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At Your Service

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy family in New Eridu. Lycaon has been your loyal butler since you first moved out from your childhood home. You're about to find out just how far Lycaon is going to go to prove his devotion to you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Mild Yandere, implied r@cisim (not by reader or Lycaon), domestic violence (not by Lycaon), attempted SA (not by Lycaon), graphic violence, dubcon, oral (f receiving), pet names, playful biting, unprotected p in v, knotting, breeding kink, creampie

A/N: Just when I thought Jiyan from Wuthering Waves had me in a chokehold (he still does), Hoyo literally said "hold my beer." Does being down bad for Von Lycaon make me a furry? Probably. Do I care? Nope. He's hot and I can't get enough of him.

"As you can see, we had record profits this month. The campaign with the promoters definitely made a huge difference in our profit margin--"

You can't help but let out a loud sigh, resting the side of your face in the palm of you hand as your elbow keeps your head up as you stare into the webcam at your office computer. This is your last meeting of the day, heck, of the week. Unfortunately with the finance department of your family's business: a publishing company for video games and video tapes. Given how popular consumable media is in New Eridu, the business had taken off, you and your family now set for life. This also meant that your parents expected you to take over once they retire; you were still struggling to come to terms with that fact.

"-- that concludes this week's financial overview, I hope everyone has a good weekend!"

You waste no time turning off your webcam and shutting down your work computer. You couldn't get out of the office building fast enough. Getting into your car, you make the drive home to just beyond Sixth Street.

You live in one of the larger homes on the outskirts of New Eridu thanks to the success of your family's company. You park your car, getting out and approaching your front door. Before you even have a chance to dig your keys out of your pocket to unlock the door, your front door opens and you are greeted by your tall, imposing wolf Thiren butler: Von Lycaon of Victoria Housekeeping.

"Welcome home, my lady. I already have dinner started. I trust your day went well?"

"Hey Lycaon… it was alright," you reply as you step through the doorway, Lycaon stepping aside to let you through, "what's for dinner?"

You feel his deft clawed fingers help you take off your jacket before walking it over to the entryway closet to hang it up, his steel mechanical legs echoing in the entryway as he walks.

He answers you while hanging up your jacket, "roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and broccoli, my liege."

You chuckle, "you've been here for years, yet I still cannot get used to you addressing me like someone who's important."

Lycaon turns slightly just as he was about to shut the closet door, his red eye scrutinizing you, "but you are important, my lady."

You feel your cheeks tingle at his response, but quickly shake your head to compose yourself, "Do you… need any help with dinner?"

"I do not require any help. Not that I would trouble you with such trivial matters," he replies, walking away from the closet to head back into the kitchen.

"If you insist…" you hesitate; even after all this time, you're not accustom to having someone else doing all the house work, "I'll be in the living room watching TV. Come get me when dinner is ready, alright?"

Turning to you once more, Lycaon gives you a nod and a subtle smirk before walking into the kitchen. You don't realize your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away; watching the intricate parts on his prosthetic legs move as he walks, the way his right arm his bent behind him, his fist clenched, the way his large bushy tail wags gently as he--

You blink a few times, once again shaking your head and bringing your hand to your forehead.

Fucking hell, girl, get a hold of yourself. He's your freaking butler.

You turn and walk into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. Leaning forward, you grab the remote off of the coffee table and turn the TV on, mindlessly scrolling through the channels before settling on some talk show. You don't focus on the show, instead, you pull out your phone and check your notifications. You notice you have a Knock Knock message from someone, so you open the notification bubble to check it.

"Hey! It's Steve, are we still on for dinner tomorrow?"

"Oh… that's right… I'm supposed to have dinner with that guy Mom hooked me up with…" you say to yourself, rolling your eyes before you type out your response.

"Yeah. Did you still want to pick me up from my house?"

You see the typing ellipses pop up a few times before his response comes through, "if you're comfortable with that, yeah!"

Normally, you would never let some strange man pick you up from your house to go on some blind date, but you know for a fact Lycaon wouldn't let anything happen to you; those mechanical prosthetic legs weren't just for show. You've witnessed first hand the damage they can do a handful of times in the years you've known him.

"My lady," you hear Lycaon call to you from the threshold of the living room, startling you from your thoughts, "my apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no… it's fine. I'm guessing dinner is ready?" you reply, turning around to face him while still seated on the couch.

"Indeed. Would you like to eat in the dining room or here, my lady?" he asks as he straightens his posture.

"We can eat in here. Come watch TV with me Lycaon, I insist." you reply, waving him into the living room.

"As you wish, my lady, I shall plate dinner and bring it in here, one moment."

You watch as he gracefully turns around, walking out, the metallic rattle of his legs echoing as he returns to the kitchen. He returns promptly with two plates of food and utensils. He hands you your plate first before taking his own and sitting in a nearby chair. He crosses his legs, his large tail then settling onto his lap as be began to eat his meal. You waste no time digging in; you absolutely loved Lycaon's cooking and tonight was no exception. You're so focused on your meal that you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing another Knock Knock notification.

"I take it you don't want me to pick you up at your house…?"

"Oh shit…" you curse to yourself, having forgotten to respond to Steve.

You quickly text him to that it's fine and send him your address before gently setting your phone onto the coffee table.

"What was that all about, my lady?" Lycaon asks, as perceptive as ever, even while eating dinner.

"Oh nothing," you say, tucking your legs up onto the couch as you continue to eat dinner, "I'm just making plans with someone to go to dinner tomorrow night. I forgot to text him back."

"I see, should I plan to make dinner just for myself then?"

"No, set aside a plate for me… just incase the plan falls through…"

"As you wish, my lady."

The two of you continue to eat dinner in silence, your gaze unconsciously wandering over to him, lingering on his mechanical prosthetics before moving to the mask he wears on his face, which covers one of his crimson eyes. You've always wondered what had happened to him, but Lycaon never talks about himself and you didn't want to pry into something that is probably really painful for him.

Sensing your gaze on him, he clears his throat before speaking, "Is everything alright, my lady?"

"Oh--! Sorry, I was just zoning out…" you quickly retort before returning your attention to your meal.

Once the two of you are finished with your meal, you switch channels and watch the latest episode of Starlight Knights while Lycaon gets absorbed in a book. Exhaustion sinks its teeth into you suddenly and you fall asleep on the couch. Noticing this, Lycaon sets his book aside, standing up and scooping you into his arms before carefully carrying you to bed upstairs, his tail wagging gently the whole way there.

The next morning, you are pulled from your sleep by the smell of bacon. Your eyes slowly open and you stretch your arms out over your head, letting out a loud yawn as you do so. You glance over at the clock; it's nearly 10:00 in the morning. You're shocked Lycaon had let you sleep in this long. Upon setting your arms down in front of you, you come into contact with a breakfast tray. The food on it is still hot, Lycaon must have just brought it in. He made your favorite: waffles with fresh berries, syrup and bacon. You can't help but smile as you grab the nearby fork and dig in.

As you're eating, you suddenly realize you don't recall getting into bed last night, you were still wearing the outfit you had on yesterday. Lycaon must have carried you to bed… again. That's been happening more and more frequently, you feel terrible that he felt obligated to carry you to bed. Still, you feel a warmth in your chest thinking about him taking care of you; you guess that's only natural given he's been your butler for so long.

Your parents had insisted on hiring someone from Victoria Housekeeping when you decided to move out after buying a house, mainly for protection. Being the daughter of a prominent publishing giant came with its risks as you soon learned. As unnecessary as you found it at first, you were very grateful for Lycaon's protection and companionship. Even so, you were hesitant to admit you've caught feelings for the enigmatic butler; could anyone blame you though? Von Lycaon was legendary in both his services and his physical prowess; hence why your family hired him specifically. Only the best for their daughter.

Despite your complicated feelings for Lycaon, your mother insisted on playing match maker. This latest man she picked out is the first one you've entertained going on a date with, mainly to shut your mother up. You honestly had no desire to date anyone; you have everything you could possibly need right now, even with how you feel about your butler.

The rest of the day is uneventful and before you know it, the sun is setting, casting orange rays into your windows. Lycaon is in the kitchen doing up dishes when he hears a loud knock on the door. He stops, his gaze shifting to the front door as whoever is out there continues to knock. Letting out a low growl, he takes his hands out of the dishwater, drying them off before putting his fingerless gloves back on. Tucking one of his arms behind him, he approaches the front door, opening it. He is greeted by short human male, his brown hair greasy and slicked back with a red goatee that is haphazardly trimmed and rectangle glasses. The man's eyes widen upon seeing Lycaon, who is glaring down at him with a furrowed brow. The man tries to speak, but finds himself at a loss for words.

"What business do you have with my Master?" Lycaon asks, his tone dark, his threatening gaze unwavering.

"I… uh… I'm here to pick up… uh…" the male stammers, checking something on his phone.

"It's fine, Lycaon! I'm expecting him, his name is Steve!" Lycaon hears you call from within the house.

Upon hearing you come down the stairs from your bedroom, Lycaon turns to look at you as you approach the front door. You suddenly stop in your tracks upon seeing the man at the front door, your eyes wide.

He looks nothing like the photos your mother sent of him.

Sensing your unease, Lycaon goes to you, giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder as he shifts to stand behind you, standing tall and puffing his pectoral muscles outward; almost as if he's asserting his dominance. You banish the thought; that'd be ridiculous, he's your butler for crying out loud!

"Is this the person you mentioned you were going to dinner with, my lady?" Lycaon asks, his crimson gaze still locked on Steve.

You nod, swallowing hard as you struggle to get your anxiety under control. Your mother probably sent an outdated picture. Everything will be fine.

It wasn't fine. Steve took you to some dimly lit dive in Lumina Square; you didn't even think a place this dingy could exist. You are not a vain person, but this place is absolutely abhorrent. Steve was rambling on and on about god knows what, you stopped listening awhile ago; wishing desperately to be home where a beautifully cooked meal would be waiting for you. You're glad that you had Lycaon make a plate for you.

"-- so, what's with the Thiren living with you?" Steve asks, ripping you from your thoughts.

Realizing he's asking about Lycaon, you sit up straight, setting your hands onto the table, "he's my butler, why?"

Steve scoffs, giving you a sly smirk, "he's awfully jacked to be just a butler. I've never seen a Thiren built like that."

"He is able to protect me if needed, if that's what you're getting at," you reply, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice.

"You won't need him anymore," Steve says, that stupid smirk still on his face as he leans forward, resting his chin on one of his hands as he rests his elbow on the table.

You lean back, crossing your arms, "and why is that?"

"Because you have me now."

The silence that follows after Steve's statement could have been cut with a knife. You discreetly pull out your phone, opening the Knock Knock app and send a single message to Lycaon.

"Lumina Square please come."

"I don't recall telling you that we're dating," you finally break the silence as you look up at Steve, your heart pounding in your chest as your anxiety heightens.

"You didn't have to, you let me take you to dinner. It's clear you're now my girlfriend," Steve says, gazing at you like you're a slab of meat, "and I want you to get rid of that butler. I don't need some disgusting Thiren third wheeling us."

He's one of those people. Fucking great.

"Lycaon isn't going anywhere, thank you very much," you reply as you suddenly stand up from the table, making your way to the entrance of the restaurant, "this date is over."

Steve stands up, rushing over to you and grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you to him, "you're not going anywhere, sweetheart!"

The small handful of people in the restaurant just stare at the two of you as you struggle against Steve's grasp; no one makes a move to help you.

"Let go of me you greasy asshole!" you yell, spitting in his face.

Steve scowls, wiping your spit from his face before slapping you across the face. You cry out when his hand makes contact, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. One of Steve's hands grasps your back side, squeezing so hard that you know for certain it's going to bruise later. The other hand grabs your chin, forcing your head so it's facing his and he tries to kiss you.

The front door of the restaurant suddenly gets kicked in and you feel a familiar chill in the air. You don't need to look to know that your loyal butler has arrived.

"Get your filthy hands off my Master," Lycaon growls, his heavy steps quickly advancing.

Steve sucks in a breath, his eyes widening as he lets go of you, shoving you away. You can see that he's trembling, frozen in place. You notice a wet spot on his pants, right between his legs.

Oh my god… he's pissed himself.

You stifle a laugh at this realization as you watch Lycaon approach him. The individual parts on his mechanical legs popping out and coating in ice, cooling the air around him. You pick up the chatter around you.

"Isn't that the owner of Victoria Housekeeping?!"

"Yeah, that's Von Lycaon!"

"I wouldn't want to be that guy right now…"

Steve stumbles backwards as Lycaon stalks towards him, his posture confident and his right arm tucked behind him.

"Dude I'm sorry! I was desperate ok?! It won't happen again!"

"You're right," Lycaon growls, his eye shifting up at Steve, his gaze like a crimson dagger, "it won't."

Within a blink of an eye, Lycaon rushes forward, punching him in the gut. Steve hunches over, a splatter of blood coming out of his mouth. Lycaon brings up one of his legs, kneeing Steve in the face before bringing his other leg around to give him a roundhouse kick. You cry out along with the other patrons as Steve is hurled into the back of the restaurant, crashing against the wall so hard, it leaves a large indent in the wall where Steve's body made contact before crashing to the floor. For a moment, Steve doesn't move and you start to fear that Lycaon might have killed him; that is until Steve starts groaning, staggering while standing up.

"You… You hit like a bitch…" Steve groans, wiping the blood coming from his mouth.

You spot a subtle smirk form on Lycaon's lips as he walks towards Steve, ice once again gathering on his mechanical legs, several different parts starting to glow. He stands in front of Steve once more, who is now laughing nervously.

"Say that again, cretin. To my face."

Not so tough now that Lycaon is inches in front of him, Steve remains silent, his legs wobbling as he fights to keep himself standing up. You watch Steve swallow hard, seemingly building up his courage.

"You hit like a bi--"

If you had blinked, you would have missed Lycaon kicking straight upwards, causing Steve's head to violently snap backwards, an audible crack reverberating in the restaurant. Steve drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Lycaon takes a moment to brush himself off before turning around and walking up to you.

"Don't worry, my lady, he's not dead," he says, as if reading your mind as he gently takes your arm to lead you outside, "let's get you home."

The first thing Lycaon had done once the two of you had gotten home was start the shower for you. You have no idea how much time has passed since you stepped inside, letting the hot water fall on you as you silently cry. You should have listened to your gut when you realized Steve looked nothing like the photo your mother had sent you. That is the last time you let your mother play match maker. You felt awful that Lycaon had to basically come rescue you. There's no doubt your father is going to catch wind about what happened, especially considering the amount of damage Lycaon had caused in the restaurant.

You'll worry about that later. Right now, all you wanted to do was get cleaned up and go to sleep. You turn the shower off, pushing the shower curtain aside to step out, but you stop yourself. You find one of your bathrobes folded neatly on the counter next to the sink, but that's not all. A single red rose is placed on top of the folded robe. You carefully step out of the shower, approach the bathroom counter, gingerly pick up the rose and twirl it in your fingers slowly; the rose having been meticulously de-thorned.

Lycaon…?

Another spot of red in the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to look, you see that there is a trail of red rose petals on the floor that leads out of the bathroom. You take the robe and put it on, wrapping it around your nude body and tying it before you follow the trail of rose petals. Upon opening the bathroom door, you are once again stunned, too frozen in shock to move. The rose petals lead straight to your bed, the plush white comforter not only covered in petals, but with whole roses like the one you found in the bathroom; there's at least twenty of them, if not more.

You hesitantly walk towards your bed, your heart pounding in your chest. Did Lycaon do this? He must have, who else would have, you're the only two people in the house. But why? What does this mean? Your breaths are heavy, causing your chest to heave as you look down at your bed. You place your hand over your heart in an attempt to calm yourself. Surely, he's just trying to cheer you up after your horrific date. That must be it.

"My lady."

You suck in a breath at the sound of Lycaon's voice, slowly turning around to face him. Standing in the doorway, you immediately notice he's not wearing his signature vest, but just the white button up shirt he typically wears beneath the vest, the sleeves still rolled up to his elbows along with his black pants. The shirt is unbuttoned halfway, a tuft of fur spilling from his shirt. You feel your mouth hang slightly agape as your eyes run up and down Lycaon's form.

"If I had known you were going on a date with that… filth, I wouldn't have let you go."

He slowly approaches you, the sultry look in his eye erasing any doubts of his intentions; the sound of his mechanical legs walking across the floor echoing in your head as he approaches. You unconsciously take a step back away from him, the back of your legs hitting the foot of the bed.

"My liege," he whispers, the backs of his fingers gently caressing the side of your face, "there is no need to be alarmed. Unlike that disgusting drivel, I would never hurt you."

His fingers gently dance across your jaw line, moving downwards until he reaches your throat. You swallow hard as his fingers gingerly wrap around your neck, "that is unless… you want me to hurt you."

You watch his eye darken, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as his fingers delicately squeeze the pulse points on your neck.

"Lycaon we… we shouldn't do this. If my father finds out--"

"To hell with your father," he growls, stepping closer to you, "I've seen how you look at me, my lady; the way your eyes linger on me when you think I'm not looking."

His hand moves from your throat, sliding down to rest onto your chest, right over your racing heart, "I know you want this as much as I do."

Your head is spinning, being pushed and pulled between all your complicated feelings. You do want this. As much as you want this, he's your butler under your family's employ, you know it's wrong. You hesitantly shake your head.

Lycaon lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I can smell your arousal, my lady. You should know more than anyone that you can't fool me."

Wrapping one of his arms around your waist, he tenderly coaxes you to lay back onto the bed, his muzzle buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he cages you with his body. His hands grasp onto your thighs, gingerly spreading your legs apart so he can settle himself between them. You can feel him grazing his teeth along the side of your neck, to your jawline until his lips linger just in front of yours.

With a deep breath, you finally give in to your desires, kissing him deeply as your hands run up his chest. Your fingers find the buttons on his shirt and begin to unbutton them, his shirt falling open once you undo the last button. As your hands massage his chest, you can feel the toned muscle under his soft fur. Letting out a groan, Lycaon deepens your kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours.

You feel like the kiss lasts an eternity and let out a soft whimper when he breaks the kiss. He lets out a low chuckle as he leans down, kissing your collar bone as he unties your robe, pushing off you. Once your body is exposed, he trails kisses between your breasts, over your stomach until you can feel his warm breath over your folds.

"From this moment on, I will be the only man touching you," he states, his gaze locked on yours has he runs his tongue through your folds before continuing, "if a man so much as breathes on you, I will snap him in half like a twig."

Between his ministrations on your cunt and his words, you're completely overwhelmed by pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you lay your head against the mattress; your pussy walls fluttering around nothing. You hear another low chuckle from Lycaon.

"Oh? Do you like that, my liege? Do you like it when I protect you?" he asks with a playful tone.

He doesn't allow you to answer, however, because he immediately seals his lips around your throbbing clit, gingerly taking it between his teeth and caressing it with his tongue, reveling in the sound of the loud moans coming from you as he does so. You dig your heels into the bed as your hands grip the sheets. Your legs trembling, a strained cry comes out of you as you finally come undone on his tongue. Lycaon eagerly laps up your release.

"My lady, you're as succulent as the sweetest fruit," he says softly, licking your release from his lips as he begins to climb back on top of you.

He hooks both of his arms under your thighs, draping your legs onto his shoulders as he looms above you. Staring down at you longingly, he begins undoing the belt on his pants with one hand. Your eyes widen when he pulls out his member. It's massive, easily the biggest you've ever laid eyes on. You can't help but also notice the large knot at the base, causing your heart to flutter.

Is he going to fit?!

Leaning back on his haunches, he spits on your pussy, using his fingers to massage his saliva into your folds before leaning back on top of you. You can feel his cock prod at your entrance, causing your heart to race in anxiety and anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much, ok?" he whispers as he moves his hips forward.

You nod, sucking in a breath as you feel him penetrate you, his girth filling you up perfectly. As he begins to thrust, you watch his tail begin to wag back and forth, teasing a smile from you. His lips once again lock with yours, kissing you deeply as he fucks you with steady and even thrusts. Moaning softly into his kiss, you run your hands up his chest, then up the sides of his neck before settling on each side of his face, your hips moving in time with his.

He feels absolutely heavenly inside you, your walls squeezing his cock as it bullies its way deeper and deeper. He abruptly stops and pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach before lining his member back up with your throbbing cunt.

"I'm going to breed this beautiful pussy." he says, sheathing himself back inside you up to his knot, "fill you up with all my pups. Would you like that, my liege?"

He begins to thrust again, more aggressively this time. Each thrust forcing his knot into you, stretching you. You nod weakly as more moans spill out of you and before long, his knot is finally fully inside, creating a seal. It's a little painful at first, but that is quickly replaced by the intense pleasure coursing through your body as he pounds into you. Letting out a growl, he bites into your shoulder as his thrusts become sporadic.

You cry out is name, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you claw the sheets with your fingers, your second orgasm barreling towards you. With one final thrust, he pushes himself as deep inside you as he can possibly go without hurting you, shooting his load straight into your womb, painting your insides white with his seed. Your whole body is trembling from your release, your walls squeezing him as his cock continues to throb inside you.

You feel Lycaon's tongue lap where he had bit into your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek with his, his powerful arms wrapping around you, "are you alight, my lady?"

You turn to him, kissing him on the cheek unable to get the huge smile off your face, "more than alight, Lycaon."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

[harrisonkiablog]

Finding the Perfect Kia Used Car: A Comprehensive Guide

Kia Motors has steadily built a reputation for producing reliable, stylish, and affordable vehicles. When searching for a used car, Kia models present an excellent option due to their blend of modern features, solid performance, and reasonable prices. 

However, navigating the used car market can be daunting. This guide aims to streamline your journey toward finding the perfect Kia used cars Victoria.

Why Choose a Used Kia?

Kia vehicles are known for their durability and long-term reliability, making them a smart choice for used car buyers. 

The brand consistently receives high marks in customer satisfaction and reliability surveys. Many Kia models come with robust warranties, which often extend to second-hand buyers. This means you can find used Kias that still have years of coverage left, providing extra peace of mind.

Kia's diverse lineup includes compact cars, SUVs, and hybrids, ensuring that there is a model to suit every need and lifestyle. 

From the fuel-efficient Kia Rio to the spacious Kia Sorento, each vehicle is designed with a specific purpose and audience in mind. This variety, coupled with Kia’s reputation for quality, makes it easier to find a used car that matches your requirements.

Researching Kia Models

Before diving into the used car market, it's essential to research the different Kia models to determine which one best suits your needs. Start by identifying your priorities: Are you looking for fuel efficiency, cargo space, or advanced technology? Each Kia model offers different strengths.

For example, the Kia Optima is a midsize sedan that balances performance with luxury features, making it ideal for daily commuting and family use. 

On the other hand, the Kia Sportage is a compact SUV perfect for those needing more cargo space and all-weather capabilities. Understanding the features and specifications of each model will help you narrow down your options.

Additionally, consider the model year and any mid-generation updates. Kia often enhances its vehicles with significant improvements and new technologies, even within the same model generation. Knowing these details can help you find a used car with the latest features and enhancements.

Setting a Budget and Finding Deals

Budgeting is a crucial step in finding the perfect used car. Determine how much you are willing to spend, factoring in additional costs such as insurance, taxes, and potential maintenance. 

Setting a clear budget will help you avoid overspending and allow you to focus on the best options within your price range.

When searching for deals, explore various platforms, including certified pre-owned (CPO) programs, dealerships, and private sellers. 

CPO vehicles typically undergo rigorous inspections and come with extended warranties, providing extra security. Dealerships might offer financing options and promotional deals, while private sellers can sometimes provide lower prices.

Inspecting and Test Driving

Once you've shortlisted potential cars, inspecting and test-driving them is essential. A thorough inspection can reveal hidden issues that might not be apparent at first glance. 

Check for signs of wear and tear, such as tyre condition, brake performance, and the state of the interior. Look for any rust, dents, or paint inconsistencies that might indicate previous accidents or poor maintenance.

During the test drive, pay attention to the car’s performance. Listen for unusual noises, evaluate the responsiveness of the steering and brakes, and ensure all electronics and features work correctly. A test drive is also an opportunity to gauge your comfort level with the vehicle. Consider how it feels to drive, the visibility, and the overall ergonomics.

If possible, have a trusted mechanic inspect the car before finalising the purchase. A professional assessment can uncover potential issues that might not be visible to an untrained eye, ensuring you make an informed decision.

Negotiating and Finalising the Purchase

Negotiation is a critical step in securing a good deal on your used Kia. Research the market value of the specific model you're interested in to have a solid understanding of its worth. 

Use this information to negotiate a fair price with the seller. Be prepared to walk away if the deal doesn't meet your expectations; there are plenty of other options available.

Once you've agreed on a price, ensure all paperwork is in order. This includes the title, bill of sale, and any warranty documentation. If you're purchasing from a dealership, they will typically handle most of the paperwork, but it's crucial to review everything carefully before signing.

Finally, ensure you understand the terms of any warranties or return policies. Some dealers offer a short return window if you encounter significant issues with the vehicle. Understanding these terms can provide extra security in your purchase.

Conclusion

Finding the perfect Kia used cars in Victoria involves thorough research, careful inspection, and smart negotiation. By understanding your needs, setting a budget, and taking the time to test drive and inspect potential cars, you can secure a reliable and enjoyable vehicle. 

With Kia’s reputation for quality and a wide range of models to choose from, you’re sure to find a used car that meets your expectations and fits your lifestyle.

[harrisonisuzu]

Tips for Finding the Best Deals on Isuzu Dmax

Are you on the hunt for your dream Isuzu Dmax? Whether you're a seasoned truck enthusiast or a first-time buyer, navigating the market to find the best deal can be daunting.

Fear not! We've compiled a comprehensive guide packed with savvy tips to help you secure the ultimate Isuzu Dmax at a price that won't break the bank.

1. Research, Research, Research!

Before diving headfirst into the world of Isuzu Dmax for sale Victoria , arm yourself with knowledge. Spend some time researching different models, trim levels, and features to determine which ones align with your needs and budget.

Utilise online resources, browse forums, and read reviews from other Isuzu owners to gain valuable insights. The more informed you are, the better equipped you'll be to spot a fantastic deal when it crosses your path.

2. Expand Your Search Radius

Don't limit yourself to your immediate surroundings when scouring for the perfect Isuzu Dmax. Cast a wider net by exploring dealerships in nearby cities or even considering online marketplaces.

Sometimes, the best deals are waiting just beyond your usual stomping grounds. Be open to travelling a bit farther if it means snagging a stellar offer on your dream truck.

3. Timing Is Key

Did you know that timing can significantly impact the price you pay for an Isuzu Dmax? Keep an eye out for seasonal sales events, manufacturer promotions, or end-of-year clearance deals.

Dealerships often offer discounts and incentives to move inventory, especially during slower sales periods. By capitalising on these opportune moments, you could save a lot on your Isuzu Dmax purchase.

4. Negotiate Like a Pro

When it comes to buying an Isuzu Dmax for sale Victoria, don't be afraid to haggle. Negotiation is a crucial skill that can help you secure a better price or additional perks.

Come prepared with research on market prices and be willing to walk away if the deal doesn't meet your expectations. Remember, the power is in your hands, so don't settle for anything less than the best offer.

5. Consider Pre-Owned Options

While a brand-new Isuzu Dmax may be tempting, don't overlook the value of pre-owned vehicles. Certified pre-owned (CPO) trucks undergo rigorous inspections and come with extended warranties, providing peace of mind without the hefty price tag of a new purchase.

Be sure to thoroughly inspect any used Isuzu Dmax you're interested in and request maintenance records to ensure its reliability.

6. Don't Forget Financing and Incentives

Financing options and manufacturer incentives can sweeten the deal when purchasing an Isuzu Dmax for sale. Explore different financing rates from banks, credit unions, or the dealership itself to find the most favourable terms.

Additionally, keep an eye out for any rebates, cashback offers, or special financing deals provided by Isuzu or the dealership. These incentives can help lower your overall cost or provide added perks, making your Isuzu Dmax purchase even more enticing.

Conclusion

Securing the best deal on an Isuzu Dmax for sale Victoria involves a strategic blend of research, negotiation, and timing. By leveraging online resources, exploring multiple dealerships, and being prepared to haggle, buyers can maximise their chances of snagging a great offer. Additionally, staying updated on promotions, incentives, and seasonal sales can significantly sweeten the deal.

Remember to thoroughly inspect the vehicle, consider financing options, and be willing to walk away if the terms don't align with your budget and expectations. With these tips in mind, you'll be well-equipped to navigate the car-buying process and drive off in your dream Isuzu Dmax at the best possible price. Source by: Tips for Finding the Best Deals on Isuzu Dmax

[harrisonsuzuki]

5 Reasons to Choose Suzuki Dealers for Your Next Car Purchase

Are you in the market for a new car and trying to decide where to make your purchase? Look no further! In this blog post, we're going to give you five compelling reasons why you should consider choosing Suzuki dealers for your next car purchase.

From excellent customer service to a wide range of vehicle options, Suzuki dealers in Victoria have a lot to offer. So, let's dive right in and explore the advantages of buying your next car from a Suzuki dealer.

Expertise and Knowledge

When you step into a Suzuki dealership, you're entering a world of automotive expertise. The staff at these dealerships are well-trained and knowledgeable about Suzuki's lineup of vehicles.

Whether you have questions about the features of a specific model or need guidance on which Suzuki vehicle best suits your needs, the friendly and approachable sales team at Suzuki dealerships can provide the answers. They understand the nuances of each car, ensuring you make an informed decision.

Wide Range of Vehicle Options

One of the standout benefits of choosing best Suzuki dealers in Victoria is the extensive range of vehicles available. Suzuki offers a diverse selection of cars, from compact cars like the Suzuki Swift to SUVs like the Suzuki Vitara.

Whether you're looking for a fuel-efficient commuter car or a spacious family SUV, you're likely to find the perfect match at a Suzuki dealership. The variety of options means you can explore different models and trim levels to find the car that fits your lifestyle and budget.

Quality and Reliability

Suzuki has a long-standing reputation for producing high-quality and reliable vehicles. When you buy a Suzuki car from an authorised dealer, you can have confidence in the durability and longevity of your purchase.

Suzuki vehicles are known for their solid construction and dependable performance, which makes them a wise investment. Plus, many Suzuki dealerships offer warranties and service packages to further ensure the reliability of your new car.

Outstanding Customer Service

At Suzuki dealers, customer satisfaction is a top priority. You'll experience a level of service that goes beyond the ordinary. The staff is not only knowledgeable but also friendly and approachable. They're eager to assist you throughout the entire car-buying process, from test drives to financing options.

You can trust that your needs will be met with professionalism and a smile, making your car-buying experience enjoyable and stress-free.

Exclusive Suzuki Offers and Incentives

When you choose a Suzuki dealership, you gain access to exclusive offers and incentives. Suzuki often provides special promotions, financing deals, and lease options that are available only through authorised dealers.

These incentives can translate into significant savings on your new car purchase, making it even more enticing to buy from a Suzuki dealer. So, not only will you get a reliable and stylish vehicle, but you'll also enjoy financial advantages.

Conclusion

When it comes to purchasing your next car, Suzuki dealers in Victoria offer a compelling package of expertise, a wide range of vehicle options, quality and reliability, outstanding customer service, and exclusive offers. These reasons make Suzuki dealerships an excellent choice for your next car-buying adventure.

So, head to your nearest Suzuki dealer and experience the difference for yourself.

[technicalnewz]

Exploring Your Options: Finding the Perfect New or Used Car in Melbourne

Melbourne, the capital city of Victoria, Australia, is a thriving metropolis that is home to many car dealerships. If you're looking for a new or used car for sale in Melbourne, you have a lot of options to choose from. Whether you're in the market for a small, fuel-efficient car or a powerful SUV, there is sure to be a dealership in Melbourne that can meet your needs.

When shopping for a new or used car for sale in Melbourne, it's important to do your research and consider factors such as your budget, driving needs, and desired features. You may also want to consider factors such as the dealership's reputation, customer service, and financing options.

Many dealerships in Melbourne offer financing options for both new and used cars, making it easier for you to get the car you want without breaking the bank. Some dealerships also offer trade-in options, allowing you to trade in your old car for a newer model.

Overall, if you're in the market for a new or used car for sale in Melbourne, you have many options to choose from. With a little research and consideration, you can find the perfect car for your needs and budget.

[melbournenewsvine]

You likely drive a Commodore Corolla or LandCruiser according to these maps

Maps of Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane show the most common cars registered to each ZIP code – but it’s bad news for electric car advocates. 0 Opinion 5 photos A new study revealed They are the most popular cars registered in major Australian capitals. Financial advisory and audit group KPMG He detailed the types of cars Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane residents prefer based on zip code – with one car doing the chopping despite not being sold locally for about two years. The Holden Commodore – which has not been offered here since Holden closed its doors in late 2020 – remains one of the popular cars registered in Australia’s cities, along with Toyota HiLux, Toyota Corolla, Toyota LandCruiser and Mazda 3. Opinion 5 photos The study shows that the Corolla dominates the greater Sydney area, with the Commodore and Landcruiser more popular along the outer edges, while the Mazda3 is the car of choice in some of Sydney’s northern suburbs and the outer east. The Corolla is also the preferred mode of transportation for those who live near Brisbane’s central business district, while those who live far and away prefer LandCruiser, with some areas in the West and Northwest tending to contest the popularity of the Commodore. It’s a different story in Melbourne, as the Commodore is the most-recorded car in the outer suburbs, while the inner suburbs favor the Corolla. Opinion 5 photos There’s a little more variety in Victoria, with some pockets choosing the Camry, and areas closer to the center of Melbourne leaning toward the Volkswagen Golf and Mazda 3. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, of the more than 20 million registered vehicles, the average age of the registered fleet in the country is about 10.6 years. Maps from KPMG correlate roughly with sales data from a decade ago. Opinion 5 photos Back in time in 2011, Mazda 3, Holden Commodore, Toyota Corolla, Holden Cruze and Hyundai i30 won the top five new car sales respectively. It wasn’t until 2012 when HiLux climbed to second place behind the Mazda 3, while Corolla, Commodore and Cruze all got rid of the remaining spots, only outperforming the i30. These latter findings clearly show a preference for smaller cars in the inner city areas, while those in the outer suburbs choose larger vehicles with large engines – suggesting a potential challenge for those proposing the switch to zero-emissions cars. Opinion 5 photos Maps created for the report Accelerate the domestic electric vehicle absorption where it is important, It highlights the point that Australian motorists outside of city centers tend to gravitate towards larger cars with large engines. Up to this point, most electric cars for sale were mostly smaller models, such as the Nissan Leaf and BMW i3. Despite being nearly a decade old, larger battery-powered cars like the Tesla Model S still command a premium in the used car market. Assuming the average age of registered cars does not change significantly, it will likely be the mid-2030s before the majority of Australian motorists switch to zero-emissions cars – a decade after SUVs and electric trucks are sold here. Ben Zakaria is an automotive writer and journalist from Melbourne, who has been in the automotive industry for over 15 years. Ben was a former Interstate truck driver and completed his MBA in Finance in early 2021. He is considered an expert in classic car investing. Read more about Ben Zakaria Source link Originally published at Melbourne News Vine

[carsthatexcite]

Explore top car warranty options in Sydney with Cars That Excite, ensuring peace of mind and protection for your vehicle.

[katefiction]

The Exhibition

by katefiction (Maria) / 2012

(Maria wanted me to say that this is the story she was most proud of writing.)

‘Your Royal Highness, it is an honour to have you here today’, he says fawningly.

I eye him across the table, his old skin is weathered and speckled, his completely grey hair forming a ring around the bald spot on his head, but his crystal blue eyes sparkle at me excitedly beneath the glasses that are falling down the bridge of his nose.

‘It’s a pleasure to be here, Mr. Delmonte’, I lie.

I find myself surveying his appearance more. A navy blue suit jacket made from the finest wool with a matching waistcoat, and a shirt, topped of with a silk tie with a gold tie pin. He looks as though he’s made an effort and I feel a momentary twinge of guilt at my lack of enthusiasm. 

I don’t want to be here. In this stuffy office filled with piles of paperwork, tumbling over itself as if it will collapse any second and bury me alive. But then, there’s not much of an alternative.

‘It was wonderful when we heard back from your office, Ma’am’, he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to have you involved.’

I want to tell him how un-thrilled I am to be involved in this. How it was only becuase ‘my office’ pushed me into it that I’m here all all. ‘It will be a wonderful opportunity for you to use your skills’, my private secretary had told me, ‘you need to be seen by the public to be doing something’.

I try my hardest not to look bored as Delmonte continues, ‘here at the Victoria & Albert Museum, we welcome anyone with a passion for history. Your degree certainly suggests you have that.’

‘Indeed’, I say smiling falsely, flicking my glossy brown mane behind my shoulder.

He looks transfixed for a moment, staring at the deep dimples in my cheeks as I give him my best ‘interested’ grin. He blinks and snaps himself out of it. 

‘Well let’s get to business shall we? As you know, next year will be the 150th anniversary of the Royal Wedding of King William V and Queen Catherine. It is our intention here at the V&A to hold an exhibition to celebrate that momentous occasion, charting their early relationship to the wedding itself … ‘

He tries to go on, but I interrupt him, growing impatient. I had read all he was telling me in the letter he’d sent me three months ago.

‘I understand that Mr. Delmonte, but how exactly am I to be of assistance with your exhibition?’ I emphasise the last word. I don’t intend to be rude, but this whole thing seems faintly ridiculous.

‘Oh, yes, well …’, he is unnerved, and riffles through his papers as if he’ll find the answer in there. An interruption to his monologue was obviously not expected.

‘Your position, Ma’am, would be as the Exhibition’s Special Consultant. You would provide the curators with an insight into the late King and Queen’s relationship … ‘ He trails off, noticing my unconvinced expression.

I lean forward in my chair and look him dead in the eyes, ‘Sir, you understand that I have never met the late King and Queen, don’t you? They passed away over eighty years ago … do I look over 80 years old to you?’

Delmonte blushes fiercely, a crimson wave moving from his neck up to his face. He tries to laugh, but decides it’s too risky. ‘Of course not Ma’am’, he says with a deadpan expression of such strength, I have to admire it. 

I giggle to break the tension, and he follows with a small squeak from his throat.

‘Let me begin again’, he says. ‘As a member of the royal family, you have unparalleled access to the royal archives. We believe that there may be items of interest in there; pictures, letters, and the like, that belonged to William and Catherine.’

‘Forgive my ignorance, but could your researchers not apply for access to these archives themselves?’ I say, bored now I’m not winding him up anymore.

‘Well, yes, but Ma’am, your involvement would give this exhibition a certain …’, he looks around the room, searching for the word, ‘ … gravitas!

I try my hardest not to roll my eyes. 

He leans into the table, as if he doesn’t want to be heard by the non-exsistant people in the room. ‘I’m sure it would be beneficial for your … public persona’. He winks at me and I want to slap him. He’s obviously been reading the tabloids.  I duly remind myself, Princesses don’t slap. 

‘I will do my best to find the kind of material you require’, I say through gritted teeth. 

He beams at me and taps is fingers lightly on the desk. ‘There was one more thing … ‘

‘Yes?’

‘A great exhibition is one that reveals something about the subject that was previously unknown. We would hope for something … intimate.’

I arch my eyebrow and curl my lip in disgust, ‘intimate?’

‘Your Royal Highness, William and Catherine were a popular King and Queen, the public’s desire for information about them is still very strong’, he rings his hands together. 

‘Are you asking me to give you private information about my family?’ I ask him.

‘Of course not’, he insists, although I’m not convinced that he’d be adverse to digging through my ancestor’s underwear draws. ‘Just a little something to bring this exhibition to life! If you were able to find something for us to draw the public in, a unique selling point, it would be a success for everyone involved.’ He winks and me again and I instinctively sit on my hands. 

I act as if I am considering it, furrowing my brow.  ’I'll do my best’, I say finally, after I feel he’s sufficiently on edge. 

‘Wonderful!’, he exclaims as I start to stand up. ‘Please get in touch if you have any queries’. He extends his hand to me and I take it reluctantly. Just as I expected. Sweaty. 

‘Thank you, my office will be in touch’, I say, resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my dress. 

 * 

I slip into my waiting car and immediately kick off my heels, flexing my toes to get the blood back into them. As I watch the colour slowly return, I can’t help churning over what Delmonte had said ; ‘I’m sure it would be beneficial for your … public persona’. He’s right of course. 

Since graduating from university thirteen months ago with a degree in History, I had taken on a couple of charities, made a few visits, but not decided on any career plan. My father and my office had tried to help, suggesting everything from the military to finance, all of which I’d rejected. Naturally, the press had pounced on me.

The thing is, finding your passion and committing to it is a little difficult when you’re waiting for the inevitability of life as the future Queen.

I’m pulled out of my reverie by my driver opening the car door, signalling that we’re home at my apartment in Clarence House. 

I head barefooted to kitchen, my stomach growling wildly. There standing at the fridge, rustling like a bear, is a tall figure, with greying hair and and portly belly.

‘Fridge pickers wear bigger knickers!’, I say.

He jumps and turns to me, holding a box of chocolate eclairs, ‘hello Cora’, he says, his hazel eyes that are so like mine are twinkling under the kitchen spotlights.

‘Evening daddy’, I walk over and give him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

‘Eclair?’

‘Yes please’. I prop myself up on the tall kitchen stool as he slides the box over to me.

‘How was your meeting?’ he asks, patiently waiting for the cakes to be returned.

I look up, the eclair half way to my mouth, ‘how did you know about that?’

‘I have to keep tabs on my favourite girl’, he says teasing me.

I purse my lips, ‘I’m your only girl, daddy, and if you must know it was boring as fu -, um … hell’. I push the cakes back to him, smiling innocently after my near slip. 

He chooses to ignore it. ‘I thought it would be a perfect fit, you like history.

I fill my mouth with more of the cream and pastry to avoid having to reply.

‘Cora you have to start taking responsibility, you’ve been out of university for over a year now.’ He gives me his concerned father look. ‘You are going to be this country’s first queen in over 135 years, you have an example to set. Do you know Queen Elizabeth the second was … ‘

‘Yes daddy, she was twenty five years old when she acceded the throne, three years older than I am now, and one hundred percent more amazing!’

He softens. He hates seeing me upset, or annoyed, or anything other than happy. ‘Princess, just try to make more of an effort, the press will ease if you do, and they might not be inclined to pictures of you coming out of nightclubs every weekend.’ 

I nod in agreement, that last thing I want to do is let dad down. ‘I’ll try, I really will, but does it have to be with this exhibition?’

‘I thought this one would be right up your street’, he says, clearly disappointed that yet another opportunity would go to waste. 

‘William and Catherine? Really, dad?’

‘You’ve lost me Cora, what exactly is the problem?’

‘They’re just so … so boring. Out of everyone they could have chosen, Elizabeth and Philip, the Duke of York and Sarah Ferguson, they choose those two?!’

Dad laughs as he always does when I’m being stubborn, ‘they were loved by this country.’

‘That’s what Delmonte said’, I say screwing my face up at the memory, ‘he wants me to find something intimate about them. I mean, what is there to find? Boy meets girl at uni, they fall in love, get married, live happily ever after. It’s hardly Romeo and Juliet!’

I rest my elbows on the table and lean into my hands. Dad leans down to my level, ‘you never know what you might find if you put your mind to it, they were young once too, you know.’

I’m not convinced. But the prospect of more ‘Party Princess’ headlines makes my blood run cold.

I sigh dramatically and put my hands up. ‘Fine, I’ll get Maggie to get me access to the archives at Windsor, you never know, I might find their dusty old scrabble set’, I gasp and place the back of my hand to my forehead, ‘oh the scandal!’

Dad shakes his head and passes me another eclair. 

* * *

July 2009 

‘Qi?’

‘Qi’, he says, ‘eleven points.’

‘William, that is not a word’, I lift my eyebrow at him.

‘I think you’ll find qi is a circulating life energy in Chinese philosophy’, he says, lining up his tiles neatly on the Scrabble board. ‘Are you gonna put your letters down or shall we declare me the winner now?’

I look down at my tiles. A ‘J’ and a ‘P’ sit on the tile holder. ‘I need another letter’, I say, reaching into the bag to get one. An ‘E’. There’s still hope yet. 

Sitting on the rug opposite me, William is smirking. He picks up his final piece, an ‘S’, and smugly places it on the end of the word ‘climb’, which I created half an hour earlier when this game was looking much more promising.

‘Plurals aren’t allowed!’, I tell him confidently. 

‘They are according to the Scrabble dictionary…’, he pats the book on the floor next to him. I bought it for him last year for Christmas and have regretted it ever since. ‘…which makes me the winner … again!’

I huff childishly and pour my ‘J’, ‘P’ and ‘E’ back into the bag, making William laugh tauntingly. 

‘You’re such a sore loser Middleton’

‘Oh shut up!’ I say, picking up his winning ‘S’ and launching it at his head.

He yelps suddenly and clutches at his eye.

‘Oops! Are you ok?’. I scramble over the board to him, knocking all the words out of place and trying not to laugh.

 ’I need two eyes to fly helicopters you know’, he says feigning anger.

I giggle and pull his hand from his eye, pretending to inspect it for damage, ‘you’ll live to fly another day Flight Lieutenant Wales.’ Leaning in, I trace my lips over his eyelid, planting a small butterfly kiss on his skin.

He pulls me closer to his body, and I end up curled up in his lap. I start fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, ‘I wish you didn’t have to go back tomorrow’.

William had been training with the RAF in Shropshire for the last few months. I’d missed him terribly. 

‘So do I’, he brushes a piece of hair from my face. ‘It won’t be long until I’m stationed somewhere full time’. He looks down at the floor nervously. ‘We were talking about North Wales … do you like it in Wales?’

I stop playing with his shirt and place my hand flat on his chest. It is an odd question. ‘I guess so, does it matter?’

‘Yes’.

I can’t disguise my confusion. All of William’s career decisions have been made without me in mind, and now, tonight, surrounded by the mess of Scrabble tiles, I’m part of the equation. ‘Why?’

‘Because …’ He gulps and I watch as his Adam’s apple shudders in his throat. ‘I was hoping you’d come with me.’

* * *

Windsor Castle is rather an imposing place. As I walk into the large open entrance, the enormous paintings of my long dead ancestors look down at me from the cold stone walls as if I’m doing something wrong. I shudder and move along quickly to the round tower that holds the Royal Archives.

Waiting there to greet me is a tiny middle-aged lady, dressed immaculately in a sea green tweed dress suit, with her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She curtsies as I walk in.

I extend my hand, ‘Pleasure to meet you’.

‘Your Royal Highness’, she says taking it. ‘Welcome. My name is Joan Hilson, and I’m the Keeper of the  Archives, may I give you a short tour before we begin?’

I agree and as she walks me around the rooms, I am impressed that far from this place being stacks of dusty documents and objects piled on rotting wooden shelves, it is a sleek and disaster proof space, more akin to a high-tech laboratory. Joan has laid out some items that she thinks I might like to see. She leads me to a weathered looking book that she has displayed for me on one of the research tables.

‘This is Queen Victoria’s diary, it’s really quite revealing’ she says proudly.

For the first time I feel a flicker of excitement as I read Victoria describe her wedding night, “He clasped me in his arms, and we kissed each other again and again! When day dawned (for we did not sleep much) and I beheld that beautiful face by my side, it was more than I can express!“

I turn to Joan with a new found sense of determination, if Victoria could write this openly in 1840, surely William or Catherine could in 2011?  ’Is there anything like this from William and Catherine? Letters or a diary, something the public has never seen?’

Joan shakes her head, ‘I’m afraid Ma’am, that nothing of the kind was ever given to the Royal Archives’.

My heart sinks. Just when I was getting into this project. 

Joan senses my disappointment. ‘You must remember, communicating personal feelings on paper largely became became extinct in the family after King Charles III. King William and Queen Catherine most likely communicated through text message or email.’

‘And I suppose there are no print outs of those?’, I say partly in jest, partly in vain hope. 

Joan merely laughs, which I take as a no. ‘But we do have plenty of other items.’ She takes me into a small reading room with no windows, where there are boxes upon boxes of documents stacked on the table. ‘I took the liberty of selecting some some things to get you started.’

You don’t say, I think, as I ponder whether lack of sunlight could send me insane. Joan leaves me to get going and I hunker down and begin wading through the documents.

*

Two hours later, and I want to smash my head against the wall. In 120 minutes I have found official documents between King William and the Monarchs and High Commissioners of Thailand, India, Sweden and every other country known to man. I have found parliament papers, pictures of William and Catherine at state dinners and most excitingly, a dead spider squashed between the pages of their official coronation programme. 

Joan comes in, and finds me resting my head on the table. I jump up with a start. Gracefully, she acts like she saw nothing.

‘I forgot to give you this’, she says, handing me another box. 

I groan inwardly wandering what sleep inducing item it will contain. When I open it, however, I find a leather bound book, embossed with the words ‘The Language of Flowers’. I look up at Joan questioningly.

‘It was Catherine’s, the copy she used to choose her wedding flowers. She was very keen on the meanings behind flowers, take a look, the pages she used still have their corners turned down.’

I remove the book carefully from the box and start flicking through the turned down pages ; lily of the valley means “trustworthy”, myrtle “hope and love”, hornbeams “resilience”. I am almost done looking at each page when I notice a slight bulk between two of the pages.

I open them and am surprised to find what looks like it used to be a flower pressed between the pages. It is crumbling into dust, but a picture along side it shows it was once eight lavender coloured petals, forming the shape of a star and long stamen with bright yellow anthers. Joan comes over to my seat, not bothering to hide her curiosity.

She watches as I take out a handwritten note that has been slipped in with the flower.

“Grewia similis/Crossberry flower. Meaning: Calmness/Peace. 900-102″

’900-102? What does that mean?’ I say.

Joan furrows her brow. ‘It’s anyone’s guess Ma’am, but it must have meant something to Catherine’.

‘So this is her handwriting?’

‘Oh yes, I would recognise her and King William’s writing anywhere’, she says, blushing slightly.

I concede that the book might be of some use to the exhibition and tell Joan that someone from the V&A will be in touch about it. As I start to leave, Joan stops me, looking sheepish.

‘Please forgive my impertinence, but if it is something more personal you’re looking for, may I suggest looking somewhere closer to home.’

I give her a puzzled look, willing her to continue.

‘Kensington Palace’, she says looking at me as if this was obvious. ‘They resided there for over fifty years. If there are personal artifacts anywhere, I imagine that’s where they would be.’

I curse her inwardly for not telling me this two hours ago, but outwardly, I thank her, hoping that Kensington Palace holds something more significant than a crumbling old flower.

* * *

August 2009

I run my toes through the fresh strands of grass, enjoying the sensation of the ground on my bare feet. Next to me, where I’m propped up on the hill, I pluck out a single daisy. 

‘Do you know daisies are a symbol of childhood innocence?’, I say, twirling it between by index finger and thumb.

‘Do you know I don’t care?’, my sister Pippa replies, lying next to me, sunglasses shading her closed eyes. ‘Is that how you seduce Will? By talking about flowers?’

I give her a playful slap on the arm and return my gaze to the polo field, where William is dismounting from his horse.

‘What’s going on with him anyway? Have you agreed to move in with him yet?’ Pippa says.

‘No, we’re just sorting out logistics’, I bite the inside of my lip as I always do when I’m uncomfortable.

Pippa turns to me. ‘What’s the issue? You have lived with him before’.

‘I know, but that was different, it’s so far away’, I start plucking absently at the daisy petals.

Will begins to walk towards us, red and sweaty from the match. ‘Alright?’, he says when he reaches us, his body casting a shadow from the sun.

‘William, if my sister moves in with you, are you going to let her out of her cage to visit her family occasionally?’ Pippa says bluntly.

‘Pippa!’ I screech unattractively.

William stutters, unsure if she is joking or not, ‘I don’t control your sister, she can do what she likes.’ He looks between me and Pippa, it’s obvious he doesn’t know who he should direct his comments at.

‘Are you going to steal her away to live with you when you’re back in London too?’, she jokes.

Will laughs, ‘not likely.’

I flinch at his response. Not likely. 

‘Well there you are then, I’m going to get another drink’. Pippa stands up and strides off, leaving William still standing over me awkwardly.

‘Is that why you haven’t said yes yet? You’re worried about not seeing your family?’, he asks.

I roll my eyes. ‘Of course not, I’m not a child’, I say dismissively.

‘Then what is it?’

I ignore his question and go straight in for the kill. ‘Why is the idea of me living in London with you so funny? I’m good enough to be in Wales with you, but in London, I’m dismissed?’

William looks around to make sure no-one is listening and crouches down to me. ‘Are you being serious? I live in Clarence House, you can’t live with me there Kate!’

‘I know- I didn’t say I wanted to. I just want you to want me to’.  

‘Of course I do’, he says sweetly. 

‘I don’t want to be in limbo’, I refuse to look at him, embarrassed with what I’m saying, ‘part of your life in Wales, but less important when we get back to London and you have your friends and family around.’

He taps his knees, and I can tell he wants to take my hand, but can’t in public, ‘I asked you to live with me because I want you more included in my life, my whole life.’

 A silent understanding passes between us. We’ve talked at length for hours about the future, he wants me to be ready to join his ‘public life’. The reality is, that right now, I’m not. 

 * * *

‘Mr Delmonte emailed me, he wanted to know how you were getting on.’

‘You can tell him I haven’t found any of their knickers’, I reply.

Maggie looks at me with a mixture of disapproval and amusement. We are browsing through the private store room in Kensington Palace. It is place that holds items belonging to royals long gone, that have been passed down through the generations and ended up in this room because no-one knows what to do with them. I wonder to myself if my grandfather has thrown any unwanted items in here over the years.

‘When I’m in charge, I’m going to send all this crap to Windsor. Joan will love it’, I say, fondly imagining Joan’s face as I hand her centuries worth of personal royal items. 

Maggie is digging through boxes of William and Catherine’s clothes, ‘what about this?’, she says, peeling back the protective paper to reveal a beautiful rose pick ball gown, adorned with glittering silver beads. She removes a picture of Catherine wearing the dress that lies with it, and hands it to me. 

I turn it over and recognise the same handwriting that I’d seen at Winsdor last week.

‘Ark Gala, June 10th, 2011′

‘Gorgeous’, I say. Maggie closes the box and puts it to one side in our ‘keep’ pile.

As my private secretary, Maggie has been an invaluable part of my life for the last five years – though I’d never tell her that. A tall, lean woman with short, curly black hair, she possesses all the patience, resilience and drive that I so lack, but has enough of a sense of humour to put up with me.

I look over at the pile we’ve created. The dress, a ruby necklace, and a monogrammed baby blanket that belonged to their first son, and my great-great-great grandfather, King George, is all I have to present to Delmonte. 

I sigh heavily and sit myself on the floor, all but ready to give up. I look up at the rows of shelves that we still have to work through. Maggie had devised a plan ; she would take the clothes section and I would take the boxes of items that had had been labelled chronologically, working from left to right. 

I decide to deter from the plan and grab the box closest to me on the bottom shelf, labelled ‘Queen Catherine, Date Unknown’. Maggie glances at me, but I ignore her frown and open the box.

Inside is a smaller black box, around the size of a shoe box  but made from metal and clearly locked. Lifting it up, I inspect it, finding it has not one, but two combination locks on its front, each requiring three digits. 

Maggie reels off some numbers that might work, birthdays and anniversaries relating to William Catherine. None of them work and I’m ready to find a crow bar to jimmy it open. 

‘I wonder why no-one has tried to force this open’, I say, pulling at the handle in a vain attempt to open it. 

‘Probably because they respect her privacy’, Maggie says, carefully placing a floral Jenny Packham day dress back in it’s wrapping.

‘Oh please, she’s long gone!’

‘That doesn’t make her any less of a human being does it? She was your great-great-great-great grandmother after all’

Maggie always has a way of chiding me without crossing the line. I put the box down guiltily and watch her as she continues to pack away the floral dress.

A thought pushes itself to the front of my mind … the floral dress … flowers … Grewia similis/Crossberry flower …

‘900-102!’ I yelp, startling Maggie. 

My fingers fumble with the locks as a I dial in the digits. A satisfying click tells me it’s open. 

‘How on earth …?’ 

‘She is my great-great-great-great grandmother, we have a connection’, I tease, and Maggie rolls her eyes, unconvinced. 

The contents are full to bursting, and as soon as I lift the lid, photos, cards and letters spring out as if coiled up, and waiting to be freed for 150 years.

I rifle through them excitedly, finding a birthday card with a countryside scene on the front of it. Inside it reads, ‘Dear Kate, have a good one, Will’ and is dated at the top ’9th Jan 2003‘.

I soon discover that everything in this box is dated, ‘God she was anal’, I mutter to myself. 

Maggie and I begin to sort the contents into piles, ‘do you think this will count as  ”unique selling point” for the exhibition?’, I ask, mimicking Delmonte’s voice. 

‘It’s certainly something, just look at this’, she says picking up a letter and reading from it. 

’29th April 2011,

Dear Kate, good morning for the last time as a “single woman”. I bet right now you’re sitting in bed, your hair all ruffled, and probably quite tired from little or no sleep. And I bet as you read that, you’re unconsciously tidying your hair – caught you! I want to remind you of the promise I made you. That no matter what, I will do everything in my power to make you happy, I will protect you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. I meant it then and I mean it now. I will see you there – don’t be late! W’

Maggie appears from her reading doughy-eyed, ‘how romantic’.

‘See, Joan was wrong, they did write letters!’, I say feeling justified.

I grab a pile of photos, looking for something worth using. One shows them, presumably in bed, a view of just their heads, Catherine kissing William on the cheek as he beams into the camera. Another has them standing under a tree. The glare on the lens in strong, causing a bright light to obscure the left hand side of the photo.

I turn the photo over looking for the inevitable date, but instead am faced with something totally different. Attached to the back, with something yellow that I assume was once sellotape, is a piece of string about three inches long. On closer inspection, I see it’s actually three pieces, two red, one brown,  braided together.

‘This one doesn’t have a date on it’, I say, passing it to Maggie.

‘Perhaps she forgot’, she replies, inspecting the braid.

‘She dated everything!’. I show her the back of the rest of the photos as evidence. ‘Don’t you think it’s suspicious?’

‘I think you’re looking for a scandal where there isn’t one’, she laughs, passing me back the photo, ‘you were the one telling me that William and Catherine were as dull as dishwater.’

‘Urgh fine!’, I put the photo in my handbag, my instinct still telling me there is something special about it. ‘Maybe I am reaching. I still can’t imagine them spontaneously making out in the palace corridors in a fit of passion’.

Maggie rolls her eyes. ‘If you are quite done with that mental image, we have a tour to Kenya to prepare for!’

* *  

September 2009

‘Kate’, I hear through a fog of sleep.

‘Kate … Catherine’, it continues.

‘Catherine’, this time it’s right next to my ear, accompanied by a rough, bristly rub against my cheek.

I release my hand from under the covers and swat it away. This only encourages it further and before I can protest, William’s head is buried in the crook of my neck, murmuring, ‘wake up’.

I push him off me, giving in and opening my heavy eyes, ‘I was enjoying my sleep!’

‘You need to build up some resilience, one night out and you’re dead to the world’. He rolls over onto his back.

‘That wasn’t any night out Will, I haven’t drunk that much since uni’. I place my hand over my head and close my eyes again, feeling the sweet relief of darkness. I’m sure I can feel it pounding into my hand. 

Along with a small group of friends, William and I had gone to Raffles in Chelsea last night. In the two years since we had gotten back together, I had kept a low profile, working for my family’s business and seeing William on the weekends. Apart from last night. Where we drunk like sailors.

My mind flashes back to us dancing carelessly in the club, giggling like teenagers on the way home, and stumbling through the doors at Clarence House at 3am. 

I let out a low groan, ‘do you remember last night?’

‘Not really’, he yawns.

‘You serenaded me with ‘Moon River’ when we got here and insisted on kissing me all the way way up the stairs’, I say, recalling the image in my mind.

William laughs.

‘It’s alright for you!’, I say poking him in the stomach. ‘You can get pissed and it’s fine, your staff must’ve thought I was such a waster!’

William’s face is suddenly serious. ‘Of course they didn’t’

I turn my head and stare at the ceiling, knowing I’m right, that William’s staff don’t respect me, as they shouldn’t have to as his girlfriend, but I don’t want to argue.

William mimics me, looking at the ceiling, ‘you know things’ll be different … when we’re … when you’re my wife.’   

My heart leaps. I love hearing him say that word.

‘Things’ll be easier for you.’

‘In some ways, but not all’, that niggling fear of my life and marriage becoming public properly scratching at me.

William takes note my resistance, ‘do you still want to marry me?’

‘More than anything’, I turn to smile at him, and try to lighten the mood, ‘stop trying to dig for compliments.’

He doesn’t take the bait, but instead places a warm hand over my head, ‘you know if I had it my way, it would just be us, a small house, and a dog.’

‘I know’, I reassure him, knowing he wants ‘just us’ as much as I do. 

‘Speaking of alone time, I was thinking we could go to Scotland for a couple of days after we come back from Kenya?’

Now it’s my turn to nuzzle into his neck, ‘fine by me’. I lie warm in him embrace, relishing the thought of ten days of peace, ten days where our secrets will be ours to keep. 

 * * *

The African sun begins to set as we make our descent onto Kenyan soil, turning the sky golden.

‘Ah ha, signal!’, Maggie says behind me, already un-strapped from her seat and walking up the aisle. ‘Your Royal Highness, I have a few emails’, she says, ignoring the flashing seat belt sign and holding onto my seat, wobbling precariously.

‘Kwasi has confirmed the details of your stay with him and his family and has kindly agreed to show you around Wakamba village … ‘

The Craigs, who had incidentally been friends with my family since the days of King William, had kindly asked me to to stay with them for a couple of days as a respite, after my four day tour of Kenya. After telling them about the exhibition, they regretfully told me there was nothing to be found at  Lewa Wildlife Conservancy or Rutuntu Lodge, where William and Catherine had become engaged. However, they suggested I spend some time in a the neighbouring village of Wakamba, where another old friend of the family, Kwasi, lived. 

‘ … And the Telegraph has gotten wind of your involvement with the exhibition.’

I groan, ‘Delmonte is such a snake’

‘It is quite complimentary Ma’am, I suggest you read it when you have a moment’. Maggie looks at me optimistically. 

I know she is thinking the same as me, that between this visit and the exhibition, I might just get back on track.

*

Four days in Kenya fly by. I am touched by the warm welcome of children with ‘Welcome Princess Cora!’ signs at an educational project, and the positive attitude of sports and women’s charities that I visit.

But as fast as it began, it’s over and I find myself jumping out of the land rover onto a dirt track to meet Kwasi.

I see him approaching from a distance, tall, well built, with smooth dark skin, he looks almost elegant. I haven’t seen him in ten years, but already sense the familiarity. 

‘Your Royal Highness’, he says with a low bow, ‘welcome to Wakamba.’

‘Oh please, none of that!’, I say, slightly dazzled his strong handsome features.

He smiles gratefully and continues to speak with his thick Kenyan accent. ‘Ok, “Miss Cora” then.’

As we walk into the village, conversation turns to William and Catherine, ‘My ancestor was close to King William and Queen Catherine’

‘Really? How?’, I say, curious as to how my family first forged links with this tiny village.

We begin to walk down the dirt path as we talk, ‘they took an interest in Wakamba, helped to build a school, that kind of thing’.

There is a tone in his voice that irks me, like he is holding something back, but I ignore my instinct, wanting to extract as much information as I can. 

‘So you are looking for something special for an exhibition?’, Kwasi says as we enter the village, the afternoon sun burning on my back.

‘Yes, something unseen by the public. Do you think you could help?’. I am hopeful, yet cynical that this village will hold anything special.

‘I believe they visited our village in 2009, 2010, 2023, then intermittently until their deaths’

’2009?’ My curiosity is awakened. ‘I read they came here in 2005, then 2010′

‘I suppose our ancestors can surprise us’. There is that tone again. I try and shrug away the feeling that he is hiding something from me.

I am suddenly distracted from my suspicions by a purple hue in the corner of my eye. Turning to my left, I see a shrub, adorned with star shaped purple flowers. ‘Is that ….?’

Kwasi walks towards the shrub, ‘this? It is called a …’

‘A Crossberry flower’, I say, cutting him off, and joining him at the plant.

He plucks a flower off the shrub and hands it to me. ‘They are native to Kenya.’

My heart skips a beat. 

‘Catherine had pressed one of these in a book’, I tell him. ‘She must have got it on one of her visits. It seems strange though … ‘

‘Why is that?’

‘There was just this one flower in there. There are so many beautiful flowers in Kenya, and she bought back just this one’. I furrow my brow, trying to make sense of it. I can hear Maggie in the back of my head telling me I’m clutching at straws.

Shaking my head, I shrug off that niggling feeling that I’m missing something. 

* * *

October 2009

Taking long confident strides, kicking the loose stones as I go, I hold William’s hand gently, bathing in the freedom we have to do such a simple thing.

‘It’s so incredibly isolated’ he enthuses as we wonder around the small village of Wakamba in Kenya. ‘Ian was so right about this place.’

Ian Craig had told us about Wakamba after William told him we would like to explore a real Kenyan village.

‘It’s so unaffected’, I say, marveling at how the trees and paths blend effortlessly with the simple wooden houses. 

‘I can imagine us living somewhere like this’, he says, grinning at me.

I give him a coy smile in return. Since he had asked me to live with him, he had been more and more open about our future together. 

Ian had arranged for us to dine with a friend of his, Matu, and as we approach his small home, I am struck by the delicious smell of stew.

‘Welcome!’ Matu shouts from the doorway holding a wooden spoon, an old man of a around eighty, he is short and stout.

He takes our belongings and puts them down in the corner of his small kitchen come living area before urging us to start eating. As we tuck in to the meal, Matu explains that he is a missionary and a preacher, ‘and what do you do?’, he asks, oblivious to who William is.

‘I’m training to fly helicopters and Catherine works for her family’, Will says, pleased to be anonymous.

‘Any children?’, he responds.

We both laugh, ‘not yet’, William says, making me blush.

‘You must go to the lake and bathe there, it will bring you good luck in your marriage and fertility’, Matu says sincerely. 

‘Why not!’, I say brightly, looking to William, who looks just as keen.

We spend the next two hours chatting to Matu as if we’re old friends. I have never felt so comfortable with a stranger, and I can tell that William feels the same, in the way that he hangs onto Matu’s every wise word. 

William listens intently as he explains his branch of Christianity that uses the trees, water and the ground as a symbol of His presence in everyday life and symbols of people’s relationships with each other. But when the candles begin to dim, we reluctantly decide it is time to leave.

After thanking Matu, we step out into the night. William takes my hand, his eyes glistening in the darkness, ‘let’s go to that lake.’

 * * *

After an afternoon spent talking to Kwasi and exploring his village, he introduces me to his stunning wife Constance, and together we sit in the veranda of his home talking all night, the two of them inspiring me with their clear way of thinking. The conversation leads to the exhibition a few times, and although I still feel Kwasi is hiding something, my instinct tells me I can trust him.  

The following afternoon, dusk is approaching and I’m seated outside at the wooden table and chairs swatting away the flies that are circling my paw paw fruit. 

‘Let me get those pictures I was telling you about!’ Kwasi says, gliding into the house and quickly returning with a photo album.

He lets me open it, and I immediately see this is an album dedicated to William and Catherine’s visits to the village. Pictures jump out at me of them surrounded by African children, and later, with their own children, sat up on a tall African Blackwood tree.

Kwasi looks at me as I inspect the pictures, as if he’s waiting for a reaction. Finally I get to the end of the book, where slotted neatly into the last page is a picture I’ve seen before. It shows William and Catherine in front of a tree, only this time the left hand side of the picture isn’t obscured by light.

‘Who’s that?’ I say, pointing at a man standing on the left of the picture.

Kwasi leans in, ‘that is my great great great great great great grandfather that I told you about, his name was Matu’, he says fondly taking a breath from all the ‘greats’. 

‘I have that same picture’. I pull it out of my handbag, where I’d kept it since discovering it at Kensington Palace. ‘Only mine has this on the back’.

I hand him the photo and he turns it over. As soon as his eyes fix on the braid, I see them widen.

‘Do you know what that is?’ I try.

‘I’m sorry, no’. He hands it back. I’ve had enough people lie to me to know that he is doing the same. 

‘That’s a shame’, I say nonchalantly, ‘that means the best I have is a letter from William to Catherine on their wedding day’. It will take all my wily feminine charms to get him to open up.  

Frustratingly, he doesn’t fall for it. ‘Excuse my impertinence, but is that not a very personal item to hand over to the public?’

‘It’s not as if they’re still here!’ I respond, tucking my hair behind my ear, a little stung.

‘Of course, of course’

‘Besides, the letter is literally the best I have to offer the exhibition. The curator wants to see me in a few weeks’

‘There is nothing else you can give them?’

I shake my head. ‘William and Catherine weren’t exactly groundbreaking, they always played by the rules’

Kwasi is suddenly defensive, ‘I’m sure that isn’t true.’

Deciding I’ve had enough, I let down my polite guard, ‘what is it you’re not telling me Kwasi?’

‘Nothing at all Miss’. Now he’s smiling, as if he’s happy I’m questioning him. ‘Like I said, our ancestors can surprise us.’

‘What does that mean? You said that yesterday at the Crossberry bush’, I narrow my eyes at him.

‘It is a lesson we must all learn in life not to judge before we can see the whole picture. See that tree over there?’ He points to a tall, yet weathered African Blackwood. ‘That has been there for over 150 years, it probably saw your ancestors as it sees you now’

I wonder for a second if he expects me to speak to the tree. ‘I don’t understand’.

‘We all have a habit of living in the now’, he says kindly. ‘We look to the past, of people in the past, as dead vessels, without feeling. You want to find something about William and Catherine, yes?’

‘Yes’

‘Then begin to think of them as people, as hearts and minds, not as bodies. See them as the people they were, with dreams and desires like the rest of us’

‘How? I didn’t even know them, I have nothing to go on, I haven’t got a diary or correspondence or anything to prove what was going on in their heads’, the words fall clumsily out of my mouth.  

Kwasi laughs as if he’s watching a new born lamb trying to walk for the first time. ‘Miss Cora, you do not need proof, you have the best tool possible … your own mind. Who would know better than the young future Queen what the desires of a young Prince and his future Queen would want?’

I nod, seeing his point.

’150 years changes a lot, but some things stay the same’, he looks at me pointedly, and then back at the African Blackwood, standing proudly as it would have done when William and Catherine were here.

Kwasi gets up and goes into the house, and returns with something clenched in his fist. 

‘You are not too different from your great great great great grandmother, you certainly look just like her’, he laughs, all you need is to make a connection’

He places a small memory card on the table, gets up, and leaves.  

* * * 

October 2009

‘Are you actually going to go naked!?’ I whisper, as William removes his boxers, placing them in a pile next to the lake. 

The lake is surrounded by trees, it’s almost pitch black, and not a sound can be heard, but I still feel the need to whisper.

‘William, we could get in so much trouble!’ I continue, watching him dip a toe into the lake, clutching my clothes to my body. Reluctantly I’d stripped to my underwear.

‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’, he teases, pulling my clothes away from me and adding them to his pile. ‘Besides, Matu says it’s the done thing here’

He starts to wade into the shallow water, and I follow him, my feet finding the wet soil.

‘Will …’ I say, barely able to see him.

‘I’m here’, I feel his hand around my back and he leads me deeper into the lake, ‘don’t worry, you’re safe’.

We reach a spot shallow enough to be safe, but deep enough that we need to paddle to stay afloat.

‘This is amazing’, he says, looking up at the moon.

I move closer to him so our bodies our touching. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It would be even better if you did it properly’. In the moonlight, I see a smirk pass across his mouth as his unclasps my bra.

I give in and take it off, along with my pants, slipping them off underwater and clutching them tightly in my hand.

William’s arms grip tightly around my waist and he kisses me, finding my lips instinctively in the dark.

I caress his back as his trails his kisses down my face. ‘Do you think we’ve been sufficiently blessed now?’, I say.

He pulls away and suddenly ducks under the water, submerging his head. I giggle quietly and do the same.

‘Now we have!’, he grins, as I push my wet hair from my face.

‘To a happy and fertile life together’, I say, resting my chin on his shoulder.

‘To the rest of our lives being ours to live’, he says thoughtfully, gazing at his surroundings, like a light has just sparked in his mind. 

‘What are you thinking?’, I ask, running a hand through is hair.

‘Nothing, just about how we should take advantage of every moment’. He runs his hands down my body, exploring every curve.

Lifting my head up, I find his lips again, my senses tingling, heightened even more by the near pitch darkness. Only William could convince me to do this, to get me in such a state of intimacy that I can’t bear to turn back.

He begins to kiss me more deeply, to the point that I can’t tell the difference between his hands and the water moving around my body.

‘We shouldn’t’ I mumble as his mouth moves along my collar bone.

‘We should do whatever we want to’, he whispers.

And now his hands are unmistakable. Taking me far away from my concerns and leaving me in a state of pure euphoria.

* * *

Sitting on the bed in Kwasi and Constance’s guest room, I slip the memory card into my laptop, and click on the only file that appears.

It immediately bursts to life, the reds, blues and golds of that day in April 2011.

William and Catherine’s wedding.

I frown consciously, wondering why Kwasi would have given me something that I could find anywhere else. Fast forwarding through the ceremony, I realise that there is nothing more to this than a copy of the wedding. Frustrated, I hit the stop button and fall backwards on to the bed. 

Make a connection.

Propping myself up, I begin doing an internet search on Catherine. Surprisingly to me, I quickly learn that she wasn’t as beloved to the public as I’d thought. 

Scrolling through archives of articles about her, I read that she was called ‘waity-Katie’, and ‘lazy’ for not forging a career. I look at pictures of her leaving clubs, a forced smile nearly always on her face, and I’m startled by how much I really do look like her. 

The similarities are obvious, she struggled to find her identity then, and so am I now. 

Drawn in completely, I spend the next hour reading as much as I can about Catherine, with or without William, before their marriage. I cringe with sympathy reading about her wayward uncle and find myself mumbling ‘buggers’ as I find paparazzi pictures of her at her most normal moments.  

For the first time, I forget about the exhibition as I gladly watch William talk about their engagement, “we were planning it for at least a year if not longer“, knowing that once day I will be doing the same thing.

Lying back once again and fixing my gaze on the mosquito net above my head, I begin to contemplate what they would have wanted that day, if things were different.

To travel the world alone? To live quietly together without the world watching?

If they were so similar to me, as Kwasi suggested, then maybe. If I am wrong about them, I certainly know what my dreams are. 

I want a direction in life; a career I love, that I’m not pushed into. I want to live my life without being judged every time I step out of the door. I want to fall in love with whoever I want. I want the biggest moments of my life to be mine to enjoy. My birth, my first day at school, my graduation, are now stored in some film archive for generations to watch. The future offers the same fate, my engagement, my wedding, my funeral. 

I sigh unconsciously and twist my head to look at the frozen image of a smiling William and Catherine on the screen. Everything I’d read, all the research I’d done meant nothing, I knew that now. I didn’t need all that to tell me something about them, because although 150 years apart, our hopes, our dreams, our lives, run parallel.

Feeling a closeness to them for the first time, I flip back to the copy of the wedding and rewind to the start. Catherine reaches the altar, locking eyes with William. Grinning to myself, I watch as he says ‘you look beautiful’.

And then he says something else to her. ‘Stunning?’ ‘You really do?’ No.

I rewind and play it again, and again, each time, my face  getting closer to the screen, watching William’s lips move.

Then I see it, his lips forming the words so clearly, it’s laughable. 

I slam the laptop shut and bolt out of the room as fast as my legs will carry me. 

* * *

October 2009

Late morning in Wakamba, and the lake water has had a wild effect on my hair, causing it to curl uncontrollably around my head. 

William returns from a morning visit to Matu carrying a steel bowl of fruit. ‘Brunch from Matu’, he says, placing it on the small wooden table in the tiny secluded wooden hut we’re staying in by the lake. I tuck into some paw paw fruit. 

‘Don’t you wish every day was like last night?’ William asks, joining me at the table.

I laugh, ‘wouldn’t that defeat the point of a romantic moment, if it was every day?’

‘I don’t mean that, I mean that feeling of freedom, of nobody knowing where we are or what we’re doing’

‘That I agree with’, I nod, chomping down on my fruit.

William had had this conversation with me many times, about how powerless he was a someone who would one day be a symbol of ‘power’. While I could empathise, the paparazzi following me as much as him, there was only so far my understanding could go.

He places his hand on mind and gently rubs my forefinger.

‘I need to talk to you Kate’

Something has changed in him during this trip, like a weight has been lifted from his burdened shoulders. Usually, I would put it down to a natural relaxation on holiday, but this time it was different. 

‘I don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting you’re best years on me.’

There is something familiar in his tone that make me nervous.

‘I don’t', I say defensively.  

He curls his fingers around mine protectively. ‘You put up with so much shit  that you shouldn’t have to.’

That tone sparks a memory. This is how he spoke to me when he broke things off two years ago. My heart thumps in panic.

‘It’s no wonder you think my staff don’t like you or that I don’t want you to live with me in London. You don’t deserve to feel like that’. He looks out of the small dirty window on to the lake. 

‘I can put up with it … if I have you’, I clutch his finger in a vain attempt to stop him doing what I think he’s about to do.

He returns his gaze to me, ‘but you shouldn’t have to, that’s what I’m trying to say Kate, you’re not ready to join my family, and I won’t put you in that position’

I pull my hand away and stand up hastily, almost tripping over the table leg. I can’t listen to his excuses.

‘Where are you going?’ he watches me as I rush out onto the deck that overlooks the murky lake. Suddenly it doesn’t look so romantic anymore.

‘I need air’, I say.

He follows and is standing close behind me before I know it. I cling onto the deck rail with both hands, feeling the splintered wood pressing into my skin.

‘I just don’t understand…’ I say quietly.

And then he laughs, almost a joyful laugh. It is an odd time for humour, I think to myself.

‘Don’t you see?!’ his voice is so confident, I feel momentarily ashamed that I don’t ‘see’ at all. 

He turns me around and looks me dead in the eye, willing me to understand. ‘It’s about time something changed, Kate, and I’m about to change it’.

* * *

I bound through the front doors of Kwasi’s home, not caring who hears me, ‘Kwasi! KWASI?!’, I yell.

I see him sitting there on the porch swing, serenely looking into the distance, apparently oblivious to the screaming woman next to him.

‘Kwasi’, I say again, breathless.

‘Good evening Miss Cora’, he says, as if he’s just noticed I’m there. 

‘I’ve worked it out!’ is all I say.

He gives me a puzzled look, ‘worked what out?’

‘Urgh don’t be all wise on me! You know exactly what don’t you?!’

Kwasi gives me a frustrating hint of a smile. 

‘I did what you said’, I continue. ‘I made a connection. I put myself in their shoes, oh gosh it was so obvious.’ The words are flying out at lightning speed. ‘They wanted the same thing I do, why wouldn’t they? I’m living their life 150 years later.’

He listens, politely nodding to my nonsensical words.

‘I watched the memory card.’

‘Beautiful wedding, hey?’, he smiles.

‘It just hit me, I was watching her arrive, them I saw it. I saw what William said at the altar’

I want Kwasi to reassure me that what I’ve just seen was correct, but he merely sits, waiting for me to finish. 

‘He says it, as clear as day, he was trying to make Catherine laugh … “déjà vu”‘

‘Miss?’

I repeat it it, with conviction this time, for in my heart I know I’m right, ‘he said “you look beautiful … déjà vu” ‘ 

* * *

October 2009

William’s eyes are brimming with excitement. He holds his hands just above my elbows from where he turned me around, not wanting to let me go, not wanting me to let go.

‘Marry me’

The words hang in the air, in the stunned silence between us. My mouth moves to try and speak, but no words can escape. 

‘Marry me Kate’, William repeats.

I shut my eyes, wondering if I open them again, I’ll wake up. When I do, William is still there looking down at me, his face full of anticipation. I try to order my thought,s trying to connect the time before and after those words he just spoke.

‘You just said I’m not ready to join your family’ I say finally.

‘That’s just it, I said I don’t want you to have to live that life yet, I’ve never said I didn’t want to marry you’

‘Will, you’re not making any sense, those two things go together’, I take his hands, wondering if the sun has got to his head.

‘Not necessarily’, he grins and raises an eyebrow. ‘I want you to be my wife, I want to marry you … today.’

Comprehension hits me like a lightning bolt, my mind opening up to what he’s suggesting.

‘You can’t do that to your family, they’ll be devastated’

‘Not if they don’t know about it’. He’s had this all planned, I realise. He has all the answers to my doubts prepared. 

‘How do you intend to keep that from them?’ I manage a small disbelieving laugh.

He squeezes my hand gently, getting closer to my face, ‘people here don’t marry with legal bindings. We don’t need a piece of paper to say we’re married.’

He waits for a response, but gets nothing.

‘Look, you have to know how much I love you, how committed I am to you’

‘I do’, I say.

‘You don’t Kate, I know you, you’ve been so patient, but I know it bothers you that we can’t be like other couples. Last night at the lake it just hit me. We want to marry each other, so why don’t we?

‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this, just to prove something to me’, I say with concern. 

Will smiles, ‘I want to wake up with you every day and be able to call you my wife. I want us to live alone together up in Anglesey with no intrusions, no expectations, just you and me, as man and wife. It’s the perfect solution, none of the pressure, but all of the marriage’ 

I give him the first hint of a smile, making him beam at me.

‘When you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, we’ll do it in public, but until then, it’s our marriage, and ours alone’, he places him warm forehead against mine.

 ’I suppose I better find a dress’, I say quietly.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘That’s a yes’.

  * * *

I sit on the porch swing next to Kwasi, suddenly exhausted from my revelation. ‘They eloped’, I laugh. ‘I can’t believe they actually eloped.’

‘Not so boring after all, hey?’ Kwasi teases. 

‘How long have you known?’ I ask him. It’s clear to me now that this is what he was leading me to understand.

‘I’ve suspected it for a few years. You see, Matu died of a fever a couple of years after their first visit to Wakamba, In his delirium, he talked of marrying a Prince and Princess. Of course no-one believed him because of his condition, but over the years it has become a folk tale in our family that the Prince and Princess were William and Catherine. It was only this afternoon that I knew for sure, and that was because of you’.

‘What did I do?! I knew nothing!���

Kwasi laughs, ‘the picture you showed me, with the string attached to the back …’

‘Yes?’

‘I am willing to bet that was Catherine’s wedding ring, and that picture was of their wedding day’.

‘No wonder she didn’t date it’, I say more to myself.

The romance of it all starts to seep into my skin. Two people in love who just wanted to live by their own rules, to have the most important day of their life between themselves. Something that I wish I had.

‘How did nobody find out? Surely there were papers?’

‘I have looked, Miss, but there is nothing, it’s my belief that there was no legal part to the wedding.’

‘So they weren’t really married?’, I ask cynically.

Kwasi shakes his head, ‘they were married in the eyes of God’, he says wisely. ‘Let me ask you, in their second wedding, at what point were they pronounced husband and wife?’

‘Ummm …’

‘Before or after they signed the documents in the back room?’, he prompts.

‘Before’, I say, understanding.

‘Exactly, and the crowds cheers outside bled into the Abbey, because to them, that was what made them married, not the paperwork’. He smiles at me kindly. 

We sit in silence for the next half an hour, listening to the insects scuttle around us. I stare into the dark night, trying to imagine the two of  them making the decision to tear up the rule book. It must have been liberating, and terrifying in equal measure. 

‘What will you do Miss, about your exhibition?’, Kwasi says, breaking the silence.

Kenya seemed like a world away from Delmonte’s stuffy office and indirect remarks. Back then, I would’ve given anything to find something to give him for the exhibition, just to get him off my back. And now, now that I had the biggest story I could imagine, could I really give it up? William and Catherine had come from being my dead ancestors, to here, bathed in the same hot African air that they married in, they are my family. 

But this would change things for me, I would get taken seriously by the press … by my father. It was the age old battle ; my head versus my heart.

‘I don’t know’ I reply, ‘I just don’t know’.

* * * 

October 2009

‘Flowers, as requested’, Will walks into the hut with a handful of flowers for me to choose from, as I’d asked him to find while I tamed my hair. 

Wearing a white shirt with the first three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, with tan khaki trousers, he looks smart casual, but so incredibly handsome. 

‘Matu says he’s ready when we are, he’s waiting under the blackwood tree’, he says.

‘And you’re sure he won’t tell anyone?’As trustworthy as Matu seems, I’m still nervous about trusting a virtual stranger. But William had told him who he really was, and had faith that he would keep our secret.

‘Postive’, he places the flowers down on the table where I’m seated and kisses the top of my head. ‘I’m gonna head down there, don’t be late’

‘I won’t’. I reach up for another kiss and he obliges, sending the butterflies in my stomach wild. 

Alone again in the hut, I pick a dress from my bag. Cream, with small embroidered yellow flowers, it sits just above my knee with a sweetheart neckline and thin straps. From all the flowers Will has chosen, I pick out a distinctive purple, star shaped one with yellow stamen to match my dress and attach it to my hair just above my right ear. I make a mental note to find out the meaning of this flower when I get home.

Taking a breath, I leave, taking the short walk to the tree, feeling more confident, more happy, and more content than I ever have. The afternoon sun is warm against my back as I approach, as if it’s pushing me along gently. When I arrive, my heart warms at the sight of two lines of the same flower I have in my hair, creating a makeshift aisle. At the end, framed by the giant branches of the tree, is William. 

He reaches out his hand as soon as I’m close enough to take it, and I do willingly, ‘you look beautiful’, he says, making me blush lightly. 

‘Welcome’, Matu says emerging from behind William. ‘Shall we begin?’

We both nod. 

‘William, Catherine, we are here today in the presence of God to join you as man and wife …’ Matu goes on to read a few passages from the Bible. I stroke William’s fingers occasionally during the readings, to which he replies with a quick glance and smile.

Finished with the passages, Matu opens the front cover of the Bible to reveal a small braided string. ‘William, please present Catherine with the ring’. 

William takes it and places it over my wedding finger.

‘The three strands of this ring represent those values most important in marriage ; honestly, respect, and growth. William please repeat after me …’

Will repeats after Matu as he ties the ring tightly around my finger. ‘I William Arthur Philip Louis take you Catherine Elizabeth as my wife, in the values grounded in our love, I promise to respect you as my equal, be honest with you always, and encourage your growth as an individual and within our union.’

‘I Catherine Elizabeth take you William Arthur Philip Louis as my husband …’ I repeat the vows, smiling teasingly for a moment at the length of his name. Without a ring for William, I hold both of his hands tightly until I finish.

‘We shall take a moment for your personal promises to each other’, Matu says and steps back a few paces respectfully.

William locks his eyes into mine, ‘Catherine … Kate. From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. Your easy manner, your loyalty, and your beauty made me see that our friendship could be something so much more.’ He bows his head for a moment, ‘I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but never in those downs did I ever imagine my life without you. You’ve made me happier than I thought was possible. I promise you with my life that as your husband, I will always protect you, and that I will always love you. No matter what the future has in store, I will never let anything get between us. Our marriage will be ours and only ours, and I will thank God every day that I have you’

I fight to keep my emotions under control, taking a deep breath before I begin. ‘Will, when I met you, I was so nervous, to think I’d be standing here years later marrying you is beyond anything my 19 year old self could understand. You have been a friend, a confidant, a support, and a lover …’ I say the last part quietly ‘ … and I thank you for putting my needs above anything else. I know one day things will be so different, I will be public property, but I promise you that I will be yours and only yours for as long as I live. I will support you and love you and I will make you proud. From this day on, I will be your wife, and I will be by your side until my last breath.’

The emotion on Will’s face is evident, but not one to cry, he leans in to kiss me instead.

‘Ah not yet Sir!’ Matu says suddenly. I had forgotten he was there. ‘One more thing’.

William, do you take Catherine to be your wife? To love her and honour her from this day, and to honour God through your union?’

‘I will’, he beams.

‘And Catherine, do you take William as your husband, to love him and honour him from this day, and to honour God through your union?’

‘Of course … I will’

‘As God as our witness, I pronounce that you are man and wife together, you may seal your union’, he grins and backs away once more.  

William clasps his arms around my waist and I reach up, pulling his shoulders in. Our lips meet, his warm skin on mine. We are oblivious to the rest of the world, held in our own moment, the biggest moment of our lives.

And it’s ours, only ours. 

* * * 

29th April 2161

The words are large and imposing on the poster beside the door ‘William & Catherine : A Celebration’. Below the words is a picture of the two of them on their wedding day – their second wedding day, that is. 

‘Shall we go in Ma’am?’, Delmonte says excitedly, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers.

‘Lets’ I say, feeling a lots less hostile towards him. 

Behind me is Maggie, making sure everything is running like clockwork, and behind her, another staff member escorting my father, my guest of honour, around the exhibition. 

Delmonte shows me around the exhibition, the reporters and cameramen scuttling around trying to get a good shot. We get to a large glass cabinet, almost the length of the wall.

‘And now Ma’am, the pièce de résistance! Your wonderful discovery!’

I smile wryly surveying my work.

Two weeks after I’d returned form Africa, I’d taken a visit back to the Kensington Palace store to double check the contents of the black box. When I found nothing else relating to the wedding, I placed the box back, only to feel it hit something bulky behind it. Pulling out what appeared to be a large alum that had been stuffed unceremoniously at the bottom of the shelf, I found my treasure.

Pages upon pages of photos. All taken by Catherine. Photos of their children just after their births, one of William lounging in a bedroom, undoing the collar of his Irish Guards uniform, dated 29th April 2011, and plenty of their holidays over the years, all capturing the intimate and normal moments of their family life.

Delmonte had been delighted, it wasn’t a scandal, but it was an insight into their lives from the eyes of a Queen.

In the end giving up their secret was never an option. Maybe it would have gained me respect, but respect wasn’t worth selling out my family. It would stay with me forever, and it gave me hope that one day I would experience a moment of pure freedom.

As we move the wedding part of the exhibition, I notice the ‘Language of Flowers’ book sitting in a cabinet with a recreation of the Royal Wedding flowers. Next to it, is the leaf of paper that once held the crossberry flower, and Catherine’s handwriting: “Grewia similis/Crossberry flower. Meaning: Calmness/Peace. 900-102″

Behind me, I overhear my father’s escort describing a photo, ‘this was taken in ’08′, she says.

An idea springs to my mind, not ’2008′, but ’08′. I look at Catherine’s note once again. 900-102. I break it up. 90-01-02. I tilt my head, flipping the numbers in my mind.

20-10-09. 

20th October 2009.

A laugh escapes sharply from my mouth, making the press and Delmonte eye my curiously. 

The 20th of October 2009, exactly a year before they became engaged. The pieces fit into place like a conductor directing the final notes of his orchestra.

That night in the Rutundu Lodge, they weren’t merely getting engaged, they were celebrating their first wedding anniversary. 

I laugh again, unable to stop myself.

‘Are you ok, Ma’am?’ Delmonte says nervously. 

‘Please, just laugh with me!’ I say quietly. 

He obeys me instantly, chuckling along.

And now I’m laughing at him too, great booms of laughter escaping my body.

Of relief, of joy, of hope.

Somewhere up there, no doubt together, I know two people are looking down on me and doing the same. 

The End.

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

Little Black Dress

Alex let out that silly bear giraffe growl thing he did as he pulled at the stupid knot that was supposed to be a tie, the man could perform laparoscopic surgeries blindfolded and yet he still couldn’t get his tie straight. “Jo lets go before we’re late” he calls out, giving up on the tie as he makes his way around the makeshift dresser. “Jo?” he calls again after receiving no response, for a second he thinks she might be ignoring him before he hears her mutter something incoherent and then a string of swear words from behind the closed door. 

 “We're not gonna be late.” She snaps, as he hears a crash behind the bathroom door. Rolling his eyes, Alex plops down onto the couch checking his watch confirming that they were in fact already at least five minutes late and they still had a 20 minute car journey to go. 

“Look if I wanna get this new project off the ground I need the funding and Bailey has made it pretty clear the only way I’m gonna get it is by chatting up these investors.” He grumbles, mentally preparing his speech in his head as he tries to ignore the sounds coming from the bathroom, seriously is she digging a hole through the floor. 

Looking up as the door to the bathroom grinds open, he watches as Jo pokes her head through the door; she's still dressed in her bloody robe for god's sake. “Shit then we have no chance.” She grins winking at him cheekily before slipping back into the bathroom. 

Frowning Alex grumbled a response as he picked off the lint from his pants “Gee thanks...” 

Jo’s laugh rings out across the loft as she continues to get ready “What? Sweet talking isn’t exactly your strong suit.” 

Pfft Alex Karev could sweet talk if he wanted to, seriously I mean you think he’d got the ladies reputation he had before Jo without being a sweet talker. “Worked on you didn’t it?”

Jo appears back in the bathroom doorway, her head thrown back laughing away, she’s got one hand clutching her stomach the other covering her face as she tries to stifle her laughter. “Are you having memory loss? That is not what happened...can you come zip me up?”

Groaning Alex hopes she’s almost done because this deal is seriously about to fall through if they’re any later. He’s been going over the finances with Bailey for weeks, talking to the hospital in Yemen, communicating with various sister hospitals across the globe and it all pinned on these investors tonight. 

“Holy Cow” 

And just like that everything that had been consuming his mind for weeks on end had vanished because standing before him was a wife who he’s always thought was drop dead gorgeous but tonight she looks like one of those sexed up just fallen from heaven angels you see on the Victoria Secret runway. I mean he’s dumbfounded seriously, he can’t pick his jaw up off the floor as he takes Jo in. The little black dress she’s got on hugs her in all the right places. She’s pulled her hair back into a low bun letting loose curls frame her delicate face and she looks so beautiful he’s not sure how he ever got her to marry him. 

“Don’t say cow...” Jo shrieks, meeting Alex’s eye in the mirror as she readjusts the dress around her bust slightly, frowning as she tugs it up, she hated wearing strapless usually but this dress had looked so good in the shop she couldn’t resist. 

“Sorry it’s just you look incredible...” He mutters coming to stand behind her, Jo shivers involuntary as she feels his fingertips ghost up her open back. She can feel his hot breath against her neck as he slowly pulls the zip up, skimming his hands along the seam once he’s done. 

Turning in his arms Jo leans against his chest “Well my husband is planning on chatting up some very rich investors tonight-“ she grins taking his screwed up tie in her hands, she’s always having to fix his ties for him, she’s not even sure how he gets it so tangled up. “And I know how skilled or unskilled he is in sweet talking, I thought this dress might help his chances.” 

Alex nods as if he comprehends anything she just said, his eyes are still looking her up and down and Jo feels heat rise up her cheeks in response to the hunger in his eyes. Damn this dress is really worth the money. 

“Screw the party” Alex growls, pulling her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist so she’s flush against him. “There’s better ways to be spending Friday night.” He murmurs against her neck, peppering kisses lightly on that spot below her ear he knows drives her crazy. 

“No no...” she squirms fighting the grin on her face as she pushes him back lightly “the kids you’re trying to save are not gonna appreciate you skipping out on getting their well deserved funding.”

Alex groans again, while Jo wraps her arms around his neck, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. “I hate when you’re right.” 

Smirking she leans in running her nose up the length of his neck before pressing a light kiss to his pulse point. “No you don’t.” 

“Mhmm” Alex nods lightly, running his hands up and down her waist, feeling the silk fabric underneath his fingertips. “I’m not gonna be able to let you out of my sight dressed like this.” 

“Well you won’t hear me complaining.” Jo grins cocking her head to the side, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she straightens his jacket. Before she knows what’s happening he’s leaned down and crashed his lips against hers, their kiss is so fierce and so full of desire that she almost forgets why she told him no when he suggested they screw this fancy party.  

Pulling away breathlessly Jo shuffles back out of his grip, brushing the hair that’s fallen out of place behind her ear and straightening out her dress. “Let’s get going Dr Karev we have investors waiting.” And if they don’t get out of here soon, they both know they won’t get out at all. Turning to grab her purse from the side, Jo throws the first lip gloss she can find inside before she turns back to Alex who’s readjusting his suit that’s grown uncomfortably tight in the last five minutes “and if you’re good and wow all those rich snobby investors I’ll show what this dress looks like on our bedroom floor.” 

“That better be a promise Dr Karev.” Alex mutters as he follows her out of the bathroom, smacking her ass lightly as she passes him. 

“Oh it is.” She laughs, turning back to wink at him, as they head out the door.

Thanks for reading and Thankyou @trijpma for the prompts, the rest is coming tonight. 

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 15

After the Akuma battle, Max calls everyone who participated in the battle to talk about what happened. Felix and Marinette agreed to meet later when they settled at the hotel, only Kagami excused herself because she had business to attend to.

An hour passes before everyone is gathered in the boardroom, where all meetings are held. Max stays on the computer, Luka has served snacks for the Kwami and tea for the others, everyone needs to relax to give their opinion, that will help them a bit to wait for Hugo to announce that the food is ready and they can eat, the good thing is that they finished the attack in good time.

Damian feels uncomfortable, perhaps a little irritable at feeling that he has failed at something. It was not his performance in battle, he did what was expected of him exceptionally, even Paris has had good opinions about him, even though he's a child. It bothers him not to identify what caused that feeling.

Everyone notices how introspective the child looks, but says nothing. It's best to let him meditate on what torments him, in the end, only Marinette is able to reach him effectively without receiving an angry look or offensive comment. The child can touch the angelic with his mother close (but sometimes even the worst of his character comes out).

"We're ready." Felix enters the boardroom wearing only the most basic suit, the sleeves of his white shirt roll up to his elbow, and instead of his black shoes, he wears gray, fluffy slippers. Only Felix would present himself like this with the dignity of a king.

By that time, Chloe has also arrived, taking advantage of the lunch hour to meet them, even Nathaniel has taken a break and has arrived, his expression is that of someone who has not slept in three days and is not very wrong, really not he's slept in three days (at that point, Marc is tempted to knock him out with a spatula to get him to sleep).

"We can start." Marinette sits next to Damian after giving him a kiss on the head, he just erases his annoyed expression as a sign of appreciation, calming himself by having her close. "What have they discovered?"

Marc sighs and waits for Max to put on screen the videos of the surroundings of the previous Akuma, it remains to be seen if this last Akuma Purple Dolphin had a similar origin, but with two that are the same, he's sure that this is also the case. When the images appear on the screen behind the engineer, everyone pays special attention to what is displayed.

"Those are images from before Abraham Bélanger was Akumatized, the butterfly suddenly appeared in front of a single camera, so we can assume that our villain moves close to the victims." Marc explains what he had already spoken to Max and Luka, but now they will add the additional information and debate theories. "We didn't discover anyone suspicious, so we also decided to check each owner's vehicles and background. Only one caught our attention."

"A vehicle by the name of Leonard Daract, which is a false name. Although there are several with that name, none of them reside in France and they are not the owners of a car of the registered model. "Max shows the records it found on the screen, since the only real connection is an affiliation with a ghost organization that, due to its investigation, it's a cover for money laundering, but they cannot identify the beneficiary of said scheme. Nicely covered with lots of fake names and dead ends. "Also the name of Jean Laperriére, owner of a vehicle captured away from the origin of the first Akuma, is among the members of B.K. Company. "

"So our villain is good at hiding." Felix analyzes the screen, thinking about which way to go from there. They must be smart and stop walking behind the villain to start taking steps forward.

"That also makes it easy for him to activate organized crime in the city, he already has a way to finance criminal groups without being tracked." Nathaniel comments and then just mutters a few random ideas, plus a couple of curses for the extra work.

"And if he has one, he must have more." Alix gives her little opinion, leaning back in her chair. "That brings me to what I discovered with Detective Fontaine, take. “She pulls out a USB stick and hands it to Max.

In a short time the case files are projected on the screen, the pieces of the bomb found, the witness reports and the names of the victims. Everyone observes a particular name: Nora Bélanger, twenty-two, died on the way to the hospital, the daughter of Abraham Bélanger, the Akumatized victim that day.

"What was the name of today's victim?" Damian asks, feeling that everything has been in motion since long before.

"Let's see. "Max starts reviewing the files on the second computer he has, it's easier that way and he doesn't overload the laptops with so much open file. A couple of minutes later, he has it. "Victoria Jouvet, last night reported a robbery at her house, but it was dismissed and this morning she received a message about it, minutes later, well, we already know what happened..."

"Since when did the police dismiss cases? Alix, did you know about that?"Marinette frowns, she doesn't like how Paris's safety is being affected. Since Mayor Bourgeois was no longer elected and a new mayor took over the city, many corruption cases were disappearing and a dismissal of cases, especially with the return of the butterfly, is not the best practice to keep healthy emotions.

"No, I had no idea." She almost growled about it, maybe she should talk more closely with Detective Fontaine about what's going on inside the police. Too good that she discovered that MT has that kind of jurisdiction, Chloe excelled in supporting the cause, she deserves a reward.

Max continues to collect information and decides to place an alert for registered crimes in the databases, to classify them and be able to monitor the victims. Perhaps there is a way to handle the most violent crimes that Paris has not seen in several years. Yes, there are still murders, robberies and rapes, but it is not something that happens every day and now with emotions as a vulnerable point, they need a way to redirect the negative effect in some way.

"Then the police are falling into old ways, we must clean it up. Kudbel, do you trust that detective?" She nods, resigned to having Felix continue calling her by her last name, sometimes someone's name escapes him, but he corrects him immediately, although she knows that he's fond of everyone, even if he denies it. "So I need you to start a joint investigation, we will make a file of every police in Paris to find out who are the corrupt, we will clean the place to avoid Akuma for police negligence. Any inappropriate behavior will be suspicious, we will remove all the dirty laundry, we have long ignored the police issue. If we only keep two assets in the entire city, it doesn't matter, there is a selection of recruits in the academy that can begin to be sent to the field from the moment we take out the vermin."

"Agree. It's fortunate that Detective Fontaine enjoys being hated by everyone."

"Our guy, tell him we send greetings." Marc says to lighten the mood a bit, although everyone is in work mode now.

"We must create a support project for families, if these police officers have children they must be protected and not left adrift by the mistakes of their parents. "Marinette takes out her phone to write down a reminder to consult Hugo about the possibilities of creating a project about it.

Nathaniel nods in support, also pulling out his phone to check his bank accounts and see if he can support, he doesn't have the exaggerated amounts of money Marinette has accumulated over the past few years at absurd speed, but he's in the same situation that she just He accumulates because neither he nor Marc spend too much, the most expensive thing they have is the apartment and they don't even have a car. They don’t spend beyond what is necessary.

Alix doesn't comment, she, if it were not for living with Chloe, would have a slightly less stable life. Having her own art school doesn't give her millions, but it's something that she really enjoys, just like being an Art History consultant at the Louvre, she doesn't complain, but sometimes she0s surprised at the gap that exists between her and  others. Felix with his millionaire family, Chloe with his exorbitant salary (and the Hotel, which remained in her hands when André was imprisoned for fraud, Chloe didn't touch her heart when she reformed it completely and changed its name, leaving not even the shadow than it was), Nathaniel and Marc have a very stable base of money for their comic book editorial and recently accepted two new writers and three cartoonists for the publication of new works, expanding the franchise, Max has an annual profit that rivals With Luka and his record label, Kagami and the Tsurugi company double Chloe's annual salary (and that's a lot of money)... And Marinette, she has managed to accumulate so much money in just five years that she's close to surpassing Felix's fortune, if her earnings continue to grow at the rate  it's going (and having two Wayne as her clients, she is sure it will happen) she really will go on those lists of the world's richest people. Yes, she is the one who earns the least because even Kim has more stable earnings. And almost all of them have made their salary base in the last four years, working even before starting university.

The MT is full of crazies with money, definitely, but aren't all vigilantes like that? She can bet her kidneys that Batman and Green Arrow are also crazy with money.

"Then with the police business going on. I think it is time to research every company in Paris, find any links with shell companies and list them. That includes ours. ”No one complains, knowing they are not going to be sidelined just because they could end up showing that in court and it is better to avoid suspicion. "All employees must also be investigated. It would be good to speak to Borealis to find out if his informants have any suspicious information. "

"I'll tell him to give us all the information he gets at the meeting." Now it's Chloe's turn to get her phone out and start sending messages.

"Going back to the bomb, do you have suspects?" Marc asks, redirecting the conversation.

"Only one. His name is Felipe Lombard, he was released from prison two years ago. He was arrested for exploiting an apartment building killing seventeen people in Marseille, he was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison and... I really think it should have been longer, but he came out because he made a deal with the prosecution to help dismantle a group of smuggling of weapons that the police had been following for years, but had no conclusive evidence. It seems they found the connection with him and it was one of two, or cooperating or adding another twenty years to the sentence. ”Alix explains with little interest. "He was found dead this morning, according to the detective's call... So we don't know if someone paid him or if he relapsed. "

"Ridiculous, completely ridiculous."

"I think we need to expand our allies..." Luka murmurs, weighing their options, they may have the equipment, but they need more people to give them information and, although Aurore's informants are useful, they are not enough to have more precise control than it happens on the streets. And its allies outside the country seldom have information that relates to Paris in any way.

"Yeah, but we will discuss that when it is the first meeting of the Order." Says Marinette. "By the way, our trip will be short, the jewel is in Istanbul, so after the small obligations that Felix committed to, we'll return. "

"Right, we'd better be going." Felix nods at her words.

Everything is saved and sent to the central database, all are removed and most go to the dining room where Hugo has just arrived thanks to Kaalki. Only Damian doesn't follow the others and instead hugs his mother.

"Sorry. "

"Oh? Why?" She immediately returns the hug and strokes his head lovingly.

"I'm just sorry... maybe I did something wrong."

"You don't have to apologize if you make a mistake, I don't expect you to be perfect or someone you're not for wanting to please me." She smiles and cradles her son's face, she can see the conflict in his green eyes. "I love you as you're."

"Me too, mother." He hides his face in her chest and clings to her as much as he can, feeling really loved and at home. And he decides it's best to ignore the information about soul mates, Constantine's sour gaze upon mentioning it is proof that it's not pleasant for his mother either.

-------

R. Grayson: I have a question regarding the design you submitted

Marie Lenoir: Yes?

R. Grayson: Why is the lining of my suit violet?

Marie Lenoir: Combines with the tie and with your eyes, your shade of blue is very vivid and beautiful

R. Grayson: Thanks, although my eyes are nothing compared to yours

Marie Lenoir: Thank you, I'm flattered.

--------

Lila Agreste is not a bad person, at least, she's not anymore. Being forced to marry Adrien taught her a few things, as well as being a reality hit on the course she was taking in her life. By the time the marriage contract was released, she no longer wanted to have anything to do with the Agreste and marrying the blonde was out of her plans, but she did.

How it happened?

Well, Adrien invested a great deal of money in cleaning up the family name and pleasing her in any way she wanted, that was what persuaded her. But as the years went by, she felt less comfortable with the situation, but she came to sympathize with Adrien's stance and stayed for it, despite the fact that she fell in love with another man. If only the heroes were less useless and found a way to wake Emilie from the coma, she would be free to return to Italy and plan her life with her lover.

She doesn't love Adrien, but she's fond of him. Seven years married in a friendly relationship generates that, he never questioned her and respected her space, in addition to taking her on many trips and including her in various jobs. Yes, she knows that she takes advantage sometimes, but she also feels quite bitter. She doesn't even find herself to lie about anything, she just wants to get out of that horrible life and for that she must play her cards well or the last years would have been a waste of time.

With the only person who keeps in touch during school days is Alya (who doesn't know anything about the contract), the others made their lives far away or their relationships with them fractured, but she knows what has become of all of them because her beloved husband he mentions from time to time, in addition to maintaining a close friendship with several of them. He has even gone to some dinners with him, although she was always uncomfortable.

The only one relevant to her record is Marinette, she was surprised by the turn she gave to her life after that discussion with her parents. She stopped being the annoying girl from school and became a force to be reckoned, the Lady Black brand emerged strongly and remains lifted with the same toughness as the beginning, even expanding to other areas besides fashion.

She's jealous, yes she's, but she learned to recognize that all of that was her effort. She didn't marry anyone to help her, she doesn't even have a partner nor does she need her to have a child. She still doesn't know the famous boy, but Damian Lenoir is not a name that is foreign to her, Alya complained about how that boy seemed about to stab her boyfriend with a table knife... Lila still doesn't understand that possessed her to date that nefarious guy, neither all the money in the world is worth to support such a disgusting man.

"Lila, here!" She smiles as best she can and approaches the table. Alya invited her and, being the girlfriend of the mayor's son, it's a very luxurious place. She has gone there, of course, Adrien sometimes invites her to places like this to give the appearance of a happy couple.

"Hi. "She still doesn't like how effusive the reporter is.

"How was your trip to Kazan? Russia must be beautiful. "She begins, it's been a month since they last saw each other and then just a few calls, Adrien always takes a long time in the cities. Not that she cares, but that gives her time to have a good time at her destinations.

"Wonderful. Adrien paid a tour guide to take us to know the secrets of the city, of course, two weeks is a long time, but we found ways to have a good time while balancing work. "A little lie, she spent most of the time alone, but she's not telling anyone that. Perhaps the only ones who know are Adrien's friends and, again, she returns to that overly successful group. It would have seemed unreal if she hadn't seen their growth firsthand.

"That's great, Lila! I would like to travel more, but Michel is always busy, at least we have the opportunity to have dinner every night. ”She nods as if she was really interested in knowing something about her boyfriend, Nino was a thousand times better and also more pleasant. She still remembers with disgust when Michel tried to seduce her, if he did the same with Marinette, it doesn't surprise her that his son was ready to riddle him with silverware.

"It must be difficult being a surgeon's girlfriend, they can call him randomly at some point."

"Yes, but it's worth it."

Lila wonders if Alya knows or plays stupid, her boyfriend is no better than excrement, however handsome or wealthy he's. Although the reporter has a hard time accepting when she's wrong and after three years of relationship, it would be disappointing, yes, maybe that's it.

-------

­­Alya Cessaire @Alya.Blogs.Out

Reunion! @ LilaA.Rossi

[Attached photo]

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

My brother just can't contain himself from flirting, his survival instincts are on the underground

Jason @IAm_YisusXD

@TimDrakeW_ Now what did he do?

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

@IAm_YisusXD the normal... only now he forgot that her son has dogs capable of devouring him.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Home Again Ch. 1 (Liam x MC)

Summary: AU TRR fic. Four years ago, Kendall fled Cordonia and the love of her life. But when she’s forced to come back, she’s also forced to confront long buried feelings and painful revelations.

A/N: I’ve been toying with this plot for over a year now, and I finally got around to actually working on it. Yay me! As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged, or if I missed you.

Tags: @drakewalker04 @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @ao719 @eadanga @hopefulmoonobject @janezillow @ramseyandrys @aestheticartwriting

~v~

The water. If there was one thing Kendall missed about Cordonia, it was the gorgeous water of the Mediterranean, always warm, always blue. And the sun. There’s just something different about the warmth in her native country.

Stepping off of the private jet, she breathes in the slightly salty air. After almost 5 years of being away, Kendall isn’t sure if she’s happy to be home or not. While she did love Cordonia, she hates that she’s coming back under such awful conditions. 

When her mother called yesterday and told her that her father had a heart attack, it was a no brainer for Kendall to drop everything and come back home. Her dad is her own personal Superman, she’s never known him to even have a cold, so hearing that he had a heart attack threw her for a loop.

“Kendall!”

The sound of her name being called makes Kendall whip her head around. She sees Gladys, the daughter to her estate’s majordomo poking her head out of the window of a sleek black Escalade

One of the flight attendants grabs Kendall’s luggage as she rushes towards the car. Flinging the passenger side door open, she leans in and wraps Gladys in a warm hug.

Gladys is taken aback by the huge display of affection, but she hugs Kendall back. “It’s nice to see you too, my lady.”

“What have I told you, it’s just Kendall. You don’t have to be formal with me, Gladys.”

“Very well.” Gladys turns her head and sees the flight attendant putting the last of Kendall’s luggage in the trunk. “Get in, get in.” 

“I do not have to be told twice.”

The ride from the airport to the hospital in the capital was mostly silent. Kendall knows the older woman probably has questions for her. They haven’t seen each other in years, and Kendall swore she’d never step foot in this country ever again. But now she’s back. But it’s not like she’s back, back. She’s only here to see her dad through his recovery. Nothing more, nothing less.

“So how was school?” Gladys asks, breaking Kendall out of her thoughts. “Columbia right?”

The mention of her Ivy League alma mater brings a smile to Kendall’s face. “I loved it. New York is amazing, the school is amazing.”

“What are you doing now? My dad mentioned it was something to do with money, but he’s awful at explaining things.”

“Financial analyst.”

“Do you work on that fancy street? The one with all the walls of money?”

“Wall Street,” Kendall corrects with a chuckle. “And yes. But it’s not literally made with walls of money, Gladys. Just lots and lots of tall buildings.”

“Do you have a big office?”

“I have a cubicle. It’s not fancy, but it gets the job done.”

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence. Kendall can’t bring herself to care about the usual court gossip right now, her mind focused solely on her dad.

They make it to the hospital fairly quickly and Kendall barely remembers talking to someone at the nurse’s station before rushing off again to find her father’s hospital room.

She isn’t sure what she was expecting to see, but she definitely didn’t anticipate so many wires and machines. Her father is always so...strong and commanding, but in this moment, Stephen Mason looks incredibly frail. And her poor mother, Victoria, looks equally exhausted, hunched over his bed, their hands clasped together.

Stephen notices her first, and a smile slowly creeps onto his face. “Victoria, did you really call our daughter and tell her to come home?”

“Thank God she did,” Kendall says fully entering the hospital room.

“I’m fine. You could’ve stayed in New York.”

“You had a heart attack, dad.”

Stephen dismisses the statement with a flick of his wrist. “It was minor.”

Kendall ignores him and wraps her arms tightly around him. Tears prick the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She tries to relax, breathing in her dad’s scent. He’s alive, he’s here. She can breathe.

Stephen rubs a comforting hand up and down Kendall’s arm. “Don’t cry. I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. My doctor said I was very blessed. I didn’t even need surgery.”

Kendall takes a shuddering breath and wipes her eyes. “So what caused this? When are you getting out of here? What’s your treatment plan? Do you have to do physical therapy?”

Stephen chuckles and turns to his wife. “She burns through a lot of topics, really fast. She gets that from you.”

“Oh, hush. For now, he’s going to have to take aspirin daily,” Victoria explains. “And we’re meeting with a nutritionist and physical therapist in order to get a diet and exercise plan.”

“Good.” Kendall visibly relaxes at her mother’s words.

“They hope to discharge me the day after tomorrow,” Stephen adds. “All of my tests and bloodwork have come back good so far.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you go home sweetheart?” Stephen suggests. “It’s your first time back home in a really long time, I’m sure there are more interesting things you can be doing other than staring at me.”

“I’m fine.” Kendall can’t leave, not yet. She hasn’t even met his doctor. Despite his words, she won’t feel at ease until she knows without a doubt that he’s going to be okay. His words are comforting, but they aren’t enough.

“I had to send your brother away,” Stephen says. “He was hovering as well, but he actually listened to me and went back to the estate.”

Kendall’s younger brother Zachary was always the more obedient child.

“That’s nice for Zach, but I’m staying with you for now.” Kendall sits down in an uncomfortable chair adjacent to her dad’s bed. “So stop trying to get rid of me.”

“Very well. But no hospital talk. Tell me how work has been.”

The three of them get wrapped up in a pleasant conversation about Kendall’s job, with her sharing funny office anecdotes and complaining about her least favorite coworkers.

She also gets to meet her dad’s cardiologist, Dr. Locke. He’s a nice, older guy and he doesn’t bat an eyelash when she grills him on his credentials and qualifications. Kendall isn’t the first overly concerned family member he’s encountered during his career and she won’t be the last.

“Ms. Mason, your father is doing incredibly well, and I expect him to make a full recovery.”

“About how long is the recovery process?”

“It depends on the patient, but your father is due for a follow-up in a few weeks. We’ll assess his progress then.”

“How long until I can go back to work?” Stephen asks.

“Oh you won’t be touching work for at least 2 months,” Dr. Locke replies seriously. “Work is inherently stressful, Mr. Mason, and stress isn’t good for you.”

“I’ll make sure he relaxes,” Victoria says, affectionately squeezing her husband’s hand. “I promise.”

“Good.” The Doctor checks the time on his watch. “A nurse should be coming in a few minutes to check your vitals, but it’s time for you to get some much needed rest.”

“Only if you kick this one out,” Stephen says, pointing to Kendall. “I won’t be able to relax with her here.”

“Dad! You can’t just kick me out.”

“Go home,” Stephen orders. “Get some rest, call one of your friends, I don’t care, but you cannot stay here and stare at me until I fall asleep.”

Dr. Locke’s eyes shift back and forth between the father and daughter. “Miss, if your father wants you to leave, then you have to leave.”

Kendall glares at her father, shocked that he has the audacity to remove her from his hospital room. “Fine. But I’m coming back tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you then, sweetheart.”

She huffs and collects her belongings. After kissing her parents goodbye, she steps out into the bustling hallway, trying to stay out of the way of the nurses, doctors, and patients. Once she’s out of the way, Kendall grabs her phone and scrolls through the contacts before finding the number she was looking for.

“Kendall, what a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m in town,” Kendall says, cutting straight to the chase. “And I need a drink.”

“Beer garden?”

“I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

~v~

King Liam strides down the hall to his study, a folder full of notes and documents in hand as Bastien trails closely behind. He has a meeting to attend to discuss the budget for Cordonia’s upcoming fiscal year.

Instead of seeing the Chancellor of Finance upon entering his study, he sees his father.

The visit catches him off guard. “Father! What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Can it wait? I’m supposed to be meeting with Stephen in a few minutes.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Constantine says. He walks over to Liam’s drink cart and surveys the decanters of various alcohols. He settles on a vintage scotch and pours himself a glass. “You won’t be meeting with Stephen today.”

“It’s unlike him to cancel a meeting, especially one as important as this. Is he okay?”

“Victoria called Regina a little while ago. He had a heart attack last night.”

The admission shocks Liam. “Oh my goodness, is he okay? Is he…” 

“He’s alive and stable. But he’s going to be out of commission for a while while he’s recovering. I told her that Stephen can take as much time as he needs, we will manage without him.”

Liam nods. His father and Stephen Mason were good friends, and it’s been that way since they were kids. It was part of the reason he and Kendall grew so close. Back when things were good between them, at least.

“Of course, he can take all the time he needs. How is everyone else holding up?”

“Victoria seemed to be in decent spirits when Regina spoke with her. She said Zachary was with them earlier.”

Liam bites the inside of his cheek. His mind can’t help but wander to her. “Any mention of Kendall? Does she know?”

“Victoria didn’t say, nor did Regina ask.” The parents made a point to never bring their children up in conversation. It’s a lot easier to simply pretend the elephant in the room doesn’t exist. “I assume she knows. She adores her father. He adores her as well.” 

Liam snorts in derision. “Trust me, I know.”

Constantine quirks an eyebrow up in confusion. Snark isn’t usually his son’s forte, especially over Lady Kendall. 

“I told Regina that I’d pass along the news. Please send a gift basket or flowers to their estate, on behalf of the family.”

“Of course.”

Constantine finishes his drink in one large sip. He sighs and puts down his glass. “And buy better scotch.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Goodbye, Father.”

Constantine chuckles to himself and exits his son’s study. Liam sits down at his desk and rummages through his pockets until he finds his cell phone.

He finds Drake’s contact and clicks it. After a few seconds, his best friend answers.

“What’s up, Li?”

“Nothing. I had a meeting scheduled, but it was cancelled, so I have no plans for the evening.”

“Max and I were thinking about heading to the beer garden for the evening. Are you in?”

“Of course. I’m not turning down an opportunity to drink.”

~v~

“Cheers!” Kendall clinks glasses with Olivia and downs her drink.

The red headed Duchess watches her friend, a bemused look on her face. “Slow down, Mason, that’s your fourth beer.”

“What, are you afraid I’m going to drink you under the table?”

“Of course not. But we don’t need you getting absolutely shitfaced.” Olivia turns to the bartender and hands him a $50 dollar bill. “She’s switching to water.”

“You’re not being fun.” 

“One of us has to be practical, you lush.” Olivia takes the bottle of water left by the bartender and slides it towards Kendall. “Drink up.”

Kendall stares at her friend, locked in a silent battle. Both women are stubborn to a fault, neither wanting to back down from a challenge. Olivia glares back, her emerald green eyes fixed squarely on the woman in front of her.

After a long while, Kendall relents and reluctantly opens the bottle of water, taking a tiny sip. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Olivia hops off of her barstool and grabs Kendall by the arm. “Let’s sit somewhere else. We have some talking to do.”

Kendall allows herself to be dragged over to a table tucked in a far corner of the garden. It’s pretty quiet, with most of the patrons wanting to stick towards the middle of the space or close to the bar.

She looks around. It’s been so long since she’s seen the beer garden, and everything looks and feels exactly the same. Flowers still bloom all around, dainty lights hang from every surface of the room, giving off a calm and romantic vibe. Memories of happier times visiting this establishment flood her mind, but she shakes them away.

“How’s your dad doing?” Olivia asks, cutting straight to the chase.

“He’s...okay, I guess. Things could be better, but they could definitely be worse, so,” Kendall shrugs, “I don’t know. He’s alive and coherent. That’s all I can ask for at this point.”

“Your dad is a tough guy. He’ll be just fine.”

“When I got the call last night that he was rushed to the hospital, I panicked,” Kendall says. “My mom chartered a jet for me, thank goodness because there’s no way I would’ve been able to sit in the airport. I was so frazzled, I didn’t even call my job until I saw flying over Spain.”

“Do you like that job of yours?”

“Of course I do.”

“How long are you going to be in Cordonia?”

Kendall shrugs. “For as long as I can milk my job for family medical leave.” 

“You should just come back,” Olivia suggests, circling the rim of her glass with a perfectly manicured finger. “Hana’s been in Shanghai for the past month, and you’re the only other girl I like. Well, besides Gabriella.”

“Who’s Gabriella?”

“I forgot you don’t keep up with the court anymore. Gabriella is Maxwell’s girlfriend.”

Kendall’s mouth drops in shock. “Maxwell? Maxwell Beaumont?”

“Yeah, I think you’d really like her. She’s just so...nice.”

“Is she a noble?”

“No, she’s a veterinarian assistant. They hooked up after an incident with one of the Beaumont peacocks. That was a few months ago, and they’ve been together ever since.”

“How cute,” Kendall coos. “But to circle back to your little suggestion, the answer is no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like New York. I like living there.”

“I gave you a pass when you first left because you were going to school. But you graduated, it’s time to come home.”

“You can use your authoritative duchess voice on everyone else, but it won’t work with me, Nevrakis.”

“I think you’re wasting your potential in the States,” Olivia admits. “Do you know who your father is? His name, along with your degree, could get you a job in any financial sector in this country.”

“Trust me, I know.” The last thing Kendall wants to do is rely on nepotism in order to secure a job. “I don’t want him to make things happen for me, I can do it on my own. I love New York, I love my job. Stop trying to convince me to leave.”

Olivia pouts childishly. “But you’re staying for a while, right?”

“At least 2 months,” Kendall admits.

“Good.” She goes silent for a while, pondering if she should even bring this up. “You’re going to run into him eventually, you know.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Oh really?” 

“I figured between the hospital, my dad’s physical therapy appointments, and taking care of him, I won’t even be getting out of the house much.”

“I don’t know if you're naive or delusional,” Olivia says with a snort. “Maybe both.”

“Look, I’m only back because of my dad. This isn’t a happy, social visit. Outings like this,” Kendall gestures to their surroundings, “are not going to be an everyday thing. Besides, I’m sure Liam will be busy doing princely things.”

“Technically kingly things.”

Kendall lifts her water bottle to her lips again. “Excuse me?”

“Liam’s the king now.” Olivia grimaces as Kendall spits the water out of her mouth. “Ew.”

“He’s king? Since when?”

“Leo abdicated last year. Literally left in the middle of the night and never looked back. Liam got crowned at the top of this year.”

To say the news shocks her would be an understatement. Kendall always knew Leo was flighty and impulsive, but this was an entirely new beast. “Wow.”

“Liam’s taken it in stride for the most part, but he refused to have a social season and pick a bride, much to Constantine’s dismay and he hasn’t spoken to Leo in months. The transition has been a bit...tough for him. Obviously he loves this country, but no one truly understands the weight of the crown, especially one that wasn’t made for you and that’s been shoved onto your head.”

Kendall doesn’t say anything else, trying to absorb all of the information given to her. Never in a million years did she ever think Liam would be the one running this country.

Olivia gauges her friend’s reaction to the news. She’s usually extremely stoic when it comes to Liam, shutting down the conversation when he’s mentioned or refusing to engage in anything about him at all. This is the most Kendall has spoken of him in years, it almost feels like a miracle that she doesn’t want to disrupt.

Kendall clears her throat awkwardly. “Can we please order another round?”

“One more, Mason. Then I’m cutting you off for–” Olivia abruptly stops talking as she sees Maxwell, Drake, and Liam enter the garden.

“You can’t cut me off,” Kendall says, not noticing Olivia’s shift in tone. “You aren’t the–”

A loud gasp cuts into Kendall’s sentence. “Mason!?”

Kendall’s head whips around and she sees the trio of guys heading over. Maxwell and Drake have broad grins on their faces, but not Liam. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

His heart hammers in his chest as he looks at her. It’s...crazy how many memories come flooding back to him. They all slam into him like a ton of bricks, one after the next.

“Liam!” 18 year old Kendall squeals as Liam buries his face in the crook of her neck, kissing her. “Liam, you’re distracting me.”

“You smell good,” Liam murmurs into her skin. She smells like coconuts. “You always smell so good.”

“Thank you. But you’re supposed to be helping me study! I have a test tomorrow for my government class.”

“Is that the only reason I’m here?” Liam pulls away from Kendall and smirks at her.

“Obviously,” Kendall teases. “What good is dating a prince if I can’t use him to help me ace my exams?”

Liam feigns shock, jumping away from Kendall. He wraps a hand around her ankle and tugs it hard, sending her flying forward. Her head flies back, hitting the pile of pillows she has neatly placed on her bed. She laughs at the action, a laugh that makes Liam’s heart still thud wildly in his chest, 3 years into dating her.

“Take it back,” Liam orders. Kendall kicks at him, but he jumps back, narrowly dodging her foot.

“Make me.”

The challenge causes Liam’s eyes to darken, mischief sparkling in their pretty blue depths. In one quick stride, he’s towering over Kendall, his arms braced at either of her sides. “You’re not with me because you can use it to your advantage.”

“Prove it, mister.”

“You’re with me because I make you laugh,” Liam says, leaning closer to his girlfriend. He kisses the tip of her nose. “Because I know how to make you smile after a long day.” He kisses the apples of her cheeks next. “Because I know you better than you know yourself. Because I’m your best friend, even though Olivia would murder me if I said that in her presence,”

Liam pounces onto the bed, his knees replacing his arms and barricading Kendall underneath him. His hands go up to cradle her face, touching her with care as if she were a piece of fine art.

“You want to know why I’m really with you?” Kendall asks rhetorically.

“Enlighten me, Lady Kendall.”

She turns her head slightly and kisses the inside of his arm. “Because I am absolutely, positively, head over heels in love with you, Prince Charming.”

Liam knows this. He and Kendall have never been shy when it comes to expressing their love for one another, but every time she says she loves him, it feels like the first time all over again. A wide grin breaks out on his face, something so bright and uninhibited, something reserved solely for her. “And I love you, Kendall. More than anything else in the world.”

Liam is pulled from the memory when he sees Kendall get out of her seat to greet Maxwell, her arms wrapping around his neck as they meet in a ferocious hug.

Maxwell kisses the side of her head. “I’ve missed you, my little blossom!”

“I missed you too, Max.”

“Is New York treating you well?”

“Yes. You guys need to come visit me again. I’ll take you to all the cool spots.” Kendall turns her attention to Drake next. “There’s a whiskey bar in Brooklyn that you would absolutely adore.”

“Is it better than the one in Manhattan?”

“Much.”

“Mason, you’re talking my language.”

“What are you doing out here?” Maxwell asks.

“It’s my dad,” Kendall says, sobering up instantly as she remembers the reason why she’s here. “He had a heart attack.” She sees the looks of panic flash across Drake and Maxwell’s faces. “He’s going to be okay, his doctors are optimistic.”

Maxwell nods. “Damn right he is. Stephen is going to bounce back better than ever.”

“If he stays on course, he’ll be released in a few days,” Kendall continues. “So I have a lot to get done within the next 36 hours.”

“Do you need any help?” Drake asks.

“No. I think I’ll call a cleaning service in the morning to make sure the estate is spotless. And once he meets with a nutritionist, I have to go grocery shopping. But for now, I’m okay. Thanks for the offer.”

Maxwell affectionately squeezes Kendall’s hand. “Don’t hesitate to reach out, Kenny, with whatever.”

Kendall’s eyes briefly flicker over to Liam. He’s still standing there, as still as a statue, and she looks away before he notices her. But she feels his blue eyes, burning a hole into the side of her head.

She feels dizzy, and she isn’t sure if it’s from being in such close proximity to him or the amount of alcohol she’s consumed. 

Because while Liam can look at her and remember the good times, the sight of him is quickly unraveling her.

The night of their breakup is still so fresh in her mind, her senses overwhelmed by the memory. 

Her heart thuds so loudly in her chest, she can feel it in her ears.

She can still recall the taste of the salty tears flowing freely from her eyes as she cried. She remembers the soreness, the way the muscles in her back and shoulders ached after she was wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

“Please, Liam!” The unrecognizable desperation in her voice rattles her as she drops to her knees in front of Liam. Who is she? “Forget about New York, forget about Columbia! I don’t need to go. I just need you, I want you. I’ll stay. I’ll stay and we’ll be together.”

Liam frowns sadly. “I can’t be the reason you stay. I need to let you go.”

“No! Don’t do this to us.”

Her breath hitches in her throat at the memory. It was the worst day of her life, and she’s tried for 4 long years to bury the memories and forget them entirely. But one look at Liam and she’s back to square one. In an instant, she’s that 18 years old girl again, the one that was hopelessly in love with him and got her heart annihilated in turn.

She turns to Olivia. “I think I should finally head home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m tired.” It’s not a lie. Kendall is exhausted and it’s a decent enough excuse. But the gang knows better, they know her desire to flee is due to the monarch standing next to them.

“Are you good to drive?” Olivia questions.

“I’ll call Gladys or Zach to come pick me up.” Kendall grabs her purse and rifles through it with shaky fingers, looking for any random bills. “How much do I owe you?”

Olivia shakes her head. “Don’t worry about the tab, it’s my treat.”

“Thank you. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

“You better.”

Kendall turns to Maxwell and Drake. She plasters on a smile, one that’s rehearsed and doesn’t reach her eyes. “It was nice seeing you two again.”

The dig at the king’s expense doesn’t go unnoticed. Kendall treats him like he isn’t there, blatantly refusing to acknowledge his existence.

She gives them one last smile and wave, making her way out. “Goodnight guys.”

Kendall’s going to have to pass Liam in order to reach the exit, so he decides that now might be the only time he can talk to her. “Kendall, wait!”

He lightly grabs her arm, stopping her from leaving and that’s when things go south. Before he can react, Kendall turns around and catches his wrist between her fingers, twisting his entire arm at an awkward angle.

A pain shoots up his arm and he winces in spite of himself. Bastien, who had been keeping a respectful distance, strides over to the table, ready to diffuse the situation. “Unhand him at once, Lady Kendall.”

“Touch me again, and I swear I’ll break it,” Kendall hisses fiercely. She turns to Bastien. “That wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.”

“Let him go,” Bastien commands. He doesn’t want to escalate the situation by any means, but he can’t let the king get hurt, even if his ex is the one inflicting the wound.

Kendall drops Liam’s hand and he instantly goes to cradle it. When did she learn that move?

Without another word, she stalks off, not sparing another glance at her friends or the other patrons of the establishment who saw the incident.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” Bastien asks, surveying Liam’s wrist. 

“I’m fine. She didn’t actually break anything.”

“Everyone here will be signing a non disclosure agreement,” Bastien continues. It doesn’t need to get out that that king’s ex-girlfriend nearly broke his wrist for all of the public to see. He says something into his earpiece about closing the garden down for a few minutes, but Liam’s not listening anymore.

The young monarch turns to the scarlet haired duchess sitting a few feet away from him. He narrows his eyes at her. “Pray tell, when were you going to mention that Kendall was back in town?”

Olivia grins like a Cheshire Cat and raises her glass at the question. “Surprise!”

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