theme song:

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

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

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

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

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

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

"Yeah, but—"

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

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

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe this is a mistake...

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

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

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

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

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

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

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

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

"No..."

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

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

"Exceedingly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harper!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it then?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

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

Some much-needed progress at last!

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

Which reminds me...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

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

I heave a breath.

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

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

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

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

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

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

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

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

My heart drops. Oh, no...

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

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

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

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

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

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

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

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

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We found Tariq."

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

No way...

"Where?"

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

No corner... No mercy.

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

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

"Harper?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw drops. "You what!"

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

"Then why...?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So… what did you do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

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

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

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

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bitch...

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

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

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

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

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

So much for making allies at court…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890 @choicesficwriterscreations

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #less than noble intentions #king liam #maxwell beaumont #bertrand beaumont #olivia nevrakis #trr fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #choicesmonthlychallenge #choicesjanuary2024 #Spotify

[zedleaked]

some hfjone human redraws

#I love julien sooo sooo soooooo much #hfjone #onehfj #hfjone liam #liam hfjone #liam plecak #hfjone airy #airy hfjone #hfjone amelia #amelia hfjone #amelia euler #hfjone bryce #bryce hfjone #bryce hansen #hfjone julien #julien hfjone #julien beaumont #Zed's art

[cat-vase]

I think Julien should have a weird little obsession over Liam like Liam had with Airy/the notes (at first, at least).

"But Liam only acted that way due to stress and trauma from being on The Plane for so long!"

IS SOLITARY CONFINEMENT NOT STRESSFUL AND TRAUMATIC???

I think after getting over "OH MY GOD I'M HOME" and "WHERE THE FUCK AM I" Julien would always, in the back of his mind, be searching for Liam. And very much in the front of his mind worship him. Like in a weird "you saved my life and I owe you everything" sort of way. Because that IS what happened!

When Liam died for the first time the first thing he says when he's not in shock is that there was someone else there. The fact that he sees the website and seems shocked that there's others that have been on The Plane. His "alone?" when he's talking to Airy. Liam CARES about people, he empathizes with them even if he maybe shouldn't, and just... ough. It GETS me.

Also the fact that Julien is Liam's season one counterpart? And Liam is the only one that knows Julien EXISTS? Okay, Airy knows he exists, but Airy thinks he's DEAD dead. And Bryce saw his picture but do you think he'd remember that? Liam's the only one that SAW HIM. And subsequently he's the one that HELPED HIM. And Liam didn't need to do that! But he did! He succeeded in saving someone! Even if at the end of the series he probably feels TERRIBLE about everyone else! Can you imagine meeting the person you saved and they treat you like you're above them, like you're not both just people? Can you imagine meeting your savior and them having a lot of the same traits as you, which grounds you and makes you wonder "why me? why was it me"?

#AM I MAKING ANY SENSE. HELLO. IS ANYBODY OUT THERE #liam-julien patterns make me INSANE #it's soooo fun it's SO FUN TO THINK ABOUT !!!!!!!!! #hfjone #hfj one #julien beaumont #liam plecak

[zoeywades-spouse]

I love how if MC tells Liam that they cannot marry him because they’re in love with someone else he’s surprised but if it’s Hana or Drake he’s like makes sense, they’re both wonderful people who deserve happiness and I hope you find it with them.

However, if it’s Maxwell Liam literally just stares at MC in shock, completely bamboozled, blown away. Because out of all the beautiful and available nobles and people in the court MC literally fell for the most ridiculous person there

#Liam really was just like are you shitting me? #MAXEWELL?? #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #the royal romance #the royal romance 2 #trr #trr 2 #king Liam #maxwell beaumont

[jellyaibo]

[shitty midi ver of spow begins playing]

(no arrows/names ver) ↓↓

#rlly wanted to do smth like this for a bit now...so i did it #OUT OF IMPULSE! and now my back hort #helpme girl #hfjone #pizza tower #liam plecak #julien beaumont #peppino spaghetti #nate.art

[normal-thoughts-official]

King Liam when you tell him you're in love with Drake: he's my best friend. He deserves love. I wish you two all the best

King Liam when you tell him you're in love with Hana: how could I ever hope to compete? She is perfect. I hope it works out

King Liam when you tell him you're in love with Maxwell:

[ID: Squidward staring at Mr Krabs in disbelief, his eyes bloodshot. End ID]

#playchoices #the royal romance #liam rys #maxwell beaumont #drake walker #hana lee #im absolutely crying comparing the reactions this is so funny fjffbidjdid #screaming #described

[cordonianroyalairlines]

All I Want for Christmas Part 1

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max

Word Count: 2,475

Rating: General

Warnings for this chapter: None

A/N: Listen. I had an idea for the @choicesprompts #rewritechallenge holiday edition. I had the whole scene in my head, but then I decided it needed a little lead-up. Then I decided the lead-up needed a lead-up and then these characters completely just took over, threw my script out the window, and took a whole detour to examine a little budding romance between Liam and Max when this story was supposed to be focused on Drake and Riley (and it still is, mostly).

Long story short, it got a little out of hand so I have split it into two chapters. I'm tagging all of the following:

@choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst Christmas ever.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Lassiter, have a pleasant stay!” Riley waved with a smile painted on her face as the last passenger debarked. The smile faded from her face as the guests disappeared down the jet bridge and her eyes took in the heavy snowfall blanketing the runway.

Max noticed her despondent expression. “You okay, Ri?”

She turned toward her best friend and coworker with a sigh. “Remind me again why I volunteered to work this flight?”

“Uh…because your sister is getting married in less than two months, and you needed the overtime to pay for the ridiculous over-the-top bachelorette party she wants.”

“Right. Amelia,” Riley nodded to herself, “I’m doing this for her.”

“I think you do too much for her, Ri,” Max clucked at her like a mother hen, “She takes advantage of your generous nature.”

“Oh, Max, it’s fine. You only get married once!”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Okay,” a giggle burst out of her, “Hopefully, she only gets married once!”

“Frankly, I’m surprised she found anyone willing to marry her. Is there something wrong with him?”

“Max!” Riley laughed as she thumped him playfully on the shoulder before turning serious. “I just hope we’re able to take off tomorrow as planned.” Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she had promised her mother she’d be home so she could spend Christmas day with her parents and siblings.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Riley turned toward the voice to find the pilot striding toward them. Captain Liam Rys stopped in front of the flight attendants to announce, “There’s a blizzard headed straight for us.”

“Maybe we could just fly out right now—” Riley started hopefully.

“That’s a negative,” Liam cut her off, “that would put me over my flight limit for the day. We’ll proceed to the hotel as planned and hope for the best but be prepared to spend Christmas here.”

“Remind me why you agreed to fly into Estonia, the blizzard capital of the world, two days before Christmas?” Max grumbled.

Liam’s eyes flicked to him in annoyance. “Because of the obscene amount of money Mr. Lassiter was willing to pay for me to do so. You’ll thank me when you get your next paycheck and there’s a substantial bonus on it, on top of the holiday bonus you just received.”

“It’s okay,” Max shrugged with a tinge of disappointment in his tone, “My brother is in Japan anyway.”

Liam’s expression softened a little. “I’m sure he wishes he could spend Christmas with you.”

“Well, he’s flying with Leo, which he loves. I’m just disappointed that we’re almost never assigned to the same flight.”

Liam averted his eyes, unwilling to tell Max that was on purpose. Bertrand had requested that Max not be on the same flight as himself after the younger Beaumont’s enthusiasm became embarrassing for him. Max had gushed to a passenger about his pride in his older sibling, proudly articulating that, “My brother’s the co-pilot. He’s really good at it. He’s almost good enough to be the pilot!”

Liam shuffled his feet awkwardly, then nodded at Max, “Yes, well…. See you at the hotel.”

“You will?” Max’s head whipped around in surprise. Liam had never expressed an interest in seeing him outside of work before.

“Well, he was a little snippy,” Riley observed as Liam disappeared down the sky bridge.

“But did he seem….I don’t know…interested in-“ a flush crawled up his neck and then flared across his face, “Never mind. Of course not.”

Riley’s brow furrowed. “Interested in what?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get this cabin cleaned up so we can go.”

***

Riley awoke the next morning to sheets of snow pouring from the sky, blanketing the city in white as far as she could see from her hotel window. Which wasn’t that far. The snow was coming down too fast and too thick for her to see past the parking lot.

“Shit!” She aggressively pulled the curtains closed and dove back under the covers.

***

“So, what have you two been up to all day?” Liam asked as the four-member flight crew sat down for dinner in the hotel restaurant.

“Well, I slept in, then I called my mom to let her know I wouldn’t be making it home today and probably not tomorrow either. Then I drown my sorrows in a steaming hot bubble bath.” Riley responded as she pulled the menu over to her.

“Yeah, but then we saw a movie,” Max reminded her. Turning to Liam, he rambled excitedly, “This hotel has a theater in it. There was popcorn and everything! And then we took a cooking class! Can you believe that? The hotel chef hosts a class here once a week, but they did an extra class today because it snowed everyone in.”

Liam smiled at Max’s enthusiasm. “That sounds like fun. Now I feel boring. I read all day. Drake, what about you?”

“What about me?” Drake was busy shoveling a complimentary roll into his mouth.

Riley laughed. “Have you not been listening to the conversation? He wants to know what you did to keep busy today, you dork.”

Drake grabbed his water glass and chugged the cold liquid down to cover the fact that he had not heard a word of the conversation since Riley stopped talking. He was still picturing her in that bubble bath. When he sat the glass down, he responded, “I did my usual morning workout. The gym here is excellent. Since I couldn’t go for a run, I hit the heavy bags and then swam a few laps.”

“How many is a few?” Max asked.

“Twenty.” Drake’s eyes flicked to Max as he answered before landing quickly back on Riley’s face searching for any clue that she was impressed, or at least interested in him.

Not that he cared. She was a coworker, and he didn’t date coworkers.

“All before lunch?” She raised an eyebrow.

He wasn’t sure if she found his morning activities impressive or stupid. Her expression gave away nothing. “I find it hard to sit still,” he answered.

Liam scoffed, “You sit in the cockpit for hours at a time.”

“First of all, that’s different. I’m doing plenty as you well know and second of all, that’s why I need more physical movement when I’m on the ground.”

“Makes sense to me!” Max nodded emphatically as the waitress arrived with the menus.

They ordered their food and ate while making companionable chit chat. After dinner, Max suggested they continue the night across the lobby.

The hotel bar was crowded. The four coworkers quickly parted in the crowd. Drake and Liam navigated to a small table in the back and ordered drinks.

“You don’t want to ask her to dance?” Liam nodded across the room to the dance floor where Max and Riley were laughing and twirling to the music.

Drake followed Liam’s eyes and froze as he watched her sway and shimmy to the thump of heavy base. “I don’t dance.”

“I’ve seen you dance.”

“Not well.”

“So, you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of her?”

“What? No!” Drake reached for the tumbler of single malt scotch as the server placed it on the table in front of him and took a long pull as his mind spun with ways to shift the conversation away from his nonexistent love life. “What’s going on with you and Max?”

Liam startled so hard that bourbon sloshed over the rim of his glass. He stared at Drake in a blind panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean….you usually pay no attention to what the flight attendants are doing when we have layovers. Yet you invited everyone to dinner tonight and you’re the one that was watching them dance. I’m pretty sure you’re not into Riley because if you were, you wouldn’t be pushing me toward her. So that leaves Max. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He lowered his glass to the table with a sigh. “It’s that obvious?”

“To me, but I’ve known you for a long time, Li.”

Liam blew out a long breath. “Shit.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re interested?”

“No,” Liam shook his head vigorously, “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“So many reasons! Starting with the fact that I’m his boss and that’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”

“Not if he likes you back,” Drake countered.

“That’s not likely.”

Again, Drake asked, “Why not?”

Liam scoffed as he gestured toward the dance floor. “I mean, look at him! He’s fun and popular and hilariously funny. And look at those dance moves! He’s interesting and cool. What could he possibly see in me?”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, man.”

“I’m a stick in the mud and you know it. I was the president of my debate team. He was the lead in his school’s production of Beetle Juice.”

“How do you know- “

“Bertrand told me.”

“So, you’ve been pumping his brother for information?”

“Not the point. He’s amazing and fun and talented and I’m….me.”

“Liam, come on, man, you-“

“When I was twelve, I read law books for fun.”

“Geez, okay. Never mind. You’re definitely going to die alone.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughed, “I know you think I’m being dramatic.“

“You fly planes for a living,” Drake reminded him. “In my experience, a lot of people find that sexy.”

“Yes, well, I know your experience is quite extensive in that area but-“

“Are you calling me a man whore?”

“If the shoe fits….” Liam muttered into his drink.

“Insult me all you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that you’ve got it bad. You should just tell him.”

“Oh, okay, Mr. I don’t like Riley.”

Fuck. Drake took another long drink. The conversation had come full circle. His eyes drifted across the room to find her again. She was still with Max.

***

Riley led Max off the dance floor and to a table as she flagged down a server for some water. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been acting squirely all night and you keep looking around like you’re searching for somebody. What’s that about?”

Max flushed, “Ah….I think I might have a thing for Liam.”

“Wait…what?” Riley shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

“I don’t know….” Max dropped his eyes to the table. “I mean, you know, he’s hot or whatever.”

“Max!” She slapped his shoulder. “Since when? And why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “Just recently I’ve started to notice him more, that’s all. He’s always being nice to me and- “

“He’s nice to everyone.”

“I know, but it’s more than that! I can’t explain it, okay? It’s just…the way he looks at me sometimes….”

“I have never seen you act shy before! You hit on that model last week!”

“Oh, him? Yeah, but that was just--”

“That man is an international star, and you had zero qualms asking for his snap.”

“I know, but- “

“And he gave it to you!”

“Sure, but Liam isn’t just a pretty face, Riley! He’s so fucking smart and serious. He’s sophisticated, and there’s just no way he’d be into a goofball like me.”

“Ah, Maxey, anyone with half a brain would be into you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yes. But also because it’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I’m the general fuckup in my family. Just ask Bertrand. Or my father.”

“Max, you’re not a fuckup!” Riley admonished. “You’re just different from your brother and father, thank God! I’m sorry, I know you love him, but Bertrand is the most boring man alive, and your father is a dick, so please don’t judge yourself by his opinion of you.”

“Bert’s not boring. He just had to grow up fast. My father put a lot of pressure on him and he, unlike me, rose to the challenge. I mean, look at us. He’s a pilot and I’m a flight attendant. Do you remember what my father said when I told him I wanted to be a flight attendant?”

“Yes, but on the bright side, it was the first time he acknowledged your sexual orientation.”

Max snorted, “That’s not funny, Riley.”

“You laughed.”

He bumped her shoulder with his own with an amused shake of his head, “If your point is that my father is a homophobic, controlling, abusive asshole whose opinion should mean nothing to me or anyone else with a lick of self-respect, then point taken.” He lifted his glass to her.

She lifted hers and tapped it into his with a grin. “My work here is done. Now go over there and ask him to shoot darts or something.”

***

“All right, well, this has been fun, but I’m going up to bed now.” Liam pushed away from the table and stood up, stretching as he did so.

“You really are a stick in the mud,” Drake laughed as the server cleared their table and asked if he could get them anything else. “Yeah, an unopened bottle of what we’ve been drinking tonight.”

Liam turned to go but froze as a voice that sent heat shocking through him spoke, “Hey…Liam….you wanna…go play darts or something?”

He turned to find Max smiling at him. Trying to push down the rising panic in his throat, his eyes flicked to Drake, who just gave him an amused smile, then back to Max, who looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Uh…. sure.”

“Great!” Relief washed across Max’s features. Then he remembered himself and begrudgingly turned to include Drake in the invitation. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good. You two go ahead. I’ve got a bottle of top-shelf whiskey, and this hotel has steak on their room service menu. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then, goodnight and Merry Christmas,” Liam didn’t meet Drake’s eyes as he waved bye and then followed Max to the dart boards lined up against the far wall.

Drake chuckled to himself as he took the bottle from the server and thrust a handful of bills at him. He started for the door, then thought better of it and backtracked to the bar, reaching across and grabbing a clean tumbler to take to his room with him.

He had to dodge a bunch of drunk people on his way back, causing him to veer off course until he was damn near on the other side of the room.

It wasn’t so much that he saw her as he felt her presence. His head lifted and his eyes somehow went straight to her despite the dozen or so people between him and the table she was seated at. Without making a conscious decision, his body angled in her direction, and he made his way over to her, reminding himself the whole way that he didn’t get involved with coworkers.

#cordonianroyalairlines #trr au #the royal romance #drake x mc #drake walker #liam rys #maxwell beaumont #liam x max #christmas 2023 #drake x riley #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

[twinkleallnight]

Isle of Misfits

Chapter 10: Dealing with the Paparazzi.

Fandom: TRR x Platinum x OH x CoP x TNA x ?

Series: Isle of Misfits, Round Robin 24, hosted by @choicesprompts

Characters:

TRR – Liam Rys, Leo Rys, Olivia Nevrakis, Madeleine Amaranth

RoE – Katie Rys

TNA – Sam Dalton

Word count: 1240

The phone pinged.

‘1 new message’

Leo sighed and picked up to read. He was tired of explaining himself to Katie. The world never understood him or his desire to live a care free life. The paparazzi won’t let him breathe. But he thought Katie would understand. She would always know. He had tried to be honest with her, always.

He was struggling to stay abreast sailing through the rough waters when his brother decided to take the corrective action for Leo’s deeds . He was forced into this PR stunt of a circus with his childhood friend, Bertrand, playing the ring master. And as if Gods had not had enough of entertainment, he was paired with his ex, Madeleine! Just perfect!

Coming out of his reverie, he tapped his fingers on the home screen to check the new message .

‘Meet me at the beach restaurant in 10minutes to collect your dossier .

Countess Madeleine .’

“Better than having Sam Dalton as a mentor” he consoled himself. “His brains function through that Rocket in his pocket. At least Madeleine has her head over her shoulders.”

He dragged himself out of his bed. Sharp after 10 minutes he presented himself in front of the Countess.

“What do you plan to do with this?” He lifted the heavy bundle of papers filed into a folder neatly. ‘Prim and proper. So much like Madeleine.’

But Madeleine’s reply was totally off beat. “why you have not shaved?”

Leo shook his head as if trying to decipher. “What?” He moved his fingers through the over grown messy beard.

Madeleine scoffed, “ Let me make it clear Leo. You are constantly under lens.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want.” He cut her off.

“You were the crown prince.”

“And I abdicated.” He tried to prove his point.

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t change who you are born as.”

“Why?” He pulls his fingers through his sandy blonde hair In frustration.

“Prince Harry abdicated too. But he is always in news.”

Leo scowled, “For heavens sake! Can’t they let me live in peace?”

“Only if you don’t give them chance to rip through your peaceful personal life.” She air quoted.

He nods in agreement. “And I can see, you are here to tell me, how.”

“Now you are talking business.” Madeleine smiled.

Leo closed his eyes for a moment. He had to do this for Katie, for his children. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Tell me what am I supposed to do?”

“You need to look perfect when you walk in public. It shows that you are leading a perfect and happy life.”

Leo smirked, “Yes it’s a very happy life.”

“Make it look like one and I can tell you, they will stop chasing you.”

“Fine! What next?”

“I have appointed a valet for you. He will help with your attire, hair and your over all appearance. You will not leave your room before he checks you.”

Leo rolled his eyes. He had no other option but to accept what was thrown at him.

For the next hour he went back and forth over the plans Madeleine had laid out for him.

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

Bertrand’s office next day

Olivia was seated across Bertrand, discussing their next modus operandi. Olivia had successfully completed her task with Raleigh Carrera and was now assigned to the case of the exiled crown prince, Trystan Thorne, of Drakovia.

An urgent knock on the door brought them to a halt. They both looked at each other. Bertrand voiced, “Come in” , wondering who was their uninvited guest for the meeting .

Leo stormed in and slammed a tabloid onto the desk in front of Bertrand. Olivia stared back at Leo’s fuming face while Bertrand looked in confusion, “ What does this mean?”

“Open and see for yourself.” Leo pointed out his finger.

As soon as Bertrand picked the newspaper and unfolded it, his eyes went wide with shock. Olivia leaned towards him to peer into the news.

The newspaper had images of Leo and Madeleine sitting in a cafe. The first one had Madeleine gleaming at Leo and the second one showed them shaking hands near the exit. The tag line read ‘Former crown prince Leo Rhys, spotted with his ex, Countess Madeleine, at leisure on a private island. Do we smell something burning in Katie Rhys’ sweet home?”

A smile played on Olivia’s lips.

“Seriously?” Leo asked looking at Olivia’s reaction.

“It’s not about you.” She fanned away with her hand.

“From what I can see, it’s definitely about me.” He turned to Bertrand angrily, “This is how you were going to help me save my image and my marriage?”

Olivia spoke instead, “Its not his fault. Madeleine should have been more discreet while planning her meetings.”

Just as on clue, Madeleine stepped inside the office. “Speak for yourself. I know my job well.” She snatched the tabloid from Bertrand’s hand and glanced at the pics, dismissing it in an instant.

She focused on Leo, “ This is the reason I insisted you need to dress up properly. Had you been in a formal attire, this would have been ignored by the media as just another business meeting.”

“Great ! So now it’s all my mistake? You know what my mistake is? Trusting you guys with my future.”

Bertrand replied in a calm note, “I think you are over reacting. It’s just two pics, we can change the flow of events. My PR company can assure you, we are good at turning the waves in your favour.”

Before he completed his sentence, the doors to his office opened with a bang. Drake barged in raging in anger. “The hell you turn things only in your favour. You Beaumonts are the most mean and selfish men walking on this damn planet.” His voice echoed across the halls outside the office.

Bertrand’s eyes roamed behind Drake to check if there were any audience at his doors. He settled his gaze back on Drake. “May I know the reason for this intrusion?”

Drake sneered, “You call yourself CEO of a PR firm yet you don’t have updates of the newsflash on TV channels across Cordonia?”

Bertrand gave Drake an irritated glare and picked up the remote to switch on the flat screen hanging on the wall across his table. The screen brightened up with flashes of red haired lady bouncing on a dance floor. All of them in the room knew that was Olivia but the next few moments left everyone’s mouth hanging open.

Bertrand came into the frame trying to dance. He made some lewd gestures and then grabbed Olivia into a smooch.

Leo and Madeleine jolted back at Bertrand. Even Olivia had shock written all over her face. Definitely she was drunk that she didn’t remember this incident.

Bertrand gulped and fumbled with the remote to switch off the TV. He didn’t want to listen or let others in the room listen to the reporter’s remarks.

“I... I ... I can explain”, he said nervously.

Drake sprinted to him in two steps and held him by collar. “How many times are you going to explain? First my sister, then your back stabbing brother took Riley and now you target my girl friend?”

“Riley is with Max?” The baritone voice from the entrance of the office brought everything to standstill. They all turned to see Liam standing in a thunderstuck state.

Tags : @angelasscribbles @alj4890 @tessa-liam @lizzybeth1986 @3pawandme @annabellewynter @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @choicesficwriterscreations @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @rubiwalker @703cowbarn @kyra75 @likealotus @kskvb20 @marietrinmimi @aussiegurl1234

#round robin fic #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #pixelberry #playchoices #trr fandom #trr #choices game #liam rhys #liam rys #leo rys #olivia nevrakis #bertrand beaumont #madeleine amaranth #drake walker #twinkleallnight

[angelasscribbles]

Behind Closed Doors Chapter 1: The Invitation

 Series: Behind Closed Doors

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Max, Liam x Max (he hopes)

Word Count: 916

Rating: R for mature themes

Warnings for this chapter: sex is alluded to

A/N: I teased this one a long while back. Finally had some inspiration for it, so here's the first chapter!

A/N2: This story explores a bit of relationship anarchy. Here's a link if you want to learn more.

Series Premise: Six people come together in a kaleidoscope of shifting boundaries.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “Wait…you want me to go to the palace with you?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “I need a wingman, Riley, and you’re really good at it!”

“But—”

Max took in her hesitation and a startling thought occurred to him. “Oh! Is this awkward because we…because of…”

“Oh, good god, no!” Riley threw her head back and laughed. It was a full-throated belly laugh. Her hand landed on his bicep as she leaned forward to catch her breath. “I love you, Max. Truly, deeply, madly, but as friends! You know that!”

“I know.” His fingers scratched at the freshly shorn hairline along the back of his neck as a flush raced across his face. “I just wanted to be sure…after what happened last month…”

Riley stepped closer and traced a finger across his lips. “I don’t regret it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shivered as her touch sent a sliver of desire sparking through him and, without much conscious thought, his arm shot out to pull her in even closer. “Does that mean we can do it again sometime?”

She laughed again as she gazed up into the cobalt-blue eyes that were as familiar to her as her own emerald-green orbs. Max had been her best friend since they met in a ridiculously overpriced private kindergarten.

Neville Van Couer, big for his age and just as disagreeable then as he was now, had yanked Max’s stuffed octopus from his arms and was holding it above his head, taunting him with it.

“Please give back Sir Inks a Lot.” Max’s trembling voice betrayed his fierce determination not to cry. “My mom gave him to me.”

“Oh, are you going to cry, little crybaby? It’s just a stupid toy. I tell you what—”

“Give it back.” A firm, uncompromising voice cut in.

Neville spun to find the interloper. His malicious grin widened when his eyes fell on the slight girl with the wispy brown hair. “And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”

Without warning or preamble, the girl moved. She darted forward so quickly that Neville had no time to process what was happening. A sharp blow to his stomach sent him pitching forward, grabbing his midsection as the toy was ripped from his grasp.

“Here.” The girl thrust the plushie out to Max.

He wiped the moisture from his tear-streaked cheeks with one hand as he reached out for his beloved Sir Inks a Lot with the other. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a bright smile that washed all of his sadness away. “My name’s Riley. Want to play with me?”

“We can do it anytime you want.” She assured him. “It’s not like we’re not good at.”

Max smiled at the reference to their romantic and sexual past.

They had lost their virginity to each other in high school and spent six months exploring everything the other had to offer. Then Max had confessed to being bisexual and wanting to explore with other people. Primarily men. His relief when Riley had agreed to break up romantically but remain friends had been overwhelming. She was and remained the closest friend he had.

A month ago, they had gotten drunk and fallen into bed together. It had felt good, comfortable, and familiar. He loved her.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t in love with Liam and that’s why he needed her support at the upcoming Beltane Ball that the palace held every year.

His arms tightened around her. “So to be clear, you know I love you and you’re okay helping me try to get Liam’s attention?”

Her grin widened until her cheeks hurt. “Boy, yes. Did we or did we not discover relationship anarchy at the same time?”

Giddiness crashed through his chest. The idea that you could love people but still remain autonomous was brilliant enough. Add in the deconstruction of things like relationship hierarchy and mono-normativity and, well, it had been paradigm-shifting.

“Okay,” he nodded as relief washed over him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Riley!”

“I know.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.

He melted against her for a moment, then drew back. Because he had to know for sure everything was okay between them. “Then why the hesitancy when I asked you to go to the ball with me?”

“Because I’ve never been to the palace, silly!” Her family was insanely wealthy, but not noble.

“Oh, yeah!” Max tended to forget the difference in their social status. Mainly because it didn’t matter to him. People were people and titles like Duke and Count meant nothing when it came to what kind of person someone was. After all, Neville was noble.

“Oh, yeah! I mean…what do I even wear? Do I need to know how to curtsy? What if—”

Max cut her off by jerking her back into his embrace. “Don’t worry, padawan. We have two weeks. I’ll teach you everything you need to know!”    

“Great!” Riley bounced on her toes, excitement swirling through her midsection.

The palace! What an exciting adventure!

She threw her arms around him. “We could make a week of it! Go into the city. Shopping, dining, museums, the theater….”

He dipped his head toward her, his lips bare inches from hers. “Can we share a room?”

“Oh, we’re going to share a lot more than a room!” she assured him just before their lips crashed together.

#behind closed doors #trr au #trr fanfic #liam rys #drake walker #hana lee #trr poly #trr #angelasscribbles #the royal romance #choices stories you play #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #the royal romance fanfic #choices #maxwell beaumont #riley brooks #leo rys #choices trr #choices the royal romance

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word tag

I'm going through them I'm going through them

Anyway thanks @aziz-reads!

My words: start, taste, large, change

Your words: talk, current, stick, jealous

Tagging @thepeculiarbird @blind-the-winds @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @ohnomybreadsticks @dyrewrites @writeouswriter @writeintrees @verba-writing

Keep reading for:

Gwen runs (admittedly justifiably) away from Jedi and Carmen

Raissa makes an announcement :)

A short little scene of Robbie being a little shit

Arm wrestling discussion

Start - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

Thinking about them filled a deep, righteous fury as Dr. Asghar reached for the door. She let go of my left arm, so I jabbed my elbow into her gut. She yelped and I broke free. The time I spent running paid off when I shot down the hall, the balls of my feet carrying me across the gray tiled floor. I silently thanked the gym coaches forcing us to run thirteen laps. I heard Dr. Asghar and Dr. Moon run after me, but I didn’t stop. I had a good head start and was faster. I reached the vase I’d seen and gave a mental apology for knocking it over. Dr. Asghar swore loudly as I skidded around the corner and ran down that hall until I realized I reached a dead end. I whipped around but saw Dr. Asghar and Dr. Moon at the start of the hallway. I froze. “Where’d she go?” Dr. Asghar asked, panting. “I don’t know,” Dr. Moon said. He looked around. “She had to have turned here. Her powers must have activated.” I stood there in confusion. Looked behind me, looked back at them. What powers? How could they not see me? I decided not to think too much about it and be thankful that they couldn’t while trying to make my heavy breathing quiet down. “Let’s go back to the lab,” said Dr. Moon after a moment, turning around. “She could be demonstrating several abilities. I can name four off the top of my head.” He smiled. “Actually, seven! I’m curious to see which one it is.” Dr. Asghar huffed, but followed her colleague back around the corner. “Sorry about the vase,” I heard Dr. Moon say. “Who cares? It was my uncle’s. Good riddance!” I heard a sound that implied Dr. Asghar kicked a shard of the vase that bounced off the wall. “Eight!” I heard Dr. Moon exclaim. I could almost hear Dr. Asghar roll her eyes.

Taste - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Jedi POV)

“Hello, Alium,” the girl said. “What you are currently seeing is being broadcasted across every holoscreen in the world. No, there is no way to turn to another channel. My name is Raissa Kamanzi, and I am an Inutilia.” Murmurs began to ripple throughout the room. I found myself sitting up straighter, listening to every word this girl had to say. Rin and Jeong-Suk had turned in their seats to watch the broadcast. “I speak to you to bring a stop to how my people have been treated,” Raissa continued. “First, I want to tell you about myself. I was a certified genius at age three. I got a degree in dimension mechanics when I was twelve years old. I managed to hijack every holoscreen in the world for you to hear my message. There is nothing useless about me. There is nothing useless about any of us. My people are frankly sick of being treated as such. We are tired of the segregation, the attacks, and bigotry targetting us. You have no idea how much pain and suffering you have caused.” “Turn this damn thing off!” a Quinque man shouted as he stood from his seat. “Go back to Druz’ya Sem’i!” “So we have banded together,” Raissa continued. “We have decided to give you a taste of your own medicine.” “Did you hear me?!” “Sir!” an employee shouted. “We cannot change the channel!” “Turn off the holoscreen!” “I appear before you today to announce the existence of our new organization: The Refuga Alliance.” “No!” a Tribus woman shouted. “She has every right to speak!” “We renegades have risen up to take back what we have been denied our whole lives: power.” “I won’t stand here while some nullock spats propaganda!” “Together, we are working on ways to combat your powers, combat the prejudice, and evolve into better versions of yourselves.” “Do you hear her?” the man continued. “She’s threatening our very way of life!” “You will no longer be special. You will finally be able to feel what it’s like to be Inutil. Useless. You have relied on your natural powers for too long. Now you will finally be able to taste the consequences.”

I swear I've had to find "taste" a million times lol

Large - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

We turned a corner and went to a large door near the end of the hall. Dr. Asghar pressed her hand to the doorframe and the door slid open. We were now inside a room full of computers. Dr. Asghar walked behind one, leaving me in the center and Akash off to the side, and Dr. Moon stood in the corner watching her. “State your name,” Dr. Asghar said, putting what I assumed was hand sanitizer in her palm. “As in first name?” I asked. “Or first and last? Or full name? Or possible nicknames? Or—” “Enough!” Dr. Asghar said through gritted teeth. “Full name.” “Robert Benjamin Stafford.” “Age?” Dr. Asghar asked, not even touching the monitor. “I literally just said that I was thirteen.” “Date of birth?” “C’mon, man, that’s pers—” “Didn’t you literally just say that you just turned thirteen?” Dr. Asghar looked at me through her glasses. “Date. Of. Birth?” I sighed. I considered giving out a fake one, like yesterday, but decided against it. “May 2nd, 2010.”

Change - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Sammy’s cheeks glowed, her smile bright. “I got in! I got in!” “The Elite Crew?” I asked, referring to her studio’s advanced dancing team. Sammy bounced on her toes. “Yes! Yes, I did!” “Holy shit, that’s awesome!” said Robbie. “Congrats, Sammy.” “Hell yeah, it’s awesome!” said Liam, appearing in the doorway beside her. “I won the arm wrestling match because her phone went off with the news.” “Doesn’t count,” said Sam. “You’re catching up on Diamond Mode, anyway.” “Yeah, but now I’m catching up by one point less.” “It’s only fair I get a point. Now you can beat me in Diamond Mode, I don’t stand a chance in any other mode, so I have to take any win I can get. Besides, we have the rest of our lives for you to obliterate me in Diamond Mode.” “But what if you get better at Diamond Mode?” “Squirt, diamond can’t get harder than it already is.” “What if you find something harder than diamond?” “That’s impossible.” “We’re in an alternate dimension, Liam.” “Touché. But Alium doesn’t have anything harder than diamond, either.” “There’s a whole multiverse out there, though,” said George, taking a bite out of whatever granola bar he was eating. “Besides, an extremely powerful shapeshifter could theoretically shift their skin into a substance harder than diamond. However, that is unheard of. Also, if Sam gets so good at Diamond Mode Arm Wrestling, I suggest you change to weight-lifting and see if she can throw you when you’re dense or otherwise heavy elements.” Liam and Sam looked at each other. “That could work, Squirt. Excellent idea, George.” George lit up, but he hadn’t swallowed the granola, so his cheeks were puffed out. Like a chipmunk or something

#writing blog #writers on tumblr #writing community #the secret portal #tsp excerpt #tsp #teaspoon #find the word #writing tag game #gwen amante #jedi moon #carmen asghar #raissa kamanzi #robbie stafford #akash singh #sam stafford #liam beaumont #george baxter #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community #my writing

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - Always Watching (Chapter 8)

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

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

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

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

The morning after the discovery of the maid’s body, Liam sat with Olivia, Drake, and Maxwell inside the study at the Applewood estate. Liam canceled the barn raising scheduled for the day early that morning. He told the press it was because of inclement weather, which was not necessarily a lie, although it wasn’t the entire truth. 

Liam realized they could not keep the murder under wraps forever. Only a few people knew the real reason for the cancellation, including those in the safe room, Drake, Olivia, Maxwell, and the guards. He planned to keep it that way until they knew who was responsible, and then he would happily release that information to the public. He visited with Rhonda’s family briefly and told her husband they would receive a stipend from the crown, as well as college funds for her children. 

They all believed that the incidents shared a relation; the only steady lead they had regarding Riley wound up dead days later, and that was no coincidence for anyone. Olivia explained to Liam in great detail her observations at the crime scene; after hearing her retelling, he too believed the area was staged, but he couldn’t make too many conclusions until Bastien presented him with the evidence. 

The bloodied dress put a sense of urgency on things, but the murder really made everything more critical. Whoever was behind this was clearly not playing a game and didn’t want their plan to be uncovered. He was growing restless, not knowing the extent to which this treachery ran. 

It appalled him that all of this happened right under his nose. The doubts about the narrative against Riley were always there, but this runs deeper than just wanting a particular woman to sit on the throne as Queen. Whoever orchestrated all of this was an enemy of the Crown, and Liam was determined to rid that negativity of his court. 

Another part of his impatience was purely the need to see with his own eyes that Riley was safe. The guilt he felt for turning his back on her crept up on him at random times throughout the day, but he was trying to push that aside and focus on locating her at any cost. He hoped that whoever was responsible hadn’t been able to locate her either; he prayed with everything in him that after she arrived in New York, she found a safe place to retreat, far away from the turmoil that was unraveling around him. 

“OH! What about this one?” Maxwell exclaimed, as he sat next to Drake and scrolled through an online catalog of outfits for an upcoming gala.  

Drake rolled his eyes. “Please stop showing me this crap. S’long as you wear something, I don’t really give a shit what you show up in.” 

“What are you going to wear?”

“Clothes, most likely.”

“Clothes, most likely.” Maxwell mocked under his breath. 

“What was that?” Drake snapped. 

“Nothing! Oh, this has a matching one! Look! Ohmygosh we could match! Twins!” Maxwell exclaimed as he once again shoved his phone in Drake’s face. 

Drake grimaced at the sight before him. It was a set of bright blue ocean wave suits, complete with a bright orange squid bow tie. “God, no. Not even if you paid me.” He replied as he shook his head. 

“Oh, come on, Walker. You can be a sea creature instead of one who drags his knuckles on the ground.” Olivia added with a smirk. 

Drake flipped her off. “Fuck. You.” 

Olivia snickered. “I’d rather take a lava bath, but thanks.” 

“I’ll see if Bertrand will match me,” Maxwell said with a mischievous grin. 

“Good luck with that, Beaumont,” Drake answered. 

“It could go better than you think, honestly. He’s been super nice to me ever since we told him about all this stuff with Riley. I miiiiight be able to get him to do it.” 

“I’m taking pictures if it happens, hands down,” Drake chuckled. 

Olivia subtly rolled her eyes. “Stay away from me, regardless of what you wear. You too, Walker.” 

“Way ahead of you there, Ice Duchess.” 

Liam stayed quiet; although he still held rage with Bertrand and his tasteless actions, he hadn’t given his status as Duke much thought. Although it had not left his mind, for now, especially for Maxwell’s sake, he was keeping his inner thoughts to himself. 

A knock interrupted them from their uplifted moment. Liam stood and granted them entrance, and Bastien appeared with a bow. “Your Majesty, I was hoping to give you an update on the homicide.” 

“Of course.” 

“We have no clear suspects. However, we discovered a murder weapon.”

Olivia’s ears perked up from her seat, and Liam’s eyes widened. “You did?” 

“Yes, sir. We found it in the woods near the area, and I sent it off for analysis. It was a black knife with gold trimmings; I believe it to be the same one used in the earlier ceremony that night.” Bastien held out a folder to Liam, who accepted it and started looking through it immediately.  

The picture at the start revealed the murder weapon, which was the same knife used to cut the apple with Madeleine, but covered in blood from the tip to the hilt. He flipped further and felt his stomach churn at the images of the crime scene. The first few photos were of the maid’s face and he could recognize her, but barely. As he proceeded, he suddenly pulled the file away from his face with a grimace as he saw the cause of death photographed.

“I apologize, sir. I should have given you a warning beforehand.” 

Liam swallowed thickly and with a deep breath resumed, but a tad more prepared for the sight this time. “My God…” He gasped. “What – How – I –” He stammered before closing his mouth with a shake of his head.  

“We still don’t know a lot, sir, as it’s still the early stages of investigating. But we are working around the clock to ensure we receive a solution promptly. Obviously, we’re certain the cause of death was the wound in the jugular, however, we have sent the body for analysis as well. When I spoke with the other staff, they recalled seeing her earlier in the day, but her whereabouts past three p.m. are unknown.” 

“Is that everything?” 

“For now, yes. I will let you know something else as soon as I know.” 

Liam resumed his venture through the folder and furrowed his brows at some of the random items photographed as evidence; the things Olivia noted were present, as well as what appeared to be a cap for a tube of lipstick with a clear set of fingerprints. Of course, the suspect could have dropped the item, but it seemed conveniently placed within the other markers. The only thing that implied relevance was a bloodied shoe print. He could tell it was a woman’s, as the base was short and narrow, not to mention the pinpoint of a heel. However, it was still an odd discovery given that there appeared to be no other signs of blood anywhere else except on the body itself. “Bastien, are you questioning the legitimacy of this crime scene? At all? I see multiple red flags here just at first glance.”  

“We found a few things out of the ordinary, but I have sent everything for analysis. I’m confident either way, the forensics will produce some kind of answer.”

Liam nodded, sufficed by his response. “Have you looked for Riley? Or Tariq?” 

“I have attempted but have found no new leads. However, I am still continuing even with arrangements for the tour and the homicide investigation. I am doing everything in my power to provide you with some answers.” 

“Thank you, Bastien. Just… keep me updated…” Bastien nodded and bowed before he exited. As he did, Liam stood staring blankly at the door behind him, his mind a jumbled mess of chaos that seemed to only get worse by the day. 

Drake cautiously approached Liam. “You alright, man?” 

Liam laughed sardonically. “No, Drake, I’m not… How am I just supposed to wait? How long is it going to take Bastien to find something?”

“I’m not sure, but what else can we do?” 

Liam ran a hand down his face and let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. If I did, we’d be doing it.” He snapped, but immediately caught himself and retracted. “Sorry, Drake. I’m just…” 

“Na, it’s cool. I get it. I wish there was something we could do, but… it sounds like we’re just waiting until Bastien can get those reports back.” 

“Goddamnit,” Liam growled as he slammed his fist down on the desk he stood beside. “I– I can’t just sit here and wait. I need to do something now."

“Perhaps we should seek outside help,” Olivia interjected. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I have an acquaintance who is somewhat of a… ‘private investigator’. He’s not cheap, but he’s worth every penny. He can look into Riley and Tariq’s locations, for sure, as well as whatever else you may see fit…” 

“I’m not against the idea… but how would that even work?” 

“We can figure out the details later, but I have somewhat of a cover already thought of. I can easily say he’s my driver, or bodyguard, or anything, really. Who’s going to question me? Honestly?” 

“Much as I hate to admit it, maybe she’s onto something, Li,” Drake interjected with a sour face. “Bas clearly has his hands full, and I know you wanna get some kind of answer.”

“See? Even the cave dweller agrees!” Olivia exclaimed, earning her a middle finger from Drake. “Plus, perhaps having another set of capable eyes around will do us some good.”

“I want to agree, I really do. It’s just… the last person to get involved with this was… well, you know. Do we really want to put someone else in danger like that?”

Olivia snickered. “It’s cute of you to worry, but he’s more than capable of defending himself.” 

“I don’t know…”

“Do it, Liam! DO IT! Or I will myself!” Maxwell exclaimed. 

“No offense, but how are you gonna pay him?” Drake asked. 

“Perhaps he would be interested in a one-on-one interpretive dance class; we could trade one service for another.”

“Hate to break it to you, but your dance class ain’t worth shit.” 

Olivia rolled her eyes but approached Liam and blocked Maxwell and Drake from view, forcing him to focus on her. Of course, her top priority was ensuring Riley’s safety, but in addition, she had her own questions regarding her blackmail. She would help Liam with anything, but this was more than merely a favor; it was personal. However, Bastien’s competency was undoubtedly questionable in Olivia’s mind. She couldn’t rule him out as a suspect, but she didn’t exactly have something concrete to tie him to anything. For the time being, she needed a second set of capable hands.

“Liam, we have to act on this now. Whoever did this is actively covering their tracks. If we don’t do something, we may never figure this out.” Olivia pleaded.

Liam swallowed thickly and kept his gaze trained on the floor. “I know…” 

“So, let my associate come and assist us. If he doesn’t provide answers, I’ll pay his service fees out of pocket. But of course, I’ll be working alongside him.” 

“I trust you, Olivia, I do. However, I’m worried that putting another person into the equation may end up biting us in the ass in the long run.” 

“I understand, but again, he’s highly trained and knows what he’s doing. All we have to do is keep his cover intact until we can locate one of them. We can’t tip the mastermind off and give them an opportunity to bury this deeper. As long as everyone in this room keeps their mouth shut about his true purpose, we should have no issues.” 

Liam looked away with a heavy sigh; although he remained hesitant to add another person to this mess, the thought of getting any kind of answer outweighed any con he could think of. And, he trusted Olivia to steer him correctly. He finally said, “Okay, do it...” 

“I already did, Liam. He’ll be in the country this evening, hopefully,” Olivia smirked. “Now, we need to address the next order of business…” she trailed off as she approached the window and stared out. “Whoever did this killed that maid to send us a message; I think we need to send one back.”

Liam’s jaw fell open. “What?! Why would you think that, Olivia? We–”

Olivia held her hand up to stop him. “Let me finish; we need to send a message while doing ourselves a favor. The tour leaves for Italy in four days, but that can not happen, Liam.” 

Liam furrowed his brows. “You want me to cancel the tour?” 

“No, I want you to rebuild it to stay in the country. Think about it; you’re technically still going along with their plans, but perhaps throwing a wrench into them. You’re showing that you’re willing to play along for now, but you won’t back down entirely like they assume you’ll do.” 

Liam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s smart, Olivia. We don’t know what they’re capable of or what lengths they’ll go to.” 

“I’m aware of that, but it’s not like you’re canceling everything; you’re simply rerouting, so to speak. The results will still be the same; you’ll ‘marry Madeleine.’ How you get there shouldn’t matter.”

“Isn’t that suspicious? To suddenly keep the tour within the country?”

“It would be, but I thought ahead and I think I have a decent proposal laid out.” Olivia produced a file and handed it to Liam. “How are we going to figure this out internationally? We have to stay here…”

Liam opened the folder and saw a detailed explanation for the sudden changes, as well as a list of future events to be held within the duchies. “Wow,” He responded with wide eyes. “This – this is convincing, and you’ve practically already planned everything… When did you have time for all this?”  

“Last night. I wanted to come and find you right after Walker and I left the crime scene, but I assumed my plan would get a stronger reaction if I laid it out for you. All you have to do is make the calls…”

“I think it’s a solid move, Li,” Drake interjected. “You’re standing your ground but yet still giving the appearance that you’re moving forward for the ‘greater good of Cordonia.’ I’ll help you take care of anything you need help with, or try to at least. But she’s right; we won’t find any more information about what happened to Brooks globe-trotting.” 

“Trust me, I don’t want to leave, but we already set these events! What am I supposed to do to–” 

“You need to pull your head out of your ass, Liam.” Olivia interrupted. “You’re the King and I think this would be a lot easier if you’d start acting like it.” She saw Liam contemplating her statement and stepped closer to him with narrowed eyes. “It’s time you put your fucking Crown on and show these assholes that you won’t back down. What’s really important to you here, Liam? Do you want to figure this out, or are you going to let them use your duty to control you – again? I lay the plan out for you and when my associate joins us, we are that much more prepared if they were to strike back, but we can’t pussyfoot around anymore. You wanted to do something now, so do it.” 

Liam stared at her for a long moment as her words echoed in his mind and a newfound determination took over him. His nostrils flared as his hands balled into fists at his sides. The bright blue orbs that were previously dimmed seemed to darken even further. Olivia was right; this was his country, his call, and the ball was now in his court.

Liam never said a word, but soon marched over to the desk and picked up the phone. He listened intently until someone answered the other end of the line. “Buonasera, Francesco. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our pre-scheduled festivities...” 

Liam, Drake, and Maxwell worked the rest of the day and into the evening to cancel all the tour’s events, and were well on their way to planning what Olivia had mapped out. With the newly produced schedule, they would have much more time to focus on their investigation while still keeping the same number of events as before.

Liam’s determination in his decision stood firm, however, he couldn’t deny feeling apprehensive as well. He was sure there would be retaliation in some form and was unsure as to just how far they would go. However, the power he felt at that moment was something he wasn’t used to. Since his ascension, he’d signed treaties and other small documents, but this was the first time he was going to assert his authority in such a large capacity. Adrenaline ran through his veins and for the first time, he felt like a King. 

The door to the study was suddenly flung open without warning, startling everyone inside. Madeleine marched into the room with a red face. “What the hell, Liam?!” Constantine trailed not far behind her, although his expression was one more of confusion than anger. 

“Ah, I take it you’ve learned of our changes?”

“There will be no changes! We’ve had this planned for weeks! We’re not canceling within a few days–”

“I already did.”

The color drained from Madeleine’s face. “No, you didn’t.” 

Liam indignantly laughed. “Oh, I sure did.” 

Madeleine’s cheeks heated further, nearly purple. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Constantine put a gentle hand on Madeleine’s shoulder. “Language.” He scolded. Madeleine stepped back with her arms crossed over her chest. “Liam, I want to believe you’re not doing all of this for an irrational reason.”

“I’m simply doing what’s best for Cordonia.” Liam shrugged. 

Madeleine scoffed and shook her head. "Unbelievable! Have you completely lost your mind? How is this what’s best for anyone?!” 

Constantine turned and gave her a warning glance. “Although I do not agree with her delivery, I echo Countess Madeleine’s question.” 

“First off, explain to me how an international tour is beneficial to Cordonia at this current moment. The only event that even made a difference was the charity banquet in Paris; the rest of it was just a bunch of bullshit. This way, we can rally our people behind us.” 

“It was for publicity, Liam!” Madeleine exasperated. “We need to worry about our international standings, which are going to be shit now that you’ve–” 

“Our key priority is the Cordonian people. My father pointed out to me that the citizens doubt our union already, and I can’t say I blame them. It isn’t a secret that you weren't my first choice, not even the second.” Liam had to hide his smile as he stood from his seat and crossed the room to stand in front of Madeleine. 

He forced the softest tone he could when he spoke again. “I want to do everything I can to ensure this works. I know I haven’t done my part, but this is my first step in making amends. Although the international publicity would be good, we need our homeland’s support more. We can enlist in media coverage so we can still get the word out, but Madeleine, we need to stay here. Cordonia needs us right now; Cordonia needs to see its future leaders united. We have to show them we are going to lead them together.” He swallowed down the lump of bile in his throat. 

Constantine observed Liam’s body language during their interaction. Never had he seen him so confident about a decision; he looked regal, authoritative, not a hint of doubt to be present. Liam made undeniable points, and he had preached to both of them to do more to keep the people's faith in their union. However, he couldn’t help but feel like Liam could have ulterior motives for the sudden change. 

Constantine arched his brow. “That’s why you’re doing this?” 

“Yes, father. I just want to ensure the right people are supporting us. We need strength internally. I’ve adapted all the best traditions into our stops along the tour to honor those who have come before us. And, well–” Liam sighed and looked away. “I need to show the Cordonian people I am in the right mind to lead them. They’ve questioned me since my coronation. I have to show them I can do this… I can’t do that from Italy or Paris...” 

Constantine eyed Liam sternly for a long moment. Throughout his life, he could force Liam to break with only a glance. It never worked on Leo, but Liam always cracked under the pressure if he was hiding something. However, Liam showed no signs of hesitation and there were no slips in his facade. He looked regal, poised, composed, calm, and firm, with just a hint of vulnerability. Since he passed the signet ring to Liam, he was practically begging him to get his head together, and the man standing in front of him appeared to be doing just that.  

Liam knew exactly what Constantine was doing as soon as his brow arched. It’s the same glare that had gotten him into trouble multiple times growing up and he expected to endure the stare as soon as he told his father the news. It took all of his restraint, but he never let his carefully placed expression stray from his features. He silently prayed Constantine couldn’t notice the sweat profusely forming in his palms, though. 

After a long moment, Constantine’s face broke out into a small smile. He stepped forward and patted Liam on the shoulder. “I believe this is an excellent idea, son. You have my full support.” 

Liam had to fight hard to hide his surprise. He expected more of a fight from Constantine, but perhaps Olivia provided the perfect excuse. He slightly bowed and said, “Thank you, father.” 

“Let me know if you require any support in the plans.”

“Thank you, but we’re nearly finished.” Liam turned to Madeleine, who stood with her arms still crossed over her chest. “What do you say, Madeleine? You’re free to look over the arrangements if you’d like. We’ve left your bachelorette party on the same day as before, but the location is open to the entire country… Just say the word and I'll have the jet prepared...” 

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “I don’t get why you want to cancel an international tour so we can go to the same old duchies–” 

“Countess, your King made his wishes known and his reasons are relevant. Do you wish for the people to doubt your reign as Queen?” Constantine asked with his hands clasped behind his back. “Perhaps after the coronation fiasco this would have been the best solution, anyway.”

“Fine, we can proceed with your new plans.” Madeleine finally relented. “But there had better be media coverage, Liam.” 

Liam fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he nodded. “You have my word.” 

Constantine smiled and put a hand on both of their shoulders. “I’m proud of both of you. You’re going to change the course of Cordonian history, the two of you. Have you prepared a statement, son?”

“I’m working on it,” Liam answered. “Would you like to be present with me, Madeleine? Perhaps it would be better if we announce the changes together.” 

Before Madeleine could respond, Constantine did so for her. “Yes, that’s a splendid plan. Do use urgency so we may stay on track. Be sure to extend invitations to our international counterparts who we expected to see along the tour, though.”

Liam nodded, and Constantine exited with Madeleine at his side, who trampled away with heavy footsteps. Drake audibly gagged as soon as the door closed behind them. “That was hard to watch.”

Liam shuddered. “Tell me about it. Do you think they bought it?” 

“I think so,” Maxwell answered. “Your dad seemed really into the idea, honestly… and as long as it’s heavily publicized, Madeleine will be happy.” 

Liam rubbed his hands together. “Right… Right… You’re right…”

“Calm down, Li. You did good.” Drake patted him on the back. “They bought it and I think you made a smart move by enlisting Maddy to make the statement with you.”

“I agree. It’s showing the mastermind that although I’m changing things up, Madeleine is on board. That’s who they’re concerned about, anyway... I’m hoping that having her support on this will work to our advantage.” 

“Damn straight. Now, we gotta hurry and throw all this bullshit together so you can get your statement out there.” 

A few hours later, Olivia was on her way to meet with her contact on the outskirts of the city limits. Her acquaintance was someone she worked with in the past and trusted to assist them. He helped her look into the source of her own blackmail after she hit a wall. Olivia only traced it back to three different middlemen; had it not been for her associate’s aid, she never would’ve found the others. He didn't classify himself as an investigator, spy, or hacker; simply a jack of all trades. His skill set and knowledge were insurmountable, and Olivia knew he would be a worthy asset. 

Olivia pulled up to an empty parking lot aside from one other vehicle. A tall man in a black leather jacket stepped out and adjusted his shirt underneath as he did so. He took off his sunglasses and leaned against the side of the car. She exited her own SUV and made her way over, all the while looking around to ensure they were alone. 

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ray. I have a job for you.” Olivia cautiously spoke as she reached him. 

Ray smiled and bowed to her. “What can I do for you, Duchess?” 

“I need you to look into the whereabouts of two people. The first is Tariq, second Riley Brooks.” 

Ray nodded. “I was wondering if you were going to seek help there.” Olivia’s brows furrowed, causing Ray to chuckle. “Please, anyone could tell those photos were fakes or set up. It seems likely that the one who leaked the story is the same person who blackmailed you.”

“It’s not just the story, Ray. We think someone removed her from the situation. We found this–” Olivia produced the trash bag with Riley’s contaminated dress and held it out to Ray, who took it and glanced at the contents. “–inside a shed, along with all of Riley’s other belongings.”

“A shed?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Ray gave her an unsure expression. “I don’t like that, Olivia. That instantly gave me an unsettled feeling. There’s a reason her stuff is there.” 

“Trust me, I know...” 

Ray once again looked inside the bag. “You haven’t sent this off anywhere? To check the DNA?” 

“I intended to, but then I was called to a homicide for the only solid lead we’ve had regarding Riley.” Ray didn’t even try to hide his shock, which caused Olivia to chuckle. “Yeah, tell me about it. Obviously, we’re thinking it’s all connected, but…” 

Ray noticed Olivia’s hesitant expression and inquired, “What?” 

Olivia sighed and explained to Ray all the things she observed the night of the maid’s murder. When she finished, she added, “I was going to have Bastien send that dress off to forensics, but after his futile behavior, I don’t think I want him near it. He’d probably fuck around and lose it or something.” She rolled her eyes. 

“I can have it sent to the lab I use if you’d like. If I tell them it’s a stat order, I should only have to wait a few days.” 

Olivia nodded. “Yes, do that.”

“You got it. Now, have there been any leads into either of your missing persons?” 

“All Bastien has found is that Riley landed in New York the morning after the jamboree.”

“Nothing on Tariq?” Olivia shook her head. “Hmm… I find it odd that there would be no trace of him.” 

“I can confirm on my end I found the same result when I searched.” 

“I’ll begin at once. And you want me to travel with you?”

“Just for now. If we’re correct once the news breaks of the tour’s new destinations, there may be retaliation. I’m not sure what that could look like at this point and I need more people around who can properly assess situations. Honestly, finding Riley’s dress and leaving it opened my eyes to the fact that we’re all emotionally involved in this. There’s no reason for it to have sat in there a second longer once we found it, but we were all so stunned nobody was thinking. I hate to admit it, but even myself included.” 

“I can see why; it’s a lot of information to learn at once and not a lot of it makes any sense from where I’m standing. But I agree that having someone with a firm and clear mindset could benefit you.”

“I’m counting on it.” Olivia handed him a thick folder. “Here is your dossier to cover you throughout the tour. You are now Harold Marshowitz, my new bodyguard. Alternative forms of identifications are in there as well as any security clearance you may need.” 

“Got it.” 

“Great, let’s get moving.” 

“Wait–” Ray stopped her. “While we’re free to speak openly, I wanted to bring forth another potential lead I see…” 

Olivia arched her brow. “I’m listening…” 

“Have you looked into that article? At all?” 

“What do you mean?”

“It had to come from somewhere; it didn’t just appear. Not only did someone have to take those photos, but there was a story attached to it. Someone concocted that; I’m unsure if it’ll be the same person, or…” 

Olivia shook her head as frustration washed over her. “No, I hadn’t even thought about that…” 

“As you said, you’re all emotionally involved in this. I’m not, so I can see things a little more clearly…” Ray trailed off, then hesitantly spoke. “I’m, uh – a little surprised that the guard didn’t think of that.” 

“Bastien is an idiot, but something about his demeanor lately has struck me as off… I don’t know if he’s developing dementia, or if it’s something deeper…”

“All the more reason to have me around,” Ray smirked. 

“Is that something you can look into? The article?”

Ray flashed her a cocky smile and straightened his jacket. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” 

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m trusting you, Ray. I need you to come through for me.” 

Ray placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “All jokes aside, this is what I live for, Olivia. I love sinking my teeth into a juicy mystery. I will find them, you have my word.”

Out of sight, a figure was lurking in the shadows not far away, intently watching and listening to the meeting. As Olivia and Ray vacated the area together, the peeper clenched their jaw and repetitively punched the tree they stood beside. After removing their surveillance equipment and slamming it to the ground, they started vigorously pacing.

Everyone assumed Liam could start asking questions, but his duty and broken heart were supposed to keep him blinded. The expected time for his inquiries was long after the wedding when the job would be fully completed. However, Liam and his collective group of friends were making progress in their search and had uncovered too much in a short period; not everything, but it wouldn’t be that hard to find the rest of those answers, especially now that he brought on a competent professional to help. Considering how early it was in the tour, the possibility of him figuring it out suddenly skyrocketed. 

As a result, the entire operation was in more danger than ever before; that was not an option for anyone involved. They served the deception all around; if the mission was uncovered, multiple people would go down for it, and they would face the wrath of more than the current monarch. 

It wasn’t hard to guess where their investigation would lead them next, and that meant another loose end just identified itself. The unknown person brought out their phone to make a call, which was answered on the first ring. “We have a tremendous problem…”

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#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #king liam #liam rys #trr #choices trr #trr au #choices #liam x riley #ghosted #trr fanfic #trr fandom #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #choices fic writers creations

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

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

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

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

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

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

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

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

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

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I heave a breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

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

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

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

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

Rome really is the Eternal City...

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

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

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

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

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

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

"I... No," I admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It really is a—"

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

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

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

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

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

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

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

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

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

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hana blushes. "I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Actually, he—"

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

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

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

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

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

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

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

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

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

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

Certamente - Certainly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[tessa-liam]

Turning The Page 

Chapter – 2 –The Sacrifice 

Choices, The Royal Romance. Alternate Universe 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression 

Rating: M🔞Warnings - crude language - not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 2499 

Turning The Page 

The Sacrifice -Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Riley is reunited with Maxwell, as Daniel attempts to lift Riley from her feelings of melancholy at Club Kismet. Liam meets with Olivia in Lythikos searching for another perspective on the night of his coronation and his father’s transgressions against her and Riley. Madeleine discloses a secret. 

Turning The Page Masterlist 

Music Inspiration: Sacrifice, Elton John; The Sweetest Thing (I’ve Ever Known, Juice Newton; Always Remember Us This Way, Josh Rabenold 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found. 

A/N2: My submission for @choicesflashfics , Week #47, Prompt #3 - “Why are you being so weird?” 

Brooklyn Heights, New York City

Sitting beside the second-floor level home office window, Riley opened the heavy canvas satchel that held the new correspondence from her latest client. Working hard at starting her new home business, she put her business accounting skills to use for employment and landed her first client very quickly.  

After leaving Cordonia, Riley enrolled at Brooklyn College to finish her accounting accreditation while she was pregnant with William. She wanted the absolute best for her son, so earning a living was the top priority. 

Now that Riley was back in the States, her set goals also included building a life and creating a happy future for her son. So, when Daniel’s partner Matteo, who owned a six-bedroom brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, offered her a home when she arrived back in New York at Daniel’s old apartment, she readily accepted. 

Daniel met his love interest soon after Riley had left New York City to pursue her prince who captivated and captured her heart in Cordonia. Matteo and Daniel had a spacious brownstone and insisted that Riley and her baby share their home. 

 Checking off these challenges as completed, she once again found her thoughts drifting back to the life, she left behind in Cordonia.  

...and to Liam. 

Riley could not help but think, she had made a huge mistake. As William began to grow and start to talk and walk, the guilt she felt was overwhelming. All the ‘firsts’ that Liam deserved to witness of his son; the family that she knew was his ‘heart's desire’. 

...but then, she would remind herself that if she stayed, Madeleine would demand that William live at the palace as his guardian as per the Cordonian Arrangement. Since he is the Crown Prince, she would be obliged and subjected to Madeleine’s wrath, and be forced to abide by her control as Queen. 

Riley was convinced that Liam would want his son with him, and rightfully so. The King and Queen, and the Crown Prince would be the Royal family. Leaving her as the other woman; the ‘dirty little secret’, who was never seen in the daylight. Without a doubt, Riley was convinced that Madeleine would make it her mission to sabotage her relationship with her son, and with Liam. 

If only, they could have found Tariq.  

If only Constantine had cleared her name before passing away. 

It was devastating when the day came to her realization that the marriage between Liam and Madeline would go forward. The heartbreak she had to endure, having to watch the love of her life marry another. 

Liam said he would never want her as his mistress; but she was. 

He said he wanted her to be his number one woman, his queen, but she was not. 

….and now, here she was. The mother of his child. In self-imposed exile; just like Olivia. 

This realization reminded her why she had to change the course her life was taking. To justify why she had to sacrifice her heart and move forward, without Liam. 

‘And I have never been afraid of losing now. 

And I have never wanted love to be a chain. 

I only know that when I’m with you, you’re my sunshine, you’re my rain. 

The sweetest thing I’ve ever known is loving you.’ 

Riley needed to make a connection with her past life in Cordonia. For William’s sake. It all starts with Maxwell. 

House Nevrakis, Duchy of Lythikos, Cordonia 

The crackle of an ember in the roaring fireplace snapped Liam from his thoughts as Olivia set his scotch down before him. 

Olivia studied the troubled expression of her friend very closely, noticing the added stress lines on his face. Only seeing him on video at his press conferences, this was the first time in four years since she decided to leave court, that the pair were in the same room together. 

“So, what’s on your mind Liam? Don’t get me wrong, I am delighted that you have stopped in for an unannounced visit. But I am very curious as to why, after all this time?” 

Olivia kept the following thoughts to herself, ‘I would not be lucky enough for him to declare he was wrong and made me his queen.’ 

He sighed, and a wistful expression spread across his face. “I have been thinking about my father’s transgressions against yourself and against Riley, very frequently lately.” 

“Oh?” This comment intrigued her. Olivia moved forward in her chair, moving closer to Liam. 

“Yes, well, and so you should Liam,” Olivia scoffed. 

“But why now? What has changed? 

“Liv, when you originally received the intimidation letter the night of my coronation, why did you not tell me at once upon receiving it? All you told me that evening was that you were withdrawing officially from the social season. I never saw your letter.” 

Olivia raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at his statement, “I thought I could handle it on my own. I destroyed it.” 

“Bertrand and Maxwell intercepted a courier with a letter marked ‘urgent’ addressed to Riley, as well. Like you, the letter was from an unknown sender, telling her to leave court at once saying, ‘she will never be queen.’” 

“The letter I received.... I was being blackmailed.” Olivia shook her head.

 “I had no other choice. Whoever wrote that letter knew things about my parents. That they were traitors to the crown. They had attached proof.” 

Liam sat with his head resting in his hands, a faraway look on his face. He took a sip of his scotch, his face a mask of conflict and turmoil. 

Liam let out a heavy sigh, “I now know and have proof of the party who sent those letters.” 

“You have my full attention.” Olivia rose from her chair. “Who do you mean?” 

Liam ran his hands through his hair, “along with my father, Duke Godfrey.” 

“Godfrey confessed this to you?” Olivia gasped. 

“No, I have not personally spoken to him about this matter.... not yet. This information was given to me by a very credible source. I plan to have him interrogated very shortly.” 

“Lord Beaumont has the original letter that Riley received that night locked in his estate vault.  

Along with the photographs, from both my bachelor party in New York and the Applewood incident during my social season; these documents are all now with my legal counsel.” 

“Olivia, I need two things from you.” 

“Name it; let me be the one to interrogate that bastard!” 

Liam guffawed, “I will consider it...” I am formally asking that you partake in upcoming Royal council meetings at the palace and rejoin court.” 

Olivia was unprepared to hear that request. “Me? Why me?” Olivia asked, confounded by his request. 

“Liam, did Madeleine know about this? Was she complicit?”  

Liam downed the rest of his scotch in one gulp. “Yes, and yes.” 

New York City, Club Kismet 

“All right, kids, have a couple of drinks for me tonight,” Matteo joked as he held the front door open for Riley and Daniel. 

“Thank you, Matt, for watching William tonight.” Riley smiled as Daniel held her coat out for her to slip on. “He was at the playground all afternoon and fell asleep quickly after dinner with all that fresh air. He should sleep soundly, but if you need me for anything, please call me.” 

“Matteo has lots of experience sitting for his sister’s boys,” Daniel re assured her.

“No worries, I have lots of contracts to review tonight anyway. It’s my pleasure Riley, really.” 

Matteo pulled Riley in for a hug. “Now, go. Have a fun time dancing the night away with this one.” 

“Ha, ha, Matty,” Daniel winked and kissed Matteo good-bye. 

It was a Friday night, and the New York City streets were buzzing with people going out for a night ‘on the town’. After a lot of convincing, Daniel was finally successful at persuading Riley to go out for a drink at Club Kismet. 

The past six months of not going out and enjoying herself, it was time she started living again. 

Sitting at the bar, Daniel ordered drinks as Riley turned and surveyed the room. The club was packed, and the dance floor was full. Everyone seemed to be having an enjoyable time, which made her feel a little rueful about her decision to leave William with Daniel’s partner, Matteo, for the evening. 

She was about to turn back around to face the bar when she noticed a man sitting by himself a few seats down. Riley did a double take as she was struck by his resemblance to someone she knew. 

“Maxwell?”, Riley whispered. 

“What?” Daniel said, not hearing her clearly over the loud music. 

Riley didn’t hear him. She was too focused on the man who looked like Maxwell.  

Daniel turned his head, as Riley stood and walked towards the mystery man. 

“Maxwell?” The man looked up in surprise at the mention of his name. His eyes widened when he saw her. 

“Little blossom? Oh. My. God. it’s you!” Before she could respond, he was off his chair, engulfing her in an over-the-top hug that lifted her up off the floor and spun her around.

After many moments of laughter mixed with tears, Maxwell took Riley’s hand and together with Daniel, the trio left the club and walked towards the pier next to the Hudson River. 

“Max, thank you for coming to New York.” Riley stopped walking and sat down on a bench. 

“You two get re-acquainted. I am going to get everyone some coffee.” 

“Thank you, Daniel,” Riley looked up and smiled appreciatively.  

Sitting down next to her, Maxwell was nervously fidgeting, waiting for Riley to begin. Daniel had told him that Riley needed to speak with him urgently. This had him thinking that what she had to share was going to be dire.

Looking out at the Statue of Liberty, Riley started to get emotional. 

“I didn’t know where else to turn.” 

Maxwell’s eyes softened, picking up her hand. “Little Blossum, it's no problem at all. I am here for you.” 

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Maxwell pulled out his handkerchief for her and pulled her into a side hug. 

Riley smiled and gave him a quick squeeze before letting go. 

“I have a lot to tell you, so you might want to make yourself comfortable.” 

Taking a deep breath, “when I left Cordonia, I thought it was the best for Liam in the situation that we were in. I wanted him to be happy, and the situation in what I found myself in.... I could not bear the thought of him being put into a situation that could taint his rule and embarrass him.” 

Maxwell looked puzzled, “Riley were you sick? Oh no, no... are you sick?” 

“No, nothing like that, but I was wrong, Maxwell. I made a huge mistake. I should never have left.” 

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to leave.”  

Maxwell put his hand on her shoulder, “Liam was really upset about your leaving. He still is devastated.” Riley looked down, shaking her head,

“He misses you so much. He is not the same without you.” 

Riley’s heart broke at his words. She was devastated to hear how much she had hurt him. The guilt was overbearing.

“Maxwell, I don’t know if I can face him.” 

“Riley, I’ve known Liam since we were kids. I’ve seen him happy, sad, angry and every emotion in between. And what I can say without a doubt is that he’s never been as happy as he was with you. You have no idea how much he loves you.” 

Hanging her head, “he is going to be so mad when he finds out why I left.” 

“Maybe, but he’ll also be happy to know that you came back. That you want him too.” 

Daniel walked slowly towards the pair with a tray of coffee, overhearing the last minutes of their conversation. 

Riley bit her lip, “do you think he will forgive me?” 

“Riley, did you mention William?” Daniel interjected.

Maxwell looked at Riley, noting her shaking her head. 

He then looked up at Daniel, noting his questioning stare at Riley. 

“Why are you being so weird?”

“Who is William?” Maxwell asked, clearly puzzled, and looked at Riley. 

Riley had her head buried in her hands, weeping. 

Daniel looked at Riley sadly, “William is her son.” 

Cordonian Royal Palace 

Madeleine stepped out of the SUV as the Royal guard stood at attention. After opening the door for his Queen, he bowed as she strode confidently up the stairs and turned towards the east wing in search of Liam.  

Liam, having just arrived back to the palace from Lythikos, was in his study looking over some documents that his advisor had dropped off earlier in the morning. He was distracted by the conversation he had with Olivia on his mind and could not concentrate.  

“Your majesty”, Bastien interrupted his thoughts. 

“Queen Madeleine is here to see you; shall I bring her in?” 

Liam’s jaw clenched at the sound of her name. “Yes, send her in.” Mentally preparing himself for a confrontation by his wife, he slid the documents into a folder and sat back in his chair. 

Madeleine glided into the room, dressed impeccably as always. 

Liam rose from his chair and gave her a formal nod, “Madeleine.” 

He gestured for her to sit down and then reclaimed his seat behind the large desk. 

“Liam,” Madeleine acknowledged and in turn sat in a wing back chair across from her husband. 

“What do I owe this visit?” He asked. 

Madeleine crossed her legs and smoothed her dress, “well, we need to schedule a press announcement.” 

“An announcement?” 

“Yes, regarding the new royal line.” 

Liam frowned, “what are you talking about?” 

Madeleine gave him a patient look, “Liam, we need to announce my pregnancy.” 

Thanks for reading💖

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[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance Retelling Masterlist

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

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

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