#trr visuals

[angelasscribbles]

Cordonian Royal Family (A Bad Romance Extra)

I wanted to share these images because they're fabulous. I didn't make most of them, I suck at these things, but I love them and felt like they should be seen by others. Of course, me being me, I wanted to give information about each character but if I'm doing that, then it needs to read like an article in the Cordonian Star so here we are. Enjoy! The article is under the cut.

These images were all generated by the AI art app Wonder. For anyone interested, you may see my AI art disclaimer here.

It’s been one year since the death of His Royal Majesty Constantine Arthur Augustus Hector Rys in an unfortunate ceiling collapse at the palace just days before the current king announced his engagement to the queen.

King Constantine was married three times, sired two sons, and fostered three other children. Here is a look at the royal family today.

Photos by Ana De Luca.

His Royal Majesty Liam Nicolai Ulysses Augustus Rys

King of Cordonian, Duke of Stormholt, Duke of Bellmede, Duke of Valtoria, Earl of Alriel, Earl of Ennan, Earl of Lykos, Baron of Throngate, Lord of the Isles and Commander in Chief of the Cordonian Royal Forces.

From Spare to Heir. Never meant for the throne, this second-born son of royalty was thrust into the role of leader when his older brother abdicated. Many believe he was always more temperamentally suited for the role. Indeed, after a rocky start, Cordonia has thrived under his leadership.

Tied romantically to only a small number of women in his youth, (and one alleged man), King Liam’s younger years were as devoid of scandal and impropriety as his brother’s were full of them. He received good marks at the prestigious, elite Wellingford Academy and later Epton College.

He managed to stay out of the spotlight for the most part until his eventful social season. Marrying a commoner and a foreigner, changing the laws of succession for his children, and legalizing gay marriage, he has a track record as a progressive and is viewed favorably by the majority of Cordonians.

Her Royal Majesty Riley Catherine Brooks Rys

Queen of Cordonian, Duchess of Stormholt, Duchess of Bellmede, Duchess of Valtoria, Countess of Alriel, Countess of Ennan, Countess of Lykos, Baroness of Throngate, Lady of the Isles and Champion of the Realm.

Rumored to have had a contentious relationship with the late king, this last-minute addition to the present king’s social season was a long shot. As an American and a commoner, she reportedly was not King Constantine’s first, or even second, choice for his son.

Always King Liam’s favorite, however, she was a front-runner from the moment she set foot on Cordonian soil, her beauty, charm, and grace captivating the nation. Meeting at a bar in New York where she was his waitress, their whirlwind romance seemingly ended in scandal, accusations of infidelity, and the king’s engagement to another woman.

Their love endured despite the obstacles and in an astonishing turn of events, not only was her name cleared, but the king made a move as historically unprecedented as it was shocking, breaking a council-approved political engagement and marrying for love.

Prince Leonardo Tiberius Constantine Fabian Rys

Prince of Cordonia, Duke of Abanthus, Earl of Ebrimel, Baron of Auverneen.

Born into privilege and wealth, he threw it all away in what many consider a selfish and short-sighted move led by the vagaries and hubris of youth. Other interpretations range from the young prince simply recognizing that his brother was better suited to rule; to unsubstantiated rumors that he was pressured into stepping down by his father.

Prince Leo bounced around between elite boarding schools, both domestic and abroad before making barely passable marks at Epton College. Dubbed by the media as the Playboy Prince of the Mediterranean, he has been romantically linked to the likes of Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, Princess Margot of Auvernall, and American actress Victoria Fontaine.

Abdicating both as Crown Prince of Cordonian and Duke of Stormholt, he retains the title of Prince as well as holding the titles Duke of Abanthus, Earl of Ebrimel, and Baron of Auverneen while living abroad. The Playboy Prince is still unattached.

Captain Drake Nolan Walker

Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard, Knight Protector of the Realm.

Born to commoners, he and his sister were taken in and raised by the royal family after his father’s death in service to the crown. Having lived in the palace since the age of six, he became a ward of the crown at age fourteen and received the same basic upbringing and education as the princes.

Unlike the princes, he dedicated his life to military service, later following in his father’s footsteps by transferring to the Royal Guard. During King Liam’s social season, Captain Walker was charged with killing a man. All charges were eventually dropped, and he was exonerated when it came out that he was acting undercover on the king’s orders as a de facto member of Queen Riley’s security detail.

He currently serves the crown as captain of the Queen’s Guard, lives at the palace, remains close friends with the king, and is by all accounts deeply devoted to the queen.

Her Grace Savannah Evangeline Walker Beaumont

Duchess of Ramsford.

Like her brother, the duchess became a ward of the crown after the death of her father when she was twelve years old. She retained the title of Lady until the advent of her marriage to the Duke of Ramsford, Bertrand Beaumont, raised her status to duchess.

Scandal rocked Duchy Ramsford when it was revealed that the duchess had a child out of wedlock. She left Cordonia, taking the heir to Ramsford with her. She lived abroad for a year before returning and reuniting with the duke. They were married in an elaborate ceremony a few months after her return.

Unidentified sources close to the couple report the marriage is strained and often rocky.

His Grace Bertrand Atticus Beaumont

Duke of Ramsford, Leader of the House of Lords, Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal.

Taking on the role of Duke at a young age, he, along with the rest of the world, was shocked by the return of his presumed dead father, the late Duke Barthelemy Beaumont. His Grace relinquished control of the duchy to his father only to pick up the mantle again a few months later when the late Duke of Ramsford was killed in a head-on collision on his way home from a meeting at the palace.

He currently serves in the House of Lords as The Lord Leader, a position he has held for the last five years.

His ties to the monarchy are many and varied. His marriage to Savannah Walker made him a de facto member of the royal family, as did making the queen an official member of House Beaumont as part of his sponsorship of her during the king’s social season. His younger brother, Lord Maxwell Beaumont serves as the queen's top advisor and personal assistant. Prince Leo is a close friend, was the best man at his wedding, and is godfather to his son.

Lord Barthelemy Jackson Beaumont

Future Duke of Ramsford.

As the only child of the Duke and Duchess of Ramsford, young Lord Barthelemy is the heir to the duchy, nephew to the Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard Captain Drake Walker, and to the queen’s personal assistant, Lord Maxwell Beaumont, has Prince Leo as a godfather and is treated as a grandchild by the queen mother.  

Her Grace Olivia Vanderwall Nevrakis

Duchess of Lythikos, Counsellor of State.

Also a ward of the crown, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis lost her parents in a tragic car accident when she was five years old. The late Queen Eleanor sent for her, and she was raised and educated at the palace, taking over control of Duchy Lythikos from her aunt at the age of sixteen.

Lythikos has thrived under her leadership, and she is beloved by the people. A suitor in King Liam’s social season, she has also been romantically linked to his brother, Prince Leo. Sources close to the duchess report that her participation in the social season was out of courtesy and duty as she and the king have always enjoyed a close friendship, but nothing more.

She currently resides at Lykos Keep, sits on the king’s small council, and divides her time between Lythikos and the capital.

Her Royal Majesty Regina Beatrice Amaranth Rys

Queen Mother, Dowager Duchess of Stormholt, Countess of Loutreo.

Born in Krona, her father was the younger brother of the late Duke, Karolos Amaranth. The current Duchess of Krona, Adelaide Amaranth, is her cousin. A countess in her own right, she became queen when she married King Constantine after a lengthy courtship.

She was the late king’s third wife. Marrying later in life, she had no biological children of her own but was instrumental in the upbringing of both her stepsons and the other three children entrusted to the monarchs’ care.

Now a widow, the queen mother continues to live at the palace, advises the queen, and works with the various charities she has championed over the years, notably Hope Haven a nationwide organization that works with homeless youth, and The Empowerment Zone a nonprofit helping single mothers. 

Her Royal Highness Eleanor Elizabeth Hana Olivia Rys

Crown Princess of Cordonia.

Born just six days ago, Cordonia’s newest princess has already captivated the hearts of the nation. The king and queen have retreated to the queen’s estate in Valtoria while they adjust to new parenthood, taking with them, among others, the queen's personal assistant, Lord Maxwell Beaumont. No nannies are yet in residence, but Duchess Hana Lee, the queen’s best friend and official Master of the Household, is.

This exclusive photo, which originally appeared in The Cordonian Star yesterday, is the only public photograph of the crown princess, who was named after her grandmother, the late Queen Eleanor.  

#trr visuals #bad romance #trr poly #trr #trr fanfic #angelasscribbles #the royal romance #liam rys #drake walker #leo rys #riley brooks #the royal romance fanfic #choices

[trrvisuals]

Riley and Liam Wedding

I wanted to share this awesome edit done by @aussiegurl1234. My FC for Riley got married and I got a present 😆🥰👏🏻

#trr fandom #the royal romance #angelasscribbles #trr visuals #liam x riley #liam x mc #liam rys #riley brooks

[karahalloway]

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

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

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

Word Count: 4,500

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

Chapter theme song:

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

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

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

Chapter 17 - News Flash

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

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

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

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

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

Maxwell's snort drifts up from the backseat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The elder Beaumont bristles. "It was hardly—"

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

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

"How?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I frown. "My what?"

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

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

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

"Allard and Schweitzer have been teaching—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw hits the floor. "What!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olivia quirks a brow at me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"To give Christian the illusion of choice."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bertrand blanches. "I beg your pardon?!"

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

"But to suggest that—"

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

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

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

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

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

"Because you love him..."

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

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

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

"Hey!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of her mouth lifts craftily.

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

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

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

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

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

"Which is closest to a latte?"

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

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

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

The story continues in Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

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

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[leelee10898]

Well, aren't you a Lamb?

This is my first submission for @choicesflashfics using the prompt "I saw this and it reminded me of you." Since yesterday was Easter, this idea immediately popped into my head. I hope you enjoy. I've also added a little 'visual aid' to give you the full picture 🤣

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: TRR gang

Word count: 876

Warnings/content: language; silly fluff

It was Easter Sunday.  Riley wanted to share some of her American customs with her friends and family so Liam rented a huge cabin in upstate New York. Riley and Hannah got busy in the kitchen while Liam, Drake, and Maxwell ventured out into the nearby town for some necessities. Drake pulled the SUV into a parking spot and the three got out of the vehicle. "Ahhh. Smell that?" Drake inhaled, stretching his arms out. "That's the smell of fresh air right there." 

Liam grinned and shook his head. "This town suits you, Drake."  

Maxwell continued to sniff in the air. "I don't know Drake, all I smell is," he sniffed again. "Cinnamon. Oh man, that smells good." Maxwell took off towards the bakery. 

"Maxwell, wait-" Liam yelled. 

"Let him go Li. Let's go get the other stuff we need. We can collect Maxwell after we are done." 

Liam looked hesitantly toward the direction Max took off in. "I don't know Drake.." A barrage of bad scenarios played out in his mind. 

"Hell be fine. Let's go." 

Liam shook the thoughts from his mind and joined Drake. After Liam and Drake went to the Liquor store and grocery, they headed further into town to look for Maxwell.

"Well, I don't see any firey crashes, or loose wildlife roaming the streets. No ones running in fear, so it looks like a win." Drake teased. 

"We haven't found Maxwell yet, don't rush to conclusions " Liam sighed, Drake chuckled, clasping him on the back. Just as Maxwell emerged from the bakery, carrying a giant-sized sized pastry box. 

"Liam! Drake! I was just coming to find you guys. I got dessert for dinner!" Maxwell beamed. 

"Oh, that sounds wonderful Max. What did you get us?" Liam smiled trying to lift the box and sneak a peak. Maxwell quickly pulled the box out of Liam's reach. "Oh no Liam, it's a surprise.  I can't show you. You'll see at dinner, let's go." Maxwell turned on his heel and took off for the car. Liam stood rooted in place Drake coming up and standing next to him. 

"You want to know what's in that box don't you?" Drake snickered. 

"I shouldn't.  I really should but," 

"You do." Drake finished for him. 

"Yup." 

After a short drive, the guys made it back to the cabin. They helped Riley and Hannah put everything away and spent most of the day relaxing before it was time to eat.  After a large dinner, the group sat around the table before Hannah pulled a pie from the kitchen and placed it on the table. "I made a chocolate silk pie. I hope you love it." She smiled. 

"It looks delicious, Hannah. I can't wait to dig in." Riley licked her lips just asMaxwelll came barging into the dining room carrying the big box. He dropped it right down on the table making the table shake and some glasses fell over. 

"Finally. "Liam breathed out. It was finally time to find out what Maxwell had in the box. The contents plagued Liam the entire day while Drake teased him with his thoughts.  Exploding pasty, undercooked cookies, blood pudding, or dirt pudding equipt with real live worms were just a few ideas Drake tossed out. Liam shuddered at the thought. 

"What do we have here, Maxwell?" Riley quirked her brow.

"Well there we were in town when Drake was rambling on about fresh air but all I could smell was cinnamon.  So I ran into the bakery and found this." He gently tapped on the box. "I saw this and it reminded me of you." He smiled brightly at Drake. 

"Aww hell," Drake grunted as Liam peered closer in anticipation. Maxwell finally lifted the top of the box revealing a cake shaped like a lamb. It had blue jellybeans for eyes that started to melt and turn to jelly, one eye slid making it droop. Its nose, also a red jelly bean also melted, causing a bit of redness that resembled a  light coloring of blood just above the makeshift mouth, complete with a grouping of crooked, jagged, rotten teeth.  Hanna gasped and covered her eyes with her hands. 

"I talked the girls at the bakery into letting me redecorate his face. Doesn't it look just like Drake?" 

"The similarities are uncanny, Max." Riley assured him trying to keep a straight face. 

Liam broke out into a fit of giggles as Drake sat there with a deep frown on his face. 

"It looks like it might eat me." Hannah peered between her fingers, which made Liam laugh even harder. 

"Drake, aren't you going to say anything to Maxwell?" Riley pressed. 

"Nope," Drake grunted again. 

"Drake." She warned and Drake rolled his eyes. 

"Fine." He sighed, turning towards Maxwell. "Ah. Thank you for this um thing." 

Maxwell's smile grew even bigger. "Any time buddy." He clasped Drake on the shoulder. "I thought to myself, Drake loves animals and this one, well I had to make him look like he belonged to you." 

"Well, it's fitting. I'm in hell, why not have a demented Lamb to tie it all together." He shook his head. He had been to an American Easter before but this one was literally the weirdest Easter ever. 

@kingliam2019 @ao719 @emichelle @annabellewynter @twinkleallnight  @tessa-liam @riseandshinelittleblossom @blackcatkita @katedrakeohd @tinkie1973 @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @lovingchoices14 @indiana-jr @txemrn

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[tessa-liam]

All is Fair in Love & War

Book: TRR, The Royal Heir Book 2 AU 

Summary: The King and Queen of Cordonia VS The King and Queen of Auvernal, battle for dominance in Tango 

Song Inspiration: King of My Heart, T. Swift 

Video Inspiration: Tango for Two, L. Tarantino & G. Cocomero 

Visual Commission: Liam & Riley @artbyainna 

Dance Tutorial: Argentine Tango by Diego Blanco & Ana Padron 

Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP (LiRi) 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Daniella, who belongs to me. 

A/N1: This is my submission for week #8 @choicesflashfics, Prompt #3 “I’ve never done something like this before.” 

A/N2: This story has not been Beta'd, please excuse all errors. 

Rating: A, 18+, adult conversation 

Word Count: 1663 

✨✨✨✨✨ 

Riley's POV 

As Dr. Ramirez gently places the baby on my chest, I am overwhelmed with emotion, at finally holding our beautiful baby. Gazing upon her for the very first time, I forget about all the pains of childbirth and all the fears I had dissipated. 

“She’s perfect, Riley.” Liam says with tears in his eyes. 

“I can’t believe that just happened! This moment...It’s just so amazing. I’m just so happy to be here with you right now...and with our baby!” Riley tearfully confesses. 

“A little girl...It’s been a long time since we had a princess running around the palace. I’m going to give you the world, my little princess.” Liam emotionally whispers to Eleanor, taking Riley’s hand in his. 

✨✨✨✨✨ 

Liam’s POV 

It feels like yesterday since our baby was born. From that birthday on my primary focus is, and always will be, Riley and my children. 

Their happiness and security are my highest duty; as a husband, as a father and as the King of Cordonia. 

 I refuse to waste my time dwelling on the problems with Auvernal.  Their attempts at coercion to force a betrothal will not succeed. Thus, I delegated the mundane task of dealing with those issues to my Royal Council. 

It’s Monday morning, and I have my usual morning conference with my advisers scheduled to begin in 20 minutes. 

While taking a sip of my coffee, I touch Riley’s number on my cell, knowing that she is in the palace gymnasium. 

“Hi Liam, how is everything?” Riley answers breathlessly on speaker. 

“Riley, you're not overdoing it with these exercises, are you?” 

Maxwell interrupts by saying, “Li, don’t worry, we are fusing dance with the exercises. I will make sure it’s a relaxing and fun experience.” 

“Thank you, Max. I’ll hold you to it. Riley, I will come down after my meeting to take you to lunch.” 

The call is interrupted by a knock on the door, and Liam ends the call and directs his advisors to enter. 

“Your majesty, good morning.” Rashad, Olivia, Bertrand, Kiara, Hana, Drake and Bastien step into his office, each taking seats at the boardroom table. 

Rashad, acting as Liam’s chief legal counsel, begins the meeting with an overview of the challenges caused by the Auvernese leaders.  

After listening intently to each presentation by each council member, Liam states, “whatever actions we decide upon today, always remember, to keep your friends close, your enemies closer.” 

Liam goes on, “One of the greatest books on war strategies, was written by Sun-tzu, a Chinese general and military strategist, ‘The Art of War’. This dispute is not about military force; it is psychological warfare.  

At the end of the productive meeting, a practical action plan was devised. Liam left the meeting with the direction for the council to plan the implementation. 

✨✨✨✨✨ 

Riley and Maxwell had finished their workout and were chatting and enjoying a light snack of fresh fruit and infused water on the patio outside the gym. 

Feeling energized, Riley spotted Liam walking towards her carrying Eleanor in his arms and got up to dance her way to him. 

Liam burst into laughter watching his wife sashay towards him. 

“Hello, my love,” Liam bends down to reward his wife with a kiss. I see all this exercise hasn’t worn you out.” 

“Never! Max is teaching me how to tango,” Riley animatedly exclaims while gently lifting Ellie from Liam’s arms. 

“I wouldn’t say I am an expert...but...tango dancing is a great cardio workout and body toner,” Maxwell states. 

Liam nods in agreement, “tango is a ballroom dance. I learned the Argentine tango as part of my Royal training, as a matter of fact. 

I will arrange for that instructor to join the two of you tomorrow morning. 

...and I will join you as well.” 

“Really? You will work out with us tomorrow?” 

Liam wrapped his arm around Riley, “let’s go for lunch. Max, you are more than welcome to join us.” 

✨✨✨✨✨ 

“I have an idea that I want to run past you, Riley.” Liam sits back on his chair at the dining table, cradling Ellie at lunch. 

“...and you as well, Max.” 

Riley smiles, “you’ve got my attention.” 

“Mine as well,” Maxwell responds. 

Liam moves the baby to rest on his chest, holding her close with one hand. 

“How would you feel about dancing with me at the military charity ball being held in Auvernal later this month? An Argentine tango?” 

Riley’s expression turns inquisitive.  

“I’ve never done something like this before.” 

Maxwell smiles wide and exclaims musically, “that would be awesome! You are so ready to handle this, little blossom. And with Liam leading you? Wow, this will be epic!” 

In the royal gymnasium the next morning, Liam and Riley arrive early to warm up for their first joint dance lesson. 

As the dance instructor enters, followed by Maxwell, 

Liam teasingly calls to Riley, “Okay, your majesty, get into position.” 

“You are so bossy this morning!” Riley saucily responds back, bending down to adjust her shoe strap. 

Liam smirks, tempted to smack her behind, but he has to show decorum. They were in public. So, instead he murmurs in her ear, “just wait till later!” 

Riley stands and straightens, standing beside her husband. Her smirk quickly changing into a smile as they stepped forward to greet their instructor. 

After pleasantries are exchanged, Daniella, the instructor begins, 

“The Argentine tango is a passionate ballroom dance that is great for expressing love between two partners.” 

Riley bashfully smiles lowering her gaze to the floor. Liam gives her hand a squeeze, winking at her when she looks up at him. 

“Tango dancing involves quick, graceful, and playful movements with plenty of room for improvisation. These fun moves create a simple, yet elegant dance that consists of eight steps taken across eight counts.” 

Daniella turns to Maxwell, “we will partner to demonstrate each step.” The grin that formed on Maxwell’s face was enormous.  

“The tango is a fairly straightforward walking dance that just requires precise footwork. It is relatively easy to perform once you master the eight basic steps and understand how the count works.” 

These dance lessons continued daily for the next 3 weeks. 

✨✨✨✨✨ 

Military Charity Ball, Auvernese Royal Palace, Auvernal 

Arriving at the palace in Auvernal, Liam and Riley, along with their Royal council, are ushered to the ballroom. 

Rashad, Bertrand, Kiara and Hana enter the ballroom, while Isabella and Bradshaw meet with Liam and Riley before being heralded into the Ball. 

Olivia, Drake and Bastien stealthily went up the stairs to meet with their contacts on the viewing balcony above the ballroom. Leo stood with Queen Amalas with wide grins as they held up the folder with the birth records for the twins 

As Liam and Riley were learning the tango, the Royal council learned that the children claimed to be royal blood by the King and Queen of Auvernal were illegitimate. Bradshaw’s lover was pregnant with twins. Isabella needed an heir, arranging for the affair to continue if she could falsely claim parentage. Since Leo was courting Queen Amalas in Monterisso, he volunteered to bring the proof with him to the ball, along with Amalas. 

“King Liam and Queen Riley, welcome to our beautiful country,” Bradshaw pretentiously croons. 

Isabella meanwhile studies her queen rival with a jealous eye. 

Riley, after all the dance practices over the past three weeks, was down to her pre-baby weight with added curves that Liam adored. Her shimmering gold cocktail dress hugged her curves perfectly. 

Her dress didn’t go unnoticed by Bradshaw and noticing his lustful gaze, Isabella was shooting seething glares at him. 

Liam’s facial expression remained neutral as he took notice of the unwelcome gawking by his rival towards his wife. He does, however, protectively wrap his arm around Riley snugly, barely keeping the distance required for proper decorum. 

“Yes, thank you for hosting this charity event.  I am sure the military paraphernalia will be well received,” he conceals his contempt for the pair knowing that they now have legal documentation that annuls the betrothal agreement. 

As the evening moves forward, the orchestra begins the first notes of the Argentine tango.  

“Are you ready for this?” Liam questions Riley. “Oh yes, let's bring it on.” Riley answers enthusiastically. 

Liam leads her to center of the dance floor, and once there, he moves his body close to Riley. He extends his left hand forward to capture Riley’s upward flexed right hand. Liam places his right hand on Riley’s back moving her flush to him. Riley places her left hand on Liam’s shoulder. 

Liam nods to the maestro to begin the music, and he takes the first step of the tango. 

All the practice they had dancing allowed them to perform the steps flawlessly. They ended the dance provocatively as she ran her leg up the side of Liam’s leg to his waist. Riley then wrapped her hand around his neck and Liam returned her affection with a passionate kiss. 

The applause was deafening, as they bowed to the audience. 

Isabella was livid. As she began her dance with Bradshaw, she angrily moved around the ballroom like a ‘bull in a China shop’. Bradshaw looked so uncomfortable and he stopped dancing. 

Kiara and Hana, watching them, couldn’t believe the spectacle they were witnessing. Rashad and Bertrand and members of the Cordonian Royal guard encircled Liam and Riley, as Bradshaw and Isabella stormed out of the ballroom. Olivia, Drake, Leo and Amalas intercepted them to confront them. 

✨✨✨✨✨ 

 Returning back to Cordonia at once after the ball ended abruptly, Liam glances down to Ellie sleeping peacefully and securely in her crib. Riley wraps her arms around him and smiles down at their baby, knowing that all is good in their kingdom. 

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@late-to-the-fandom

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

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[angelasreblogs]

Master List Organization Poll

I would love to have everyone's input on master list organization. I have a lot of content and my ideas of how to most efficiently present it keep changing.

I used to have a short paragraph/blurb for each story out to the side of the title. Now I just have bullet pointed lists of titles under categories (ie, “collabs”, “Poly stories”, etc).

I used to have things sorted into multiple master lists, then put them all in one place for simplicity then moved them again, sorting into several blogs each with its own master list: TRR Scribbles, TRR Poly, TRR One Shots, TRR Bad Romance. On these blogs, you will find them further divided by category, but all shown on the same page/list.

I’m wondering what works best for the readers. When you go looking for content, which format do you prefer?

Examples

Ex 1 List of stories with blurbs:

Insurrection: Riley isn’t what anyone thought she was. Her actions set off a civil war in Cordonia. Eidolon: Construction in the four-hundred-year-old throne room awakens an ancient evil. Unexpected Max has an inappropriate fixation on Riley. Dark Elf: Liam Rys is unpleased that his human half has left him not quite immortal. He has a plan to correct that. American Girl: Riley, Drake, and Liam grew up in a small town in North Texas. High school graduation scatters the three lifelong friends and shakes up their respective relationships.

Ex 2, same as one but divided into categories

Paranormal: Eidolon: Construction in the four hundred year old throne room awakens an ancient evil. Dark Elf: Liam Rys is unpleased that his human half has left him not quite immortal. He has a plan to correct that. Non-Royal Au's: American Girl: Riley, Drake, and Liam grew up in a small town in North Texas. High school graduation scatters the three lifelong friends and shakes up their respective relationships. Drake x Riley Stories My Best Friends Girl: Drake Walker struggles to contain feelings he shouldn't be having as he finds himself falling for the same girl as his best friend. Star Crossed: Drake Walker meets the woman of his dreams the night before his best friend's wedding but there's a major obstacle.

EX 3 Title only, one long list

Three Weeks in Ramsford

Complicated

Hinge

The Proposal

The Agreement

Forbidden Passion

Savage Love

Royal Retribution

The De Facto Queen

Victim of Love

Ex 4 Title only, divided into subcategories but still all on ONE master list

Riley x Drake:

My Best Friend's Girl

Lavender and Crimson

Star Crossed

A Fervid Fixation

American Girl

Riley x Liam

Insurrection

Other Pairings:

In Your Room Drake x Leo

The Crown and the Shield Jackson x Constantine

Broken Jackson x Eleanor

Leo & Liv Leo x Olivia

Collaborations:

Mardi Gras Mayhem

One Step Ahead

One Night in Cordonia

Cordonian Royal Airlines

Ex 5: The way it is now, links to separate blogs/ML. Stories are divided into broad categories (each of the below links leads to a separate master list where stories are then sorted into further categories but all on the same page/list)

IE: You click on one of these and when you go to that page, you see ex 4 above. ex 4 is what you get when you click on TRR Scribbles here.

Why Choose? Poly/RH stories.

TRR Scribbles: Mono pairings

Law's End: A crime procedural

One-Shots: TRR one-shots

Visuals: Art, edits, etc.

Extras: other TRR stuff

Ex 6: The way it is now, links to separate blogs/ML but with paragraphs/blurbs giving a brief description of the story. So organized like ex 5 but when you get to the ML, instead of title only, there would be blurbs like in ex 1.

Ok, was that clear as mud? If you understand all that and have an opinion, I would love to have your feedback!!!

Tagging under the cut. Thank you all in advance for your help!

@karahalloway, @harleybeaumont @nestledonthaveone @alj4890 @aussiegurl1234

@walkerdrakewalker @kingliam2019 @twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14  @tinkie1973 @secretaryunpaid @irishgrl2022

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@ladyangel70 @ohmyeightpastlives  @gardeningourmet

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#angelasscribbles #my polls #poll time #tumbler polls #trr

[thecapturedafrique]

NPAD: Art

Happy very late Nadia Park Appreciation Day! As a big TRR fan, I always imagined that Nadia would consider Joëlle Theron as one of her artistic idols, and from that I built a head canon to chronicle Nadia’s path as an artist!

Tagging @nadiaparkappreciationweek and its wonderful hosts @lizzybeth1986 & @sazanes!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Nadia graduates with her BFA from the School of Visual Arts in NYC in 2015

She goes on to study at ENSA Bourges in France—Joëlle’s alma mater—to earn her DNSEP (the French equivalent of a MFA)

After graduating in 2017, Nadia returns to NYC where she does the standard starving artist routine for a solid year until receiving an offer to showcase some of her work for an alumni showing in Paris

She sends over some of her work and then finally agrees to move in with her cousin Erin, whose previous roommate (my TRR MC Ally) ran off to Europe

In mid-September ten days before the showing is scheduled to end, Liam and Madeleine’s engagement tour stops in Paris

While there, Kiara visits the gallery with Penelope and Hana to do some scouting for her mother, and when Nadia’s art catches her attention, she sends some pictures to Joëlle who is also an instant fan

With several artists having pulled out of the upcoming International Arts and Food Festival, Jöelle reaches out to Nadia to ask if she’d like to have her work displayed during the festival

Nadia immediately accepts; her pieces are well received and garner several high bids, which heralds the start of her career taking off

A couple of weeks later, when she attends Ally and Liam’s wedding as Erin’s plus one, Nadia introduces herself to Jöelle, who is happy to meet her, especially since she can now make the offer of sponsorship in-person

And thus, by the time PM begins, Nadia is an established artist; while the majority of her fan base is European and French in particular, her first independent showing at the start of the series marks her breaking into the American art scene

#perfect match #pm #nadia park #nadiaparkappreciationday #npad #head canons #joelle theron #thanks for encouraging me to post this lizzy! 💕

[dcbbw]

Sunday Snippets

Happy Sunday, Tumblr! I hope everyone is safe and sound, warm and dry. This past week has been one for the books in my corner of the world: in no particular order, I have dealt with Tropical Storm Ian, dental work that required a drill and clamps, the aftermath of a pukey toddler, family toxicity, drama (work and otherwise), and I need to prepare for an interview on Tuesday!

Needless to say I have missed all the late-September tumblr event deadlines I signed up for, but still gonna write the stories and of course give proper credit. Below are snippets from what should be posting this week.

As usual, these are in a state of rough draft, and published versions may be edited/revised.

It’s all below the cut; happy reading!

Guy Time (tentative title), TRR DC AU guys + OC, For the Boys event:

Once the men were settled and a new hand had been dealt, conversation resumed.

“What are some qualities, for you, a woman absolutely has to have to make her a keeper?” Lonnie asked.

All eyes turned to Liam, who was tearing into a quesadilla while watching a frustrating second quarter.

“Me? Okay, we all know I want this with Riley B., but she isn’t the inspiration behind it. Penelope is. I need a team player who has some traditional values. It would be nice if she were gainfully employed, but she can be a stay-at-home if she wants … as long as she has goals and ambitions and is actively working on them. Dinner doesn’t have to be cooked when I get home … we can fix the meal together … but if I’m working late, something in the microwave or on top of the stove would be appreciated. Good morning kisses, at least starting the laundry would be great, someone I can both teach and learn from. She’d never have to do yard work, would be appreciative of presents and gifts, sees my efforts, and matches my level of commitment. In return, I’ll give her all of that back tenfold.”

“What about you, Lonnie? What are you looking for when you get back out there?” Leo tilted his beer bottle to his lips.

“She just needs to be breathing and one of three orifices should be functional. Loyalty would be nice, along with having gotten the streets out of her system.”

“Let me give you Penelope’s number,” Liam offered jokingly.

Lonnie rolled his eyes. “No, thanks! That chick cray. I still remember that fight you two had that night. Silly chick stood in the middle of the street cussing you out for over an hour. At four in the morning!”

Drake choked on his tamale. “What the hell happened?”

Liam shook his head. “I honestly don’t remember the details; I know we were both drunk and she kept calling me a limp dick motherfucker. So, I threw her ass out. At one point, she got naked asking Rhode Island Avenue who wanted all this.”

Siren Song, Perfect Match/Open Heart Crossover, #HYAW:

With a nod, the man hit the button, and they rode in silence; he exited first. The woman rode up two more floors and exited into the administrative wing of the medical facility, the conference room directly in front of her. Double wooden doors affixed with crucifixes were propped open; members of the audio/visual team were setting up laptops and projectors while hospital management clustered around a tall man wearing a navy-blue pinstriped suit. His auburn-colored hair was perfectly styled, and his long, slender fingers were curled around a styrofoam cup.

Her eyes narrowed.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

The rumors were true.

Her phone, ensconced in her pocket, vibrated. With a frown of impatience, she quickly removed it. She had a text message:

Leave the facility NOW. We’ll rendezvous at your place this afternoon.

Her lips pursed as she glanced at the good doctor again. With a sigh, the woman turned on her heel, pressing the down button.

I’ll see you soon, Dr. Ramsey.

Inside the elevator, she shrugged off her lab coat, folding it neatly before laying it in a corner of the car; she placed the clipboard and name badge atop it. She was firing back a reply as she walked towards the hospital’s parking garage.

Phase One of Operation Hybrid is in effect.

Inside the parking deck she looked around slowly before heading to her car. The level was full, and the only other person was a tall Asian gentleman; he had a full head of glossy black hair, dark eyes, and a five o’clock shadow covering his lower face.

He wore a black suit with a camouflage backpack and carried a cup of Starbucks in his hand. He acknowledged the woman with a terse nod when their eyes met. When they were close to crossing paths, his free hand went to his jacket pocket, patting frantically as if he had forgotten something.

The woman ignored him, her thumb pressing against the car remote. The man whirled swiftly, silently with a taser in his hand. He aimed it at the woman’s side and squeezed the trigger firmly. Thin, bluish-white streams of electricity traveled through the distance. Caught unawares, the woman went down with a pained cry. The man stepped closer, the heels of his oxford shoes tapping against the concrete floor. He pulled the trigger again before stooping to retrieve her purse.

He removed her wallet, rifling quickly; he left everything intact other than her driver’s license. Her cellphone was nestled in a snug compartment; he pocketed that as well. Tossing the purse onto the ground, the toe of his shoe prodded her once; no movement, but acrid smoke wafted from her body and the smell of burnt wiring scented the air.

With a smirk of satisfaction, he returned to his car and drove off.

One down, one to go.

The Price of Everything, TRR/Platinum AU, @choicesprompts Prompt #2::

It was four weeks past the wedding, three weeks since the miscarriage; while the grief had not lessened, life was beginning a return to normal for the young couple. Kiara spent the first 72 hours following the medical emergency in a private wing at Stormholt Samaritan Hospital, Liam constantly at her side. Once home at the Palace, Liam insisted she stay on bedrest, and he personally tended to her every need. Kiara insisted she was fine with no ill effects, but Liam continued to care for his wife.

One morning, she sat in front of her vanity mirror, wrapped in a sinfully soft white robe watching her husband's reflection as he ran a wide-toothed comb through her tresses.

“I’m agreeable to an annulment,” she said quietly to the mirror.

Liam looked up; there was a frown on his lips, but a flame of hope flared in is eyes before dying out.  “What are you speaking of?”

“The reason for our union is ... no more.” Her voice cracked slightly. “We can go back to being who we were before.”

Liam looked puzzled. “We were good friends who had sex. Isn’t that what we are now?”

Kiara shook her head slightly. “Exactly! We aren’t even best friends! Sex is not a basis for marriage. It isn’t a reason to stay tethered to duty. Let’s get an annulment and you can find someone you LOVE, Liam! I can return to New York and my job. We don’t have to stay married.”

Liam pondered her offer. In the weeks following the loss of their child, Liam had spent every night after Kiara fell asleep searching for Riley Brooks, but he and the Crown’s security team repeatedly drew blanks.

It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the earth.  

The King procured the services of Interpol, New Scotland Yard, the FBI, local law enforcement jurisdictions, and private investigators to assist. But there were simply not enough details.

Her phone number was no longer in service. The bank account information the Crown had on file for her was no longer valid. The bar she used to work at had been torn down, replaced by high-rise condos.

The sole contact Liam had for Riley was of no use. The King had no physical description, no last name, no address for the person. All Liam knew was a first name and occupation.

Good luck trying to find a waiter named Daniel in New York City.

Liam worried his lower lip as he considered how to word his response. True, if there had been no child, he and Kiara would never have considered cohabitation, let alone marriage.

But there had been a baby.

No one, not even their parents, knew.

An annulment after less than 10 days of marriage would cause tongues to wag faster and more furiously than a child conceived out-of-wedlock.

And as horribly selfish as it was, if they separated now, Kiara had something to look forward to. Liam had nothing.

Tagging: @jared2612​ @ao719​ @burnsoslow​ @marietrinmimi​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @queenjilian​ @indiacater​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac​ @liamxs-world​ @mom2000aggie​ @cmestrella​ @liamrhysstalker2020​  @neotericthemis​ @twinkleallnight​ @umccall71​ @superharriet​  @busywoman​ @gabesmommie1130​ @tessa-liam​ @phoenixrising308​ @beezm​ @gardeningourmet​ @lovingchoices14​ @foreverethereal123​ @mainstreetreader​ @angelasscribbles​ @lady-calypso​ @emkay512​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @21-wishes​ @princessleac1​ @charlotteg234​ @queenrileyrose​ @alj4890​ @yourfavaquarius111​ @motorcitymademadame​​ @bbrandy2002​​

In case you’re interested: @choicesficwriterscreations​ @lizzybeth1986​​

#dcbbw writes #my wips #the royal romance franchise #perfect match open heart crossover #It's late but it's coming

[lorirwritesfanfic]

This tumblrina/dumbass accidentally deleted an ask sent by @peonierose, but it took me a while to create these, so I'm posting anyway 😅

What is something you love about your MC / OC? You can create and share anything you’d like 😍 HC‘s, moodboards, edits or drabbles. Have fun and gush about your MC / OC 🥰

Also what made you create your MC /OC what was your inspiration?

Daphne is super creative and I love that she adds an artistic touch to everything she does. Her mother was artist as well, so she was raised in a environment where she was constantly influenced by her mother's career in music theatre and developed her skills on music, dancing and visual arts.

Her artistic side shows on how she expresses herself (from the many paintings of inspired by her loved ones to her clothing style), to how she hosts parties for friends and family (e.g. choosing dishes with the nicest presentation and folding napkins). Her passion to make everything more aesthetic pleasing knows no bounds and her partner, grandmother and even her mother-in-law wholeheartedly approve it.

Daphne was inspired by canon D&D MC. Back then I was insecure about writing period pieces and writing in British English (I mostly learned US English, so every now and then an US American slang still slips 😅), but I really wanted to write Prince Hamid. So I chose to bring them to the 21st century and make Daphne an English/Chinese descendant that lived in US most of her life.

I love Jade's boldness. This is something that already exists in TRR MC and I chose to keep it as part of Jade's personality. She is a woman with a tragic past, many losses, mental illness. She had to grow up faster, learn how to be tough faster. And even she becomes happily married and mother of three, she knows life isn't a fairytale and she isn't afraid to speak her mind and to fight for what she believes in and for her loved ones.

Jade is also based on canon TRR MC, but not quite. I understand why TRR MC is written without a backstory, but when I decided to write TRR fanfiction, I wanted to her to have her own story and give her real motivation to leave her life behind to pursue a man she barely knew.

The whole complexity of her character came after I had written a few chapters and have planned a few things for the series. MC suffered a sexual assault attempt, she has her reputation and loyalty to Liam constantly questioned by Cordonian tabloids, she endured a series of life threats... It wouldn't make sense to me if this girl, who went through all this shit and already had a heavy of baggage before, still had the "yay, I'm royalty! Bring me my fancy big hat" vibe canon MC has.

#ocs ask #daphne wang #jade bourbon

[choices-binglebonkus]

so apparently pb bridgerton-ified some choices soundtracks from different old books and are used in tda. (like they made some soundtracks from books like tf,trr, cant remember the rest into classical sounding music)

which is fine, ig. i love hearing them again but in a different way. but using them for tda? ew for me lol

anywayyy what are ur thoughts on this??

I don’t think PB actually makes the music, I’m pretty sure they get their music from one of those visual novels app companies who makes the music. I don’t know exactly what they’re called, but I read it one time somewhere.

#I don’t know how true it is #but it seems plausible #asks #choices stories you play

[standardizedbogey]

👻✍️🎨

Asks are here

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

TRR Cyrus didn't actually accomplish anything and his world is fine. When he gets kicked out of that universe by Colress, he's going to land in front of the commanders he was sure were dead but are actually just hanging out with bubble teas.

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

Mead composition notebook, an assortment of colorful G2 pens to keep stories separated visually, and (ideally) something in the background that I'm supposed to be paying attention to instead.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Basically any of the Cyrus/Saturn interactions from NPC, but especially the dream sequence. That or any of the nonsense going on in Asymptote.

[angelasscribbles]

Places in Cordonia

A series of mood boards of the various places the TRR gang lives/hangs out.

#angelasscribbles #places #cordonia #the royal romance #trr #the royal romance fanfic #choices #liam rys #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #riley brooks #riley campbell #choices stories you play #play choices #mood board #collage #trr visuals

[trrvisuals]

Bad Romance Visuals: Disney Adventure

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

From my BR miniseries Disney Adventure. Just ignore the fact that she's not pregnant in all of these.

Riley x Liam

Riley x Drake

#the royal romance #trr visuals #angelasscribbles #trr au #trr fandom #trr #bad romance #bad romance continues #ai generated #ai art #trr fanfiction #trr poly

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day

Series: TRR

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

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: It's the morning after the night before, and Drake does some reminiscing...

Word Count: 3,500

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, awkwardness, references to masturbation, obsessive-compulsive drinking)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So... This was not what I was supposed to be working on 🙈 My plan was to finish up Part 3 of Thanksgiving so it could be my submission for this year's Flufftober, but - as per usual - my brain (and my characters - thank you, Walker!) had other ideas, so here we are 😅

A/N2: I had 90% of this chapter written before the start of the summer, but then my inspiration kinda fizzled out, and I only finished it very recently. I was then umming-and-ahhing about whether to wait to post until the next part was also finished, or whether to split the content into two chapters. I went with the latter. Next chapter should be posted soon, though! Thanks for bearing with me! We're almost at the end (I know I keep saying this, but I can officially see the light at the end of the tunnel now!)

Chapter 11 - Cold Light of Day

My eyes snap open.

And just like that, I'm back on top of the hotel room bed, staring up at the ceiling, my hand wrapped around my still-pulsing dick.

Fuck.

I've never tripped out like that before.

Sure, I've dived down the rabbit-hole of a fantasy or two before. I mean, what guy hasn't? You're not gonna jack off staring at your own schlong, and if porn isn't available, you're gonna make up your own.

But to lose myself in the warren of make-believe so completely? To the point where the line between fact and fiction dissolves and I've lost all sense of direction?

Never.

Though I guess I now know what The Matrix feels like...

As if to evidence the point, I feel the end-results of my feverish daydream slide down my hip.

I swallow a groan. Great...

Yet another reason why I'd wanted to avoid flying solo. Because in addition to the sour taste in your mouth, you're always left with a God-awful mess to clean up... Especially if you hadn't had the foresight to grab a towel beforehand.

Which leaves me with an unenviable choice: make an awkward dash to the bathroom while trying (and most likely failing) to contain the dog's breakfast sitting in my lap; or repurpose something to act as an impromptu rag...

...though one downwards glance quickly narrows my options.

Definitely Option 2.

Unclenching my cum-covered hand from my junk, I carefully balance on an elbow as I reach up to grab the collar of my t-shirt. Because given the extent of the damage, there's no way I'm making it to the sink without some serious casualties.

And I'd rather sacrifice the shirt off my back than the one pair of jeans I'm going to have to travel back home in.

Decision made, I pull the t-shirt over my head, lowering myself carefully back against the headboard so I don't accidentally capsize my payload onto the covers. Because that's definitely not something that I have in me to deal with tonight.

Scrunching the cotton up, I wipe my hand before reach down to begin cleaning myself up...

...and nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of the loud rap on the door.

"Room service...!"

"Shit!" I cuss under my breath, tossing the ruined t-shirt onto my duffle while grabbing for my jeans as I roll of the bed.

Yanking the denim up as my bare feet hit the floor, I quickly secure the fly and top button with one hand while scrambling for my wallet with the other. "Two secs!"

Locating the well-worn, hand-stitched leather on the bedside table, I flip it open and extract a couple of notes for the tip. Throwing the wallet back onto the bed, I do one last visual sweep to make sure that everything was kosher before—

Knock-knock-knock!

"I said I'm coming!" I holler back, wrenching my belt through its buckle as I make my way across the room.

Sweet Jesus! Hold your fuckin' horses already!

Reaching the entranceway, I snap an irate hold on the door handle. Wrenching it back, I come face-to-face with the impatient staff member who's gearing up for yet another round of aggressive knocking.

"Oh!" she exclaims in surprise, her fake-lash enhanced eyes going wide. "I—"

"No need to wake the whole damn neighbourhood..." I tell her tersely. "I said I was coming."

She flushes scarlet, not quite knowing where to look. "Sorry... The... umm... the doors are sound-proofed, so I... I couldn't—"

"Never mind," I grunt, pulling the door wider so she could wheel the food in.

She stares at me like a newborn calf seeing a fence for the first time.

I quirk a brow. This girl high, or something?

But just as I'm about to open my mouth to say something, she snaps out of whatever trance she's stumbled into and quickly refocuses her attention on the task at hand.

Stepping back, she reverses the service cart slightly so she can angle it into the room...

...and she still manages to hit the door frame on the way in.

The contents of the trolley jerk with a loud rattle and I have to snap a hand out to save the bottle of whiskey from crashing onto the floor.

"Christ alive..." I mutter under my breath.

"Oh, my God!" she gasps, face going red. "I am so s—!"

"I'll take it from here," I tell her, throwing the whiskey under my arm as I snatch the clonche-covered tray off the trolley while it was still in one piece.

"But—"

"Thanks," I say firmly, holding the tip up with an uncompromising look.

She glances at the notes almost morosely before reaching out to take them with a sigh. "Is there anything—?"

"Nope," I say, moving to close the door back 'round. "I'm good."

"Okay..." She heaves a breath as she begins to pull the cart back into the corridor. "Well, if you change your—"

"I won't," I assure her, flicking the door closed as soon as she's cleared the threshold.

Jesus... Talk about incompetent.

Retracing my steps, I deposit the tray onto the bed and reach for the whiskey under my arm.

Unscrewing the top, I tip the bottle back, not bothering with a glass from the mini bar.

The sweet sting of the amber liquid hits the back of my throat, and I suck it down, feeling the familiar warmth snake its way through my insides.

God, I needed that.

I take two more generous swallows — after the shit way the second half of the night had ended up unfolding, I'm seriously overdue some Southern comfort — before pulling the bottle back down and re-attaching the cap.

Chucking the bourbon onto the covers, I detour to the bathroom to wash my hands properly before sitting down on the edge of the bed and lifting the clonche.

The smell of grilled meat and salted carbs plumes out into the room, and my stomach growls in response.

Fuck, I'm starving.

Grabbing the burger with both hands, I tear into it viciously. The smoky flavour of the beef hits my tongue, followed quickly by the creaminess of the melted cheddar, and the tang of the pickles.

And even though it's not quite as good as the one I had back at the dive bar, that doesn't stop me from wolfing down another ravenous bite before the first one's cleared my gullet.

Because given how hard my body's craving the calories, even a tub of caviar would've tasted like ambrosia right now... And I fuckin' hate caviar.

Gulping the mouthful down, I grab a handful of fries and throw 'em down the hatch as well, barely pausing to chew before I swallow.

This ain't a high society dinner, so fuck table-manners.

Chowing down on the food like it's my last meal on Earth, I polish off the plate in record time, even wiping up the wayward bits of relish that had escaped the bun with last couple of fries...

...and am rewarded with a loud belch for my efforts.

I scoff. Probably shouldn't've eaten so quick...

But what's done is done. And my body sure as hell feels the better for it.

Sucking my fingers clean, I reach for the bourbon again. Taking another swig — much more measured this time — I drop the clonche back into the now empty plate and move the tray onto the upholstered bench that sat at the foot of the bed.

Glancing down at my watch, I can see that it's just coming up to 5am.

Which means that dawn's right around the corner.

I glance briefly at the bed.

But I know there's no point.

Because as exhausted as I am, I know I'm never gonna be able to nod off. Not this close to departure time. I'll just be staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes 'til my alarm rings.

Especially since the sun's about to come up. And when that happens, there's no way in hell I'm catching any shut-eye. My circadian rhythms are too well-tuned for that.

So, closing the bourbon back up again, I push myself heavily up from the bed. Making my way over to my duffle for the third time tonight, I extract my last wearable shirt.

Pulling it on, I grab my phone — no urgent messages or missed calls, thank fuck! Though the battery's on the verge of dying...

But it's gonna have to suck it up in power-saver mode. Because I only have a handful of self-imposed fiats that I live my life by. And top of the list is never leave anywhere without my phone.

Ever.

I learnt that lesson the hard way...

And I'm not about to break my cardinal rule. Especially not after Chris' disappearing act last night.

So, dropping the device into my pocket, I reach for my sidearm — another thing I never go anywhere without. Slotting it into the back of my jeans, I grab the keycard and exit the room again, not bothering with shoes.

I'm not plannin' on being gone long. And my feet could do with a break after racking up some serious miles over the past 24 hours in my boots. Plus, it feels good to let my soles run free — especially since I can't go for my usual barefoot run on the beach here.

But given that I have nothing better to do, and the TV had let me down earlier, I may as well take advantage of this brief moment of calm to do something that I actually enjoy.

Making my way up onto the roof — via the lift this time because I'm in no particular rush and I've already more than surpassed my daily step count — I push the door open and step into the twilight.

As expected, the roof is empty.

The lights of the skyscrapers twinkle in the distance, the buzz of the traffic merely a faint drone at this height.

Making my way over to the eastern corner of the building, I park myself next to the edge...

...and wait for the sunrise.

At first, nothing happens. The dark of the night sits heavily over the island, seeming to muffle the normally inexhaustible energy of the City That Never Sleeps.

But slowly... ever so slowly, the sky begins to lighten. And the wind shifts. From the depths of the evening's humid, slightly stale breeze comes a fresh, easterly gust that carries the soft scent of the sea with it.

It whips over me, cutting through the thin material of my shirt. But I don't flinch. If anything, I lean into it, savouring the faint taste of salt on my skin.

The black of the horizon gives way to blue and then to grey as the rising sun pushes the darkness back. Spots of colour appear — gold, russet and magenta, framing the clouds like a backlight.

And as I watch, the first tendrils of brilliance start to creep over the buildings, setting the acres of glass on fire. The wind begins to warm, bringing with it the promise of tomorrow...

...until the sun finally bursts into view, scorching the Big Apple in the blaze of the new dawn.

I heave a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

This. This'd been worth staying up for.

The last vestiges of tension drain out of my shoulders as I simply stand, taking in the view...

...and realise that I can't remember the last time I stopped to just enjoy the moment. Be it a hot mug of coffee, or the breeze on my face. Let alone the silent beauty of a perfect sunrise.

I exhale heavily.

I've been so caught up planning every aspect of this trip — not to mention the details of the social season with Bast — that I haven't even had time to think about taking a break, let alone catching one.

It's probably why I—

"Couldn't sleep either?"

I scoff at the sound of the familiar — and not entirely unexpected — voice from behind me. "Nope."

"Jet lag still?" asks Chris, coming to stand next to me.

"Probably," I shrug, keeping my gaze turned towards the horizon. "You?"

He heaves a breath as he surveys the sunrise. "Bit of jet lag as well, I suppose..."

I glance over at him.

We both know that ain’t the whole truth. Just like neither of us are under any illusion that my answer hadn’t been completely honest either. But we've known each other long enough that neither of us feels the need to press the issue.

So, it goes unsaid that I'm fully aware of the fact that Chris' sleepless nights are caused by the looming spectre of the social season, which has been haunting him for the past year. And, with just one day to go, that spectre's about to transform into a living nightmare.

And there's nothing that either of us can do about it.

Because the die has been cast — by forces outside of our control — and both of us are now stuck on the proverbial highway to hell with no exit ramps in sight.

And I hate that feeling of helplessness. Not just on my part — though it grates on me no end that I can't save my brother from his predetermined fate — but on his part as well. Because even though Chris wears the mask of obligation like a second skin, he can't hide the fact that he's shitting a brick.

At least not from me.

Because despite all his years of diplomacy training, we've played enough poker together for me to know that behind that stoic façade, he's terrified. Terrified of the weight of his inherited duty, terrified of falling short of expectations, terrified of ending up on the same error-ridden path that his dad had trod.

But, most importantly, he's terrified of making the wrong choice. Because even though he knows each and every one of the suitors who'll be competing for his hand, that knowledge doesn't make things easier.

In fact, just the opposite.

Because regardless of what each woman brings to the table in terms of money, ability, or allegiances — a dizzying and convoluted cost-benefit calculation at the best of times — the fact remains that none of them are really in this competition for him. They're in it for the Crown. Which means each option's just as relative as the next. As none of the women actually care about Chris. They just want the title of Queen. Or rather, their families do. For the bragging rights.

Except maybe Livy. She's arguably the only suitor who's putting her name in the hat because she actually wants Chris for himself. And couldn't care less about the social promotion.

Too bad she's a class A bitch.

Not that any of that matters. Because the hunt for the next Queen isn't about love, or what people want, or any of the rest of that touchy-feely crap. It's about what's best for the kingdom...

...irrespective of what's best for Chris. Now, tomorrow, or twenty years down the line.

As he's just as much of a pawn — if not more so — as the women competing for his hand. And unlike Leo, he doesn't have the luxury of flipping the system the bird and calling bull on the whole fucked up exercise. Because there’s no one else to fall back on. It’s him, or nothing.

So, it's small wonder he's been burning the candle at both ends, trying to avoid being alone with the weight of his thoughts.

Hell, if I was him, I'd've disappeared down the neck of a bottle long ago.

As if reading my mind, Chris magics up a a pair of tumblers. "Here," he says, placing them down between us. "You look like you need it."

A scoff escapes me. "Didn't think they had a bar up here."

"Invitation only," he winks, unscrewing the cap of the 25-year old, single malt bottle of The Glenlivet that he's also brought with him.

"Comes well stocked, I see," I remark, watching him dole out a generous serving into each glass.

"Well, someone once told me to never cheap out on wallets, watches, or whiskey," he replies with a smirk, placing the bottle off to one side.

I shake my head with a scoff as I reach for my glass. "Yeah, 'cause the first holds your money, the second tells you the time... and the third'll help you forget about both."

"Truer words have never been spoken," grins Chris, raising his glass to clink it against mine.

"Dad knew a thing or two about life," I agree, throwing the scotch back on a suddenly constricted throat.

"He was a good man," nods Chris, taking a reciprocal sip of his drink.

"Yeah..." I say tightly, gazing out over the city without really seeing it. "He was."

Wonder what he'd think of Harper...

I give myself a mental slap. It doesn't fucking matter, you ass. That girl's history, just like Dad. No point getting hung up on—

"You know..." muses Chris, interrupting my self-flagellation. "We never got to see Times Square."

I snort caustically as I reach for the bottle again. "Because Besnard conspired with the weather to fuck us over..."

Chris quirks a brow as he holds his own glass out for a top-up. "I'm not certain it was entirely intentional..."

"You sure?" I counter with a sidelong look, refilling both tumblers. "'Cause I'd be damn hard pressed to find another dipshit on this planet who could've screwed up something so simple so spectacularly."

"Fair point," Chris concedes with a chuckle. "But, lucky for us, both Tariq and the malignant rain clouds are — rather thankfully — in the wind. So, what say we take advantage of the reprieve? Just the two of us?"

My hand stops mid-air. "You wanna sneak out? Again?"

He meets my eye with a knowing look. "May very well be our last chance before the start of the season..."

I shake my head dryly as I place the bottle back on the ledge. "Thought I was supposed to be the bad influence."

"Perhaps the student has finally surpassed the master," he replies, throwing me another wink as he raises his glass up in mock salute.

I can't help but scoff. "With that disappearing act, I'd say you've surpassed even your brother!"

"That may perhaps be a bit of a stretch," he chides. "As we cannot forget that it was my dear brother who once skipped out of a high-profile summit in Marrakech, commandeered a camel and a kaftan, and rode for six hours through the desert so he could watch the Dakar Rally."

"Yeah, that Lawrence of Arabia shit does set the bar quite high, doesn't it?"

"Leo has never been one to do things by halves..." Chris reminds me.

I heave a breath. "Don't I know it..."

Chris catches my gaze out of the corner of his eye. "Hope you weren't too harsh with him..."

I lift the tumbler to my mouth. "No comment."

"Christ! That bad, huh?"

"I may have questioned his sanity," I tell him sardonically.

"You certainly wouldn't have been the first," laughs Chris. "Father seriously considered sending him to a clinic in Switzerland when Leo told him of his plan to abdicate."

"Would've saved me a massive headache if he had..." I grumble.

"No... it was my fault," sighs Chris. "I should not have taken the device. I did promise that I would behave, and I reneged on my word."

I hold up a hand. "Hey. It's fine. I get why Leo gave it to you... and why you took it. Just... Don't get any ideas for the season. I'd prefer to keep my job... and my balls."

Chris laughs. "Duly noted. However, I would still like to take the opportunity to offset my regrettable faux pas... Perhaps with a traditional American breakfast?"

I cock a brow at him. "Do you even know what a traditional American breakfast is?"

"No," he admits. "But what better way to find out than in the company of a local?"

"Okay, fine," I concede, throwing the last of my scotch back. "But you better not skip out on me again..."

"You have my undying word," he says, laying a hand on his heart.

"Good," I say, pointing a finger at him. "'Cause this time, I'm gonna hold you to it." Softening my expression, I add, "But seriously. Glad you had a chance to escape. Christ knows you needed it."

"As do I," he says with a smile, picking up the bottle of scotch to head back across the roof. "So, thank you for pulling this getaway together. I'll treasure the memories — always."

"The trip ain't over yet, buddy," I remind him. "We still have three hours to kill before departure."

He grins back at me. "Then we best get to it, hadn't we, mate?"

The story continues in Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

A/N: As a quick bonus, here is a pic of Leo in the Moroccan desert 😇

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Burger - Shirtless - Whiskey - New York

Drake, Christian and Leo were generated with the AI art app Wonder

#drake walker #sleepless in new york #the royal romance #trr au #new york #prince liam #Spotify

[ratanslily]

HS2 flopping is very doubtful, the series is one of the app’s most beloved/popular of all time. I understand being a bit doubtful by RC though especially if you are burnt out on PB And Choices

Alice stories are always a hit, so her fandom will save the book. plus im not gonna lie, I did spend gems on hs2 because i love the visuals too much! I hope it does love upto its name, I dont want my beloved characters to leave a sour taste in my mouth (like trr sequels did).

#ask

[lizzybeth1986]

Hey look it's Kiara 🥰

So, I heard we're giving love to our local writers. You're my last stop here ✨ here are five reasons why I always admired you even from afar

You're giving Bi!Hana representation!

Your essays are just the best and so on point!!

You love Kiara!! Instant green flag

Giving the right representation of TRR and your fics are so amazingly written! I took notes of the ones I read because honestly, I was amazed

You give visibility to the WOC ladies and make many feel safe here

You're an overall green flag

I hope this last 2022 and next year we can talk more and get to know each other!! If my crippling social anxiety allows me smh

Happy writer's appreciation day cielo ✨

Omg!!! That edit is SO GORGEOUS!! I love how all the outer corner pics show aspects of her face which just adds that bit of mystery and allure to the edit, and you fill the spaces with all these classy sumptuous visuals that give you such a good idea of who she is ❤️❤️❤️ I'd so love to see something of yours next KTAW 🥰🥰🥰

Thank you so so much for this message...it truly made my day and made sure I got off my procrastinating ass so I can finish my Writers Appreciation post too!! I'm so so touched that you feel safe and truly enjoy my writing, and please feel free to let me know if anything I do write *does* make you feel uncomfortable!

Now that my appreciation weeks for this year are over, I'm SO looking forward to exploring the stories you told me about!! Ever since you filled the gaps for me on DM as to what happened in D&D Books 2 and 3 and told me about Cursed Heart, I've been wanting to do a deep dive into your fics. RL has been driving me nuts over the past week, but I can't wait to finally read them fully and at leisure!! 🥰🥰

#choices spread kindness #writers love day #noesapphic #one of these days i'm surely going to learn moodboarding from you in detail noe #i haven't forgotten that you so kindly and encouragingly offered to 🥰🥰