#What to do if the Windsor Chair Starts Acting Up

[thatsbelievable]

[bejeweledblondie]

Knight In Shining Armor

Captain John Price x F! Royalty Reader

Summary: Y/N is part of the British Royal Family & is kidnapped by terrorists. John Price & Task Force 141 are given the responsibility of rescuing her before the ransom deadline

Warnings: mentions of torture, abuse, kidnapping, anxiety

Captain John Price was ready to kick his feet up & relax for the rest of the weekend. He had already cracked open a beer. With one click of the tv remote he knew his weekend would be anything other than relaxing.

“This just in her royal highness the Duchess of Windsor Y/N L/N has just been ambushed & is considered missing. The young Duchess was leaving a gala when armed men ambushed her vehicle & were able to successfully kidnap her. Her whereabouts are unknown at the moment & London is currently on lockdown near Buckingham Palace.” The news anchor on the television reported. A groan escaped his lips knowing this mission would come across his desk.

“Fuckin hell, “ He cursed to himself & looked up at the ceiling. “Lord I wanted one weekend, one fucking weekend is that too much to ask for?”

Right on cue his phone started to vibrate. Laswell in big letters flashed across his screen.

“Don’t even elaborate where do we need to be?” He asked rubbing his temples.

“Well hello to you too, meet me at headquarters as soon as possible.” She stated. He stood up & stretched before sending a message out to the rest of his team. He walked into his bedroom & pulled out his combat pants, combat thermal, & two pairs of socks. Price got dressed & laced up boots. The thought of the Duchess started to creep into his mind. He couldn’t even imagine what she was experiencing. The absolute fear of being at the mercy of international terrorists has to have terrifying.

Price made his way to his car & started it. He started to drive to the post & when he got to the gate he scanned his ID. The soldier saluted him & the gate arm lifted. He pulled up of the offices & started to walk into the building. Ghost, Gaz, Soap, & Alejandro were already sitting in the briefing room waiting for him. Laswell was already at the front of the room with the screen behind her turned on.

“Ah Captain Price! Good to see you! Sit down so we can start.” Laswell said. “Colonel Vargas & his team will be conducting this operation with us due to the severity of the situation.” Price sat down, & Laswell started her briefing. “So while we don’t know how the Duchess was able to be taken, we were able to pin her location. Seems like our terrorists didn’t do a good job at giving their location. They released a video with a list of their demands, & hefty ransom. It is disturbing I’ll admit. They’ve beaten this poor woman to hell & back already.” Laswell pressed a key on the laptop in front of her & the video started.

There sat the Duchess tied to a chair with smudged mascara & a black eye. She was trying her hardest to stay awake. The once beautiful pink gown she had on was covered in blood & dirt. Pure anger ran through Price’s veins seeing her in that state. Each of the terrorists had black balaclavas on & stood on either side of her.

“To the Royal Family & the United Kingdom, we are taking revenge. One by one each Royal family of each Western nation will start going missing if you do not fulfill our wishes. If you wan to see her again, let alone alive you will fulfill our wishes. The cost of her safe return is 500 million dollars. You have until midnight.” One of the Balaclava clad men demanded. He gripped her chin roughly & she protested at his grip. “You little cunt. You will respect me.” He lifted the hand that held a Glock in it & used the back of the gun to slap her across the face. A loud cracking noise happening & the video paused.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap said. “Who are we dealing with?”

“The usual suspects.” Laswell replied. “We pinned their location & we have to act accordingly because it’s very clear their intentions will result in more violence. They’ve taken her to a warehouse in Romania, & we have their governments full permission to go in. So let’s get going, we lift off at 20:00.” She closed the laptop & everyone got up from their respective seats. Everyone started to funnel out of the conference room & started down to the air strip.

There was a heaviness in the air, they knew the weight on their shoulders. Not just the weight of the United Kingdom was on their shoulders but the entire western world. Alejandro’s team already had their gear laid out ready for inspection & he walked off to make sure they had everything.

“Alrighty lads lay out your gear for inspection.” Price shouted. One by one he went through each of their gear & made sure it was ready for use. Thankfully no one was missing anything. Two Blackhawk helicopters sat on the air strip waiting to take them over the border into Romania. 20:00 came faster then they had anticipated & both teams boarded the helicopters.

The usually chatty Task Force 141 sat in silence. They looked around at each other solemnly, & praying that the Duchess would be still alive. Price couldn’t get the image of her being brutalized. The men were familiar with her philanthropic efforts, & they were infuriated someone would go out their way to hurt her. Y/N had spent time overseas in incredibly dangerous countries delivering medicine herself, & showcasing what children in those countries go through. She was a saint in the public eye & overall was a incredibly kind woman.

“We are over the border gentlemen & in Romania. Fifteen minutes away from target.” The pilot had stated. They were all filled with pure adrenaline by this point eager to get on the ground. “Target located gentlemen.” The pilot. “Gods speed.” The warehouse was below them, & the fast ropes dropped. One by one both teams dropped men. Alejandro’s team took the ground & Task Force 141 took the roof. These terrorists clearly weren’t smart enough to plant guards on the roof.

Ghost kicked in the door the lead to the stairs. He threw in a grenade & then started to use the light on his rifle to lead the team in. They walked past bodies of the men hit by the grenade & started all the way down to the loading docks of the warehouse. Price could tell the warehouse hadn’t been used in years. Rust & mold were all over the metal of the building. Once they made it to the bottom of the stairs, they were greeted with the gun fire. Both Ghost & Price easily eliminated those threats.

Price could hear Alejandro’s team outside, the sound of the gun fire echoed through the building. The lights were completely knocked out but they were able to eliminate any & all targets.

“Captain!” Ghost yelled over the radio alerting Price. “Found her.” He ran over to the room were Ghost was. There she was, Y/N Windsor the Duchess of Windsor. Her ballgown was completely destroyed & was covered in wounds. Some deeper than others. She was entirely unconscious, poor thing couldn’t respond to Ghost’s questions. Thankfully she still had a pulse but it was evident she was hanging by a thread. Price picked her up & she was limp. “Ghost we need to get back to the helicopter.” He said. Over the radio Ghost had alerted Alejandro they had located the Duchess. Price held her close to his body, & tried to apply pressure to the more intense wounds. On the helicopter she was able to open her eyes, & saw the Union Jack on Price’s plate carrier. Still in his arms, she weakly lifted her arm up & pointed to the flag.

“Please don’t let me die,” she mustered out.

“Don’t worry darling, I won’t.” He replied. She then passed out again afterwards.

Finally they were able to get on board the helicopter & out of Romania. Once they had landed base on the air strip on base a ambulance was waiting for them. Price & Laswell sat in the back of the ambulance as a liaison for the Royals. Once at the hospital the staff took her & brought her immediately into surgery. Still covered in the Duchesses blood & sweat Price sat there in the waiting room his leg shaking out of anxiety. Laswell rubbed his back gently in an attempt to comfort him.

Eight hours of surgery later, the surgeon exited the operating room with good news. The Duchess was going to make a full recovery. A wave of relief washed over him. The news outlets were updated almost instantly by Buckingham Palace Officials. Price went everyday to the hospital to visit her. Although she was asleep & he still spoke to her. She infiltrated every single thought he had every waking moment. Soap had teased him a little bit about it only to be met with a death stare.

About a week later, she awoke to the sound of a deep British accent talking to her. The same one that had been in her dreams. She awoke to bright lights & the beeping of the heart monitor. Her moved around violently as she tried to take in her surroundings.

“Love, you’re alright you’re in the hospital.” The voice said as a hand started to pet her hair. She looked over & saw a man with full beard. He looked a little bit older than her. His blue eyes were amplified by the florescent hospital lighting. There was just so comforting about his presence. Two nurses came in & started to check on her vitals. She was able to answer as many questions as they threw at her. The mysterious man with the blue eyes still stood beside her. Once the two nurses left she turned to him.

“Who are you?” She asked. Her voice was meek & was cracking.

“Captain John Price your highness.” He replied. “I had helped lead the effort with my team to rescue you.” A flood of memories came back. She remembered the pain, & the blood stained Union Jack flag on his chest.

“I’m a man of my word love,” He replied & grabbed her hand.

“What?” She replied clearly the fog of amnesia still had it’s effect on her.

“I didn’t let you die love.” He replied. “I kept my promise.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles delicately. She gave him a soft smile in return.

“Thank you Captain Price,” she replied. Little did either one of them knew that this rescue would lead to the Royal Wedding of the decade.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Stood Up | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:   Reader has the worst taste in men. Fortunately, Tom is there to pick up the pieces. He is such a good friend but what if he wants to move out of the friendzone and into something more?

Warnings: Fluff and Humor, Drinking, Bad Boyfriends, bad taste in men, Mutual Pining, Implied Smut, Blind Date

-

Tom was just getting ready to sit down for a late dinner when his phone buzzed against the table. His brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting any calls this late. Luke would just show up on the stoop and pound on the door until he answered. And besides, he had done nothing in the last few days to incur the trademark Windsor wrath.

He smiled when he saw your photo on his screen. That ridiculous photo he snapped of you at your birthday last year. He tapped the screen to take the call.

“Date going that well?” Tom retorted with a giggle.

“Can you come and get me?” you sobbed into the phone.

“What happened?” Tom stood to his feet, dinner forgotten as he slipped his shoes back on and grabbed his keys.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, of course, whatever. Where am I heading?” He was already halfway out the door.

“The usual spot.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Tom got there in eight minutes.

-

You paced outside the pub as Tom pulled up to the sidewalk. You walked around and slid into the front passenger seat before Tom could get out.

He noticed the mascara streaking down your cheeks. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“Just drive please, Tom. I will explain later.”

Tom shifted into drive and took off down the road. He drove in silence. At the first red light, he leaned away to fish a handkerchief out of his back pocket.

“Here.”

“Thank you.” You blew your nose and wiped away most of your now ruined makeup.

“Can I at least get his name?”

“Shawn.”

“Shawn.” Tom repeated, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Tom didn’t bother asking where to take you. He knew the answer. He always knew. Tom pulled the car into his driveway and switched off the engine. This time you let him open the door and help you out of the car.

Once inside, he set about making you a cup of tea. He placed the cup in front of you, steam trailing up towards the ceiling.

“So?” Tom questioned as he sipped from his own mug.

A solitary tear rolled down your cheek. Followed by another. And then soon a flood. “He stood me up.”

“I’ll kill the bastard.” Tom slammed his fist on the table.

You chuckled. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it. Tell me the rest.”

“I cried for thirty minutes at the bar before the bartender took pity on me.” You hiccuped before taking another sip of your tea. “He gave me free drinks for the rest of the night.”

Tom pulled you close and cradled you against his chest. “I am so sorry, darling. Would you like to crash here tonight?”

You nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Tom smiled and placed your empty cup next to his. “Your clothes are in the bureau in the spare bedroom and the bathroom is stocked.”

You rose and leaned over and kissed Tom’s cheek. His eyes squeezed closed. “You are too good to me, you realize that right?” you commented, a smile returned to your face.

Tom smiled back, his heart sinking. “I’m just being a good friend.”

“A best friend. See you in the morning?”

“Of course!” his smile remained tightlipped. “If I am not back from my run, make yourself at home.”

You hugged him once again before heading off to shower and sleep. Tom sat at the table for a while longer, head in hands and heart heavy.

-

You woke the next morning to a pounding headache and an empty stomach. Last night’s memories flooded back to you. You rolled over with a groan.

“Fuck….” you moaned as you sat up and stretched out. Your back cracked and your shoulders relaxed.

You stood and grabbed the spare robe you stashed in the closet and headed to the kitchen. The sound of music filtered through the house along with the smells of bacon and coffee.

Tom stood at the stove, his spoon acting as a microphone as he belted out a song.

“Bye, bye love...” His hips swayed to the guitar strum. “Bye, bye happiness.”

Tom continued to dance, and you leaned against the door frame, enjoying the show. Tom spun on his heel and stopped when he saw you. He dropped the spoon to his side.

“How long have you been standing there?” he questioned.

“Long enough to question whether you missed your calling as a singer.” you giggled as you made your way to the coffee, pouring a large mug.

“Hilarious. I hope you have an appetite.”

“Always.” You snagged a piece of bacon as Tom swatted at your hand.

“Sit.” He gestured to the table. “It will just be another moment.”

You went to snag more bacon, but Tom caught your hand this time.

“Fine.” you pouted.

Tom smiled as he spied you heading towards the table. This was his favorite time. The morning after. Just the two of you. How he wished it could always just be the two of you. Every morning and every night.

“Eat up.” Tom plopped the plate filled with a full English breakfast.

“The Hiddleston special.” You tucked in, and Tom did the same.

You thought as you chewed your food. You thought throughout the entire breakfast. Your furrowed bow did not go unnoticed by Tom.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked as he cleared the plates.

You contemplated whether or not to lie.

“Why do I always pick the wrong guy?”

Tom was grateful he was facing away from you when you blurted out your question because his face would have given his feelings away. He took a moment to compose himself before turning to face you.

“Oh come on, they all weren’t as bad as this last guy. What about that one bloke name started with a ‘c’? Connor?”

“Charles.” you grimaced.

Tom snapped. “Charles! He seemed all right.”

You slumped in your chair. “I never told you, did I?”

“Told me what?” Tom sat down.

“Remember how I took those three weeks off a few years ago?”

“You said something about needing to use up some vacation time.”

“Well I lied. I had an accident.”

Tom grabbed your hand. His thumb running along your knuckles. “An accident? Why didn’t you call? I could have—”

“You were in Vietnam, remember?” you smiled, placing your hand on top of his, stilling his nervous gesture.

“Right.” Tom lowered his head in guilt. He should have been here. For you. “What does this have to do with Charles? I thought he broke up with you.”

“Not exactly. When I called to tell him about the accident, on the way to hospital he stopped and had a pint with some of his mates.” A big tear fell from your eye.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Tom yelled at the top of his lungs. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“He was supposed to meet them. He stopped on the way to tell them he couldn’t stay.” you made excuses.

“AND DRANK A FUCKING PINT?!” Tom seethed. If he knew it wouldn’t break his hand, he would punch the wall right now.

“The important thing is…” you hissed. “… this just demonstrates I have rubbish taste in men.”

Tom’s demeanor softened as he recognized the hurt and pain in your voice. He pulled to his side, holding you tight. “All it takes is one good one.”

“Is that all? Is it that simple?” You gave a hollow laugh. Tom continued to hold you tight. The seconds ticked by and you found yourself not wanting to leave his side. You cleared your throat. “I should head back to my place.”

“Right!” Tom nervously wiped his hands on his jeans. “Can I take you to lunch this week? My treat.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule.” You turned to leave. Tom grabbed your wrist.

“Just so you know,” Tom’s eyes wide. “if you ever were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for a beer.” You nodded and attempted to leave, but Tom held his grip tight. “I wouldn’t stop for red lights.”

“Good to know.” you gulped.

-

Benedict stopped by later that day at Tom’s request.

“I can see by your face you still haven’t told her your true feelings.” Ben pulled a beer from the fridge.

“How can I now, Ben? We have been friends for over four years! If that is not being friend zoned, I’m not sure what is.”

Ben grabbed a second beer from the fridge and handed it to Tom, who gladly accepted it.

“True, but how many of your female friends call you when their date goes wrong?” Tom opened his mouth to respond, but Benedict held up a hand to cut him off. “Or keeps clothes in the bureau in your spare room? Or cancels a vacation to see your opening night performance?”

“She told me the resort closed because of a fire?!”

“She told Sophie the truth. Who told me. Soph swore me to secrecy.”

“You rat.”

“My point is… “ Ben gave Tom a knowing glance. “… this is not normal friend behavior.”

“I guess you’re right.” Tom conceded.

“I am right. Plus Sophie may or may not have mentioned that she compares all her dates to you.”

“I thought the two of you were my friends!” Tom scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve known you longer.”

“But I like her better. And so does Soph. She doesn’t eat all our food or get dog hair on the couch.”

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Ben fished it out of his pocket and held it close to his chest.

“I’m going to fling it across the room.” Tom lunged, but Ben jerked backwards. “I’m kidding, I need to call and talk to your wife.”

“To plot my murder?” Ben handed over the phone.

“As tempting as that is, no. I need her to set me up on a date.”

It was only then the look of horror left Benedict’s face.

-

You chatted with Sophie as you walked to the pub.

“Are you sure I will like this William guy?”

“I’m positive, dear.” Sophie assured you over the phone. “He is just your type.”

“That is what you said about Shawn and Eric and—”

“Okay, so my matchmaking skills have been crap but this guy is different.”

“How? How is this guy different from every other loser you set me up with?”

“Well for one, you have already met this loser.” Sophie snapped back.

“When?”

“Years ago. At a party at our house. I remember the two of you getting into quite a heated conversation.”

Your brows knitted as you tried to place this conversation. The only person who you have those kinds of conversations with is Tom. But again, when you drink you can get quite passionate.

“I will have to take your word for it. How will I recognize this guy?”

“He’ll recognize you.”

“Not stalkerish at all. After this relationship fails, I’m swearing off men.”

“Deal. But you won’t have to, because this guy is a keeper.”

“I highly doubt that, unless you are setting me up Tom which is ridiculous.”

“Completely.” Sophie scoffed. “I don’t even think he is in town right now.”

“Oh.” your voice dropped. Tom always confided in you about his travels. “He didn’t mention anything.”

“It was a last-minute trip.”

“Okay, I’m here, Soph. Wish me luck.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.”

-

You tapped your foot anxiously against the barstool. William was twenty minutes late. You sighed as the reality that you were being stood up again sunk in.

“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?” a familiar voice asked from behind you.

“Tom!” you exclaimed, jumping to your feet and pulling him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you!” Tom wrapped his arms around and inhaled the scent of your shampoo and perfume. His stomach fluttered with butterflies.

“Soph said you were out of town.”

“I got back in early.” he lied. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting stood up. Again.” you grumbled.

Tom slid into the seat next to you. “I wouldn’t worry I’m sure William will turn up eventually.” Tom lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention.

Your head snapped around to glare at him. “I never mentioned his name to you. In fact, I never mentioned this date to you.”

“Are you sure?” Tom questioned. He lifted his pint glass to his lips to hide a smile.

“I’m positive. In fact, you have been avoiding my calls all week.”

“I had things I needed to do.” Tom turned to face you.

“Such as?”

“Getting ready for a big date for one.”

Your heart dropped to your shoes. It had been at least a year since Tom had been involved with anyone. You always secretly hoped you and Tom would end up together. But with each passing year, that seemed less and less likely.

“Oh, how did you go?”

“Not sure yet. How is it going?”

“How would I know?” You stared at Tom, who raised an eyebrow. “Oh, oh, OH! What are you saying Thomas William… oh!”

Tom downed the rest of his pint before trusting himself to speak again.

“I’m saying all it takes is one good guy. And a good guy wouldn’t stop for red lights if you were in an accident. Let me be your one good guy. Let it be me.” Tom spat the words out at a rapid pace. He took a deep breath as the last words left his lips.

“But we’re friends.” you countered.

“Good friends. Best friends.” Tom said. “But I want more.”

“Why did you never tell me before?”

“Fear. Stupidity. Take your pick.”

“Why now?”

“Fear. Stupidity.” Tom smiled. “Take your pick. The fact is it is you I want you to wake up next to me for the rest of my life. I want you to be my morning, noon, and night. And the first call when you are in the hospital. That is, if you will have me.” Tom reached out and placed his hand on top of yours.

You necked your drink and placed the glass on the wooden bar top before looking at Tom. He stared at you as if you held his life in your hands. In many ways you did.

You took a deep breath and exhaled. “I would like that too.”

Tom smiled and rose to his feet and leaned down to kiss you. You leaned back and wrapped your arms around his neck, teasing your fingers through his hair. Tom deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

A small moan escaped your lips and some patrons in the bar wolf whistled and someone yelled “get a room”.

Tom and you parted. Tom’s chest heaved. “An excellent suggestion. My place?”

“On the first date? What kind of girl do you take me for, Mr. Hiddleston?” You pushed Tom away in a playful manner.

Tom snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you tight to his side. His lips curved into a devilish smile as they ghost against your ears. “My girl. You are mine.”

His voice sent a jolt of electricity through you as he led you to the exit.

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Chapter 19

Ya’ll. Google and Pintrist have failed me. This is only kind of sorta how I envisioned this. If you simply take these images as the base and then use them to build with the descriptions I’ve tried giving, you *should* get the right picture in your head because how it looks in my head is more than I can describe. I could give you fifty thousand words to describe the Kamoba. What the arena should look like, how big and how expansive it is, like a really big obstacle course but more intricate than that, what the obsticles themselves should be like what the beacons would look like. What the rulebook itself looks like let alone what is actually written in it, down to what the weapons look like, what the fighting style looks like. What the armor should look like and act like and what the circle of bells looks like and how they sound and how drastically it changes from the day battles to the night battles because day is all about showing off your skills and showing off your moves whereas with the night battle, the fighters almost become invisible because it’s dark and you use more ninja tactics and surprise tactics and how the only time you really see the fighters is when they are actually fighting for brief moments and their flaming swords illuminate not just them, but each other and how it’s overwhelming to the point of you don’t know where to look because everything is going on all at once and how the music makes you want to go to war yourself and battle like a warrior and the roar of the crowd cheering would be deafening at points. Also, Hit The Floor by Linkin Park, that’s the final song but that’s what the music itself sounds like. 

And this is what sucks about having an overactive imagination. Because these scenes played out like an IMAX movie in my head and I’m just trying so hard to describe it to you because I can’t SHOW YOU on a movie screen because I don’t have a way to hook up my imagination to it. I wish but sadly, no. You just have to read it and try to imagine it yourself. And that’s frustrating, at least for me. But at the same time I don’t want those details to clutter the story or clog up the story line. 

THE STRUGGLE. Anyway. This is going to be a big bite and a lot to chew on. Enjoy. 

@punkhorse96​ buckle up, here’s the hill. It’s downhill from here. 

Blood For Gold 

Chapter 19

You happily got Heavencrest saddled as your grandmother borrowed Grevu for today while your mother borrowed Charlico as you were both in the stalls getting them harnessed while Axal was getting ready to ride one of Ramsey’s other griffins while your other brothers got on their own griffins down the line as the boys all seemed to leave at about the same time everyone else did while Jane stayed with Charlotte, Yalin and Gregori who were not participating but hosting this event. 

Commoners were already gathered for the Kamoba battle in the stands for the commoners who were arriving early to get the best seats on them, the vendors had been there since dawn and already had things cooking and grilling away as a series of tents were already up to serve a breakfast, lunch and dinner feasts for the commoners and the royal family’s suite was built onto a high platform above everyone else as a canopy and tent on top of the high platform, viewing right across the battle arena so that they got the best views and very comfortable chairs were already set up as a huge chalkboard was already set up between the commoners and the gentry but also at such an angle so that royalty could easily see it to showcase who would be fighting who to get to the playoffs with the rookies competing first as all the competitors would be flying in and showing off their flying skills to the crowd to also to show off their skill, prowess, strength and stamina.  

Benny was already out there, doing little flips and corkscrews on her borrowed griffin that had a banner in golden yellow with her name as Golden Alpha written on it along with the symbol of a wolf’s head painted in black as she had used the black griffin’s feathers that had been collected when she had groomed it that morning along with the other feathers that had been taken over the course of the last few weeks ever since the Kamoba battle was first planned so that each contestant on a griffin would have a bouquet of feathers from their griffins to pass out to the crowds, the better feathers for the gentry, and the lesser, imperfect, broken feathers for the commonwealth to gain the crowd’s favor as the musicians were playing the crowd’s familiar favorites before the actual battle would begin and they would play the traditional Kamoba battle music. 

After breakfast, then the gentry seemed to show up in force and in style since the announcement was in the papers and the gossip columns in every news paper in London who had been rife with speculation as to why The Turqoise Pheonix had been renamed The Violet Viper as dozens of theories had been supplied and fabricated, also speculations as to why The Violet Viper was now the chosen favorite to win the battle today since their odds to win had gone up since the betting rings were now going for the bet that for every pound they bet on them, they would get two pounds back minus the betting ring’s fee, which was the same odds that The Saharan Viper had along with The Copper Cobra were as well. Whereas Benny’s odds had actually gone down, so that for every pound bet on her- if she won, they would get five pounds back instead of the usual four since the The Turquoise Phoenix's odds had been the same- one in four. 

The gentry began taking their seats in the stands that were especially built and roped off for them and painted white as the gentry’s servants came and put down luxurious cushions for the gentry to sit on as well as comfortable cushions to go on the backs of the benches while a huge canopy had been set up to keep the sun off of most of the gentry but would not interfere with their views, while they had their own raised platform that was open to the sun and thus, open to the griffins to pass by as another servant from the Palace of Windsor came and told everyone still in the stables that the gentry had arrived and that it was officially show time just as you finished getting Heavencrest ready as your mother had finished first and left the stables with Charlico who was chittering at Heavencrest to follow him before Demsey appeared since you were the last one to get ready, leaving you and Heavencrest alone in the griffin part of the barn but Heavencrest noticed Demsey first and started chittering softly at you to get your attention as you looked up and smiled wide when you saw him. 

“Demsey, could you help me with this cinch?” You asked him before he readily opened the door to the stall and ducked into the stall with you, petting Heavencest as he went around her as you readily undid it just so that he could redo it himself which caused him to grin as he happily redid it, becoming more and more accustomed to the giffin’s saddling. 

“Nervous?” He asked you as you could tell he was actually quite nervous himself before you used Heavencrest’s body as your shield before you grabbed his face and pulled him down as you stood on tiptoe to kiss him, granted it was closed mouth and rather on the chaste side but to feel his arms finally encircle you felt better than any trophy ever could.  

“No. It doesn’t matter who wins or loses today. All that does matter is that you do your best. No one can ever ask more from you than that, not even me or the King of England for that matter. Trust your instincts, trust your intuition and trust that win or lose, that my affections for you does not rest on such a thing as a silly battle and your outcome in it, it’s the first time you’re competing, I’m not expecting you to win the whole thing or even your class. All I want is for you to have fun, be a good sport about it and learn all you can, that is all.” You reassured him as you held his face in your hands and looked up so adoringly into his big beautiful purple eyes as he did the same. 

“Likewise.” Was all he could say just as he dipped his head to kiss you again, this time deeper, but you were too excited and happy about the kiss to realize how familiar it was as he held you close and securely as you felt all his own tension leave him before you heard Charlico practically scream as Heavencrest called back to him as she began to pace in place, anxious to get going and join Charlico. 

“Oh my gods it’s like he has anxiety from separation from her.” You complained once you broke for air. 

“I’ll see you out there Demsey Dear.” You cooed to him before you readily jumped onto Heavencrest’s back and into the saddle before giving Demsey one last tantalizing kiss before Heavencrest practically bolted out the barn and flew out into the skies with Charlico. 

Demsey sighed dreamily as he watched you go and practically strut back to the other side of the barn and happily got onto Alaphonse again before he left with the rest of his family and once in the skies, he could see you and your mother doing synchronized flips and stunts for the crowd as you both practiced flying by the crowds so close, you could hand the feathers off to the little kids that had come as their parents held them up from the stands as your battle names were written on different banners on the animals you were riding before the entire Royal Family including Yalin’s sister the Infanta Evinelle DeuSavance and her husband Charles also arrived in style as they waived to the crowds and took their seats in the Royal Suite that had been set up for them.  

That was when your grandmother came out riding Grevu as Grevu roared proudly before taking to the skies and seeing the dragon got everyone to cheer loudly as your grandmother flew him around the grounds, the other flyers, flying behind him, with you immediately to his left while your mother flew Charlico directly on his right as Loreiris was showing Grevu off and scattering preshed dragon scales into the crowds like flower petals or even coins as everyone scrambled to try to get one, which Grevu was happy to do, especially to stretch his wings out before she had him breathe fire to light the bowls filled with special fire oil within the arena as the sheer winds coming off his wings were almost strong enough to topple the people in the stands as the tents themselves billowed and groaned from the force of the winds as quite a few bonnets and top hats came flying off the ladies and gentlemen as their servants scrambled to pick them up again.

Then the announcer for the event with a voice amplifier encouraged each competitor to land, starting from the youngest of The Rookies Class, which was Callie Voyambi who was fighting under the name Little Spitfire which was your old childhood Kamoba battle name when you were a kid which you happily passed off to her, as you let her use your old banner as her own, it’s dark teal color with an orange flame, outlined in black as she landed her borrowed pegasus’ Eterna and came off and waived to the crowds, especially to her friends in the gentry as she then went over to where the circle that housed a myriad of bells were before she picked her favorite and chimed it with a special knocker tied to her fist before she sat down in a chair under the competitor’s tent next to the arena. Then Kiera came down and repeated the process followed by Amara, Tzane, Sierge and then finally Demsey, each of the Voyambi’s ringing a single note of their choosing. 

Then it was The Skillful Class’ turn where most of your family took their turns landing in the grass as the animals laid down regally on the other side of the battle field as their riders were waving to the crowd as they walked in front of the battle arena before they attached pieces of iron to their feet and ankles before they rang out their own “tune” that was unique to the fighter, each battle fought in- carried a longer tune and with each battle won- carried the bigger tunes as each one had their own little dance they did to ring out the various tunes in all the notes.  

Then it was your turn as you landed, being the first in The Proficient Class, and therefore the lowest of The Proficient Class since The Proficient Class was you, your parents and your grandmother, your heir father and his wife and his mother as you rang out your own tune from heart as you hit multiple bells to create a unique melody, the dance to ring them just as unique as all the others had been but it was still a third longer than Benny’s since she was the top competitor for the The Skillful Class and if she won her class, she would graduate the class and cement her place in The Proficient Class, either above you or below you depending on whether she beat you or not at the night games where it was played one on one since the day games usually kept to teams. 

After your turn on the bells, then it was your heir father and his wife and his mother also did the same since they were in The Proficient Class, then it was your parent’s turn before, at last, it was your grandmother’s Loreiris’ turn as she landed Grevu in the grass and practically strut in front of the crowd that went wild for her before she took the weights from your mother and put them on her wrists, fists, ankles and feet and spent the next five minutes ringing out the longest melodic chain of bell ringings, it was twice as long as your own mother’s who was the next one down from her and once she was done the crowd once again went wild.

Once she was done, then there was a flurry of calls for bets as even the royal family quietly whispered their own bets to their attendants before the announcer announced what was riding in the pot between the competitors before the Raymond’s showed off the Cup that had been made and delivered just that morning along with their own little treasure, a diamond necklace, as the Infanta’s put in a diamond tiara before the royal family put in their treasure, a whole bar of moura gold, which had to be carefully set into the trophy first so that it wouldn’t crush the other items that had all of the treasures taken from the pot that had been collected the day before, all of it’s treasures were put into the trophy as the trophy was now so heavy, it had to be carried by three men and placed before the King in the the Royal Suite with the diamond Tiara placed on top, kept there by your dagger Zairrabanit holding it down so that it wouldn’t fly away from the wind coming off of all the flying creatures that would be soon, taking to the skies as the winners of each round would fly their chosen animals around the skies after each victory.  

The way it was laid out, The Rookies, which were basically the whole Voyambi family, were split into two teams, Demsey, Amara and Callie on one, Sierge, Tzane and Kiera on the other. 

The two teams got into position and then the gong was struck to signify the beginning of the battle since the gong was next to the circle of bells. 

To everyone’s surprise, it was little Callie that struck first, striking Tzane down with a swipe of her legs to topple him over and then taking him out with two hits, one with the sword to his neck and the other from a dagger to his leg as she readily used her smaller size to get to the first beacon and readily touched her dagger’s blade to the fire of burning oil to then stab at the first beacon before it exploded in light and colored smoke as Amara then helped catapult her to the second to try to get that one too but Kiera was guarding the second and with three hits, using her larger size and power to knock Callie to the floor and pinned her neck down with her blade to the floor. 

“Good try though.” Kiera offered as Callie laughed and got up and got off the battle stage with Tzane before it was Amara used Kiera pinning Callie down to hit the second beacon where Kiera and made a run for the third while Demsey defended the beacons on his own side against Sierge. 

“So, what did your moura bride offer you if you win today?” Sierge offered as he fought with Demsey near the first beacon. 

“Nothing,” Demsey beamed happily as he did his best to keep the beacon safe. 

“Mine offered me that if I win The Rookie Class, that she would marry me, so I need you to lose with style.” Sierge revealed. 

“Aw, too bad that’s against the rules and against the code of honor. But that’s funny that you mentioned that, mine didn’t hold me to any such thing, all she asked for was my best and that she loves me win or lose, it’s a shame that Benny’s love for you hinges on such a battle like this. If she did really love you, she wouldn’t put such a condition on her love for you.” Demsey pointed out as he couldn’t stop smiling as Sierge and himself battled with the broad swords and the shields since those weapons were the ones they were most comfortable with.  

‘You loved him’ was the only thought that stayed in Demsey’s head because. that was all that mattered to him as Sierge kicked Demsey in the chest as he passed his blade through the fire before striking the first beacon and then sending the same blade to the second beacon before Demsey went to the third to defend that from Sierge as Amara and Kiera fought for the third beacon on their side as well.  

“This has to be the most grand thing we’ve ever done together.” Amara cackled as she and Kiera faced off against each other. 

“And we didn’t even have to get into a corset!” Kiera giggled before Amara spun around, the edge of her warhammer getting alight from the oil in the pan that was alight with fire before she smashed the third beacon, winning the round before a gong was rung to signify the end of the battle as Demsey and Sierge stopped fighting. 

“Damn it.” Sierge cursed as Demsey and Amara both won the rookie class and their team got to add a note to their chimes but since Callie had been struck down, she was not allowed to compete in the next stage as Demsey and Amara moved up in the competition, taking their borrowed pegasus’ for a ride around the grounds to waive their banners along with their added family crests as the first set of bets was paid out among the royalty, gentry and common folk alike before new bets were placed as Benny volunteered to fight in the next round against them, which went against traditional protocol since it was usually the lowest of the The Skillful class that would compete against the rookie class winners, but there was a rule, saying that anyone could challenge anyone else in the same class and since Amara and Demsey had moved up from the Rookie Class to the Skillful Class for the day battle- it was allowed- as Benny urged Octavia to join her as she insisted she wanted Demsey to herself which Octavia readily agreed to as Demsey and Amara landed before going back into the arena where Benny and Octavia were already waiting for them before they got into position and waited for the gong to ring again before they were jolted into action.  

“I should thank you for getting Sierge out of the competition so I wouldn’t have to fight him myself.” Benny offered smugly as Calla’s warning the night before was called to Demsey’s mind before she tried to undermine his footing by swiping at his legs but he easily jumped over her own leg and leapt onto the higher ground. 

“I knew you didn’t genuinely care for him if you put such an impossible task before him.” Demsey returned as he used his better vantage point to try to get in a strike of his own but she easily evaded him. 

“Of course not, I’ve been working him the same way Audra has been working you, it’s a moura bride thing, we can’t help it, it’s what we have been trained since infancy to do, work men and bend them to our wills and not the other way around.” Benny giggled evilly as she tried to get at the beacon but Demsey shoved her off before she could. 

“She in fact, hasn’t been working me, as you claim, unlike you, she’s actually been genuine, whereas you have had a pretense the moment you left home.” Demsey challenged as he defended the beacon from her as Amara was having the worst time just trying to get a hit in as Octavia evaded every advance and counter striked in such a way that Amara was soon on the defensive instead of the offensive as Octavia was quite advanced for being in The Skillful Class and it was immediately clear that Amara was in way over her head trying to fight off against Octavia who was much stronger and much more skilled than she looked.  

“Oh really? What did you think she was doing all those nights at The Red Velvet Rope meeting with another orc of all things? She was so broken hearted by the shakan status because she couldn’t come home to Leumeni who was equally heartbroken because it was him that was her favorite because he could please her best sexually back at the stables at The Lotus House, which is our version of a whorehouse and Leumeni was absolutely certain that the moment she was free of Edward, she would come home to be his wife, he even waited all that time just so she could come home to him, he even had his own pet name for her, His Liittle Firecracker, and her little nickname for him was her ‘Teal Titan’ that’s why he fights under that name, she’s the one that gave him that name because having sex with him was equal to having sex with the god like titans themselves. The only reason teal turquoise is her favorite color is because it’s the same color of his skin and the color always reminds her of him and that’s how she keeps all her memories of him close to her heart and in her mind. He’s been writing her almost daily ever since, and when not a single letter of his returned, he was devastated. But it was clear that she’s been looking for a replacement ever since, it was only your strict English society that kept them apart at the Ball at Havenfield because he saw her again and was ready to haul her off and bury himself to the hilt in her yet again but couldn’t. Even at the Masquerade Ball she was fucking her own manwhore only moments before being with you at the bar. Your brother Sierge’s sense of smell confirmed it, in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s already pregnant by either Leumeni or her own manwhore. How does it feel knowing you’re always going to be second best in her heart?” Benny smugly chided as Demsey faltered so she could claim the first beacon before he ran to the second but she easily threw her flaming dagger at the second just as he got to it and it nearly took his head off before he scrambled to the third. 

“Just ask her or even ask your brother cause I’ve already told him all about it in exchange to learn that you yourself have been using whorehouses to find your own Audra? Miss Audra Draft was it? I heard from the gambling ring leaders that she put a bet of a hundred pounds on you to win the rookie class. I’ll bet you another hundred pounds that she is gonna take the money and run, you poor thing, still chasing a dream that doesn’t exist, because Audra’s love and loyalty lies with Leumeni, not you. Why do you think they’ve been making eyes at each other this whole time? Even now, she was only giving Ramsey the time of day until he could give her Dowager status, and then she’s coming home to Leumeni, no one else. It’s just a shame that your sister Kiera seems so taken with him. It’s gonna sting like a motherfucker when he leaves Kiera for Audra, she’s always been his wild thing, His Little Firecracker. Like a unicorn- untamed, unbridled, wild and intense. They have always had the best sex and off the charts chemistry and are quite the pair.” Benny instigated as Demsey looked over to see you talking with Leumeni as both of you looked particularly anxious and standing quite close, talking quietly between each other to see Benny really going after Demsey before she struck him in the balls before getting the kill strikes in his throat and on the kidneys before passing her blade through the fire and exploding the third beacon as Demsey fell to the ground sputtering and choking and nearly crying from the impacts as Amara happily got up from having Octavia pin her down as Octavia and Benny started cheering their victory before getting on their steeds and flying around, their banners flapping in the breeze. 

“You ok?” Amara asked Demsey as she helped him up and helped him off the stage. 

“Yeah, just, Benny is vicious.” He muttered as he stared at her reproachfully as she smugly blew him a kiss from atop her griffin as she flew it around, hooting and hollering her victory as the crowd chanted ‘Gold Alpha’. 

“Well Calla told me she loves to start shit and that she will take something small that is true and spin it into a lie, because something that is even ten percent true is a hundred percent misleading, so whatever she did say to you, I wouldn’t believe a word of it. She probably made the most atrocious allegations against Audra didn’t she? Because she knows that’s your weak spot. Octavia did the same thing with me and Storren.” Amara tried to reassure her brother as they walked off the stage and towards the buckets of water to clean off the paint marks from their white leather armor. 

“Are you ok?” You asked Demsey worriedly. 

“Yeah, just, was not expecting Benny to be as vicious or spiteful as she was.” Demsey reported. 

“Please don’t believe a word she said, she will take nothing and make it into something and blow it out of proportion to throw her components off. That’s why my tactic with her is to attack without letting her talk at all.” You reassured Demsey as Leumeni took his sister aside and asked how she was able to beat Demsey so quickly but with the low blows before she answered him and smiled smugly when his eyes grew wide and he stared at her in outraged horror before seething something to her just to see her cackle and laugh in his face before he stomped off. 

“Oh no.” Calla breathed when she saw it before she pulled you aside as Demsey was still washing the paint off of his armor as he noticed there seemed to be gold glitter in the yellow paint that seemed to smear and get everywhere as he had the hardest time getting clean again. 

“I think Benny told Demsey about you and Leumeni back in the stables to throw him off.” Calla breathed to you before you winced and grimaced and looked to Leumeni and used marinai’s sign language to ask before he nodded as you gave each other a meaningful look. 

‘Please, knock her down a peg, the past is the past, let it stay there.’ Leumeni signed to you before you nodded your agreement as Demsey watched on a little suspiciously at the interchange between Leumeni and yourself you stretched and got ready as the others began to enter and fight in the arena, the gong ringing out to start the battle before shortly after gonging again to signify a victory before it was Axal and Ramsey’s turn to square off in the arena against your heir father’s kids as you were no surprised to see Axal fight alongside Ramsey as the two of them together used the all out attack method and stormed the opponent's side and your half siblings didn’t stand a chance. It was quite epic to see, they made quite the pair. Ramsey used his greater experience whereas Axal used his youth and vigor and together they were almost an unstoppable force as others fought on in teams, but with the odd number of players in The Skillful class, with Calla being the odd one out, you volunteered to go down a class to fight along side Calla who faced off against Leumeni and her brother Storren. 

“I get Leumeni.” You urged Calla who nodded in agreement before the gong was struck.  

“So what did your sister say to Demsey?” You asked as you ran towards the first marker that Leumeni was defending. 

“She told him about us, but that the moment you get Dowager status, that you’re going home to stables with me.” Leumeni answered. 

“Is that what you want?” You asked him. 

“No. Two years ago- yes, but after the first six months of you not replying to my letters and because you followed the rules of not letting your heart get entangled and I didn’t, I thought it was my own fault. And then when you got the shakan status, I tried writing to you telling you that it didn’t matter to me what status you had, that I would take you no matter what but when that letter failed to get a response, I thought you had sworn off of Dorierra all together, that’s why I jumped at the chance to leave, to come here and a chance to see you again and I pushed Calla to accept so I could get an explanation as to why you were rejecting me only to find out that the mail service here failed you completely. And that you were completely unaware of any of it. But then I met Kiara and she’s everything I’ve ever wanted and now I’m hoping those letters never see the light of day so I don’t make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.” Leumeni confessed as you dipped and dodged his attacks with ease and offered good counter attacks despite his larger size and considerable strength. 

“I get it, I’m your past, she’s your future. And I’m happy that you’re happy and I hope you’re happy with each other and she’s probably all the wild things you loved about me and just begging to have all the wild released. But I’ve become too tame and restrained for you eh?” You asked with a fond grin as you leaped up and wrapped your legs around his neck and twisted yourself around to get him to topple over, striking the first beacon on the way down before you practically bounced off of him and towards the second beacon. 

“In so many words, yes.” Leumeni grinned happily, relieved that you were taking this so well and were in agreement and happy for him instead of being hurt by the news. 

“Well, while I still want to be your friend, I have never really wanted more than that from you. And I think if the letters do come up, I’ll be sure to just excuse it as us being close friends and nothing more and burn them if you want me to without reading them to spare you any embarrassment.” You reassured him. 

“Thank you.” Leumeni thanked you before he picked you up and tossed you up and back as you used your grappling hooks to grab onto the beam above you before you could smack against a wall as you used the rope of it to run along the walls as you used your momentum from Leumeni throwing you to tie the rope around your arm to anchor yourself to it before you tied the rope around your waist so that it swung around in a circle, back to Leumeni who was gearing up for your arrival as you watched as Calla was already defending the second beacon on your side before you used your momentum on the rope to attach a weight to the bottom of it and threw it around Storren’s arm and wrist as the little weight acted like a snake like vine, wrapping snugly around his wrist and forearm just as he was about to hit the beacon and once it was wrapped around his wrist, you used your own momentum with the rope around your waist and the swinging motion back into Leumeni’s direction to yank him backwards as you were surprised when you barely felt the squeeze of it around your waist to pull him backwards, yanking him off the ground as Calla used Storren being yanked off of her to plant her feet onto Storren’s chest to kick him in that direction since he had her pinned down before you crashed Storren into Leumeni as Calla lit an arrow and sent it into the second beacon now that the two of them were out of the way as you readily untangled yourself from the rope of your grabling hook as you climbed up it as you flipped and swung along the rafters criss crossing the ceiling of the battle ground, using the beams on the ceiling to get you to the third beacon as Storren and Leumeni scrambled to beat you to it, running through the obstacle course to get to the third beacon as Calla lit an arrow and aimed it at the third beacon but with you leaping from the ceiling and onto Leumeni and Storren as they both tried to grab you and pin you down, but like a cat you slipped out of their grasps and instead balled yourself up and put your feet to Leumeni’s chest. 

“I got your back, metaphorically speaking that is.” You assured him before like a spring- you sprung him off of you and sent him flying backwards to crash into one of the obstacle elements as the whole crowd was amazed as you used your own strength to do that as you grabbed Storren who kept trying to grab you to throw you off of him as he tried to simply pin you down to a side as he used his body to try to pin you against the other sides of the obstacles around you as you seemed to crawl all over him, using his larger body as your own personal jungle gym as you seemed to slip and slither out of his grasps like a proper snake as Calla let the arrow loose as you heard it coming as you leaned back to let the arrow come between you and Storren as it seemed time slowed down for you to do so as you watched it pass between you as Storren only, half a beat later seemed to only catch the fletching of the arrow with his line of sight just as it seemed to leave his field of vision as you used this moment to swing yourself around him so that he fell, face first into the floor of the arena just as the target began to explode in colored smoke before time came back to full speed as you sat on the back of Storren’s shoulders as the impact knocked Storren out as you and Calla then practically bounced up and ran into each other’s embrace as the gong rang out just as Leumeni seemed to get the air back into his lungs as he rolled over and coughed as his body curled in on itself before you and Calla came over and helped him up to his feet and congratulated him on a good game before the three of you went back over to Storren to try to wake him up before Calla’s other brother as well as Benny’s and the Voyambi’s came over and picked him up and carried him out of there and laid him on a cot to wake up again before you and Calla rode griffins around the  grounds, doing another synchronized set of flips and twists and jumps and corkscrews to do it which was a feat in itself before you landed again and added your chimes to your tunes before you returned to the competitor tent. 

“You put him down hard, like a proper viper.” Your grandmother Loreiris praised you as you came over to where your family was hanging out. 

“Thanks.” You smiled as you took a deep pull from your glass of water before you took two more figs from the bowl of fruit and bit into them. 

“Gosh I wish these were ripe-er.” You complained about the state of the figs but that didn’t seem to deter you from practically inhaling them. 

“These English common figs are nothing to the ones in Dorierra, at least in Dorierra we have dozens of varieties to choose from.” Your grandmother turned her nose up at them. 

“No, but they are better than no figs at all, otherwise I would be spooning fig jam onto anything even remotely bread-like or even eating spoonfuls of it out of the jar.” You confessed. 

“Do you hunger for them that much?” Your grandmother asked you curiously. 

“I do. I couldn’t tell you why to save my life but I normally don’t overly like figs in general but ever since Grevu cured me, I’ve hungered for them like crazy and I can’t get enough. But Dr. Chu did say I would have cravings so, at least it’s this and not something impossible for me to get a hold of like guava or something.” You shrugged as you finished it off and got another long pull of water. 

“Maybe there is something in them that the mourkatili drained from your system and that figs have to resupply it.” Your grandmother reasoned. 

“Probably,” you nodded before you bit into the second one after promptly finishing the first. 

“So how dirty is Benny playing?” Your grandmother asked. 

“Very, she brought up The Lotus House with Leu and I back in the day with Demsey to defeat him, I want to put her into the dirt harder than I did Storren,” you confessed as Loreiris’ eyebrows raised in surprised as she hummed her acknowledgement of that. 

“Don’t let vengeance cloud your judgement, you have a few battles yet before you can face off against her. Focus on the battle at hand, then win the war with her and remind her that your venom is more lethal than the steel of her battle axes, much less her bark or her bite.” She advised as you nodded your agreement as you watched as Benny kept playing to the crowd and to the royal family even when she wasn’t in the battle arena competing as your grandmother kept an eye on all those who entered the arena and the way they were all fighting, gleaning their styles and leanings as they fought as she mentally fought each one in her head as you looked over to where Sierge was sitting and outright pouting since Benny was ignoring him in favor of the other nobility in the crowd, in particular Viscount Whiteale gentlemen, Kate’s brothers as she had them eating out of her hands practically as Leumeni was still coaching Kiera through the night battles and how to actually win those by doing more stealth tactics and using the shadows the other components of the obstacle course allowed as Amara stayed with Storren as he slowly woke up from being knocked out. 

“Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?” Amara asked. 

“Four?” He answered as Amara stared worriedly at the two fingers she was holding up before the doctor on standby gave him medicine for his concussion and left him to sleep it off before it was your mother and father’s turn to play against your heir father and his wife in the battlefield as almost everyone was on the edge of their seats as your grandmother Loreiris and your heir father’s mother, Anavia were the team to beat since they were technically the two most senior members and a team of their own as they both watched their children with pride while silently critiquing their performances and techniques before it ended in a draw, with both teams hitting their third beacon at the same time. 

“Play offs it is.” Your grandmother Loreiris noted to Anavia who grinned in turn before they came to the court, siding with their children as Loreiris, your mother and father took a moment to regroup and formulate a plan as did your hier father and when the moment the gong rang out, it was your mother and father that went out to the first beacon as your grandmother stood guard over the first beacon on their side as you watched on proudly as your parents easily outmaneuvered and outmatched your hier father and his wife as your grandmother Loreiris defended the first beacon from your other grandmother Anavia and with that, the morning Kamoba battle was done and over before the break for lunch was announced as the commonwealth were more than ready and willing to pay the multitude of food vendors for what they had to offer as they took refuge under the food tent from the heat that was starting to build before the Royal Family asked for a private audience with all competitors and their families. 

“I would like to congratulate everyone on a job well done and their victories and for those that saw defeat this morning, there is always the night battle where you can find redemption.” King Leopold offered. 

“However I would like to have a word with all of you as well.” The Queen Dowager began. 

“Please, Queen Mother, by all means.” King Leopold insisted. 

“Now I understand that Sultana Audravienne, you have survived an assassination attempt and were healed by your brother’s dragon Grevu was it?” She asked. 

“I have, thus my current hair color.” You confirmed. 

“Now I understand all of you are aware of who the guilty party is, however for the sake of decorum and to keep the nosey little busy bodies who are undoubtedly trying to hear this conversation through the door so they can then write about this affair in those horrid gossip columns that have had every newspaper selling out just from the speculation for the Kamoba battle. I will request, that all of you take a vow a silence on the matter until it can be settled properly. There are dozens of gossip column newspapers whose very writers are in cognito as members of the gentry in London and they do love a good scandal but I do not want anyone’s reputation to be damaged beyond repair before the matter can be settled. In order to keep things as peaceful as they can be for a Kamoba battle, you will all notice that the guilty parties are not in attendance, for they have been barred from attending and I’m sure anyone with half a wit will be able to come to certain conclusions. However I wish for today’s focus to be solely on the Kamoba battle and if anyone asks, I insist on everyone simply saying that ‘you are not at liberty to say’ and that is all the talk of the matter that will be indulged in and if I hear otherwise from anyone, the guilty parties will be answering to me. Is that clearly understood?” Dowager Queen Anastasia firmly insisted as King Leopold nodded his agreement along with his wife and all of their children and their spouses and their children along with Yalin’s other sister the Infanta and her family also nodded and vowed their agreement to that command. 

“Yes your Majesty.” Everyone echoed their answer. 

“Now, leave and enjoy the afternoon Kamo, however I do wish to have a private word with Sultana Audravienne alone.” Dowager Queen commanded before they curtsied and saw themselves out except for you and the Dowager Queen. 

“Now, don’t be frightened, or disheartened by this. After the Kamoba battle today, I am very much looking forward to seeing you get the satisfaction of the justice you deserve, you see Gregori and King Leopold keep no secrets between them and all the proof of the case that Gregori has found and told to King Leopold who has since shared it with me and it is appalling that such treatment was rendered to you and it is a feat of greatness that you survived such a thing, make no mistake, you will get your just desserts after such a trial, I’ll see to it personally.” The Dowager Queen reassured you as you blew out a breath of relief. 

“Thank you, your Majesty, I eagerly look forward to it. Thank you for counting me worthy of your involvement.” You thanked her graciously. 

“Once upon a time, I was a moura bride too, such things can never repeat and will never be tolerated ever again and I will be rooting for you- both today, and every day after, until you are satisfied with your vengeance at justice’s hand. I mean who can refute with proof such as this?” She reassured you as she took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze with a smile that was warmer than sunshine as her other hand gently pet your head since your hair had been braided back to keep it out of your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you thanked her earnestly as you curtsied down low again before her.  

“Now, go enjoy the Kamo lunch feast, and don’t let anyone beguile you or your charms.” She urged you before she urged you to go as you obeyed her and thanked her before you left with the Queen and went into the formal dining room were King Leopold and his Queen Alexandria had turned their attentions to Ramsey and getting to know Octavia since Ramsey had brought her over to meet with them and the rest of his royal family to get their figurative stamps of approval which they were happy to do. 

“What did the Dowager Queen say to you?” Your family asked once you reappeared.

“That she was a moura bride too, and that she will see to it that I get justice to my satisfaction and that she herself will be involved in my case. The Morrigans are finished.” You whispered excitedly as your moura marks lit up like fireworks on your skin as your eyes practically glowed gold as soon everyone was smiling just as happily as you were before you disbursed to have lunch with the gentry as all of them seemed to open up seats for any they could snag, since eating with with a Kamoba battle contestant was seen as an honor to be eating with a warrior of legend. 

Little Callie had never been so popular among the other children her age since she was the only one in her age group to compete as she and the rest of her family were proud to announce that they were building a proper Kamoba battle out of steel and iron back at Whydah and as soon as it was completed, the Voyambi’s would be happy to host another Kamoba battle to host more battles such as this which was met with great joy and jubilation as the King himself offered to help be a patron of the project which the Voyambi’s happily accepted. 

Kate Whitesale’s brothers who were seated around Benny as she ate and coyly flirted with both of them while Kate tried to take notes about how Benny was completely enrapturing her brothers so that she too could win back Duke Demsey since it was clear that neither Benny or Calla had ensnared him yet and if anything he still seemed unaffected by them now as he was at the ball which gave her a measure of hope that she had not lost that battle yet. 

“Princess, would you instruct me on how to win back Duke Voyambi’s favor?” Kate asked Benny as she looked down the table to see Demsey eating lunch with Tzane and Calla while you were having a private word with the rest of your family at the moment. 

“That would be difficult since the Sultana has her eye of favor on him and has already found his favor in his. And with her being the favorite to win today, it will be hard for him to see her as anything less than that. However, there is leverage to be had that could potentially break up the pair that I am in possession of. But since the Sultana is a friend of mine, I would be loathed to part from it…” Benny began before she got a wicked curve to her grin. 

“For anything less than the right price, so tell me, what would you give to come into possession of that leverage?” Benny asked Kate as Kate was seated across from her as both of Kate’s brothers were seated on either side of her as all three of them were practically salivating at the thought as the tips of their ears wiggled excitedly.  

“Anything that you could ask for. Anything I have that you would want.” Kate answered desperately as she fought to keep her voice down. 

“Well as it is, I don’t know what you have, so my suggestion to you, is to compile, perhaps a list of what assets, connections and favors that you have that can be transferable to me or shared with me. Because you see the reason I have that leverage was because the Raymonds had their eye on the Sultana as a bride for their son but since Buchon Octavia has come and stolen Ramsey away from the Sultana, it seems my leverage was rather useless and came with the unfortunate complication of Lord Sierge Voyambi’s affections, which of course I do not return since he is the second son, heir to nothing and has no real power or clout in this society since it rests solely on the first born son. But if the Duke is what you desire, then that leverage once again has value and I myself am in need of an escape from Lord Sierge’s unwanted affections and advances. So, think long and hard about what your family can offer me in return for what you desire most, which is obviously becoming the next Duchess Voyambi and host to the King and Queen to when they come to Whydah for those amazing Kamoba battles where fortunes could be made from the losing bets and of course a percentage of all bets made going to the hosting house.” Benny pointed out. 

“Would my own hand in marriage to become a Viscountess Whiteales be enough?” George asked her hopefully. 

“Perhaps, an honest appraisal of your situation and your family’s situation, as well as- an honest and accurate accounting of your family’s wealth, would be key to understanding it, so we shall see won’t we?” Benny cooed to him before she stood and went around to the other orc families to get to know them and see if there were any better options than Sierge or even the Viscount George Whitesale as you passed her and noticed she was “working” every other orc family there and just shook your head at her. ‘So short sighted’ you thought to yourself before you sat down next to Demsey for the lunch feast, much further down the table. 

“What did the Dowager Queen say to you?” Demsey inquired curiously. 

“How she personally is getting involved in my court case and won’t rest until I see justice and am perfectly satisfied with that justice.” You grinned triumphantly as your eyes glowed gold again and the moura marks that were visible on your skin lit up like fireworks again. 

“Oh, then your would-be assassinators are quite finished then, aren’t they?” Demsey smiled triumphantly in turn. Your infectious smile quite becoming.  

“Even if they are not and even if I don’t get another penny from them or even if I have to give back everything they’ve ever given to me to be free of them completely, I’ll gladly agree to it. I just want the past to stay in the past because you’re my future, whether you’re a winner or loser or Duke or not, just you, that is all I desire and I don’t need or want anything other than that.” You insisted as he took your hand and brought your knuckles up to his mouth to kiss them tenderly. 

“Likewise. Even if you were a commoner on the streets, my love for you would not be any less than what it is right now.” Demsey reassured you. 

“So would you prefer I court you the English way, the orcish way or the moura way?” Demsey asked. 

“Whichever you prefer, although if I’m to stay here with you as Duchess Voyambi, might I suggest the more English route, so that no shame or reproach may come upon your family, no matter how tempting the moura way can be as far as instant gratification is concerned.” You suggested in a sultry murmur in his ear that had him ever so grateful that he was sittind down in stiff leathers to hide his physical reaction to you as that little line had him threatning to destroy every ounce of propriety he had if it meant his piqued curiosity could he satisfied as to what you were really implying and to feel your petal soft lips ever so gently graze the shell of his ear, had him ready to damn the whole thing, pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and carry you upstairs to bury himself to the hilt in you that instant as the flames of his desire for you ate him alive. 

But he was surrounded by the entire gentry and to look past you, down the table to where Kate was as she did her best to give them her ‘come hither’ eyes. Had him thinking the better of it. He wanted to marry you and shove your soon to be engaged then married hand into her face and flaunt you in front of her had him thinking the better of it.  

“Or your honor, which is the most precious above all else.” Demsey readily agreed as all of Benny’s earlier words seem to have washed away completely. That’s all they were, words meant to strike at him but were not based at all in truth because he could clearly see that while you and Leumeni were friends, he did not see anything other than that between you and his intuition and instincts were telling him that your loyalty and affections rested solely on him, and no one else and he trusted those more than he trusted whatever little seeds of doubt that bitch Benny tried to plant. 

“Yeah, about that…” You couldn’t help but wince apologetically. 

“The past is the past and it can stay there, you said so yourself, it doesn’t matter to me. Your honorable character and integrity in this moment and every other moment that I have known you, is what counts and both of those are the highest caliber in my honest opinion. That’s all.” Demsey reassured you as you smiled adoringly and appreciatively at him and kissed his hand in turn because outright kissing him at the table would not be permitted in society but that was all you could get away with, but tonight, when everyone went home, oh you were going to try your best to rut him so good and show him exactly what he could look forward to as being your husband and in a committed, monogamous relationship with you could encompass and how you were going to drain him dry, it would make battling in a Kamoba battle seem like a walk in the park. 

“So I have some ideas about the Kamoba battle arena at Whydah,” you began as Calla and Tzane, Amara and Storren and Kiera and Leumeni seemed to eagerly lean forward to also engage in this particular conversation as you spent most of the afternoon just talking about all the wonderful ideas you had about the arena and the stands that people would sit on and what the Royal Box should be like as well as the stands for the commoners and the gentry and special spots just for the food vendors and just how big and extraordinary it should be so that even the one in Dorierra would be hard pressed to compete with and as the afternoon wore on, there were several games and rounds of dancing between the competitors and the gentry and even the royal family participated. 

“I’m so happy that you’re happy with Olivia, Ramsey, honestly and truly, I am.” You offered to him in turn as you took a little turn on the dance floor with him in one of the English dances. 

“Thank you, and I fully intend to deliver on my promise to raise your own status and help you in any way I can, especially helping you destroy your ‘attempted assassintors’.” Ramsey answered. 

“Even if you can not, I will not hold it against you personally, you asked at the ball at Havenfield to be friends. And all I hope is that no matter what happens, that we stay that way.” You offered to him. 

“You really are remarkable Sultana, I would count myself lucky to have a woman such as you be my friend.” Ramsey smiled brightly as you did the same. 

The afternoon practically flew by and quickly morphed into evening and lunch was taken away before dinner was served and quickly eaten as you and the other competitors practically had to run to your rooms to change into the night leathers and other armor before rushing back the stadium to gear up for the night’s events as Grevu woke up when you returned before he gently knocked Benny over with his head as she passed by him. 

“Grevu!” Benny complained as Grevu sniffed her over curiously as his snout pinned her to the ground as he sniffed her all over. 

“Axal! Get Grevu off me!” Benny hollered as she tried batting Grevu’s nose away from her crotch. 

“You perverted rat with wings, get your nose out of my business!” Benny ordered before Grevu cleared his nostrils out all over her as he lifted his head and seemed to narrow his eyes at her and settled back down comfortably. 

“Ewwww! Yuck! What is your deal?!” Benny demanded as she went back over to the buckets as she washed herself off with Axal’s help before she began to feel nauseous and found a private corner to quickly and quietly throw up.

“You ok?” Axal asked as he handed her a towel to wipe her throw up off her mouth with. 

“Your rat with wings is gross.” Benny spat resentfully at Axal as she wiped her mouth with the offered towel before using another to wipe the sweat off her brow since the sweat was threatening to destroy her makeup.  

“Sorry.” Axal offered with a half hearted shrug. “He’s a dragon, he’s temperamental, maybe he didn’t like the scent of betrayal on you.” Axal offered with a smug smile as his eyes narrowed at her. 

“What betrayal?” Benny tried to shirk off. 

“Sure, go ahead, play dumb, I mean you’re really bad at it, almost as bad as you play innocent. I don’t care. Just don’t be surprised when the bite back for whatever barking you’ve done or you’re about to do knocks you down so hard you can’t get back up.” Axal warned her as he went over to Grevu to pet him and praise him for snorting snot all over Benny as Benny felt another wave of nausea and threw up again as her whole body felt weird as she shuddered almost violently.  

“Are you ok?” You asked as you noticed she was sitting in a corner and sweating profusely. 

“No, Grevu snotted on me,” Benny told you. 

“Oohh, well, he must have had a reason. Dragons can sense things we can’t, maybe you ate something that you shouldn’t have and needed to throw it up now instead of getting sick in the arena itself.” You offered as eyed the mess in the grass in the corner of the tent that she had clearly tried to dump water over to wash away as Benny recollected everything she had eaten and mentally tried to see if you had a point. 

“Probably.” Benny nodded as you simply smiled pleasantly before you turned and walked away and could feel Benny glare at your back as you smiled happily to yourself before you looked at Leumeni and gave him a meaningful look and looked pointedly at Benny then back to him before you looked pointedly to Grevu then back to him before you emphatically breathed out through your nose in a small snort as your smile grew more mischievous as Leumeni barked a laugh.

“Ha! Good dragon.” Leumeni practically crooned. 

“Yes, very good dragon.” You agreed as you passed him. 

“Ok, so how the night games go- is the lowest member of the class fights up the line, the first loser up to the winner of the class, up through the three classes.” The announcer revealed to the crowd as Tzane was the first to fight off against little Callie as this time, Tzane was expecting Callie’s tactics and had his own counter attack and won. 

Then Tzane, having won that round, faced off against Kiera, as Kiera didn’t hold back and promptly handed him his ass on a platter before she faced off against Sierge who used his bigger size and strength to his advantage and beat her and then used the same with Amara and won out before going up against Demsey but Demsey was still more level headed and much more tactical whereas Sierge was all emotion to win out against Sierge yet again as Demsey was happy and impressed that he got to win his class and move into the next class, however his very next fight in the skilled class, with Rian- beat him out as they went through the fighting all they way up until it was Calla against Benny as Benny, once again, used her vicious words to undermine Calla and take the victory. 

“I wish to break with Tradition.” Your grandmother Loreiris began as Benny was preparing to take you down in The Proficient Class. 

“Instead of trying to see if you can go through Audra and all of her parents, I wish to follow the example you set in the day games, now that you have reached the proficient class, I volunteer to be your first competitor in The Proficient Class.” Loreiris announced as everyone gasped in astonishment as Benny looked both thrilled yet terrified at the prospect as she entered the arena with The Saharan Viper herself. 

“Trying to protect your precious little snakelet from me?” Benny grinned as she got into position before the gong rang out to signal the start of the round as Loreiris charged Benny, a sword in each hand. 

“No, she has had attacks from foes pretending to be friends already and knows how to protect herself, so she needs no such protection from me. Least of all from you. I have heard what you have been saying all afternoon to the others about that leverage you have against her relationship with Duke Demsey. And while I have said nothing yet, because you have not revealed it. While she is The Violet Viper, you are acting like the bitch you are- vicious, conniving and two faced and so overly eager to prove yourself because you have been reigning supreme ever since she left and now that you’re in her presence again, she outmatches you without even trying- so of course, you are threatened. It is true, nothing reveals a moura’s colors of character like Kamoba and so far it has revealed that you rely too much on the damage your words say while your fighting skills themselves, have suffered greatly from neglect, you power through your strokes without relying on the actual proper execution of said strokes and techniques, aiming at the lowest, weakest yet easiest points, because any other is too much for you. Know that nothing you say can hurt me, let alone destabilize me. All you are is a bitch dog, pretending to be a wolf.” Loreiris taunted as she started attacking Benny, using an overwhelming tactic, swinging both her flaming sword along with an elven one, that was alight with magic that with every strike against another blade, grew stronger and hit harder, but also, unfortunately grew brighter to help illuminate the wielder. 

“Except that I know your secret.” Benny taunted right back. 

“I know that Kushi was blessed by Anuk-sunamun-ra. And has been carrying all of the goddess’ power in it ever since that she was banished into the blade at the fall of the empire but would always protect the wielder to keep them from being enslaved. It has always given you super abilities to beat your components and to demoralize your enemies the moment they see it, until now. Now that you gave Kushi to Audra, Anuk-sunamun-ra has left you to be with her which means you’re not unbeatable anymore. You’re just flesh and bone, no magic, or gods or goddesses to protect you or help you. The two times you lost in battle with it, were because you were pregnant and the goddess was protecting your unborn babe more than it was helping you in battle. The same is true now. I saw Audra with my own eyes go into a room and fuck her favorite manwhore and then I noticed she has not once drank pregnancy warding tea since, and while it is true that Grevu cured her of the rest of the mourkatili, Dr. Chu also had a big hand in it too and had already cured most of it already. Dr. Chu was likely curing her with the goal to restore her womb first. She most likely is pregnant right now, for only pregnant women hunger for fruit’s of their youths. That’s why having that rope around her waist and the toll of pulling Storren back didn’t rip her in half. Anuk-sunamun-ra is guarding her pregnancy. That is why you will lose to me, as will she and everyone else and you will not speak of this leverage. Demsey’s reputation can’t afford to take on a fallen lady, one who was fallen with child out of wedlock, much less by a manwhore. The best he could ever do by her is accepting her as his whore. Whereas with Leumeni, he can still save her as his wife. Granted the babe she’s carrying will obviously never fit in anywhere it goes. But Leumeni will still care for it nonetheless.” Benny spat as she did her best to keep her head and wits as she fought off Loreiris’ attacks and counter attacks. 

“The problem with such logic is that any trace of mourkatili acts like a natural birth control. Even if what you say is true. It is impossible for her to conceive before Grevu cured her and I know for a fact, she has not laid with anyone who can get her pregnant since then. So you are lying and that leverage will land in you in boiling lava that will burn you up completely and permanently and no one will be able to rescue you from that.” Loreiris said as she could feel the strain on her body from the fighting as she kept her wits and temper in check. 

“And you lie about the dagger. All it has ever been is a knife, made of steel, gold and jewels. Anuksu-namun-ra is a goddess of battle, of victory and she protects everyone who believes and puts faith in her. She is too powerful to be contained in a simple dagger made of steel, gold and jewels. If you worshiped her, perhaps you would benefit from her protection. But she is also a goddess of truth and loyalty and since you can never be counted on to be truthful or loyal to anyone who isn’t paying you to be, she will not protect you. Because any loyalty that can be bought, is never worth having.” Loreiris grinned as she kicked Benny in the head and stabbed her flaming sword into the first beacon. 

“Oh on the contrary, if Audra can make me a dowager, then I will feel inclined to keep her secret for her and that leverage will never see the light of day so Audra is in no real danger from me. Besides, the science of pregnancy is well guarded in Dorierra. If I keep my mouth shut, little Demsey will be none the wiser and you can keep your mouth shut for her sake can’t you? You should. She is, after all, your favorite granddaughter from your favorite daughter?” Benny said as she took a throwing star from her waist and threw it through the flames at the first beacon on Loreiris’ side and beamed when it became alight before throwing a second and hit the second as the whole crowd went wild to see Benny of all people that was able to get a score in on Loreiris as Loreiris threw her own throwing star at the second and exploded it before aiming at the third but Benny used her flaming sword and knocked Loreiris’ hand down while body slamming her into the back of the still smoking and burning beacon and burned Loreiris’ face and pinned her there so she couldn’t get out before she threw another throwing star at the third beacon as Loreiris screamed in pain and agony as your whole family were up on their feet and rushing to the battle arena and screaming curses at Benny before Benny grabbed Loreiris by her collar and picked her up to the crowd. 

“You call this woman a viper?! Where is her venom?! Where is her bite? She is an old, feeble garden snake, no bite at all, let alone any venom! Wolves always eat serpents! Always!” Benny roared to the crowd as it went wild as you had never wanted to murder Benny so badly before as rage seemed to course through your viens as your eyes and the eyes of your parents and heir parents all glowed gold as you all came forward as you got under your grandmother’s right shoulder and your mother got under her left as both of you were hissing hatefully about how you were going to make Benny pay for such a gross display of unprofessional and unsportsmanlike conduct as everyone contested the win. 

But sadly, there was nothing in the rulebook that specifically ruled out Benny’s actions or disqualified her as Benny continued to hoop and holler to the crowd how she was undefeatable as Sierge realized he just won a fortune, since he had bet everything he had that she would win against The Saharan Viper, at Benny’s insistence. And while he wasn’t exactly thrilled about how she got that victory, the fact that she got it and that it was uncontestable, and thus, the victory stuck and cemented her place in The Proficient Class. That that was what he had bet on. 

“I’m gonna kill her.” Your mother hissed. 

“Don’t actually kill her.” Your grandmother said as burn balm was put onto her face by you. 

“We need to get you to Grevu, he needs to heal you.” You insisted as you helped your grandmother to stand again. 

“Mama, bite, inject, put down.” You hissed angrily in Marinai at your mother as she then challenged Benyana herself as you helped your grandmother to go over to Grevu as Grevu was making the most unusual noise as he met you behind the battle field’s wall, so that all of you were hidden from view as Loreiris came over to him and kneeled before him as she simply said ‘please’ before he blew a blue, glowing smoke over her, that healed her wounds as the smoke turned from blue- to red the moment it touched and healed her wounds as you breathed in deeply and the smoke entered you through your nose as the whites of your eyes glowed neon white while the iris of your eye’s glowed a bright gold while your pupil’s seemed to grow twice as big as you felt more power than ever before unlock in your body. 

“You need to pray, pray to Anuk-sunamun-ra, pray for the strength and power for vengeance, and to have victory over her. She told me she has leverage against you and Demsey, that you are pregnant with a whore’s child, how she saw you at the masquerade ball bedding someone but did not drink pregnancy warding tea and that Dr. Chu’s medicine had the power to give you your womb back before Grevu could cure you. And how if you can not give her Dowager Status, she will unleash this upon all of England and you will be ruined and will have no choice but to return to Dorierra.” Your grandmother pleaded with you as you could hear from the battle arena how Benny was beating your mother, two beacons against one. 

“Pray for control over your emotions, pray to protect your mind and heart from such flaming arrows.” Your grandmother pleaded before the Benny hit the third beacon on your mother and came back to find you there with your grandmother. 

“Let your other parents fight her, we need to pray.” Your mother insisted as she wiped her angry tears away from her eyes as the three of you sat down in the grass, with you against Grevu’s chest as the three of you formed a triangle before Calla and her brothers as well as Leumeni and even his brother Coravien came and sat around them, all of them praying to their favorite god of choice to favor you as your mother and grandmother went through the sacred chant of Anuk-sunamun-ra in the ancient language of her origins while making the appropriate hand gestures as you once again found your center as a calm cooled your anger, but turned that fire that had been blazing inside of you into a lava that both flowed through you like a gentle massaging hand, going over your body, yet filled you, solidified you and strengthened you as you felt the air around you shift as a stiff breeze started to roll in as a storm that had barely been on the horizon seemed to make a B-Line for you as you heard a distant rumble of thunder, but instead of fearing the oncoming storm, you were welcoming it as the cool breeze caressed you as you barely noticed the other beacons from your father, your heir father, his wife and his mother’s as they all took their turns battling Benyana and how she used the same hurtful, spiteful, malicious words against them, beating them and crooning so loud and so high with every other victory before they all seemed to join in the prayer circle around you. 

“Go ahead, say your pointless, hopeless, meaningless prayers over the last little snakelet, who is barely even out of the egg.” Benny taunted everyone as she turned and sauntered off once she came upon all of you. 

“Told you I was a sure bet.” She grinned smugly at Sierge before going back towards the crowd to get them to chant her name as the Royal Family were quite fed up with her lack of sportsmanship and putting their bets on you to please put this brat in her place before, from the back, to the front of the group. Everyone put their hands on the top of the shoulder of the one in front of them and the one to the side of them before they all reached forward to you, your mother with a hand on your right shoulder and your grandmother with her hand to your left as they all prayed for their gods to bless you and make you stronger, faster, better. To make you their champion in the name of good, righteousness, and justice.

“Are you done yet? I don’t want to get struck by lightning and I would prefer not to get these leathers any wetter than they need to be, I want you to hurry up and beat you before I or much less the royal family has a chance of getting wet from the rain.” Benny sassed as she came over again several moments later as she looked on disapprovingly at her brothers for their traitorous act of trying to bless you instead of her as you pushed all the air out of your lungs before you took in the biggest and longest breath in, feeling that with every millimeter of space in your lungs that filled with air, you filled with power before your lungs reached their capacity as did your body before you steadily exhaled and opened your eyes to fix Benny with your gaze as everyone slowly pulled back, all of them feeling a sense of excitement tempered with peace that their prayers were about to be answered. 

“Come, let us battle, Axal, Rian, Zax, belt “Hit The Floor” out for me.” You suggested to them with a scheming and easy smile which they readily returned before they, along with Calla’s brothers as well as Benny’s rushed over to the band and eagerly took the instruments out of their hands and insisted that they needed to play this particular song themselves before you looked out over all the weapons offered to you by the whole family as the right weapons seemed to almost have a glowing aura around them as you picked them up and armed yourself with them before you entered the arena. 

“Let us do five out of seven, arm the arena with the two additional beacons and put the last two on the roof, above the rafters.” You instructed the others who came to change out the beacons with fresh ones. 

“Agreed.” Benny smiled as you simply sat down on top of the first beacon and got into a meditation pose and used these last moments to cement your mental fortitude as Benny laughed. 

“Oh are suddenly a monk? Praying and meditating all the time?” Benny taunted as you could see the gods that were supposed to be blessing her weapons were frowning at her for her haughtiness. 

“What is this? The Violet Viper is suddenly The Violet Monk? The Violet Praying Mantis? The Violet Idiot? Or just The Violet Whore.” Benny continued. 

“Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t be throwing stones.” You stated as you kept your eyes closed as you watched from the spirit realm as the remaining gods and goddesses with her finally seemed to have enough and leave her completely and come to be with you and all the other gods and goddesses with you which caused you to smile before you opened your eyes and got down and into position as the others finished doing what you asked and left the stage. 

“Axal! Now!” You called out after the gong rang out and your family as well as hers began to start up their instruments. 

“So? Leverage huh? Going for the lowest of blows? Betraying my trust and friendship for your own personal gain? Too bad I’ve seen this coming since the moment I saw you at the ball at Havenfield. Do you really think you can say anything that will break apart what the gods have given their blessings to bind together?” You asked as you struck first with more strength than what Benny was expecting as she faltered slightly as suddenly her battle ax seemed a bit heavier and unwieldier than normal. 

“I see your grandmother can’t keep a secret to save her life, like using a goddess, locked inside a dagger to fight and win all of her battles for her.” Benny taunted back. 

“Do you really think a goddess can be locked inside a weapon? No, she is everywhere but more importantly, she is with me, whether I possess that dagger or not because I am a believer in her and in her power and have willingly let myself be an instrument for her and all the other gods and goddesses who wish to use me as their instrument as well, I feel it to be true, I know it to be true. Just like how you can feel or know in your heart whether or not your own gods are with you, which I can both see and feel that they are not, they have abandoned you in the face of your own viciousness, of your own ruthlessness and your own haughtiness. You do not fight with honor. Your pride and your hunger for victory at any cost has made you blind to what is right and wrong. It has calloused your conscience and dulled your moral compass. You play men who would love you like instruments, if only to see their strings break. You play with feelings and intentions the way you play with toys, if only to see them fall apart then to be thrown into the fire at will.” You told her as as you advanced forward with surprising speed and strength as real fear started to seep into Benny’s eyes. 

“You crave destruction and only wish to have the fires of other people’s catastrophes light up in your eyes. If you do not turn back, and mend your ways, what you have lied about me and others and what you have predicted for me and others will come true for you. The gods have spoken this to me. And your redemption will only come at the hands of your latest victims. Whether they will give it or not, depends on them. Not me, for I am no longer a victim to anyone. Let alone you. You- who should have been a sister to me, you- who should have been a friend to me, you- who should have had my back instead of trying to stab it with everyone else since it already had an open wound for you to stick it into. But after tonight, I am healed, I am free. Of you, of everyone. I don’t owe anyone anything.” You vowed as you easily battled her across the course, as if the obstacles were not there at all as the whole fight seemed to be in slow motion for you, as you could almost see what moves she was going to make before she even made them as you were predicting her moves and counteracting them just as quickly as she was frantically trying to make them as your sword that was on fire kept slashing at her and lighting her entire torso on fire, as you could tell the heat from the fires were affecting her as if they were especially hot as you kept on advancing at a steady pace, the beacons practically exploding the moment the tip of a weapon touched them until you had her pinned into a corner before you struck the fifth beacon. 

“Seven out of 13!” Benny screamed from her corner as tears streaked her makeup. 

“Fine, seven out of 13.” You readily agreed before you stopped and calmly walked back to the center mark as she rushed to get out of the battle arena to get doused down with water to keep from being on fire as she was gasping for breath and sweating like a whore in church. 

“And this was her still barely out of the egg? I can’t imagine what she will be like after she fully sheds and grows into her own then.” Your mother and your grandmother taunted Benny from their spots inside the tent as everyone else laughed. 

“What’s wrong? I thought wolves eat serpents? Why aren’t you eating her before she eats you? Or does this viper actually have venom that you’re not immune to this time?” Calla snipped snidely herself. 

“I will eat her! I will eat her whole!” Benny screamed back as she put her weapons back into the fire to get reheated as you simply let your flaming sword “rest” in the flames of one of the bowls in the arena. 

“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset, or why you’re calling her a whore when you yourself are the biggest one I know.” Sierge taunted Benny himself. 

“Shut up! No one asked you!” Benny snapped angrily. 

“Make them the hottest you can!” Benny told the blacksmith who had set up a mini forge right there next to the battlefield. 

“I can try.” He answered as he put them in the hottest parts of the fire to get super heated as once again, you sat on top of your own beacon and meditated again. 

“There, that’s hot enough.” Benny said before she pulled them out and splashed them in the fire oil and let them become alight once more as she could feel the heat of them in her palms but they were nothing compared to the heat of her inner fiery temper as you opened your eyes and got into position before you pulled out another elven blade along with your fiery one before you pressed the jewel on the hilt and the weapon suddenly glowed white as frosty mist started falling from it. 

“That sword will shatter when it touches mine.” Benny said. 

“We’ll see.” You simply grinned before the gong rang out and you used the flaming sword to get her weapons into positions before you used your ice elven sword to cut bits and segments off of Benny’s weapons like cutting through soft butter. 

“NNoooo!!” Benny screeched as she pulled her own spare weapons out but they had similar effects, for every strike against your own weapons, they grew weaker and softer, bending and dulling greatly as you continued to take out the same five markers before leaping through to the roof and climbing onto the rafters to get the final two beacons on the roof as She did the same, using her body as a shield to protect them as you walked along the beam like you were walking along a paved sidewalk, paying no mind to the fall only a few scant inches away from each side of your feet. 

“No! I beat the Saharan Viper! I will beat you too!” She said as she used her flaming arrows to strike at your beacons as you used your own bow and arrows to throw hers off course and away from their intended targets until she was out of arrows. 

“You’re empty.” You called. 

“So are you!” She called back. 

“You’re right, I am.” You said before lighting seemed to crack right above your heads and fan out over the sky. 

“You’ll get electricuted!” Benny said as she cowered but would not leave the beacons. 

“You’re right, I will.” You smiled as you held Kushi up in one hand and your mother’s copy of Kushi- Kushi 2 in the other and raised them to the sky as lightning struck down and danced between the two blades around you as your eyes glowed white while you otherwise remained unharmed. 

“Viper- kills Wolf!” You boomed as you threw both daggers, the lightning dancing off of them, making it look like they were the fangs of a viper as the image of a viper’s head, made out by the lighting lit up the space as Benny screamed and dove down as you used your grappling hook to suspend yourself from the rafters as you used the other end of the rope and threw it around Benny so she wouldn’t crash on the ground as the two beacons exploded in bright white lights and smoke as the whole crowd roared in thunderous cheering and applause as you hung from the rafters with Benny hanging from the end of your own ropes as she gently swung around under you, the rope tied around her waist in such a way as she fought to untangle herself while you slowly eased down the rope like a silk climber flowing effortlessly down a length of silk before you got to her as Sierge came and gave the rope a quick tug to cause Benny to fall into his arms. 

“Well hey there loser.” Sierge grinned. 

“Put me down!” Benny screeched at him before he did as she asked as she fell the five feet from his arms to his feet as that little fall, knocked all the wind out of her lungs while Demsey was more than happy to let you slide down the rope into his own arms before he gently set you down and threw decorum out the window and kissed and dipped you in front of the gods and everyone which caused another round of applause as Kate and her brothers knew then that whatever “leverage” Benny had, was as good as worthless yet again as you happily got up and took your banner off of Heavencrest and put it on Grevu and rode him around the arena as others flew their own animals around behind, your grandmother happily riding Heavencrest in your stead as you cheered as Benny just sat there on the floor of the arena and sulked as she watched the Royal family’s attendants get the cup as the Royal Family got up and came down as Benny was escorted off the battle arena to the tent since her griffen was flying underneath Grevu in a show of dominance as the gentry crowded around the arena before you touched down as everyone offered their congratulations to you as you passed through, your mother to your immediate left and your grandmother to your immediate right as you climbed up into the battle arena yet again. 

“It is my supreme honor to bestow unto you- Sultana Audravienne Saharazat, this winning cup and prize for winning the Kamoba battle today.” King Leopold announced as he gestured to it as it sat on your first beacon before he took your hand and raised it high as everyone cheered and applauded. 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” You thanked him before you had to get help from your friends and family to help pick it up as the Royal Family as well as everyone else took their leave to go home as you came inside and had the cup put into your room as you began to unload it before you took your old knife, Zirrabanit and approached little Callie before you presented it to her. 

“To Callie, who was the first to strike and the first to take down a contestant today. Since you have taken up my old mantle from my youth, it is only fitting that you continue that legacy, Little Spitfire.” You said as she gasped and took it and gave you the biggest most excited smile. 

“Thank you!” Callie squealed in delight as she took it from you reverently before she practically launched herself in your arms and hugged you tight as you readily hugged her back. 

“You’re welcome.” You happily laughed as you hugged her back oh so tight.  

“Could I stay with you tonight? And could you pass down all the knowledge you can to me?” Callie asked hopefully and as much as you wanted to rail Demsey against every surface in his room, you didn’t have the heart to say no to her and her big lavender eyes. 

“Of course, all the ladies, sleepover in my room tonight.” You offered as all the girls giddily left and got dressed as the gentlemen saw themselves out before you managed to snag Demsey by the arm and pull him down to kiss him again. 

“Tomorrow night, I’ll properly and traditionally celebrate with you in the moura way.” You promised with a wink and a salacious smile. 

“Can’t wait.” Demsey practically giggled before he kissed you again. 

“Good night My Love, don’t stay up all night, we need to formulate a plan for court.” Demsey offered before he saw himself out just as his other sisters were coming back into the room, clad in only their nightgowns and robes as you all got into the bed in a circle, passing around the other treasures from the pot as Benny refused to even do that much as she continued to sulk in her room and went to bed only to fall into a fitful sleep, full of nightmares.

[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.

[crossyourheart-twff]

Chapter 3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812213/chapters/58942240

    “Stop fiddling with it,” Grim said for the third time that morning. He and Parker were still adjusting to the uniforms Crowley gave them as they headed towards the dining hall. Where Grim accepted his collar with not a little pride, Parker couldn’t stop pulling at the messy knot that was supposed to be her tie. Between that and adjusting the hat she still used to hide her hair, she was a constant fidgeting mess.

     “Sorry,” Parker frowned, “I don’t usually wear ties.”

Grim raised his head to the air, “Its an embarrassment really. My underling shouldn’t be so unkempt, y’know?”

     “Underling?” 

     “Hurry up, human. I’m hungry.” Grim sauntered ahead into the dining room. Parker’s frown became a scowl as she wondered how much trouble she’d be in if Grim were made into a nice pair of mittens. Not much, she hoped, because if she had to endure being looked down on by a talking cat-

     “Parker!” Ace’s voice cut into her thoughts. She spotted him at a secluded table where Deuce was already eating his own breakfast. No one else sat with them, but students were claiming seats every second. She hurried over, hoping to have at least a few minutes of privacy before someone else populated the table. 

     “Hey,” She settled into the seat across from them while Grim hopped next to her.

     “Did Headmaster give you a schedule?” Deuce asked.

Parker reached into the pocket of her blazer and pulled it out. Ace wasted no time in snatching it up so that he and Deuce could have a better look. They went through the list of courses one by one, listing off professors and subjects like Magic History and Animal Languages. When Parker first saw her classes, she’d laughed until Headmaster Crowley asked what was the matter. From there the laughter faded fast.

Deuce handed her back the schedule, “These classes shouldn’t be a problem. If we sit in the back it won’t be difficult for you to go unnoticed.”

Alright, she shrugged. If he said so. Parker tilted the bill of her hat further over her eyes, then dropped her hand when she caught sight of Ace and Deuce’s faces, “What?”

Ace frowned, “Is that really how you plan on wearing that?”

That was the last thing she expected to hear. What was wrong with her hat?

     “It hides my face,” she said.

 Ace’s lips curled into a smirk, “Your face isn’t the problem.”

      “He’s right,” Deuce gestured in front of his own forehead to indicate the bill of her hat, “It looks like you’re hiding something.”

     “I am.”

 Ace sighed, “First rule of disguise: you gotta look natural. Hold on.” The red head sat beside her and spun the hat so the bill covered the nape of her neck, “There.”

  “Really?” Parker cried, “I look stupid.”

     “You look like you don’t care,” Ace corrected, giving her a quick once over. His eyes landed on the mess she’d managed to make of her tie, “Ok, what’s that?” 

Parker’s hand found the knot without needing to look. After being harassed about it all morning, it became a tender point, “I don’t… know how to tie a tie, alright?”

     “Disgrace,” Grim said around a mouthful of tuna, “a complete disgrace.”

The thought of cat-fur mittens resurfaced in Parker’s mind, “I can go to Crowley right now and unenroll.”

It was enough to shut Grim up. For now, at least. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind he’d find other things to bother her about.

      “Here,” Ace’s expression softened as he worked the tie into a simple Windsor knot, careful not to tighten it too high on her neck. When he finished, her tie was a perfect imitation of his own- passable, but not too fancy.

      “Much better,” Deuce handed back her schedule which she tucked back into her blazer. She hated to admit it, but the adjustments from Ace did leave her less self-conscious than before. Her cap, silly as it was, felt more secure over her pinned braids. That alone loosened the rock-like tension in her shoulders.

     “Thanks,” Parker said, and she meant it, “Anything else I should know?”

     “Just stick with us,” Ace grinned, “you’ll be fine.”

 From the start, Parker knew Magical History was going to be trouble. While she and Ace managed to find seats in the back, the danger here did not lie with the other students. No, it lay in the older man poised at the front of the room. He watched down the length of his nose as the students settled into their seats. This was Professor Trein, unless the name printed on Parker’s schedule was wrong.  When the class was ready, he greeted them with all the warmth and humor of an icicle.

Not even ten minutes into class, Professor Trein’s lecture added weight to Ace’s eyelids. Grim didn’t last very long either as he curled up in Parker’s lap and began purring softly. Even Parker found she had trouble paying attention. It was a shame, really. His lecture was on the discovery of magic crystals, and after handling one in person she wanted to know more. She tried to focus his words rather than his voice, but aside from a brief mention of the Dwarf Mines, grasping any other information was like trying to get a firm grip on water. It sent her attention wandering to the dust particles that danced in the rays of sunlight that streamed through the arched windows.

     “You!”

Parker’s face went cold at Professor Trein’s outburst. Ace’s eyes cleared of sleep-fog in an instant, even Grim jolted from his place on her lap. To their relief, Professor Trein wasn’t looking at them. In the front row, a student sputtered to attention, blinking away the weight from his eyelids.

      “Am I boring you, Mr. Silver?” Professor Trein crossed his arms.

Parker heard Ace’s breath hitch. Despite not being in trouble, she noticed he was pale.

     “Apologies, professor,” Silver straightened in his chair.

Professor Trein ignored him, “You should be setting a better example for your peers, especially as a member of Diasomnia!”

     “Diasomnia?” Parker turned to Ace.

     “His dorm,” Ace was too focused on the scene before them to look at her, “They’re a big deal.”

Professor Trein wasn’t letting up, “Unless, of course, you already know everything about the origins of magic crystals. Perhaps you can inform the class which was once the largest cache of crystals in Twisted Wonderland.”

Parker sensed the class’s attention shift onto Silver. Her gut tightened as the poor guy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. This was too hard to watch, but no matter how she tried she couldn’t ignore it. Wasn’t he already humiliated enough? She didn’t need to add to his pain, and neither did Professor Trein for that matter. Of course he would ask which cache was once the largest, he’d only mentioned it once! Hell, if she hadn’t visited them herself, she wouldn’t have known either.

The class was whispering now, that same storm breeze from the entrance ceremony. It raged in Parker’s ears. The panic from that night crawled along the edge of her mind, it played on Silver’s face as he stammered and struggled for words.

      The Dwarf Mines, she willed the name to come to him, it’s the Dwarf Mines! But even in a world dripping with magic, her thoughts went unsent. She wished she could stop this. Do something, say something to end the torture the same way she wished someone would have intervened for her. Parker frowned. Say something… If only she didn’t have to blend in.

      “Well,” Professor Trein spoke after a full minute. Parker’s heart sang. It was over. He’d go back to his lecture and let Silver off the hook. Her hope deflated a second later, when the next thing out of the professor’s mouth was, “We’re all waiting.”

That was it. She couldn’t take it, subtlety be damned. If they were going to spend the rest of the class in this agony, she’d rather risk a target on her back. She scarcely remembered to lower the pitch of her voice before saying, “The Dwarf Mines.”

Professor Trein’s face slackened. The whispers stopped. Ace elbowed her and glared as the professor recovered enough to demand, “Who said that?”

No one spoke. A couple of students in front of Parker turned in her direction. She met their gaze with the smallest shake of her head. Don’t. Please. She wasn’t sure if her message was heeded out of solidarity or because they didn’t want Professor Trein’s attention on them either. What ever the reason, they turned away without a word. Beside her, Ace refused to look up from his desk.

       “When I ask a student a question,” Professor Trein eyed the class, “I expect that student to answer unless I say otherwise. The next time someone intervenes, expect both will be punished.”

They spent the rest of the class in silence. Not once did Ace rest his head on his arms, nor did Grim settle back into Parker’s lap. They were the picture of model citizens for the remainder of the hour. Once they left the class, however, Ace didn’t waste a second. He spun on Parker so fast she stumbled back against the corridor wall.

       “What was that?” He hissed.

       Parker sighed, “I know. But, c’mon! He was being a dick.”

       “He’s a professor. Professors are dicks,” Ace breathed before he blew and called attention to himself, “What happened to the shy act from yesterday?”

       Parker rubbed at the back of her neck, “That was different. And I wasn’t exactly shy when I shoved you into Deuce.”

       “Wait, what?” Grim grinned up at them, “You shoved him?”

        Ace shot Grim a look, but didn’t answer. Instead he said, “Look, you’re a decent, uh, guy, but Deuce and I have a lot riding on this. I might not be willing to risk my life, but I’ll help you if it means keeping my spot here. So please, if you can’t do it for Crowley, do it for us?”

       Parker didn’t answer right away. She still found this whole thing to be very stupid. Insane, actually. Yet she couldn’t deny the truth of Ace’s words. It was like they’d said yesterday: they were stuck. The least she could do was try a little harder.

       “Alright,” she said, “I’ll do my best.”

 And she did. All in all, she, Ace, Deuce, and Grim found their strategy of avoiding attention worked most of the time. The professors barely gave them a second glance, and the other students gave them even less. That wasn’t to say, however, that she didn’t have her fair share of hiccups.

In Alchemy, she was unlucky enough to be picked on by Professor Crewel, a much younger instructor than Trein who had a strange habit of calling his students “pups”. When she stumbled over the list of poisonous herbs in her textbook’s index he scoffed.

       “Don’t tell me your lack of magic effects your ability to read,” Professor Crewel said. A couple of the students snickered as he said, “Once again, from Belladonna. Be a good boy, now.”

       Once Parker finished the list, she refused to look up from her desk, even as Grim frowned and mumbled, “Well that was harsh.” 

Animal languages also proved to be anything but a joke, especially after the cat she was meant to greet hissed and took a swipe at her eyes with razor-like claws. Upon double checking her pronunciation, Deuce informed her that she’d accidentally called it a rather rude name. No number of meowed apologies could get the cat to “speak” to her for the rest of the hour, much to Grim’s amusement.

By the time her fourth class rolled around, Parker’s shyness wasn’t an act, not when every time she did catch someone’s attention it meant she was being insulted. The now wrinkled schedule crinkled in her hands as she checked where to report. Her face lit up when she read the name ‘Flying and Magical Sports’.

Sports. Gym. Her next class was gym. Relief washed away the tension further when she realized there was just enough time for her to change at Ramshackle. It looked like Crowley got something right after all.

      “Meet us back here,” Deuce said, indicating the corridor that led out to the sports fields before leaving to get changed himself. That was where she headed now, dressed in a baggy shirt and sweat pants, and fighting the urge to skip the entire way there. This was her comfort zone; this was her niche. Even back home, gym was always the time in her day where she felt most like herself. She got lost in the exercise, let her heart beat in time to her footfalls on the running track, became so engrossed that she was nothing more than pulse and heat and breath. Her worries couldn’t catch her when she ran, couldn’t drag her while she climbed. It was an escape into her own world, and after falling out of step with the rhythm around her, this was just the thing to bring back in time.

She caught up with Ace and Deuce while they lingered behind the other gym-bound students. They were out of the castle in seconds, stepping onto low-cut grass so green Parker blinked to help her eyes adjust. Further out, another group of students were throwing around what looked like a glowing Frisbee. A sports club, no doubt.

 Parker smiled. This. Oh, how she missed this. The fields were the one spot at Night Raven that most reminded her of home. Sure, it was missing a few things, the sea breeze, heat, and high humidity being among them, but it was the similarities here that mattered.

       “Coach Vargas says we’re doing flying basics today. You’ve ridden a broom before, yeah?” Deuce asked as they stepped onto the sports fields. He said it more than he asked it really, as if there couldn’t be any way the contrary were true. 

       Parker squinted at the sky, “Uh, no. Can’t say that I have.”

       She continued onto the field, not realizing that her companions didn’t follow until Ace asked from somewhere behind her, “Not even with a magic friend?”

       A magic friend? Parker stopped and turned to him, “I’m from a different world, remember?”

       “I mean, yeah,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “but you guys have magic. All worlds have magic, right?”

Now it was Parker who paused. He thought all worlds had magic? For the first time, she considered the possibility that Ace, Deuce, and Grim didn’t know any better. Magic was an integral part of this place after all, or so it seemed. Maybe, to them, a world without magic was like a world without trees, or light, or air. It must have been if it never even crossed their minds that Parker’s lack of it was normal where she was from. It almost made her laugh when she thought about it. To her, a world of magic should have been impossible, something you only read about in books or saw in movies. But to them? She wondered if they even had stories of magicless places at all.

         “Not mine,” she said. 

The three of them didn’t speak. It was likely they didn’t quite know what to say. Grim was the first to recover from the news, but instead of laughing and calling her a ‘pathetic human’ he was almost whispered, “A world without magic… Huh. It’s a little scary to think about, y’know?”

        “Yeah,” Deuce agreed, though his face was far away. Probably considering what a magicless world would entail. He blinked once to bring himself back into the present, “Right. Well, just listen to what Coach Vargas says. We’ll give you pointers if you need them.”

They joined the rest of the first years by a set of metal bleachers on the side of the running track. Even as they hurried to catch up, Ace wasn’t done marveling at what he’d learned.

         “Hold on,” he said, “you’ve never seen real magic before?”

         Parker smiled, “Not until I got here.”

Ace looked at her as if he’d never seen anyone like her before. Chances are he hadn’t, now that Parker thought about it, for even if there were people without magic in this world it wasn’t quite the same as meeting someone completely unfamiliar with it, “Oh, wow. Wait, so-“

He didn’t get to finish his thought. Instead, he along with the others turned towards a broad man in a red track jacket as he yelled, “Line up!”

Parker recognized him at once. He was the man form the entrance ceremony, the one who pulled her inside before Crowley could stop him. So, that was Coach Vargas.

         “We’re not done,” Ace mumbled to her as they fell into ranks with the rest of the class.

Coach Vargas stalked up and down the pavement, appraising each student for a second or two before stopping in front of them, crossing his arms, and smirking. A tiny speck of the happiness in Parker’s chest shriveled at that. He didn’t even have to speak for her to know what was coming. She didn’t know why she was surprised, especially after her track record with her other professors. Still, her gym class oasis was corrupted by a coach she knew -she just knew! - was a total, unapologetic meat head.

         “Alright, ladies,” Parker frowned as her suspicions were confirmed mere seconds after she formed them, “Warm ups! I want ten jumping jacks, ten push-ups, and fifteen lunges down the field and back,” his eyes flicked over to her and he added, “Magic or no, I expect everyone to keep up. Let’s move!”

Parker didn’t. ‘Magic or no’. What had she done to deserve that? What remained of her joy was smothered, choked as reality flooded into the paradise she constructed in her mind. What was wrong with this place? What was so wrong with her that no matter where she turned at this school, there was always something ensuring she was miserable. It was unfair! Now, because of Coach Vargas, she couldn’t even have gym class.

She jolted into her warm ups as something zinged down every nerve in her body like an electric current. No. This was gym class, this was hers. Maybe the coach was a meat head, maybe she didn’t have magic, but she did have jumping jacks, and push-ups and lunges, and she was going to enjoy them.

By the time warms ups were through, Parker finished alongside both Ace and Deuce. The coach was eyed her again, but she couldn’t tell whether he was irritated or just observing.

         “Take a breather,” Coach Vargas instructed. Half the class sat on the ground as the coach snapped a finger and presented a broom, “Today, you’re gonna learn how to use this bad boy. I’m sure plenty of most of you have flown before, but we’re sticking to the basics today. We gotta start small if any of you ever hope to reach my level of expertise.”

Beside her, Parker caught Deuce rolling his eyes and nearly choked on laughter. She hid it in time to keep the coach from noticing.

She listened through his explanation on proper mounting, take off, and landing techniques, even gaped along with the rest of the class when he demonstrated a double loop fifty feet above their heads. Reality caught up to her as she realized, yeah, this was flying class. She was going to learn to fly! Her joy rekindled at the idea of zooming through the air faster than her feet could take her. But alas, that hope was also killed when Coach Vargas pulled her aside and informed her she wouldn’t be flying.

           “No magic, no broom. Your pet raccoon there can partner with another one the guys.”

          “What am I supposed to do, then?” she cried.

           Coach Vargas didn’t miss a beat, “Go run laps. I want thirty by the end of class.”

Parker ran five laps before she was sure Coach Vargas wasn’t watching. He was too caught up in correcting the first years’ take offs to pay her any mind. Well, if he didn’t care whether she ran then neither did she.

She kept going, of course, but she let her attention wander from her feet on the track to the others gliding above her head. From where she jogged, she watched Ace and Deuce zip around each other as Grim clutched the end of Deuce’s broom for dear life. She laughed. It figured Grim was afraid of heights.

            “Hey!” Deuce called down to her. She waved up at him as Ace swooped over to him.

            “Let’s race,” Ace said, “us against you!”

             Parker laughed, “That’s not fair! I can’t fly.”

             “Didn’t think you’d give up so easily,” Deuce smirked. 

            “Last one to the edge of the field owes Grim lunch!” Ace didn’t wait for Parker to object again. He dove forward, dropping until he hovered just above Parker’s shoulder, “We’ll dismount to make it fair. How’s that?”

 Deuce landed on her opposite side. A relieved Grim hopped off the end of the broom.

             “I’ll sit this one out,” Grim said, “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you guys, y’know?”

              Right. Parker smiled despite herself, “On three. One.”

              Ace and Deuce held their brooms at the ready.

             “Two.” 

              She dug the balls of her feet onto the track for a good grip.

             “Three!”

They were off! Parker darted ahead as Ace and Deuce sprinted, jumped, and took to the skies once again. Parker looked up at them while she ran. It was no surprise to her when Deuce doubled down on his broom and sped ahead of them both. She laughed as Ace swore at his back, pushing his broom to go faster. Her own footfalls slapped against the track in quicker succession until she was past it and onto the grassy field instead. Above her, Deuce was getting smaller while Ace dove and ascended, swerved left and right to gain on his dorm mate. Parker put on a burst of speed. There was no way she would win, she knew, but if she was going to lose, she wanted it to be as close as possible.

 Deuce was almost to the edge of the field when Parker’s foot caught on uneven ground. Someone yowled in pain as she stumbled forward.

             “Grim?” Parker searched the grass, convinced she’d stepped on him. Hadn’t he said he wasn’t running? Strange. That noise she heard was feline. Instead of Grim, she found herself looking at a pair of sneakered feet. Her gaze trailed up to a pair of sweatpants and a mustard gym shirt, all belonging to the tallest student she’d encountered so far. A handful of others lounged about a short distance away. They must have been the ones with the Frisbee. She was too busy staring up at Ace and Deuce to notice she’d run right through their game.

Parker inched back as an honest to goodness growl emitted from the base of the tall student’s throat. If that weren’t enough, she shivered at the sight of animal ears protruding from his dark hair. He wasn’t the first animal-eared student she’d seen that day. In fact, Deuce scolded her in Crewel’s class for staring too long at a boy with wolf’s ears, but there was something about this student, something in the way he carried himself, that framed him as a true threat.

             He seemed to grow larger as he leered forward and said, “You’ve got some nerve stepping on someone’s tail.”

             “Sorry,” Parker flinched. A lion’s tail swayed back and forth just behind his left leg.

             “Say,” the hair on Parker’s neck stood as he leaned closer, “You’re the one from the ceremony, aren’t you?”

            The air lodged in Parker’s throat, “I-“

            The lion-man groaned, like he couldn’t be bothered to be so… bothered, “So. You don’t have magic or sense. I’m gonna have to knock some into you. What a pain.”

            A gust of wind brushed Parker’s cheek as Ace alighted beside her, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Give him a break, yeah? He didn’t know any better.”

            “All the more reason to teach him,” the lion-man’s gaze locked back onto Parker. She couldn’t choke back the gasp his mere stare knocked from her lungs. It wasn’t just the threat alone that shocked her, though, but that calculated look… she’d seen it somewhere before. If only she weren’t so panicked, she might remember where.

            “Eh, Leona,” one of the Frisbee players jogged up to where they stood. He was smaller than the lion-man, Leona, with a set of animal ears of his own. For the life of her, Parker couldn’t place what animal they belonged to, “We’re waiting for the next play.”

Leona growled again, only this time the threat was gone, or at least diminished. He spared a glance over to the other Frisbee player, but his eyes were back on Parker before relief properly set in. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His face shifted without dropping his snarl. He flickered between her, Ace, and the Frisbee player. She and Ace didn’t blink. He a beast sizing up his prey, though another look at those lion ears made Parker question if that was a metaphor or literal. He straightened, dropped the snarl and stretched.

           “Too much work,” he grumbled, then sauntered away, but not before turning one last glare in their direction, “Watch yourself, herbivore.”

            The other Frisbee player lingered by them long enough to snicker “What a temper, huh?”

            Parker watched them go. Another breeze played over her skin.

            “What was that all about?” Deuce dismounted from his broom.

            “I don’t know,” Parker said. She was trying to work that out herself.

            “Let’s get back,” Ace suggested. Deuce and Parker didn’t need to be told twice.

               The dining hall was much livelier than it had been that morning. Now that everyone was awake and more than a couple classes into their day, the energy spiked. Tired minds were refreshed by food, fresh air, and freedom from the tyranny of books and oppressive professors.  The need to shed the rigidity of the classroom chafed the students, and so did their need for mindless conversation. Ace, Deuce, Grim, and Parker were no exception.

             “Ok, wait,” Ace speared his food a little harder than he meant to, “so back to the no magic thing. How do you do anything?” 

             “What do you mean?” Parker popped open Grim’s second can of tuna. She was back to the normal uniform now, though she left the tie undone. It was too much work. Besides, she could always ask one of the guys to help her with it later.

Once again, Ace was interrupted from his questioning as three new faces approached their table. Two of them looked like older versions of Deuce and Ace, but were just different enough that they couldn’t be related. Where Deuce’s hair was a black to rich is was almost blue, the other dark-haired student’s looked greener in the light. The one that looked more like Ace scrolled away at his phone while he balanced his tray with the other.

        “If it isn’t the infamous freshmen,” the one with the phone smiled as he approached, “break any more chandeliers today?”

        “Don’t encourage them, Cater,” the third student was the smallest of them, with hair a darker red than Ace’s. Despite his size, there was something about him that seemed… powerful? Authoritarian. Parker wasn’t sure what to call it. The one thing she was sure of: he was one of the students on the dais during the entrance ceremony, “Is that the Ramshackle student?”

       “Half!” Grim said before anyone could get a word in, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Great Grim and this is my underling, Parker the human.”

      “I’m not his underling,” Parker frowned. All the same, she placed his can of tuna before him like the pampered house cat he was.  

Deuce gestured over to the other students, “Parker, these are Riddle, Trey and Cater. They’re upperclassmen in Heartslabyul Dorm. Riddle’s our head.”

      Parker nodded, “I remember you from the entrance ceremony.”

      “So do I,” Riddle looked her over once and frowned, “Your tie’s undone.”

      Well that was blunt. She shrugged, “We just got done with Flying.”

      “Parker’s from a world without magic,” Ace blurted like the knowledge would choke him if he didn’t let it out. Nice, Parker thought, subtle. Silence stretched among the seven of them while the older students processed his declaration. Then, as one, three pairs of eyes locked onto Parker so suddenly she flinched.

       “No way!” Cater gawked.

       “Um, yeah,” she said.

Deuce’s counterpart, Trey, adjusted his glasses, “No magic at all? How do you do anything?”

 Ace let out a little sound, justified in his own curiosity now that someone else wanted to know the same thing. By the looks of it, they all did. Even Grim cocked his head forward for a better listen.

     “This is a big deal for you guys, isn’t it?” she rubbed her arm.

     “Do you have cell phones?” Cater whipped his out and lit up the screen, “Magicam?”

     Parker was almost offended, “Yeah, we have cell phones. Don’t know what Magicam is though.”

     “Its an app,” Trey rolled his eyes, “Cater’s addicted.”

      “What about…” Cater scrolled through his home screen again, only for Riddle to cut him off.

      “Wait,” the dorm head said, “if he is from another world, then he’ll need us to show him how to live by our rules,” he ignored everyone at the table’s groans, “I’m sure you have a thousand questions.”

      Parker brightened, “Yeah, actually.”

     “Why don’t we trade, then,” Riddle suggested, “a question for a question. You answered ours, so now it’s our turn. What did you want to know?”

      What did she want to know? So many things swirled around Parker’s head, she was sure it would burst at any moment. It was a little hard to start, though, with so much going through her brain. She looked around the dining hall, from the tables to the exits, looking for something to tell her where to start. She caught site of the tapestries from yesterday. The Great Seven, Ace called them. It was as good a place as any.

     “Tell me about the dorms,” Parker gestured towards the tapestry, “Ace told me they’re based on them. You guys represent the Queen of Hearts?”

     “That’s right,” Trey said, “every dorm has its own main value. We’re in Heartslabyul. Our value,” he leveled a look at both Ace and Deuce, “is upholding the rules.”

      Neither of the younger Heartslabyul boys met his eye.

       “We have seven dorms, obviously,” Cater chattered away, unaware or uninterested in the first years’ discomfort, “they’re Savannaclaw, for stubbornness,” he indicated the lion’s tapestry, “Ignhyde ,for perseverance,” next was the blue man with flames for hair, “Pomefiore, for effort and beauty,” he pointed out the youngest of the tapestry figures, and by far the most beautiful, “Scarabia, for careful planning,” the bearded man with the snake staff followed, “Diasomnia, for elegance,” he gestured to the horned, green-skinned witch, “and Octavinelle, for mercy,” the last tapestry was of the octopus woman.

     “Mercy?” Parker asked. All the other dorm values fell in line with poise and discipline, but mercy? Something about it felt out of place.

     “Ah ah!” Ace wagged a finger, “That can be your next question. It’s our turn now.”

Things went on like this for the rest of the meal. Parker traded questions with the Heartslabyul boys like currency. The older students taught the first years how to navigate Trein and Crewel, they described a sport called Magical Shift which turned out the be what Leona was up to during their flying lesson, and some even told her stories about a place called the Rose Kingdom, the land most of the Heartslabyul students came from. In returned she told them about planes and cars, countries, and even stories about her own life. As the lunch hour ended, Riddle and the upperclassmen parted ways one by one, claiming a class or study session or club meeting. It was time for Parker to do the same.

      “Where are you going?” Ace asked as she gathered her things.

      “Class,” Parker piled Grim’s empty tuna cans onto her tray, “Aren’t you coming?”

       “I don’t have class for another half hour,” Ace said.

       “Then I’m probably with Deuce.”

        Deuce shook his head, “I’ve got Study Hour.”

        “So, we get a break from you guys. Alright!” Grim leapt from the table.

This wasn’t a break, Parker thought. A break would be welcome, a break meant she could rest. How was she supposed to know what to do?

Somehow they’d left the dining hall. Deuce and Ace walked on either side of her, offering up quick reassurances that tangled together in ‘you’ve seen how things are’, ‘keep doing what we’ve done’ and ‘sit in the back, keep you mouth shut, and you’ll be fine.’ She wanted to argue that no, sitting in the back did not guarantee she’d be fine, but her tongue was so dry it wouldn’t unstick from the roof of her mouth. She did manage to wonder, though, when exactly she’d come to view both Ace and Deuce as walking security blankets.

         “We’ll meet you in the courtyard,” was the last thing they said before going off in their own directions. The door to her next class loomed before her.

        “Oh, c’mon!” Grim pulled at her right pant leg, “you don’t need them.”

He scampered into the room without looking to see if she followed. She didn’t like this. Parker never thought confidence was an issue for her, but ever since waking up in Night Raven’s basement, she felt it being tested again and again.

       You don’t need them.

       For once, Parker hoped Grim was right.

[winchester-fantasies]

An Inconvenient Flame (Part Five)

Series Summary: You’ve known Sam and Dean Winchester all your life. You find you have developed an attraction for the eldest Winchester, but Dean has never indicated he felt anything more for you than a little sister. A late night encounter causes Dean to question his own feelings for you, but with your age gap, he’s hesitant to let anything grow beyond attraction. Things come to a head when a case forces you together. Will these embers of attraction lay buried or will this inconvenient flame of desire become an inferno?

Word Count: 2154

Warnings: fluff

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     The music grew louder as you and Dean approached the room, and you could hear footsteps, as people glided across the dance floor, moving their bodies to a waltz. You and Dean stopped, taking it all in. You could feel the nervousness creeping back into your stomach. How would you ever be able to pull this off? You had never been a prissy girl and just seeing everyone dressed in designer clothes, jewels dripping from every body, and the overall opulence of Windsor's mansion, made you feel overwhelmed and even vulnerable.

     Seeming to sense your uneasiness, Dean extended his elbow to you with a smile. You took it gingerly, placing your hand in the crook of his arm. He lowered it to his side, pressing your hand comfortably against his rib cage, and the warmth from his body began to soothe your frazzled nerves.

     Dean walked into the ballroom, making his way through the crowd. You were thankful you had taken Dean's arm, for you were sure you would have lost him in the sea of dancers. However, Dean navigated through them with ease despite being shoulder to shoulder with everyone.

     Finally the mass of dancers began to thin out as you and Dean reached the other side of the room. He lead you to a table by the wall where several couples sat conversing. Dean took out your seat, and you sat down reluctantly, looking up at him as you did. 

     "You sit here, darling, while I go grab us a couple drinks," Dean said, touching your shoulder, his persona already in place. Your uneasiness returned as you watched him walk away and disappear into the crowd. You were brought out of your worry; however, when you found a voice addressing you.

     You turned back to the table to find an elderly couple staring intently at you. You felt your cheeks redden as you realized they had asked you a question, and you had failed to catch it. "I'm sorry?" you asked.

     The elderly woman smiled. "I asked you how you were doing this evening," she said.

     You smiled in return even though you felt like getting up and running as far away from the table as possible. You were horrible at small talk, and the last thing you wanted was to have to carry the conversation. However, you found yourself responding to the woman, your voice clear and genteel, clashing with the tension roiling in your stomach. "I'm doing good," you said. "And how about you?"

     "I'm very well, thank you for asking," the woman replied. "Barbara Ostenberg," she introduced herself, extending her bony hand across the table.

     "Jessica Fleming," you returned, the name rolling off your tongue as if it had been yours your entire life. 

     Barbara nodded her head in greeting and turned to the balding man beside her. "And this is my husband, Mark," she said, motioning to the rotund man. You shook his hand as well and sat back down.

     There was a slight pause as you and the Ostenbergs sat in silence. You felt the awkwardness setting in and was about to excuse yourself to go in search of Dean who had still not returned, when Barbara addressed you again. "So, Jessica, tell me. How do you know Windsor?"

     You felt a coldness settle in your stomach. You hadn't discussed this backstory earlier, and you realized you would have to come up with something and quick. If you waited for very long, the Ostenbergs would sense something was wrong and the whole operation would come tumbling down.

     You swallowed the lump that had risen in your throat and found your mouth incredibly dry. You reached out and took a sip of the water that had been placed out earlier in the evening, perspiration trailing down the glass. The lukewarm liquid slid down your parched throat and settled heavily in your empty stomach. You hadn't eaten since breakfast and nausea rose, causing your stomach to roil, only further adding to your discomfort. 

     When you retracted your hand, you found it shaking and quickly hid both of your hands in your lap, clasping them tightly together. You thought for certain your cover was blown as your thoughts jumbled together. However, you found yourself speaking once more, hardly able to recognize the distinct and confident voice as your own. "My father has been a long-time acquaintance and business partner of Windsor's," you lied.

     "Ah, I see," Mark Ostenberg said, now taking over the conversation. "And what is your father's name? Perhaps I know him!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up in interest.

     Another ruse to come up with on the spot. "George Harrington," you said.

     "Ah, yes.... That name does sound quite familiar..." his voice trailed off, as Mark nodded his head slowly, trying to place the name to a face but coming up empty.

     Before the older couple could ask you further questions, Dean returned to the table, sitting down beside you. You let out a breath, relieved that you wouldn't have to be the only one being forced to endure the onslaught of conversation and line of questioning.

     Dean sent you grin before placing a glass of punch in front of you. "Here you go, dear," he said, placing a light kiss on your cheek before settling back onto his chair. It was so quick, you barely had time to register what had just happened. You could feel your skin tingle where he had just placed his lips, and you felt a blush rising in your cheeks, hoping that none of the other occupants at the table would notice. 

     You cleared your throat. "I was just telling Mr. and Mrs. Ostenberg about Daddy being an old business partner of Windsor's," you said, giving Dean a pointed look and hoping he'd catch on to your ruse.

     He seemed to understand as he leaned across the table to shake both their hands. "Daniel Fleming," he introduced himself. "I'm Jessica's husband."

     "Very good to meet you!" Mark huffed out. "What brings you to the party?"

     Dean told him the ploy you had settled on, the lie falling effortlessly from his lips. You listened as Dean smoothly integrated into the high-class environment and easily took on the character of Daniel Fleming. You were amazed at the suave air that he had assumed, and you were almost certain that if he hadn't been raised to be a hunter, acting would have been his calling.

     Dean and the Ostebergs continued to converse for well over an hour, you interjecting here and there. Finally the conversation settled and the older couple excused themselves, Barbara complaining of a headache, while you and Dean remained at the table. You turned and watched the couples dancing. You wondered what it must be like to live with such wealth. You had never been raised in a wealthy home and several times throughout your childhood, you had no home to call your own.

     You suddenly felt eyes on you and turned to find Dean watching you. You felt butterflies rise in your stomach at his intent gaze. He got up from his chair and held out his hand. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, his tone still refined.

     You enjoyed dancing. In fact, it was one of your favorite things to do, but your dancing was wild, untamed. You let the music guide your body, your moves never quite the same. You glanced back at the dance floor. This. This kind of dancing was elegant, rigid, uniform. You didn't know if you’d be able to follow along.

     You looked back up at Dean, who still had his hand held out to you. He smiled gently. "I'll still take the lead," he reassured.

     You nodded timidly before taking his hand reluctantly. "Okay," you whispered uncertainly. He lead you to the dance floor as you melded together with the other dancers. You felt Dean take over as you placed your right hand in his left as his other hand came to rest at your side, yours placed on his broad shoulder. You started to relax. It wasn't so bad actually.

     "You doing alright?" Dean asked quietly, Daniel Fleming fading away.

     You smiled gently. "Yes, actually. I'm surprised at how well I've kept my shit together," you said and Dean chuckled.

     "You've done good," he said, giving you a proud smile.

     Suddenly, the classical music stopped and a jazz piece came through the speakers. It surprised you, but you welcomed it as the tension in your body began to ease even further. You had never cared for classical. It always gave off a stuffy and uptight feel. Jazz on the other hand.... It was like speaking your love language. It always helped your body to loosen up. You closed your eyes and listened to the notes as the remaining stress left your body.

     You felt a slight tickle at your temple, and you opened your eyes to find Dean's face beside yours, his cheek nearly pressed to your own. Your bodies had closed the distance, and your chests touched as your chin grazed Dean's right shoulder. You could feel his soft breath on your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine. You closed your eyes again, enjoying the intimacy of being so close to Dean.

     Suddenly, Dean stopped and lead you gently through the crowd to a pair of French doors that led out onto a balcony overlooking the sprawling grounds. You hadn't realized just how warm you had grown until the cool night air hit your face. Night blanketed the landscape, the only light coming from the moon above. The sky was completely bare, laying out all the stars in its dark, empty canvas.

     Dean stopped and you turned to face him. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized just how close he was to you. The light from the open door illuminated the side of his face. You could see the slight stubble on his cheek, the cleft in his chin, his eyes a dark, cavernous green that you felt you could easily drown in.

     You felt his hand come to rest lightly on your hip as his eyes briefly darted to your lips, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You watched in both terror and desire as he leaned forward gingerly, almost as if he was afraid you would run if he moved too quickly. You could feel his warm breath on your mouth as his lips gently grazed yours, gauging your response. When you made no move to deflect his advances, he closed the distance, pressing his lips fully onto yours, his lips soft and warm and inviting.

     The kiss ended all too quickly and he slowly pulled away. His face was still close to yours as his hand made its way up to your cheek. His touch was tender, so different from his rough, calloused palm. He gazed into your eyes, searching for your reaction. Searching for an indication that what he had just done was all right. You placed your smaller hand over the one on your cheek. That was all he needed.

     Dean moved back to your lips, capturing them again, his actions more confident this time. Your stomach warmed as the kiss deepened. His tongue slid over your lower lip gingerly. You welcomed him in as your tongues slid over one another. It wasn't frenzied or filled with lust as you had expected after seeing Dean with Amanda. Instead, it was slow and gentle, like velvet on skin. His hand moved from your hip to the small of your back as he pulled you closer to him. You wound your arms around his neck as his other hand snaked its way to the back of your own. The jazz song drifted outside, adding even more emotion to the kiss.

     Dean finally pulled away, as the last musical notes faded into silence. You stood still, not daring to move. Not daring to say goodbye to the moment. Crickets chirped in the night, and you lightly shivered as goosebumps rose on your arms as a slight breezed tickled your bare skin. Dean leaned away from you, causing you to instantly feel alone even with him still only feet away from you. You wanted him back; his hands on you; his warmth melting into your body; his lips on yours as your tongues danced.

     He took off his jacket and gently placed it over your shoulders before leading you back inside, his hand lingering on the small of your back as you went first. As you stepped through the doorway, you were suddenly shaken from your euphoria when you realized the music was still not playing and the entire room had gone silent. You looked around and your heart dropped to your stomach. The large crowd of guests all stood uniformly, facing you and Dean. Every one of their eyes were black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

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Tags:

Everything:

@divadinag​ @mogaruke​ @calaofnoldor​ @defenderrosetyler​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @emoryhemsworth​ @satans-0-spawn​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

Dean Girls:

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An Inconvenient Flame:

@tranquility-or-chaos​​ @parinarain

[fiftyshadesgrl]

He saved me/ part 9

Summary: reader is in a abusive relationdhip. When things take a turn for the worst she finds help in the winchesters.

Warning: this story will have smut, language, violence, abuse and torture. If youre triggered by any of this i suggest not reading.

6 months later....

Me and bobby were sitting at the table eating the homemade lasanga and garlic bread i had made when his phone started to ring. He leaned over and with one hand snatched the phone from its cradle never faltering with his other hand that had a fork full of lasanga.

"Yeah?" Bobby said evenly. "Alright what time will you be in?" Bobby glanced my direction, i smiled warmly at him and he just stared. "Alright see you in a few."

He sighed when he hung up, "that was sam." I perked up at the mention of his name. I hadnt seen him in so long and to be honest i missed him. "Theyre going to stop by, need some info on a hunt."

I smiled, "thats great! I miss that boy." Then it hit me. "Wait, you said they. That means.."

He nodded, "yeah deans gonna be here too. Sam wanted to give you a heads up before they get here. Ya know, just in case you wanna bolt."

I thought about it long and hard, would seeing dean bring up all those old feelings ive been burying since i left? Would he even be happy to see me? Would he be mad? Would he even acknowledge i was here?

I sighed and gave him a small smile that im sure didnt reach my eyes. "Ill be alright bobby, ive got dinner dishes to do and plenty to keep me occupied. If i know dean hes gonna want food so ill fix them a plate when they get here then you wont even know im here."

We finished our dinner and when i stood to take our plates i asked, "what time will they be here?"

"Id say about another hour."

I nodded and made my way to the kitchen to get started on the dishes and to clean up.

An hour and a half later there was a knock on the door. I could hear from the kitchen.

"Hiya bobby." Sam said.

"Good to see ya boys." Bobby said sounding cheerful.

"Doing some spring cleaning bobby?" That was the voice that has haunted me for the past 6 months. I could almost smell him from where i stood. That comforting feeling blanketed me just by hearing his voice. I sighed to myself knowing he didnt know i was here.

I took the lasanga and plated a huge piece for sam and dean, along with placing the garlic bread in the basket from earlier. I took a deep breath and took my first steps out towards the boys.

I walked up behind them where they sat at the table, i set down the plates in front of them. Both men jerked in response then our eyes met.

"(Y/N)!" Sam jumped up from his spot at the table and engulfed me in a huge hug.

"Hey sammy, its good to see you." I was geniunely happy to see him.

He pulled back and inspected me, "you look great. How are you doing?"

"Better than i was last time you saw me." I said matter of factly and im sure dean knew what incident i was talking about.

"What the hell?" Dean said still in shock i think.

"Hey dean." I said in a flat tone. His brow furrowed at that.

"How long have you been here?" He asked.

"6 months." I said over my shoulder making my way to get their drinks. When i turned around from the fridge dean was standing there behind me.

"You have been here this whole time and never contacted me? Ive been going crazy not knowing where you were." Dean sounded mad, the nerve.

I straightend my spine to stand as tall as i could, "you made it pretty clear that night what you wanted."

"Damn it (Y/N), thats not fair."

I chuckled, "lifes not fair dean, you of all people should know that. Now go back and eat. I cant stand for food to be wasted."

"We are not done here." He said through gritted teeth.

I pushed past him but turned around right before i walked out. "Yeah dean, we are." With that i placed the drinks on the table and walked upstairs.

I changed into my running clothes the same ones i wore the night me and dean had sex. He thinks he has a hold on me well im going to remind him just what he walked out on.

I hopped down the stairs and put my hair up in a high ponytail. I hooked my ipod to my armband and slipped my tennis shoes on. All eyes focused on me when i walked into the dining room.

"Im going for a run, dont stay up to late old man." I walked over to bobby and kissed his cheek.

He smiled up at me "be careful."

"Dont worry, ill be fine." I looked to sam and dean and didnt fail to notice the lust in his eyes. "If you boys are gone before i get back, its been nice seeing ya again."

Sam stood and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. Dean didnt move didnt even look at me. I slapped him on the shoulder, "see ya deano."

With that i made my way outside. I started stretching my muscles when i got out in the warm air. I was getting ready to start my run when i heard the front door open behind me.

"(Y/N), we need to talk." Deans voice sent a chill up my spine but i tried my best to ignore it. I closed my eyes and sighed as i turned towards him.

"Have you found parker yet?"

Dean shook his head.

"Then we have nothing to talk about." I said as i started walking up the driveway. Dean was close behind me.

"Yes we do. You cant run from me forever."

I picked up my pace to a light jog, "tell ya what. If you can keep up we can talk."

I started running faster, i knew dean didnt do running. I heard him huffing then stop all together. I smiled over my shoulder at him then put my ear buds in and cranked up my music.

When i got back to bobbys an hour later the impala was still parked in the driveway. I rolled my eyes and opened the front door. I heard the guys talking in the living room then i heard my name come up.

"I dont know what to do. (Y/N) just wont talk to me." That was dean.

"Maybe she will come around. I mean you walked out on her at the worst time in her life." I recognized that as sam. He was taking up for me.

"Did she never mention anything to you? I mean she has been here for half a year." Dean asked bobby.

"She never talked to me about anything. I wasnt going to force her." Bobby said sounding aggitated.

"You mean to tell me after all this time you two living under the same roof nothing has come up about that night?"

I heard a glass slam down on the table. "You calling me a liar?"

I figured id show my face before it got more heated. "Im back, gonna grab a shower then head to bed."

Bobby nodded and i dashed up the stairs before anyone could say anything else. After my shower i walked down stairs to get a bottle of water. The guys were talking about some kind of lore and really didnt pay me no mind.

I walked back upstairs but instead of going to bed i went into the other spare room and started sorting files and cleaning up.

I almost had all the files organized and in their own seperate piles, i just had to put them in the file cabinet. A certain file caught my eye, the name sounded so familiar. Patrick windsor, i opened the file and gasped. It was parkers father.

I started reading through the file and it had all kinds of locations where he had been at and owned. Apparently patrick was a demon as well, working for lucifer himself. I was so focused on the file that i didnt hear someone approaching.

"Couldnt sleep?" Deans rough voice sounded from the doorway. I looked up and he was sipping yet another beer.

"No, i came up here to sort through all of this." I said in a flat tone, hoping he would just go away. I didnt want to discuss anything with dean right now. Instead he walked in and took a seat in the chair right across from me.

He didnt say a word, just sat there watching me. After a few minutes it started to get under my skin. "Why are you in here?" I asked a little snippy.

He smiled, "for you." I rolled my eyes and continued placing the files in different stacks. "Come on (Y/N), you cant ignore me forever."

"Its worked for six months."

He sighed heavily and stood up. Walking over to where i was sitting on the floor. I thought he might leave but instead he sat down next to me.

"I know i hurt you, but i was only looking out for your well being." He ran a hand through his hair, "ive learned that in this life we dont get love. We dont get happily ever afters. A hunter can retire and ward off whats out there. Like bobby, he lost his wife a long time ago and has never got close to anyone since. A hunters family and loved ones are never safe."

I nodded letting him talk, this is a side that i doubt many people ever saw of dean. I felt a little honored that he would open up to me, so i let him continue.

"That night when you told me you loved me it scared the hell out of me. Not because i dont want you, because you have already been through so much. You cant and shouldnt fall for me. Youre just going to get hurt or worse."

I nodded and placed the file i was holding down beside me. "I understand where youre coming from, but you cant push everyone away dean."

He shook his head, "i dont think you do. I tried the whole leave this life behind and have a family thing. She had a son, i thought of him like my own. I loved her and for a minute i was happy. Then a demon possesed her and tried to kill her right in front of me and her son. We got her to the hospital and cas healed her but i also asked him to take away all of lisa and bens memories of me. That was hard to see a woman and kid i loved look at me a different way than they had that morning. Never knowing who i was, but it was better for them, if i had never came into their lives in the first place it wouldnt have happened. So i just made things right, the way they shouldve been."

A silent tear fell from my eyes hearing dean talk about what he has went through. I now truly understood his hesitance about getting close to people. Instead of making me hate him it made me love him that much more, but i could never act upon it again. He downed the rest of his beer and sat the bottle down next to his leg.

"Dean, im sorry for everything you have went through. I have never had someone who truly loved me so i wouldnt know how that feels." I figured since he opened up to me it was only fair that i do the same. "At first i thought parker loved me. I just got so blinded by his words. I never had a family i was in the system until i was 15, then i ran away and never looked back. I was prostituting to make rent and for a little food, then i met parker. He took me in, sweet talked me, made empty promises on marrying me having children and having anything i would ever wanted. I fell for it and that has led me to where i am now."

"You can still have that life. Get married, have a family."

I shook my head, "no parker done so much damage to me that he destroyed the chance of me ever having children."

He opened his mouth to say something but i cut him off. "I never knew what love was, until i met you. Youre just so easy to fall for, but i know now that you dont feel the same way."

"(Y/N)....."

"Let me finish." He nodded and i continued. "Just because you dont love me doesnt make you less of a person. Youre a great guy and i hope one day you can prove youself wrong."

He looked down at the floor, when he looked up his eyes had tears in them. I placed a hand on his that he had on his leg. "Its okay dean, dont beat yourself up." Just as he was about to say something sam appeared in the doorway.

"I think we may have something on parker."

@an-unhealthy-obsession

[early20thcenturynerd]

7/9 of Queen Victoria’s children at their confirmation

1: Victoria, Princess Royal (’Vicky’), 20th March 1856

“Our thoughts much occupied with today's ceremony! Vicky wished me good morning & stayed with me whilst I was dressing & then breakfasted in her own room. — [...] At a little before 12 we & all the Family, as well as the 6 Children, assembled in Uncle Leopold's room. Dear Vicky looked very pretty in a high, morning dress, in white glacé silk. We Ladies, all, wore smart morning dresses, & the Gentlemen frock coats. Punctually at 12, we proceeded to the Chapel, Albert, leading Vicky, going in 1st, & I following with dear Uncle Leopold. Vicky stood just in front of the altar, with a chair placed behind her, we & the 5 other Children in, a line, to her left, Uncle & Mama (the 2 Sponsors) & all the other Royalties, in a line, on her right. 

The service began & ended with 2 fine old German Chorales, beautifully sung by the St. George's Choir. The Bishop of Oxford read the Preface & the Archbishop of Canterbury administered the Holy Rite. Dear Vicky behaved beautifully & was very calm & collected. It was a very touching ceremony, particularly so in her case, for those who knew she was already an affianced Bride. She made her answer to the Archbishop, 'I do', in an audible & firm voice. Everything was very touching, solemn & impressive, excepting the poor Archbishop's Address, which was more like a sermon, without a single allusion to the act of Confirmation, its meaning & importance, or giving Vicky one word of advice, which is generally done. However in spite of the poor Archbishop, everyone was deeply impressed & we prayed, & ever shall, for God's blessing on this precious Child! He will surely bless & guard her & let His Holy Angels watch over her now, as they did around her cradle! — The poor Dean was so agitated, that he could hardly give out the Psalms. The Choir were in the Pew, above, where the Children generally sit, & the Upper Servants in our Pew. 

At the conclusion of the service, we went into the Green Drawingr oom, where we embraced dear Vicky, who was a little 'émne'. Everyone was very kind & full of affection & good wishes for our dear Child. It made it such a nice homely gathering, having so many of our relations present, including the sons of my Brother & Sister. [...] We shall ever look back with pleasure to this very eventful & important day in the life of our beloved Child, & indeed in our lives! May God's blessing rest upon her for ever!”

- Extracts Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Vicky’s confirmation day

2: Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (’Bertie’), 1st April 1858

“Bertie came to wish me good morning, before breakfasting alone in his room. Our visitors came to breakfast. All the other Children looked for Easter eggs. — At a little before 12 we assembled with the Royal Family (Mama included) & our 5 Children. Albert went & fetched Bertie, who was in his Windsor uniform, Affie & Arthur being in kilts. The 3 girls wore blue dresses, I also. We proceeded to the Chapel, preceded & followed by the Court, Bertie walking between me & his father. He then stood just before the altar, we, to his left, & Mama & the Cambridges opposite. All those invited, had already taken their places in the Chapel. The same Hymns were sung, as at Vicky's Confirmation, — fine, & impressive. Bertie behaved extremely well, answered distinctly & was very 'receuilli' in his manner. The Archbishop gave a good Charge, with sound words of advice to Bertie, both as a Christian, & a Prince. 

Felt much the importance of this solemn step, for dear Bertie & prayed most earnestly for God's all merciful guidance & protection & that our dear Child might ever look back on this day with thankfulness, & without any shame at having departed from his solemn vow & promises! Gave him a kiss, as we came out of the Chapel. [...] Saw the Dean & talked over the examination & Confirmation. He is much pleased with Bertie's behaviour & good feeling. — We dined alone with Bertie, & afterwards had a good talk with him, then Albert & I played duets, & so ended this eventful day. May God's blessing rest on it & on our dear Child!”

- Extracts Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Bertie’s confirmation day

3: Princess Alice, 21st April 1859

“An eventful day. Sad that politics should disturb the serenity of it all! We feel very anxious. [...] When we came in, we gave dear Alice a pretty Prayer Book. At 12 all was ready, dear Mama looking so well & smart, in lilac silk, while I wore green, & the 2 little girls, white & lilac striped frocks. Albert went to fetch dear Alice, who looked very nice & pretty in a white muslin dress, trimmed with lace, over white silk. He led her into the Chapel, Ernest Coburg me, — & George, Mama. We 2 & the 3 children stood on one side, Ernest, Mama, & —c. opposite. The music very fine, the whole ceremony very impression & moving, reminding me so much of dear Vicky's Confirmation. The poor Archbishop delivered his charge very indistinctly, so that only those who were close by, could hear it. 

Dear Alice seemed much moved when she came out of the Chapel & we kissed her. We talked with the company, including Ld Clarendon, who hoped things would come right, — a vain hope! At that very moment, Albert was called out by Ld Derby whose face, told nothing but bad news, & he soon returned saying, that without answering us, Austria had sent a letter summoning Sardinia to disarm, giving them 3 days time to give their answer, at the end of which time, the Austrians would march on Turin!! [...] Dear Alice so pleased with all her presents, so thankful, & in such a charming frame of mind. [...] Pleased & thankful that this dear day had gone off so well, but grieved it should have been so sadly disturbed.”

- Extracts of Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Alice’s confirmation day

4: Prince Alfred (’Affie’), 5th April 1860

“Saw dear Affie for a moment. He did not come to breakfast. — Afterwards we walked with the visitors, Alice, Bertie & the little girls down to St. George's Chapel & showed them the beautiful monument of dear Aunt Gloucester, which is now finished, & with which they were greatly delighted. Fine, but a very high wind. — Dressing, I, in a striped blue satin dress, Alice, in lilac & the little girls in green. We all assembled at 12 in the Audience Room, dear Mama & Marie L. joining us. Albert then fetched up Affie, who was in his uniform, & proceeded to the Chapel, we & Affie going in first. 

Everything just as at the 3 previous Confirmations, with the exception of Mr Onslow being within the altar rails. The Bishop of Chester, as Clerk of the Closet, stood behind me. The service was very impressive, & dear Affie was much impressed & overcame when I kissed him & pressed his dear beautiful face between my hands. A very fine Chorale 'Oh, happy bond that seals my vows' was sung by the St. George's Choir, & the Arch Bishop's Charge was very good & to the purpose.”

- Extracts of Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Affie’s confirmation day

5: Princess Helena (’Lenchen’), 17th April 1862 [her picture has been heavily retouched, especially her dress)

“So sad in waking to think what was to come & was much upset when dear Lenchen came in to me. [...] At 10. m. to 12 we left for Whippingham, Lenchen dressed all in white, with a white bonnet & cloak. She drove with me in the Post Chaise, the 4 other children following. All the Household & some of the upper Servants had preceded us to the Church. Good Sir James Clark had come down on purpose. Within the altar rails stood the Bishop of Winchester, the Dean & Mr Prothero. The beautiful little Church, with its subdued light had a solemn effect. I stood not far from Lenchen, close in front of the altar, & the other children below the upper step. All the rest of the people were in the pews. 

I seemed to be in a dream but I was determined to keep up for dear Lenchen's sake. I trembled greatly when our dear Child received the Blessing & was much moved, as also by the concluding allusion in the Bishop's Charge. Prayed fervently that God would bless our beloved Child, whom her adored Father loved so dearly. I can scarcely believe she is nearly grown up. Her heart was very full & she had tears in her eyes, but she was very calm.”

- Extracts of Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Lenchen’s confirmation day

6: Princess Louise, 21st January 1865 (pictures taken 7th March)

“Felt very low when I walk, thinking, & praying for our beloved fatherless Child, who was today to take upon herself her Baptismal vows. — At a little before 12 started with Louise for Whippingham. She was dressed in a perfectly plain white silk dress trained with swansdown. All the rest of the family & the Ladies & gentleman had gone on before. I was very nervous & 'ennue'. The service commenced with the Hymn 'Come Holy Ghost our souls inspire, after which followed the Arch Bishop's 'Charge' which was very beautiful & included a touching allusion to dearest Albert, which quite upset me, & I think, there were many wet eyes. 

Oh! to have a 2nd child brought to the Altar, without her beloved Father, who always led there himself & felt so deeply on these solemn occasions. But his spirit was surely with us. The Arch Bishop performed the whole service admirably. It concluded with the Hymn 'O happy day that fixed my choice'. [...] Poor Louise seemed greatly relieved that the ceremony had passed off so well. She went to rest & did not come to luncheon. Saw the good, amiable & benevolent Arch Bishop, who was quite touched when I spoke to him & took leave. [...] Read over the account of former Confirmations at Windsor, in happy days, & felt very sad.”

- Extracts of Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Louise’s confirmation day

7: Princess Beatrice, 8th January 1874

“Breakfasted alone with darling Beatrice, & at 20 m. past 11 started with her in the old Post Chaise (in which I had driven with the 4 others in turn Ap: 1863 with Lenchen, Jan: 1865 with Louise, Ap: 1866 with Arthur, & Jan: 1869 with Leopold) for Whippingham. She looked sweet in a plain white silk dress, without any ornaments & her golden hair plainly parted in front, turned back at the sides & braided at the back. All the others had preceded us to the church, & every thing was arranged as on the former occasions. The Church was beautifully decorated with white flowers & was very full. 

Beatrice stood in front of the altar as calm as possible, & looked so young & childlike. I was nearly upset during the singing of the 1st Hymn 'Lord shall Thy servant come to Thee?' & the Arch Bishop's very admirable & appropriate Charge, in which he alluded very touchingly to the sorrow which had overclouded her infancy & the duties she was performing in becoming my comfort & my companion. The service was most impressive & concluded with the Hymn 'Thine for ever God of love' sung to dear Albert's tune 'Gotha.' We left as we came. [...] Felt satisfied & edified by the proceedings of the day & pray God to take my darling Beatrice under His most special care!”

- Extracts of Queen Victoria’s diary entry for Beatrice’s confirmation day

[stylesgalaxy]

mastermind; chapter 3

A car zips past me as I run across the street. I ignore it's angry honk and push through the doors to the art shop. It was a bit far from the campus and in the side of town I wasn't very familiar with. Julia and I lived in the opposite side. But I heard from a classmate that this one has the best prices.

A chime rings when I open the door but no one is at the counter to greet me. I don't mind, I start looking for what I need quickly. My calligraphy prints were not satisfactory, apparently, but the professor was letting me resubmit them. I look down the shelf against the wall but it's all canvases. I walk further into the store to check out the other aisles.

"Can I help you?" a voice startles me. I scream and turn around, holding my hand to my chest. The boy in front of me has a very handsome, very familiar face. His dark hair falls in strands over his light brown eyes, almost making me swoon.

"Hi," I say uncertainly. Zayn happened to be an art major as well, I've seen him a few times in big lectures but we've never had any classes together.

"I know you..." he says with a light smile. "You're that hot girl's friend. Julia?"

"Yes," I sigh. I'm the hot girl's friend.

"I'm Zayn, what's your name again?"

I didn't expect him to remember my name, he was very drunk and we only spoke once before I gave Julia the green light. I don't remember why I liked him so much.

"I'm Aria," I answer.

"Ah, nice name. What is it your looking for? I can help you," he says with a polite smile.

"You work here?" I ask in surprise.

He nods.

"I'm looking for ink, silver if you have."

"RIght this way."

Zayn leads me through the store to where they keep the calligraphy supplies and the Windsor & Newton inks. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that it's $2.50 for a bottle and immediately begin hoarding every colour I like. Zayn finds this hilarious, I make him show me the pens. I choose a thin-tipped one that he says is better quality than the other brands. I'm completely immersed in this shop and every thing they have because for once, I can afford these things.

It's been a good two hours before I walk up to the register to cash out. I didn't even notice how much time had gone by because Zayn was so easy to talk to and actually quite funny.

"And your total is... $84.76," he says after ringing up every thing. I happily pull out my credit card to pay. I couldn't believe how much I got for $84. "I trust I'll be seeing you soon?" he chuckles. "I mean if there's anything left for you to buy."

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" I answer. "I have to build a sculpture for one of my assignments, I'm going to be back."

"For Lennard's class?"

"Yeah, you have him too?"

"Wednesday afternoon," he smiles. "Odd guy, isn't he?"

"Oh, no doubt. What are you building for your sculpture?"

"My Patronus," he says after some hesitation.

"What's your Patronus?"

"You can find out when I finish it," he chuckles and starts moving things around his table. I take this as a sign that he doesn't want to talk about it so I leave.

"Whatever, weirdo, let me know if the Tombows go on sale," I say walking towards the door with my big bags.

"Will do! Do you need help?"

"I'm good, thanks. Bye!" I shout through my arms, struggling to open the door.

The buses hate me, as usual, so it takes me about an hour to travel back home. I have one bag in my left hand, and I'm holding my other bag with the huge papers to my chest with my right hand, all while my purse starts slipping off my shoulder. I knock hoping Julia is home and can open the door for me because I can't be bothered to fish out my keys right now.

I hear sounds of scrambling coming from inside and then Harry opens the door for me. I'm confused before I take in his messed up hair and shirt thats inside out. Behind him I see Julia on the couch, hastily arranging her hair to appear normal. I try not to make it obvious that I've noticed Harry's very apparent bulge and fly undone because I can see how discreet he's trying to be about it.

"Hey," Harry croaks. "Do you want me to help you with those?" he nods to the bag I'm carrying. I give him a tight smile.

"No, thanks," I say. I walk around him, careful to keep to not touch him and take my shoes off. "Hey, Jules," I greet her, without making eye contact, as I walk straight to my room. "I'm gonna be working on my assignment, don't mind me. You guys can... carry on or whatever... I don't know." My face heats up in embarrassment. Why am I so awkward?

I shut my door tightly and hope it didn't seem like I slammed it. Because if it looks like I slammed it then it looks like I'm mad, and if it looks like I'm mad that they were getting frisky, it's obvious that I have a thing for Harry. And if either of them realize that, it wouldn't be hard to understand why I act the way I do around Harry. I don't want to destroy the good progress we've made in our friendship this past week.

I sigh deeply and then grab a more comfortable change of clothes from my closet. My desk is already cleared up, ready for me to make my prints. Obviously, I practise on normal paper with my new pens and inks before pulling out the fancy sheets and cutting them in a neatly so they're letter sized. I'm nervous to start the first print but I get over it quickly. If I mess up this sheet, I have more but if I mess those up too, then I'm fucked because I have to submit eight prints tomorrow morning, and I'm not submitting them on two types of paper.

I think about Zayn for a few minutes while I work. Over the past two years I'd seen him around a few times because we were in the same program, but the mysterious and broody vibes that he gave off intimidated me from ever speaking to him. He was also very quiet. That has to be why Julia lost interest in him, because with a face like his there is no other reason I can imagine why she wouldn't want him. He spoke a lot to me today though. I figured that's because he was in a place he was familiar in and he sort of knew me. I can see us being friends in the future.

I didn't make any new friends during orientation in first year, so when Julia started dating Harry several weeks later, we both became acquainted with Louis and Niall and they're now my only other friends. I'm grateful for them since they let me go bar-hopping with them when Julia refused to because her and Harry preferred to just stay home together. And they were really fun too. They liked to make fun of Harry and Julia as if they're an old married couple, and their impressions are really funny when I'm drunk.

However, it'd also be nice to have an artist friend. I already wish I had gotten Zayn's number. Not to go out with him, but to have someone to talk to about my art.

I'm nearly done one print when a knock sounds at my door a couple hours later.

"Come in," I say, surprised that for once Julia learned how to knock.

"Hey," she says slowly. She shuts the door and cautiously sits on my bed. I don't turn my chair around to face her, I just keep working. "Harry just left and I wanted to say sorry about what you saw earlier."

My face heats up again.

"Don't worry about it. It's cool," I assure her.

"Okay, good, I just felt bad because I know you don't like it when—"

"Did you have sex on the couch?"

"We-what?"

"Did you have sex on the couch?" I repeat calmly.

"No, we didn't. We-uh... no. Not on the couch."

"Good, just remember the couch is off limits for sex. I don't care about whatever else you do," I say nonchalantly. "Wait, the entire living room and kitchen as well. Though I'm sure you knew that already."

"Okay," she whispers. I'm not sure why Julia is talking about this with me so delicately when she's never hesitated to go into very descriptive details about their sex life before. But then again, Julia conjures many strange explanations in that brain of hers, so she's probably labelled me off as a scared prude or something.

"Um, this isn't going to change how you act around Harry, is it?" she mumbles.

I look at her in confusion.

"What? No. Why would it? I knew you two were having sex," I roll my eyes at her. Honestly, just because I haven't done the deed doesn't mean I don't know about it. And like I said, she went into very descriptive details about their sex before.

"I know, but you've never seen us like that before. I just hope nothing traumatized you."

Harry's bulge flashes in my mind and I curse Julia for bringing it up.

"I don't know what your talking about, I didn't see anything," I lie.

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Really. And besides, it was clothed so it wasn't like I actually saw his dick."

"Wait what?" Julia exclaims.

"What?" I respond trying to pretend like I didn't just say what I said.

"You saw his clothed dick?" Julia stares at me, wide-eyed.

"What? No, I didn't. He has a dick?"

Julia and I stare at each other for a few seconds, before we both burst into laughter.

"Oh, God, never tell him that! He was trying to hide it so bad!" she giggles.

"I wasn't planning on it!" I wave my arms around like it was obvious. She falls into another fit of giggles.

"Moving on," I say, "you'll never guess who I met today."

"Who?"

"Remember that guy I approved of for you at that party during orientation in first year? Zayn?"

"Oh my God, I remember him! He was so hot!"

"Was? He still is!"

"Get it, Aria!" she chirps. I roll my eyes.

"He works at the art shop on the other side of the town."

"That's hot."

"Tell me about it," I smirk. "I think I'm gonna go see him again soon."

Julia and I ended up talking for an hour about Zayn and other guys she's dated. For the first time in ages, my mind was completely off Harry and it felt nice to talk to my best friend about boys. We were like young teenagers again, scheming ways to lure Zayn in and planning potential future dates. I hadn't even thought about him like that until I started speaking to Julia.

It was time I moved on from Harry.

---

I accidentally tip my travel mug over trying to pour hot coffee in it and nearly burn myself. Oh fuck. Now there was coffee all over the kitchen counter and floor and none in my mug.

I quickly throw a bunch of paper towels on the tile floor to mop it up and then inspect the counter. My eyes widen when I notice the coffee seeping into the coffee machine. I shut it off immediately and unplug it from power before it explodes or something. I'm not sure how easily electrical appliances catch fire, but I didn't want to risk burning my apartment down today.

I know I can't leave this mess like this, Julia will have my head. Quickly throwing paper towels on the tile floor and the counter, I decide that if I leave right now and run, I can make it to Starbucks to grab a coffee before my class starts. So I messily mop up the mess, wash my hands and run out with my purse. I put my jacket on in the elevator and hold the folder with my new prints in my mouth.

I was up all night last night after Julia and I were finished talking about Zayn. Hence why the coffee is so important. I woke up thirty minutes ago after I fell asleep for an hour and took the fastest shower then failed to make coffee. At least my calligraphy prints were all done and ready. I'm really glad Zayn sold me the fancy paper because it makes the calligraphy look so much more elegant and old fashioned, and the silver ink enhanced it as well. All in all, I'm pretty proud of them.

It was twenty to nine which meant the campus was full of students milling around and slowly making their way to class. There were a few maniacs running around like headless chickens (me) while also texting their roommates to warn them not to use the coffee machine. I was dodging people like a bullet and nearly made it to the Starbucks when I remembered I should have mobile ordered because the line up looks so long. Just as I was about to pull to a stop in front of the store, someone bumps into me harshly and a coffee drops to the ground and my folder slips from my hand.

"Shit!" Niall yells and the same time I let out a horrified scream. Three of my prints landed in Niall's spilled coffee.

"My prints!" I shout, dropping to my knees.

"Aria, shit, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, oh fuck are they ruined?" Niall starts blabbering.

My hands shake and as I reach out to grab one. It was then I noticed that thankfully I had enough functioning braincells before I slept to remember to put them in individual sheet protectors. The coffee touched the plastic on the outside but the prints themselves were safe.

"They're in sheet protectors, they're okay!" I hear Harry's voice. I look up meeting his gaze. I hadn't even noticed him standing next to Niall with a Starbucks coffee of his own. He bends down in front of me, pulling out napkins from his pocket and starts to gently wipe at the coffee. It comes off clean and leaves my assignment looking just as it had before. "See? Completely fine," he confirms gently. I let out a sigh of relief. I was so scared for a moment.

"You were so smart for putting them in plastic sheet protectors," Niall comments.

"Thank fuck," I grunt. I grab a napkin from Harry and help him. He stops and stares at the print he was holding.

"You made this?" he asks, as if it just occurred to him. I nod. "Shit, this is so good, Aria."

I blush and thank him. I'd love to hear him compliment my work, but I'm sad because I have to go to class coffee-less now.

"'No legacy is so rich as honesty'," he reads. "Is that Rupi Kaur?"

"No!" I scoff. "It's Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare is shite," Niall says.

"Shakespeare is one of the greatest writers in history!" I argue defensively.

"This is beautiful," Harry continues, ignoring Niall and I. I gather the prints in my folder and stand up, the boys follow suit. "'If music be the food of love, play on' I know that one!"

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Niall and Harry were pouring over my prints and to be honest, after staying up all night to make them perfect, it felt nice to have them say it was good.

"'You have witchcraft in your lips'," Harry drawls out slowly. He bits his lip. "Can I have this? I quite like this one," he says.

"No," I quip and pull it away, gently placing them back in the folder. "I have to submit them in..." I check my phone for the time. 8:51. "Nine minutes."

I pull my purse back over my shoulder and try not to meet his gaze.

"What's the drink you got there?" I ask nodding at his coffee cup.

"Uh, a Blonde Hazelnut latte—"

"Great, thanks," I say grabbing his coffee and walking away with it. "Bye, guys, see you later!" I wave at them and smirk at Harry's indignant expression. I bring his coffee to my lips and take a sip.

---

It's been a couple weeks since I sort of walked in on Harry and Julia. They're more cautious about getting horny when I'm in the room now. And because of what I promised, I'm with them a lot. They love to watch TV together, which I don't understand. I mean I understand watching TV or binge-watching Netflix, but it seems like it's all they do. When they're not in the bedroom, or eating, they're in front of the television. How they get their work done is beyond me.

"We're watching Say Yes to the Dress, wanna join?" Julia asks me one night after I get back from work.

"Don't you guys have homework?" I question.

"We've done it already."

Probably forgot to mention that they're also both business majors, so they have some classes together.

"We have a four hour break on Fridays together, that's when we do all of our schoolwork."

They must be some next-level geniuses, because it takes me ten hours to do one assignment. I couldn't help but also feel like I lacked the security they had regarding their future jobs. Both of their father's were rich businessmen, and both of them were extremely smart. Whether they passed with a 4.0 GPA or a 2.8, they were still going to get a job with their parents and do really well. I had no idea what I was going to do when I graduated.

What did one do with a degree in Fine Arts?

These are the thoughts that plagued me some nights. What was I going to do with my degree? It cost a lot of money to even come here to this university, it was only going to double up after I graduate and try to pay it off. I'm going to spend my whole life looking for temporary jobs to pay me enough so I can pay off my student debts. I could sell paintings, but it would take years to make a name for myself that will make me successful. I could try getting my work into a gallery, but the people who get their works in galleries spend years pouring their heart and soul into their pieces. That's going to take time, and time is money—which I don't have.

I remember being just as lost in high school. Julia applied to this university and convinced me to apply as well. She dragged me to uni fairs to learn more about my program and forced pamphlets in my hands until I was in love with the campus and program enough to apply for it. And I do love it, I got to meet great people and I'm learning amazing things. I was also good enough to get in so that has to count for something, right?

"What are you going to do after you graduate?" I asked Zayn one day. He was showing me sculpting supplies when I randomly blurt this out.

"Uh," he drags out for a few seconds. His eyebrows scrunch in deep thought, but I know he thinks about this a lot too. "I guess, I'm just gonna see where life takes me."

"And that helps you sleep at night?"

"Well, no," he chuckles. "I mean... I kind of like tattooing... I thought I might work at a tattoo parlour. Or do comic book illustrations."

Tattoo parlour. Comic book illustrations.

That's a good answer. That's the perfect answer for Zayn. He has an idea, he has his himself figured out.

"What do you want to do?" he inquires.

"I don't know," I mumble.

"How about I open up my own tattoo shop and you can draw my designs for me while I draw comic books?" he suggests.

I grin at his attempt to cheer me up, and nod.

"Sure, sound's brilliant."

---

Satisfactory work on the prototype. Visually, it's pleasing. Conceptually, it doesn't really make sense. Ask yourself: what is the meaning behind this piece? How do the elements you use embody that? Why did you choose the medium you chose? And remember you don't only have to use one. It would help you to open your mind more.

I growl in frustration and slam my laptop shut. I thought this week couldn't get any worse but the feedback from my sculpture prototype was the cherry on top of the cake. I knew my idea of a dancing ballerina was sub par but I hoped that if I made it look pretty, the professor would just accept it.

Stupid art teachers. They always have to get to deep and meaningful.

I can't help but compare myself to Zayn. Zayn knows what he's making for his sculpture—his Patronus, his spirit animal. That's meaningful. He knows what he wants to do in the future, he's talented, he can get there. He isn't lacking anything.

Angry tears prick my eyes and my fingers close into fists. I lost my touch. I know it. When I came into this university, I was full of fresh ideas. Now I was just drained. All my work was being handed back to me because it wasn't good enough and I had enough. I stared at the stupid cardboard ballerina model then threw it against my wall. It bounced back which gave me no satisfaction, so I picked it up and tore it to pieces, screaming.

The door to my room burst open suddenly, and Harry barged in.

"Aria?!" he took in my state, then the torn cardboard in my hands. "What happened, what did you do?" He walks into my room, completely ignoring the death glare I'm sending him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" I scream. He was the last person I wanted to see me like this, and I had no energy to be careful around him.

Harry's eyes widen and he stares at me in shock, then apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I-I came to see Julia, but she's not here yet," he explains. I roll my eyes and turn away from him. Of fucking course. I forgot Julia had given Harry keys to our apartment. Ever since he got them, he'd been visiting more often.

"She went out with her father," my voice comes out scratchy and monotone.

"Her father—?"

"Yes. His personal assistant came to pick her up an hour ago."

"Oh okay," he says quietly, still standing in my room. I turn to look at him expectantly, but he just stares back at me like a doe with green eyes. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"Like what?" Fury drips from my voice. I don't know why it angers me so much. Who is he to know what I'm like?

"Like-like this! All crying and stuff."

"Well, I want you to leave!"

"No," he says quietly and shakes his head.

"Leave!"

He stays rooted and even has the audacity to fold his arms across his chest.

"This is my house and I demand that you leave!"

He bends down to pick up the torn pieces of cardboard. I huff and sit down on my bed, my face in my hands. I can see Harry trying to arranged the pieces back together like a puzzle to fix it. My heart strings pull at his actions. He's trying to be helpful and here I am, being a bitch to him again.

"Leave it, it's not important anymore. I already got my mark and feedback," I mutter. He gently sets the pieces down then moves up closer on the ground so he's kneeling in front of me.

"What happened? Did they say there was something wrong with it?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's useless, it's not good enough," I scoff. Harry immediately shakes his head.

"Don't say that—"

"It's true, Harry! It looks pretty but-but that's not good enough."

"What is 'good enough'?"

My throat constricts and my eyes well up in tears again. I shake my head, not being about to speak of my failure. Harry carefully grabs my hands and looks into my eyes. My heart beats faster at the feel of his soft hands over mine.

"Come, I'll make you some tea. Relax a bit, and we'll figure something out," he suggests.

"Harry, no," I say weakly. Despite my distressed state, I know I probably shouldn't be spending time with Harry like this, especially with Julia not here. But when he insists and pulls me up to my feet, I am unable to refuse him.

Harry sits me down at the small table in the kitchen and swiftly moves around to make tea.

"You've never had my tea before, no?" he inquires. I shake my head not even realizing that his back is to me so he won't see. "You're going to love it, everyone loves my tea. It's probably the best in the country."

A small laugh escapes my mouth. Harry whips his head back, an accomplished smile on his face.

"I doubt that," I say eventually. His face brightens even more at my response.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it."

He gives it a final stir, sets the spoon down on the counter, then places the steaming mug carefully in front of me. I look at the light brown liquid expressionless.

"It's Earl Grey," he says quickly. When I still make no move to pick it up he says, "that's all you guys have here, I assumed you like Earl Grey."

"Oh, I love Earl Grey," I start. Harry smiles in relief. "I hate milk, though."

His smile drops.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. He slowly drags the mug to his side. "Well... this was mine actually," he reasons, "all along." He turns around to grab a new mug.

"Oh," I play along. "See, I thought it was for me, 'cause you put right in front of me."

"No, no," he wags a finger. "That was a trick, and you fell for it. I made you think that was for you, to throw you off. I knew you hated milk all along."

I try to contain my laughter because I know he wins if I do, but I can't help it. His endearing behaviour is making me smile. His eyes sparkle at the sound of my laughter, and I am in awe at how quickly he was able to brighten my mood.

"I take sugar in my tea sometimes," he says. "I know that you..." he narrows his eyes at me and I give a small shake of my head, "don't take sugar in yours... which is why I'm not putting any in here." He places the second mug of plain black tea in front of me. I blow on it a bit to cool it then take a sip, it tastes just as ordinary as I always take my tea.

"Mmm, this truly is the best tea I've ever had," I say sarcastically.

"Told you," he grins.

Harry sits across from me and tells jokes and a few anecdotes to help me relax. Within a half hour, I'm in stitches and I've completely forgotten about my breakdown.

He finishes another story and I'm laughing harder than I have in a while. Tears of mirth slip down my face, and I wipe them away with my sleeve. I've quietened down and look to see Harry staring at me with a content smile.

"I think that's the first time I've seen you really, truly laughing around me," he says. I catch the happy glint in his eye that makes me long for endless moments like this.

"Well, I'm not like this with everyone, considered yourself special," I joke. His forehead furrows and he turns the tiniest bit serious.

"Of course, I consider it an honour to even call you my friend, Aria Collins," he declares. I search for any hint of teasing in his eyes, but I find none. I gulp and smile shakily.

His hand moves up a bit on the table and for a moment my heart stops, but his hand doesn't come any closer to mine.

"Do you wanna talk about your feedback now?" he asks gently. I sigh deeply. I know there's no escaping it so might as well get it over with now.

"My prof doesn't think it's good enough. He said it's lacking conceptually and I need to be more open minded."

He looks at me blankly. I know Harry is at a loss when it comes to art because it's not his forte, but I'm pleasantly surprised when he pushes himself to keep trying.

"What was the idea you had for the ballerina?" he asks.

"It was just a ballerina. I was fascinated with ballet when I first came up with the idea. I just thought they were cool."

He nods and thinks.

"You should make something related to you," he offers.

"But what? And how?"

"You know... and before I start, forgive me, 'cause I don't know much about art and things—"

"It's okay."

"Um, I'm taking a Greek Mythology elective this semester." I tilt my head, not expect this. "D'you know who you remind me of a lot?"

"Who?"

"Artemis."

My jaw drops.

"You're very independent like she is," he continues. "It's hard to impress Artemis, and it's hard to impress you. She's sworn to never marry—and I know you haven't but you've obviously prioritized other things before relationships. She's very, like, determined and dedicated to her work which you clearly are as well..."

Harry begins to falter and trails off awkwardly. Eager for him to feel just as comfortable as he's always made sure I felt, I'm quick to answer.

"Artemis is my favourite goddess," I tell him. His eyes meet mine.

"Really?"

I nod.

"Who's your favourite god?" he follows up.

"Apollo," I smile. Harry laughs.

"No way! He's my favourite, too!" He blinks owlishly at me. "Why don't you do something Artemis-like for your sculpture. Or Apollo-like."

I try to think of how I could twist this Artemis idea and make my sculpture about me. I absent-mindedly tug at my sleeves and bite my lip in concentration.

"You know..." Harry starts again and I inwardly smile because I know he had an idea from the beginning but he doesn't want to be too forward. "Every god and goddess has a sacred animal."

I vaguely remember reading something like that.

"What's Artemis'?" I ask.

"A deer."

A deer. Huh.

"Deer symbolize things like adventure, cautiousness, individuality..." Harry continues. I raise my eyebrows. He nods, "Sounds like someone in this room."

I crack a smile.

"I like that idea," I say truthfully. "I think I can work with that."

"What else did your prof say?"

"He told me to be more open-minded and not use only one medium or something like that..."

"What's your medium?"

"Well a medium is the physical thing you use to show your art. I was going to use clay for my sculpture."

"So he wants you to use more than clay?"

I nod. Harry looks at me like he has an idea but he doesn't share.

"How about we let this idea cook for a bit, and with time you'll think of a something."

"Okay," I agree, feeling the exhaustion of the night. I got pretty far with the deer idea anyway. "Sounds good." I get up to put away our mugs, and when I turn around Harry put his shoes on.

"I should probably leave now," he mumbles, slipping his arms through his jacket. I nod.

"Thanks, Harry," I say sincerely. "I'm glad you didn't leave, you... you helped me a lot today. I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you."

He smiles wide.

"It's no problem," he says, his hands tucked into his pockets. I surprise both of us by moving forward and wrapping my arms around his torso. He stands shocked for a moment, and then slowly rests his arms around me too. I hug him tightly, trying and failing to not pour all my emotions out. His hand rubs up and down my back. I inhale his scent. I don't want this moment to end.

Eventually, I pull away before it gets awkward. Though I don't think Harry would ever allow me to feel awkward in his presence. I fold my arms together, determined to not look shy but Harry sees right through me and snickers. He opens the door and steps out, waving goodbye.

***

There’s chapter 3! Let me know what you thought :) Also I probably should mention Aria rolls her eyes a lot. Like A LOT alot, it’s gonna get annoying I know but that’s how she is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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[alvres]

― task one.            counseling session.

          cristina settles into the plush leather couch, legs and arms crossed defiantly, eyes moving from painting, to painting, to graduate psychology diplomas. she knows EXACTLY why she’s been called into the counselor’s office and no part of her’s looking forward to the hour-long grief session dr. lewis has planned for her. in fact, at this point, spending an afternoon with the windsors fighting over who cared about dante the most while she has to play referee sounds more relaxing. ‘ you know, my parents pay an expensive family therapist to do this every week. this isn’t really necessary, ’ she mutters, her eyes finally meeting with the counselor’s, as he flips to a new sheet of paper to add to his cristina alvares DOSSIER. ‘ while i’m sure they get paid a lot more than i do, no part of that makes them any more or less qualified to talk this through with you, cristina, ’ he smiles, taking off the cap of an expensive-looking fountain pen, ready to write down any and all of her reactions. not that he’s going to get much out of her. no one ever does. ‘ i have to do this, don’t i ? ’ she surmises, her arms uncrossing slowly as he shakes his head, almost as a sign of defeat. a deep sigh escapes her and she settles more comfortably into the couch.

‘ so, cristina, can you tell me about dante’s death ? what happened that day ? what were you doing ? be as specific as you want. ’

          without warning, the words seem to trigger her mind, which — for the first time in weeks — fights against the CHEMICAL HAZE she’s cloaked herself in. she sees it all, suddenly. the senior year celebrations. she and dante agreeing to take different cars to get to the party. meeting with ares in a dark corner of the host’s home, unable to be away from him for too long and unable to keep her hands to herself. drinking more than she should and feeling a certain sense of warmth envelop her. all before it came crashing down. all before someone screamed at their phone, a scream that’s been ECHOING in cristina’s skull ever since. ‘ his car crashed, ’ she replies, after what seems like an eternity, her brain still playing a poorly edited supercut of the evening, ‘ i found out from someone who’d gotten a text from someone else. and then my mom called. and then i left the house i was in. the rest of the evening’s kind of a blur. ’ the answer pours out of her like she’s rehearsed it, emotion lacking completely from her face. like a ROBOT reading a script. any more emotion and she knows she’d break down. something she can’t afford to do in broad daylight at school.

‘ where were you when you found out about his death ? you mentioned a house ? ’

          she thinks back to the walls, covered in awards, trophies and medals. cristina had though for so long that her mother was perhaps the craziest in boston, only to realize upon entering dante’s teammate’s home that athlete’s mothers were far WORSE. every inch of their home was decorated like an odd shrine to their son and his lacrosse achievements. it was like the louvre, but for douchebags. all that was missing were little plaques explaining each award, each black and white picture of the PRODIGAL son. ‘ we were all at dean sampson’s house, celebrating the fact that senior year’s coming to a close soon. someone drew devil horns on one of the many black and white portraits dean’s parents have of him in their staircase, ’ she mutters, eyes now focused on the comings and goings outside of dr. lewis’ window. she’s never cared much for the athletes at houghton.

‘ since then, what’s happened ? how have things been with you and family and friends ? ’

          she holds back a scoff. EVERYONE knows how it’s been, thanks to every boston tabloid’s round-the-clock coverage of her family’s grief and the outfits they’ve chosen to accessorize their sadness with. she’s pretty sure she remembers reading that someone thought the death of her brother made her skinnier. she definitely remembers thinking that dante would’ve laughed. ‘ we buried dante on that sunday. and then the school held a beautiful memorial for him, ’ she continues, biting back comments about how RIDICULOUS the memorial was, with its gaudy decorations and speeches. it almost seemed like everyone with a pulse suddenly came out openly as dante’s biggest fan, fawning about how much they individually missed him to both his and cristina’s parents ( an act which led monica alvares to drink for the rest of the evening, convinced she hadn’t loved her son enough ). silence lingers for an instant and dr. lewis shifts in his chair, cocking an eyebrow in the hopes of making her realize cristina hasn’t fully answered his questions. ‘ things have been as good as you’d expect, ’ cristina finally states, realizing that there’s no way he’ll cut this session short, ‘ my parents are really doing the most they can to support me right now. we aren’t the BRADY BUNCH of beacon hill at the moment, but we’ll build ourselves back up together. ’ another eye roll is suppressed as cristina thinks back to her mother on the phone with the lifestyle editor of the boston globe, talking about potential times for cristina to be interviewed about her tennis skills. because no part of an alvares twelve-step grief program is complete without tone-deaf image damage control.

‘ have you been through any other difficult times recently prior to or following the loss ? ’

          she inhales rapidly, as if to start a sentence, before catching herself — god, he’s GOOD. almost better than the expensive family therapist, who — truth be told — has never gotten this close to making cristina cough out an honest answer. the girl’s years of practice in the art of deception are wasted on her. plus, that doctor’s probably sleeping with her father. at this point, no one would be surprised. ‘ it’s been tough but, as i said, i go to therapy weekly. plus, senior year’s keeping my mind busy. so, don’t you worry. i’m still the SAME OLD cristina, who eats her five fruit and vegetables a day and can put a yearbook spread together better than the entire yearbook staff put together. ’ she ends her sentence with a smile, prompting dr. lewis to take his glasses off and put them to the side. he knows she’s LYING, but he also knows not to push someone in the steps of their grief process. after all, there’s always a stage of denial before acceptance rolls around. so, instead, he just makes a note to see cristina alvares again in a week as she gets up to go back to class, also noting to check if she’s on antidepressants next session. no one’s this cheery after the death of a twin.

          the impact of the impromptu grief counseling session doesn’t hit her until she makes her way to one of the more secluded locations at houghton. shaking hands go straight to the lining of her bag as she tries to hold back tears, fingers racking through various objects before coming in contact with a lighter and a pre-rolled joint. she expertly places one end between her lips and sparks up the other with her lighter, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air above her, feeling herself RELAX almost instantly. ‘ thank fucking god, ’ she whispers, exhaling another cloud, not bothered to wonder if the smell would tip someone off. she needed this if she was going to go back to class and face her classmates. because if her facade were to fall for even an instant, all would CRUMBLE.

[softytom]

money is the anthem of success - t.h [part 1]

summary: Being rich and having a gorgeous finance isn’t everything. Tom and his future bride-to-be need to discover what they truly mean to each other before their wedding. 

pairing: Tom Holland x female!reader

warnings: nsfw isshh, sexual content, swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol 

word count: 2.2k

a/n: I had this idea while being sleep deprived if anyone has any suggestion how to get my sleeping in order i would highly appreciate it, and it’s just basically what if the holland’s were like kennedy of england. If you read my preview and been waiting, here it is, and yes, i decided to turn in into series cause just one imagine wouldn’t have been enough. So i hope you enjoy💓

The Hamptons, 11: 45am

The soft wind blew through me once I stepped outside refreshing me from the extremely hot, humid weather the Hamptons provided us this summer. I called out for Tom, letting him know that brunch was being served in ten minutes, but he didn’t hear me. He was occupied playing soccer with his twin brothers and his so-called-assistant but in reality it was just his best friend from childhood, he needed a way to bring him to boring meetings, A-list parties and someone to bring his special party favors. 

I walked to the yard where the four sweaty, shirtless boys were at. Harry was the first one to notice me. He waved at me, giving me a warm smile. According to Sam, Harry’s twin brother, Harry would marry me if I hadn’t chosen Tom. I laughed when he told me. Harry wasn’t the heir to all the fortune. Tom saw that Harry was waving at me, once he saw me, he turned back around, telling the boys to go back inside. The boys left, I notice two, all back suited guards walking behind the three boys. Tom walked to where I was. I would never go near their soccer field. Tom wasn’t a fan of me being around him when he is with his friends, or his own brothers. 'it back to him. I stared at his well-shaped body. I gave a small cheeky smile, I wanted him to notice I was looking. “Mother’s orders?” he said extending his hand to me, I grabbed it without hesitation. 

“Mine, actually. Father flew in from Venice today. He really wants to meet you” I wanted to sound excited. My father was a huge business man in Europe, he owned half of the hotels, and companies in all Europe. And Tom’s family, The Hollands, were basically royalty. Their great-great-grandfather had a huge investment in his company in oil and minerals back in the 50’s. The Holland’s basically own all England. They make you forget the Windsor’s are the official royal family. 

“Your father is a pain the ass” Tom blurred out. I let go of his hand, giving a small punch in the arm. He let out a mocking ‘ouch’. He grabbed my waist, looking behind us. I turned around to see what he was looking at. Two guards. Everywhere he went, he had two incompetent guards following him. We barley had alone time. 

 The Hamptons, 12:30pm

I let out a yawn, letting know I was bored of brunch. Tom managed to hit off with my father. All he had to say was ‘money’ and Tom was invested on whatever my father had to offer. I looked over at Harrison who was not so discretely looking at the waitress ass. I rolled my eyes. Harrison wasn’t my favorite person, he knew it, Tom knew it, they didn’t care. He was the true reason I barley spend time with Tom. If Tom wasn’t in the morning doing business, he was at night getting high by whichever drug Harrison had that night and fucking a whore who he paid a good amount of money. When I would happily do it for free.  

Everyone with two pair of eyes and common sense knew Tom and I were not in love, He wanted my money. I wanted his money. We both acted madly in love around our families, let them think that will spend eternity wrapped around in happiness and love. I smiled at the thought of me being wrapped around in actual diamonds. We were already engaged, our wedding is on July, in a small Italy village, that my father happens to own, near the beach. 

“(Y/N)” I hear my father call my name in a cold way. I swallowed my sarcasms and bitchy attitude for later. I looked over at him, he was handing me an envelope.

“What is that?” I questioned. Tom put hand on my thigh, slowly stroking it. I grabbed the envelope from my father’s hand. I opened it and inside was two plane tickets. I looked at Tom’s who had grin on his face. “Are you going to explain why I have two tickets to…” realizing I didn’t read what they ticket said, I looked at them again. “Panama?” Tom put his hands up in the air like he just won the lottery. 

“It’s for you and me babe” I frowned my face. “It’s not our honeymoon, I have something different in mind for that.” He got up from his chair, grabbing the glass of champagne from the table. He passed his hands through his hair, giving me wink. As much as happy I am that Panama isn’t our honeymoon destination, I wanted to know what was going through his head. He positioned himself behind me, and put a hand on my shoulder. “Panama is our city now” Harrison let out a small ‘yeah’. “Small business owners thinking they could outplay me” He tighten his grip on my shoulder. “So I bought all the business in Panama” My father was staring at Tom like a proud father, I tried my hardest not be jealous of Tom. “To Panama” 

“To Panama” Everybody cheered. I tried my best to look happy for him. That meant more money. But less time with Tom. My father stood up and shook Tom’s hand and walked away. Finally. Tom sat back down, finishing his food. 

“Congrats on buying more money” I said leaning closer to him. He chuckled

“Your welcome” He said in a cocky voice. 

“Still doesn’t explain why I’m going” Spending my last week of as a somewhat-single woman in Panama, with Tom wasn’t my ideal plan. 

“They need to know I have someone. A wife. A beautiful, young wife. A wife that is going to give me the heirs of all their companies and know they are never getting it back” His voice wasn’t cocky anymore. He sounded secure, and intimidating, like he was talking to one his employee’s. 

“I’m not your wife yet” I said. He gave me a small smile, nodding his head

“No and you’re not pregnant either but they don’t have to know that” If I had a glass of whatever I would have spit it out on his face. I looked over at the other people at the table and made sure they were minding their own business.

“You told people in panama I’m pregnant?” I whisper, trying hard not yell and making sure no one knew what really went on between us. “Tom we’ve never-” I felt his lips against mine, and the same empty pit in my stomach started up again.

“Don’t be so loud love” He said. “I never said a word, they speculated, I just never denied it” he tugged a piece of hair behind my ear and Tom grabbed the napkin next to his plate and cleaned his hands before standing up, he got Harrison’s attention, he gave me a small kiss on the cheek before walking inside with him. 

 The Hamptons, 1:30pm 

“He’s so irritating” I slammed a pack of shirts into my suitcase. “He’s lucking he’s charming, and good looking with a lot of money otherwise I would have had his tongue cut out” I walked into my closet, grabbing my phone with me. I was talking to my best friend, Laura. She was in New York for fashion week, once she was done with NYFW, she was supposed to come help me with my bachelorette party and my wedding. 

“You should have gone with the twin” Laura says over the phone. I laughed at her. 

“Well, he isn’t the one who’s getting the majority of the money when their father passes away” I said. I was looking through the dresses I just hanged, I’m sure Saint Laurent would look good on Panama grounds.

“Where is he anyways?” She asked. I gave a small sigh, trying not to picture Tom between some whore’s legs while snoring coke off her tits. 

“Out. With Harrison” I said coldly. “I know he’s not in love with me but some respect would be nice. He bitches at me for spending more time with his brothers but when we finally have time to spend together, he bolts with his stupid friend” At this point I was more sad than angry. Part of me knew I couldn’t spend my entire life in a loveless marriage, just being used as a baby maker. 

A soft on my door made me walk out the closet. I knew it wasn’t Tom, he never knocked. Laura was rumbling about how she got almost got in a fight with one the Hadid sisters. I opened the door and I was surprised to see it was my father standing on the other side. “I’ll call you back Lau” I didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, I hanged up and threw my phone in my bed. “Pa?” I walked next to my suitcase, making sure my nervousness wasn’t showing. He closed the door behind him and walked next to my dresser. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going back to London.” I could hear a pitch in my voice. Talking to father was never easy.

“Just came to congratulate you, you picked a wonderful man (y/n)” I tried my best not roll my eyes since was standing in front of me and had a smile ear to ear.

“He isn’t he?” I said sarcastically. Tom was probably fucking somebody else. I faked a smile at my father.

My father walked closer to me, grabbing my face his hands. “My little girl. If he makes you unhappy, I’ll make an arraignment with some other young men’s, some of my business partners have handsome, young son’s. Marvin’s son just turned 24, and he would be perfect for you” He calmly said. I tried my hardest not to shed a tear but my father’s words were something I needed. I was my chance not to marry Tom, but we had an arraignment of our own. A promise, and I couldn’t break it.

“I love him” I lied. “He makes me happy, I make him happy. It’s just sometimes...” A took a deep breath, carefully not trying to say the wrong thing. “It’s hard. Being with him is hard” I sat down in the bed, looking down at my feet. Tom never made it easy, being with him was hard, pretending to be in love with him was harder.

My father sat next to me, and put an arm around my shoulder. “Love is hard. It’s the most common thing to say but it’s true. It’s never easy, you have to understand each other, commit to one and other and always be true to each other” He said. I smiled at him. If being with Tom meant more conversation’s like this with my father, I am all in.

 New York City, 2:20am

I smiled once Harrison handed me the mask for the club. “Now remember, you can’t ask for their names. They can’t ask for yours. And just have fun” Harrison explained out the rules of this club he was told about. It was 50 shades themed club or it looked like it. I wasn’t feeling the club at all, but I anything that could get me away from my mother and my cock hard it’s was okay with me.

Once I walked through the big black doors, the only thing I could hear was the loud music playing over us and the moans coming from the upstairs bedroom. They were girls everywhere. They were a pair of redheads on the stairs smiling at me. About five girls laying on a couch waiting to be fucked. Some were wearing black, blue, red and white lingerie. I licked my lips walking through the girls. I grabbed champagne from a table in the middle, Harrison already had disappeared with the first girl who threw herself at him. I looked around trying to find the right girl. Bingo. My eyes were on the girl with white lingerie. She had the same hair color as (Y/N), I took a few sips of my drink before placing it back into the table. I walked over to the girl. She saw me coming, and smirked at me. She signaled with her finger for me to follow her into one of the bedrooms upstairs. 

I bit my lips looking at her ass. (y/n) ass was better. I imaged it was actually her leading me up the stairs. That it was her behind the mask. I thought the short peach dress she was wearing. If I had the power to make everyone disappear from that table and fuck her right there I would. I wanted nothing more than to spread her legs, slide my cock inside her and hear her cry out of my name. 

A side of me wanted to go back to the house, and apologize to her. But our agreement meant no real feelings, no emotional attachment, I wish I could buy a time machine and stop myself from agreeing with her.

I followed the girl into on the bedrooms. I closed the behind her and she was already laying on the bed. “Get up” I commanded her. Even behind her mask I could see her confused look but obeyed me anyways.

“I know names are off limit” I said handing her $400. “I just need to call you one name” She was hesitant but smiled at me and grabbed it

“And what’s the name?” she asked. I grabbed her by the waist, turning her around. 

“(y/n)” I said, and kissed her neck.

tag list: @petersunderroos (if you want to be tagged, just inbox me)

[justthehiddleswrites]

Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 10 | Blue Christmas

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary:  Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter: Tom and Tamra both realized they have screwed this up, but Mother Nature provides a new stumbling block.

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

-

Tamra cried the whole way back to her rented flat. The Uber driver asking her more than once if she was okay through the rearview mirror.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” she lied.

It was still dark which she reached the Airbnb. She fumbled with the keys and juggled her suitcase through the door. The room seemed cold and sterile after having spent the last several days at Tom’s. She sobbed as she thought of Bobby curled up at her feet and how the place always smelled of books and coffee.

Tamra pulled back the covers and slid between the cool sheets. She didn’t even bother to change into pajamas. As she drifted into an uneasy slumber, Tamra’s mind played over the note she left. She feared she made some sort of mistake. Her heart already realized the answer.

-

Once Diana called, Luke made it over to the house within the hour; Benedict and Sophie soon followed, children in tow. Waves of guilt rolled over Tom at the thought of ruining everyone’s Christmas with his problems. Especially since this was all his fault.

Diana kept the kettle warm and everyone took a seat around the kitchen table while the children playing with their newly acquired toys in the living room. Bobby, sensing something was amiss, stayed close to Tom’s feet.

“I fucked up.” Tom commented with a flat affect.

“How is that different from—” Luke started in but Diana’s hand gripping his shoulder like a vise silenced him.

“Luke dear, I normally would love nothing more than to watch a signature Windsor dressing down of my twat of a son, but perhaps today we can keep the conversation to helpful suggestions.” Diana commented, her hand never leaving his shoulder.

Luke glanced over at Tom still seated in the chair he fell into earlier. Sat before him was a haunting shadow of the famous Tom Hiddleston. His eyes still sparkling blue but now bloodshot and rimmed with red. His ginger curls laid in a disheveled mop. If his fans could catch him now, they would be appalled.

“Of course, Diana.” he responded and only then did she release her grip.

They each read the note while Tom took to chewing on his thumbnail. A nasty habit he long broke but manifested itself in times of extreme stress.

“I don’t understand what the problem is?” Ben questioned. “She loves you and you love her.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know I love her? How can you possibly know that?!” His voice rising and accusatory.

“For one, you made me throw a Christmas party in less than 24 hours for a girl you barely met.” Benedict responded, ignoring his friend’s tone.

“You did what Thomas?!” Diana exclaimed.

“Not the time, Mother.” Tom interjected.

“Two, I am sitting at your dining table on Christmas rather than being at my home. And three, Luke told me.”

Tom shot daggers at his publicist.

“Not the time, Tom..” Diana echoed his words. “So how do we fix it?”

“Ritual suicide?” offered Luke.

“Grand gesture of love?” countered Benedict.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Men. Always going to extremes. Suicide, grand gestures.” she tsked. “How about a radical idea of telling her how you feel?”

“I agree, Sophie. The simplest solution is generally the best one.” Diana agree, moving to hold Tom’s hand, giving it a small squeeze

Tom picked his head up to look at his friends and mother. He pushed the chair away from the table and rose.

“Thank you all for the food for thought. I don’t want to keep you from your homes and families. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He kept the facade together until he stepped away and only then did he cried for the infinite time that morning. He slammed the door to the bedroom on his way. The sound reverberating off the walls.

Everyone stood as well and Diana walked each of them out.

“Thank you for coming. Merry Christmas. I’ll keep you posted.” She made apologies and excuses before shutting the door.

She headed down the hallway and knocked softly against the door. When she heard no response, she pushed the door opened. She found Tom sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to the door and his head in his hands.

She sat down next to him, placing her hand on his knee. He turned and cried.

“Mum, I’m scared.”

“I noticed, dear.”

“Why am I so scared? I’m been in relationships before. Why is this different?”

Diana gave his knee a squeeze. “Because…” she sighed. “…you recognize that this is the beginning of the last relationship you’ll have and you are not sure you’re ready to take that leap, no matter how much you want that life. Forever is a long time.”

“You really believe it will all work out, don’t you?”

“Yes I do.” Diana stood and walked to his nightstand. “You never throw a bet. Particularly a bet that requires you to cook. That means this is something much more than a fling.”

Tom managed a laugh. “How did you figure it out?”

“You are my son.” She handed him his phone. “Now go get the girl and start the rest of your life.”

Tom nodded. He unlocked the phone and tapped the screen. Diana slipped out the room and shut the door behind her.

-

Tamra dragged herself out of bed just before noon. She found some cereal and milk. Tamra gave the milk and sniff and decided she wouldn’t die before pouring. She found her phone and the battery indicator teetered close to 1%.

“Shit!” she fished through her purse for the charger cord and came up empty. She dug through her suitcase, dumping the contents onto the floor.

“Fuck!” she yelled as her hunt came up empty. Her brain flashed to the cord plugged into a socket in Tom’s kitchen. “FUCK!!!”

As she prepared to go into another cursed filled tirade, her phone buzzed in her hand.

“What?!” she snapped to the other person on the end of the call.

“Did I catch you at a bad time, honey?” her mom asked, worry in her voice.

Tamra took a deep breath to collect herself. “Not at all. What can I do for you?”

“Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mom.”

“No bah humbug? Are you feeling okay? You sound sick. Are you sick?”

Tamra choked back tears. “No, I’m not sick.” her voice cracked. “But I’m not okay.” She sobbed.

“What happened? Do I need to fly out?”

“I meet a guy. Not just any guy, THE GUY. And he is amazing and smart and talented. And… and…” her voice trailed off again. “Why do I screw up everything?!?” she wailed.

“Love is complicated, darling. It causes something with the dopamine levels in the brain. Makes people act all loopy.”

“You read that in a magazine somewhere, didn’t you?”

“I’m sure. But if this guy is as special as you describe. He is worth the fight.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Any time dear. Now tell me more about this guy.”

“Well you might know him.” Tamra started.

“Really? How would I—” the line clicked dead.

“Mom? Mom?” Tamra looked down at a black screen.

“Fuck!” she threw the phone onto the bed. She thought about heading out to see if any place was open to buy a charging cord. She was dismayed to stare out the window to find it snowing heavily once again.

“Merry fucking Christmas.” she whispered as she crawled back under the covers.

-

Tom threw his bedroom door open, startling his mother watching the television.

“It keeps going to voicemail. I’m going over there.” He grabbed his pea coat.

“No you’re not.”

“And who is going to stop me?” he demanded.

“Mother Nature. Look out the window.” Tom pulled aside the curtain to the nearest window.

“No, No!” he cried in anguish as he saw the landscape buried in snow and it continuing to fall with no end in sight. “I hate snow.”

“Keep trying the phone. She can’t ignore you forever. It’s Christmas.”

-

But she never answered and with each unanswered call, Tom grew more and more frantic, almost unhinged. If it had not been for Diana, he would have braved the storm and most likely froze in the process.

Phone calls from friends and family offered him little comfort. Only the news of both Emma and Sarah joining the family tomorrow elicited any happy response. He attempted to put on a good show but inside he was dying. His mother comforted when he allowed her.

“Have faith, dear.”

“I’m calling the police.” he declared after the phone once again went to voicemail.

“You will not. What would Luke say?”

Tom sighed. “He would say ‘don’t be stupid’.”

“Luke is a wise man. So sit down and watch the movie. It’s my favorite.”

He picked up Hugh Grant’s monologue come over the TV and he excused himself.

-

Tamra found a frozen dinner buried in the freezer. Not the Christmas dinner she had hoped for. But with the snowstorm and the holiday, nothing was open. She longed to call Tom, to apologize and beg forgiveness but there was nothing she could do with her phone dead. She didn’t remember his number.

She alternated between the bed and the sofa, catching snippets of restless sleep between crying jags. The day reached a low point when she flicked on the TV and heard the Pointer Sisters Jump! playing and saw Hugh Grant dancing over the screen. She flashed back to that day at Tom’s, the movies, the tree, that kiss. She switched off the TV and threw the remote in disgust.

Tom and Tamra tossed and turned that night, chasing sleep. Tom finally dozed off sometime around midnight, Bobby never leaving his side. Tamra lied awake until well after one in the morning, clutching the pillow for comfort and wondering how she screwed up the best thing that happened to her.

[bloodstainedashes]

Chapter 05

Ace had planned to travel all the way to Archport before waiting for Vladius to show himself. Halfway to Windsor, however, he was handed a note by the porter and now he sat staring out the window of a little no-name cafe in Windsor. Rain drizzled from the gray sky, filling the air with a chill. He sighed and looked at the note for the dozenth time.

“Wait for me in the cafe in Windsor. If the coast is clear, I’ll find you and we can discuss plans for our mission.

VK”

If he hadn't seen the man's file himself, he would swear that Vladius was a newbie agent on his first assignment with minimal training. A cryptic note? Meeting in secret in a cafe? He sighed again and crumpled the note. It was times like this that reminded him why he preferred working alone.

The waitress came over and refilled his coffee and he nodded his thanks. He stirred it absently while he continued to stare out the window.

"Dreary day, isn't it?"

Ace didn't move, except for his eyes as he glanced over at the new occupant of a nearby table. The man sitting there wore a long rain-slicker that dribbled water on the floor beneath his chair. He had his chin down in his collar and the wide brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes.

"Indeed," Ace replied.

The 'mysterious' man shifted. "A day such as this calls for warm visits from friends."

Ace continued to act disinterested. "True enough."

Silence stretched between them for several minutes. Ace sipped his coffee, hiding his smile.

"Meeting anyone?" the man asked.

Ace shook his head, not even looking over. "Nope. Just passing through."

"On a business trip?" A note of anxiety crept into the man's voice.

"Not really," Ace said, keeping his tone bored. "Vacation, of a sort."

"Oh, where are you heading?"

Ace shrugged, then stood up to stretch. "Don't know. Wherever the wind takes me, I suppose." He dropped some coins on the table. "Take it easy."

He left the cafe and headed to the train station. If Vladius wanted to play like that, he'd have to try just a bit harder. He bought a ticket for the first train out of town, and then sat on a bench by the tracks to wait for it. Vladius had followed him at a short distance and now stood a little further down on the platform, waiting.

Ace pretended to doze for a while, until the shrill shriek of the train whistle sounded and he started. He shook his head as though he had just been awakened and stood up as the train pulled in to the station. It screeched, coming to a stop. The porter hopped out, holding a mailbag, and handed it off to the station clerk.

"All aboard for Mint!" he called.

Ace strolled over, ignoring Vladius who was still standing by the wall. He wandered down the half empty car, and sat in the corner, facing forward. Vladius had followed him and sat at the other end, facing him. A few minutes later, the whistle shrilled and the train lurched. Windsor slowly fell out of sight behind them as the train picked up speed.

Ace pulled a book out of his bag. Vladius would make another move when he decided. For now, he was going to relax and enjoy the long trip to Mint.

Two hours had gone by when Vladius finally came and flopped down in the seat across from him. Ace glanced up, an innocent and uninterested look on his face. Vladius stared at him hard for a moment from under his hat brim.

"Headed to Mint, eh?"

Ace shrugged, turning back to his book. "Might as well. Nowhere else to go right now."

"Sure about that, are you?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"Just aimlessly wondering the countryside?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you actually have the funds to do that?"

He shrugged. "Not really. But what's life without treating yourself from time to time?"

Silence.

Vladius pulled his hat off with a grunt of disgust, and Ace finally got a good look at him. Young, with black hair and green eyes. Vladius frowned at him.

"You're really a tough one." He dropped the hat on the seat beside him and peeled off the overcoat. "That routine usually has agents sweating long before now. They usually panic that they weren't informed of using codes or that I'm an enemy agent." He flashed a white smile at Ace. "Guess I know now why they chose you for this job."

Ace slanted a look up at him. "Indeed. While I'm ecstatic that I passed your little test, I would appreciate some quiet so I can finish this book."

"Oh?" Vladius leaned forward, a look of interest on his face. "What sort of book? Info on pirates? Or about Archport?"

"No." Ace held the book up to show the cover. "It's a novel about King Arthur and Merlin." Vladius blinked in disbelief. "Now be quiet. The Lady of the Lake has just refused to give Arthur the sword and Merlin's having a fit."

Vladius sat back in dumbfounded silence for the rest of the trip.

Mint wasn't a large town, but it was big enough, and far enough away from the ocean, to make a good place to set up plans for the mission. Ace led the way to a diner for dinner, and once they had placed their orders, he faced Vladius.

"I take it that you know what our job is?" he asked.

Vladius quirked his eyebrow at him. "Oh, your speaking to me now?"

"If you can be serious, yes." Ace gave him a cool look. "Very little chance of being overheard here, as well as being far enough inland to avoid detection. Now would be the perfect time to discuss plans."

"This job is a joke," Vladius spat out. Ace raised his eyebrows. "An impossible mission. We are supposed to be gathering important information about the pirates so we can put an end to their reign on the seas. But what do we have? One inside man, who is stuck on land, in a small, meaningless crew. And we have to find a way to contact him without getting him or ourselves killed. Then get whatever useless information he can give us all the way to Grovelan. Through pirate territory. An impossible joke of a job."

"You do have a point," Ace mused. Vladius glared at him and he inclined his head. "Okay, so you have several points. Now let me make a point. Yes, our inside man has limited access to good information. But right now, any information is better than none. Even if all the information we get only leads us to getting more or better informers, it's worth it. The pirates control most of the open seas and many land ports. If we don't work to curb them, they will end up controlling most, if not all, the land too. All we need to do is gain momentum. One low-level informer is a start."

Vladius stared at him for several minutes. Finally, he slouched back in his chair. "Fine. Then how do you suggest we go about this? Keeping in mind that we want to avoid death."

Ace waited while the waitress placed their meals on the table. "First, even though The Hawke's Pearl is a small crew, they are large enough to have a toehold on a landport. Which means that once we leave here, we have to be in character the whole time. Any slips could cost us big." He looked the young man up and down as Vladius dug into his food. "I think we look enough alike to pass as brothers." Vladius paused long enough to give him a skeptical look. "Chew your food, Vlads. Mother would be disappointed to hear you choked to death while on holiday."

Vladius coughed. "And she'd tan your hide for allowing it to happen."

"That's the spirit." Ace smiled. "Once we are in Archport, we'll just have to wait for the right moment to make contact. In the meantime, we'll take in the sights, and act like brothers on holiday."

"And once we have the information?"

"Then we presumably 'head home'," Ace said. "We'll go to another port and set out for Grovelan."

Vladius sighed. "Sounds like the only plan we can make for now."

Ace nodded. "Too much planning can get us into just as much trouble as too little. We'll just have to play it by ear for the most part."

"Alright." Vladius pointed his fork at Ace, a focused look on his face. "Then I only have one more question for you."

Ace lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it?"

Vladius stabbed his fork at Ace's plate. "You going to eat that?"

Ace narrowed his eyes at the young man and pulled his plate closer. "Just because you are a food hog, doesn't mean everyone else has to be. I like to taste my food, not swallow it whole, thank you very much. If you want more food, then get your own."

"Yeah, but," Vladius tried to stick his fork into the vegetables and Ace slapped his hand away. "Do you even like radishes? I could just take those off your hands for you. No big deal. Cause I'm a good brother like that."

"No deal," Ace stated. He bit into a radish, and made a show of savoring it. "These are all mine."

Vladius harrumphed and sat back, a fake pout on his face. "Fine, but when Mother asks why I've lost so much weight, I'll let her know it was because you starved me on the trip."

Ace laughed and dumped a couple radishes on Vladius' plate. Much as he had hated the idea of having a partner, not to mention the way Vladius had shown himself to start out, he was actually glad to have met him. This just might work out, he thought, as Vladius stuffed the food in his mouth. I can certainly see how he has such a good record. Despite his unconventional ways, he really does know his stuff. We might just be able to pull this off after all.

[fleurxbeaumont-blog]

Task 01 || Councillor

Darcy honestly was slightly shocked when she had been called into the Councillors office, though knew the reason she had been. In the past few days, most of her year group have been given a notice giving them an appointment. It was clear that it was about the recent death of Dante, something she’d not really been thinking about. To her, it wasn’t a huge deal what had happened, since she hadn’t spoken to her former boyfriend for a long time. She didn’t like how the school or anyone had handled it all, acting like the guy was a martyr or something. She’d tried her best to get out of the appointment to no avail. She hadn’t been to any form of counselling session since her mother had passed and would rather not relive the experience. She’d been sat in her English lesson, barely listening to the ancient teacher drone on about Macbeth, instead, she was writing down possible plays for soccer practice. It had taken the councillor two attempts to call her name and when she’d finally realised, the girl looked up before nodding, grabbing her backpack and the rest of the belongings before striding out the room, her heeled boots causing every eye to be on her. Darcy followed the councillor to the room, ignoring any question she’d made at an attempt of small talk. All she wanted to do was get this done as quickly as possible, especially since her last attempt of a session not serving any good for her. 

She nodded in thanks as the door was opened and sat down in the chair offered up for her. Getting comfortable, she crossed her legs, staring at the school councillor waiting for her to start this whole thing. When she didn’t start, Darcy let out a long sigh. “Well? How long is this thing going to take? I don’t want to miss the break.” Dr Lewis kept the false smile on her face, something that infuriated her more than anything. The brunette honestly wasn’t sure if she’d get through this without any sign of anger coming out. 

Dr Lewis began. “Can you tell me about Dante’s death?”

At the question, she rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that obvious, Dr Lewis? Everyone in the entirety of Boston knows what happened to him. He got into a car accident in October the twenty something. I don’t know the exact date, that way ages ago now. I’ve had more important things on my mind, like practice for my sports as well as the matches. That’s all I know, all I care about really. We weren’t friends, I barely knew who the fuck he was other than annoying.”

The councillor didn’t say anything, instead choosing to just write down the basis of what she was saying. Darcy knew that she was being difficult but all she wanted to do was get this done and hope that her answers would show that she had absolutely nothing to do with the former top Windsor. She was tapping on her nails when Dr Lewis spoke again, “It happened on the twenty-fourth of October. Now, what happened that day? What were you doing?”

She shrugged, “Who the fuck knows. It was a Wednesday, right? Well, it was a normal school day and then I think at lunch I went out to Chillis with Chace and Jed. Then after school I first had soccer practice for the school and from six to eight had a basketball practice for state stuff.” She raised her eyebrow, “Then I got home and heated up leftover dinner before just ready for bed. Is that it or do I have to do a fucking minute by minute plan on my day? It was ages ago now, that’s all I can actually remember.”

Although Darcy was sure that the councillor wanted to talk back to her, she remained her usual self, nodding her head. “No, that’s fine. Anything you can remember is excellent for us. Can you remember where you were when you found out about Dante’s death?”

Darcy was quiet for a moment, working out what she should say in response. Then, running a hand through her hair and shrugged. “Probably in school the next day. People had been talking about something pretty much all day but I’d just been listening to music. I’m not a fan of school gossip, who actually gives a shit about things like that? It was probably during the lesson when we had that announcement given out in each lesson. I was in math with Matthews.”

Once Dr Lewis had finished writing down her answer, not letting anything she was thinking out to the girl. Though she’d usually say that she was a good reader of people, she couldn’t seem to get a read of the school counsellor. “Right then. Since the incident, what has happened?”

Darcy shook her head, not really getting where this was going. She didn’t know why the councillor kept going on. Couldn’t she tell that Darcy not only hardly knew Dante but also didn’t care? It hadn’t had an impact on her, what did she have to say to stop the questioning. “What do you mean? What has happened? Nothing out of the ordinary, that’s for sure. I’m not going to go through the day to day account of since then. We had the assembly about him, then the funeral we all had to go to. Apart from that, I’ve just been getting on with what I do normally which is soccer, basketball and volleyball. Whenever I get spare time, I’m in lessons or asleep. Nothing has changed, it’s just how things are normally.” She looked down at her watch, realising that she’d been in the room for a lot longer than she wanted. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I need to go. So hurry up with this, so you can see that it’s not impacted on any aspect of my mood.”

Like usual, Dr Lewis ignored the slight outburst, not even a line of a frown on her face. “I’ll just be a few more moments, Darcy. I only have two more questions to ask. How have things been with you and family and friends?”

The brunette let out yet another sigh, growing more irritated by the moment. “Literally, why the fuck aren’t you listening to me? Things have been perfect, nothing unusual about what it’s normally like. I’ve been busy doing my stuff, plus most my friends weren’t exactly close to him either. My family don’t know really who he is apart from the former captain of the football team so that’s that done. What else do you have to say before I can leave?”

“Have you been through any other difficult times recently prior to or following the loss?”

She crossed her arms, “That’s none of your business, Dr Lewis. Even if there was something wrong, why would I come to you? I don’t have any difficult things. My life is peachy. I spend my free time doing what I can to be a professional soccer player and that’s it. Alright? I’m done, see you around. Don’t ask me to do this again, this was a fucking waste of my time.”

Before Dr Lewis could say anything else, Darcy strode out of her room. However, instead of heading back to class or going where she needed to go, she walked out towards the car-park. Finding the key to her Harley, she got on her bike, driving off. She didn’t care where she was going but she needed to get away from the school for a bit, away from any mention of the school ‘king’. She had her own worries, none were focussed on her ex. All she could think about was her mother, a memory she’d buried away and she needed to forget about that. She needed to drink, 

[builder051]

Jax Beach story arc part 4

(AKA we finally introduce Amelia)

This is not a sickfic; this is a ‘getting everybody on the same page’ fic.

_____

“Seriously?” Amelia asks incredulously.  “You seriously made virgin umbrella drinks?”  She looks from the ornamented glass of pink lemonade to Mel, who looks embarrassed as she sets down two more cups.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Mel waffles, blushing as red as the cherries speared on the crepe paper-adorned toothpicks floating in the drinks.  “We’ve all had the stomach flu.  And it’s a weeknight.  I wanted to…take it easy.”

“Yeah, no.”  Amelia rolls her eyes.  “You’re turning into an old lady.  Or trying to turn bucko over there into an old man.”  She jerks her thumb over her shoulder at Todd, who’s lighting the grill.  “You’ve already got him acting like a dad.”

“What?  No!”  Mel pulls out the chair beside Amelia and sits.  The setting sun glints off her glasses.  “He’s a chef.  The world’s best.”  She raises her voice slightly, probably so Todd will hear her.  He flips her off from across the deck, but grins anyway.

“Yeah, he definitely knows it,” Amelia smirks.

Mark laughs, and Amelia turns to look at him.  He’s not paying attention, though.  He’s engrossed in his phone.  Mark snickers again, then glances up.  “What?”

“You know it’s rude to text hot babes when you’re already in the company of hot babes.”  Amelia raises her brows.  Mark’s not her type, but she decides he’s her date by default since they’re the only two that showed up to this last-minute shindig.

“Sorry, sweetheart.  I’ll keep that in mind.”  He turns his phone face-down and folds his hands on the patio table.

“Um, I think you mean your highness,” Amelia says with a straight face.

“Oh, you’re right.  How could I forget?”  Mark smiles, then looks to his phone again as it vibrates.  He doesn’t move to answer it, though.

“You could’ve brought somebody, Mark,” Mel says.  “You’re always welcome to.  I’d love to meet one of your dates.”

“Nah,” Todd says, putting burger patties on the grill.  “He doesn’t want us getting attached.  Here today, gone tomorrow, right?”

“Hey, not everybody’s got a fairytale romance like yours,” Mark shoots back.  He laughs, but this time it seems forced.

Mel’s smile falters.  “Do you need…some more chips?”  She gestures at the half-empty bowl in the middle of the table.

“No, we need some Corona and lime,” Amelia says.  “Something to actually get this party started.”

“You read my mind,” Todd says, but it’s a grumble.  He makes a face at Mel as if to say see?  I’m not crazy.

“Oh, uh…”  Mel falters.  “I have cokes in the fridge, if you want something different.  We didn’t…pick up any beer.”

“What?”  Mark looks shocked.  “This house is like, the beer capital.  The only person I know with better tastes than you guys is Amadeo.”  He cites his and Todd’s wealthy beach bum and beer snob of a boss.  “And the only reason he’s on top is because of the decades of experience.”

“I wanted to do something different,” Mel says quickly.  “Focus more on the food.  Todd stuffed the burgers with bleu cheese, and there’s garlic sauce brushed on the buns, and—”  She falters.

“Babe, please stop talking,” Todd says.  He closes the grill, irritation crossing his face.

Mark’s phone vibrates again, and he seems grateful to answer the text message this time.  Amelia slides her lemonade glass toward herself and slurps it loudly through the straw.

“It’s better for all of us to take a break from drinking.” Mel says.

Amelia suddenly feels self-conscious even though her drink is non-alcoholic.  She sits back in her chair and stifles a quiet burp.

“If you want to talk to me, Mel, talk to me.  Don’t bring it up in front of everybody.”

Amelia looks from Todd back to Mel as quickly as her neck will allow.

“I didn’t bring it up,” Mel squeaks.

“Yeah, babe, you did,” Todd huffs back.

“Todd—”

“Fuck.  Just stop it, ok?  I don’t want to talk right now.  Not during your fucking dinner party.”  Todd stalks across the deck and opens the screen door.  Amelia can still hear him swearing as he disappears into the house.

“Oh, god,” Mel groans, pushing her glasses up onto her forehead and burying her face in her hands.  “He’s having such a hard time, and I thought this would help, and I’ve just messed everything up…”

“It’s not you,” Mark comforts her.  “There’s stress at work, and he’s been sick…”

“No, he’s…really having a hard time.”  Mel sounds like she’s fighting a sob.

“He’s being a jerk,” Amelia says plainly.  She pushes hard on the arms of the patio chair and slowly rises to her feet.  “I’ll go beat him up for you.”

“No, hey, don’t worry about it,” Mel tries to placate.  “I’ll deal with him later.”

“I’m already up,” Amelia says with a dry laugh.  “No stopping this momentum.”  She pumps her arms as if running a sprint as she slowly shuffles toward the door.  She trips on the small step up to the house, but catches herself on the doorframe.  “I’m ok,” she announces.

Todd stands in the kitchen with his back to the door.

“Hey, buddy,” Amelia says.  She makes it to the edge to the counter and leans her hip against it.  She folds her arms over her chest and adopts a stern expression.  “What do you think you’re doing?  Your wife’s not a real big fan of being talked to that way.”

Todd turns, struggling to finish gulping and hide the bottle behind his back.  Amelia sees what it is, though.  A half-pint of Windsor Canadian.  “Do not,” Todd starts, the threat evident in his voice even though his tone remains soft, “Do not tell Melanie.”

He said Mel’s full name.  Amelia knows he’s serious.