#Writing royal characters

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal Children - Heirs and Spares

The lives of Princesses and Princes are of interest to most fantasy writers, it's where many of our heroes, side characters and antagonists hail from. But what is there life like? Is it always ballgrowns and servants? Or something more?

A Strict Order of Precedence

The first thing to know about royal children and siblings is that there's a very strict precedence of importance. Is it fair? No. But this is a system, it doesn't have to be fair. The heir comes first without argument. They are the most important child, they are always greeted first, they are the one to stand next to the monarch or their parents at occasions, they literally go first - and this doesn't change with age, if the heir is the youngest, they still have precedence over their siblings. After the heir, order of predence goes by age and the order effects the life of the children. For example, the older sister will marry begore any of her sisters. This order of deference will be so engrained in your character's life that they will believe it the norm and rarely question it, it probably won't spark any in-fighting.

Accommodation & Staff

Royal children are usually raised one of two ways. Either they are raised at court, in the same Palace as their parents or they are raised away from court under the care of trusted servants. Being raised away from their parents isn't a sign of remoteness or dislike or terrible parenting, it was a way of break a child into the constraints of royal life while giving them freedom of scrunity or danger. Usually these children are raised in the countryside for their health, as cities are usually cesspits for disease. Their parents would come to visit them or allow them to visit them at court. Children raised at court are raised with a higher level of scrunity and attention. They will be in the public eye.

Royal children will always be surrounded by staff. There will be nurses to wash and dress them, nannies to discipline and direct them, guards to protect them and usually, a guardian known as a governess to run their household and care for their needs. Staff are not allowed to hit royal children and must obey their commands. Some royal children were very close to their staff:

Kat Ashley and Elizabeth I

Baroness Lehzen and Queen Victoria

Klementy Grigorievich Nagorny and the Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich

Lala Bill and Prince John

However, some royal children faced neglect from their staff. George VI was abused by his nanny, who would pinch him during important occasions, openly favour his elder brother over him and deny him food, which many have been a cause of his speech impediment. After the Russian Revolution, another of the Tsarevich's nannies proved less loyal than the other. Andrei Yeremeyevich Derevenko abandoned his charge, but not before ordering the boy around and insulting him.

Day to Day Life

Royal children would be educated withing their home by tutors. They would usually take lessons all together (the heir may take other lessons). A royal child would recieve an education in languages, arithmetic, geography, etiquette, dancing, music, sports such as riding and literature. Sometimes they would even share lessons with the children of trusted nobles or their cousins. Only the heir will be taught statecraft and how to reign. There is no rhyme nor reason a spare would learn how to rule.

Some royal children are taught the value of their position. Many royal children will be raised strictly to adhere to their social standing and their place in it. Some children may be raised in isolation, kept from mingling and raised to think of themselves as higher than those around them. Some royal families preferred to raise their children as "normal" as possible. The last Romanov children slept in camp beds, with no pillows and we're expected to tidy their own rooms and help the servants. They didn't even use their proper titles, they were called by their names and given a tight monthly allowance to spend. Alexandra of Denmark and her sisters used to make their own clothes. Some royal children could even be encouraged to play with the children of servants and staff as well as nobility (Kolya Derevenko and Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich, Winifred Thomas and Prince John). Companionship was a great honour for noble and common child alike as sometimes, they would be invited to live or be educated alongside by the royal children.

Royal children will not undertake royal duties until they are of age. Younger children be be present for large scale events such as jubilees but would not be expected to partake in any duties themselves. When they are of age, they will usually be granted an annual allowance, be invited to social events, invited to be patrons of charities and participate in royal duties.

Heir Vs Spare

Heirs have more responsibility, all the prestige, more power but they have less freedom, less room to explore their own lives and be expected to always be the epitome of perfect. Heirs will be given responsibilities in government, sitting in on state meetings or undertaking state duties.

Spares have little in the way of real power but have the ability to live less regimental lives and gave more agency in their personal lives. Spares may act as ambassadors to other nations or undertake state visits on behalf of the monarchy or even take positions in the army. Spares are encouraged to find positions to support themselves outside the family, either in a marriage or undertaking some service to the country. Spares who stay in the country, tend to act as unofficial advisers to their sibling when they become monarch.

All Grown Up

When royal children grow up, there are usually certain expectations and limitations.

Heirs will be married quickly, the lineage must be secure. Heirs will usually marry either as part of a political alliance or marry somebody suitable - from a good family, the right background, and able to fit into a certain mould (i.e malleable, amiable and loyal). They will be expected to focus on the country, it's needs and support the monarch at all times. Their social circles will be scruntised, their every move will be noted and remarked upon. Heirs will never gave to worry about funding their lifestyle, the Crown is their job and it supports them.

Spares can marry or remain single if they choose, (but if the monarch instructs them go marry they must). Spares can travel, they can be idle, they can even persue amusements not permitted for the heir. Spares can win glory on the battlefield and mix with all sorts of people. That isn't to say spares are useless, spares often occupy very important spaces in society and government. Spares will usually take these positions not for just status but also for the pay. This is why spares are granted royal titles such as dukedoms (they can make money off the lands, be able to build a dynasty for themselves and their heirs and gain status).

[thebarontheabyss]

READ ON ROYAL ROAD

The gods are awakening.

Ten years ago, the stars fell on the city of New Babylon.

Molly and Ethan Sparrow barely escaped, saved on that apocalyptic night by their aunt Miriam. They drove for hours through the mists of the wastelands, until the road led somewhere else – a new reality.

Ten years have passed.

Molly still remembers the voice in the sea. It spoke in her dreams the night the stars fell, rising from the ocean’s depths. Something ancient was watching her with colossal red eyes. Now nearly eighteen, the voice calls to her again: the tide is rising, it says.

Ethan is now an up-and-coming journalist. Since their aunt’s death, all he has is his younger sister. But he is still haunted by the memory of a city that doesn’t exist – an impossible megalopolis rising on the shores of an endless sea. No record of it remains. No one believes it was ever there.

But it did. New Babylon endured, and it's calling them back home.

Back to the edge of existence.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Divinium: Tehomot is a cosmic post-apocalyptic fantasy epic, told through dual first-person POVs of the Sparrow siblings.

Perfect for fans of fantasy, soft sci-fi, cosmic horror, slow-burn mysteries, romance, and immersive worldbuilding.

Part of the Realms of Kiyum series, which also includes the WIP interactive fiction game The Bar on the Abyss.

Loved the first chapters? You're more than welcome to comment and rate it on RR, or send your questions and requests here!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

To Those Who Followed Me to the Abyss and Back — Thank You.

This is a love letter to you. First, thank you. Truly. If you’ve followed The Bar on the Abyss, if you've listened to my ramble here for two years, thank you for being here. You didn’t just arrive at the bar. You stayed. You helped me build it.

As I’ve mentioned before, TBOTA unfolds in what is now called 'Realms of Kiyum — a setting I first created a long time ago, for a different story entirely.

That story was buried for a while. Then it started whispering again.

Now, it’s rising.

In the end, I chose to write it as a novel because that’s the shape it demanded.

But let me be absolutely clear: I’m not abandoning The Bar on the Abyss.

Actually, it’s the opposite.

Writing the novel has given me new energy. So these two projects are going to grow together. They echo and mirror one another. Sometimes they clash. That’s the fun of multiverses.

Right now, the plan is this: TBOTA will be the first project I finish. It’s smaller (well, in story, a game is ANYTHING BUT SMALL) and more focused — the first act of a larger story.

Divinium: Tehomoth will take more time. It’s a three-book arc, and beyond Chapters 1 and 2, most of what I’ve written before is now void—wiped clean to make space for what this story is meant to be.

So if you’re here for the game, don’t worry — I’m still in the bar with you.

And if you’re curious about the book, come read the novel. They’re pieces of the same dream.

Thanks for walking with me this far. And truly — there’s still so much more to see.

Esh ❤

[afterthelambs]

How I interpret Joker Persona 5

Since Joker is a silent self-insert protagonist it can be hard to get a reading on his characterization. He can make inconsistent choices gameplay-wise that clash with what was set up. He's supposed to be the righteous leader, and yet... you have the option to cheat on girlfriends, or sell your friends out to Yaldobaoth and become Evil, or doom the world for a selfish wish. It's easy to dismiss all that as 'not the true ending' but to me that would be boring and a cop-out. These are treated as equally-valid choices in terms of player input, so I think any interpretation of the character has to account for that. Like he is definitely a little unhinged.

Is Joker evil? No because he spends most of the game being a good guy and can choose to be a hero till the end. The desire to do the right thing is ingrained in his character.

So is he inherently good? No because it's coded into the game that he can betray all his morals. In P3, Makoto at worst betrays his team to protect them from pain. He never turns sinister the way Joker can in the Yaldobaoth-deal ending. P4 has an accomplice ending but even then you at least have collaboration of some sort, as opposed to Joker who is alone in his fall from heroism. The good ending being the 'true' ending doesnt erase the fact that Joker has the potential to go dark in a way the other protagonists dont. This is also a part of him, which I think makes him wayyyy more interesting.

So how are you supposed to reconcile all these inconsistencies into a cohesive characterization? Is it just 'out of character'?

Ironically, I think the best way to understand Joker's character is to first understand Akechi. If you accept that they are two sides of the same coin (and the game beats you over the head with that lol) then that means they share a lot of internal rage and pain about the world. It means Joker did not have his emotions together nor a healthy outlook on interpersonal relationships, at least in the beginning. It explains why a lot of Joker's confidants start out transactional. The main difference (asides from Akechi being more marginalized) is that Joker has the opportunity to respond to his traumas in a healthier way. He channels his rage into a good cause, and he can choose to do so til the very end (ie the true ending). It also explains how he can reach a breaking point and go down a darker path instead, similar to Akechi.

This is my preferred way of interpreting Joker in light of all the wildly different directions he takes in the actual game. It's why I personally like my Joker characterization as a little unhinged, a little dark, very emotionally troubled and evasive, AND very kind + empathetic to others despite that. He knows he's a little fucked up inside and that's why he's desperate to do the right thing. Joker isn't just good by nature, he actively chooses to be.

If you need any more proof, look at Maruki. He's the only other character that gets this much parallels drawn with Joker. But the ways that Joker's characterization can be derived from Maruki is a whole other post. I'll probably get to that some day, but it's interesting that when the writers decided to make a parallel to Joker for an extended story, they went with another unhinged antagonist that understands him on a deeper level.

[anishenanigans]

aand done!! This took forever, but it's the first time I've successfully finished one of these templates and it was a lot of fun :]

[literaryvein-reblogs]

may I ask how maids would have been hired (if you needed a job for the royal family) back in the day?

Writing Notes: The Royal Household

The Medieval Royal Household

Very early in English history the royal household can be seen falling into 3 main divisions:

the chapel with its staff of clerks,

the hall where the daily life of the household was passed, and

the chamber where the king could retire for sleeping and privacy and where his clothes, jewels, and muniments were stored.

A similar threefold division can be seen in all the royal households of Europe and in the households of great magnates in every land.

The King’s Hall. Was under the care of 2 officers of equal rank:

the seneschal (steward) and

the master butler,

Their two parallel departments provided food and drink through a series of officers carefully graded as to pay and allowances down to the man who counted the loaves and the slaughterers who had no pay but “customary food” only.

After the hall came the chamber under the master chamberlain, but beside him stood

the treasurer, each of these officers receiving the same pay and allowances as the seneschal and master butler. Below them were less well-paid chamberlains:

the man who looked after the king’s bed with a man and a packhorse for its transport,

the king’s tailor, and

his bath attendant.

The appearance here of the treasurer—as the head of the new financial department, the exchequer—shows that in origin the treasury was regarded as a household department. This does not mean that the treasure always traveled with the king. At Winchester a strong place had long been established for the receipt and custody of the king’s treasure, but it was staffed by household officers and was essentially a department of the household.

The Constitutio concludes with the 2 departments which between them cared for:

the safety, peace, order, and comfort of the household and

for the king’s sport.

Ladies-in-Waiting

Lady-in-Waiting - a woman of noble birth who serves a female monarch as a member of the royal household (in European history).

Any noble woman performing personal service for a queen is often referred to as a lady-in-waiting, although exact titles differ depending on a woman’s particular office or marital status, as well as the language being used.

Similar posts exist outside Europe, perhaps most notably in Asia.

The office of lady-in-waiting originated during the Middle Ages as a consequence of the growth and proliferation of queenly households.

Queens who spent extended periods separate from the king needed to maintain a discrete household of servants and retainers.

Some of these servants were required to assist the queen with:

dressing,

personal hygiene,

and other intimate tasks

and thus needed to be female.

How Ladies-in-Waiting were Selected

Ladies-in-waiting have traditionally been chosen from noble and aristocratic families, and were selected based on:

their social standing,

education, and

suitability for the role.

Initially, such posts were held by paid servants.

However, this changed amid the growing medieval association between a temporal monarch and the sanction of divinity.

This belief meant that only those of elevated status should engage in physical contact and close relationships with a monarch.

Thus, ladies-in-waiting became women of noble birth.

In addition, they were required to be married.

The office of maid-of-honour also emerged during this time, and it was held by unmarried women.

The composition of the group of ladies-in-waiting attending to the queen varied based on politics and individual monarchs, including both the queen and the king. Records show that some queens had more than 100 ladies-in-waiting, but most had significantly smaller households.

Duties of Ladies-in-Waiting

The duties of ladies-in-waiting varied across Europe but were generally similar in the medieval and early modern periods.

Ladies-in-waiting performed intimate duties such as putting on and removing the queen’s clothing and bathing her.

They were expected to put her needs above those of their own husbands and children.

They spent most of the day with the queen and provided her with companionship and entertainment in her private chambers. To that end many ladies-in-waiting could sing, play musical instruments, and dance.

In addition, they maintained a prominent role in the court’s public life, attending to the queen and participating in such events as ambassadorial receptions and masques. For this reason, preparation to become a lady-in-waiting included gaining proficiency in several languages.

Ladies-in-waiting were universally expected to maintain high moral standards, avoiding scandal and often staying disengaged from politics.

In the past, typical responsibilities included:

providing companionship,

assisting with bathing and dressing,

managing the wardrobe and jewelry,

helping to navigate social situations,

writing correspondence,

overseeing servants, and

running errands.

However, the political influence of ladies-in-waiting in European courts is well documented.

It was sometimes the subject of gossip and ridicule, for smearing the reputation of a lady-in-waiting was an effective political tool against a monarch.

Such was the case of Catherine de’ Medici’s female household, many of whom were accused of using seduction for political gain in 16th-century France.

Exercising political power in the medieval and early modern patronage systems of royal courts was in fact a key element of the lives of ladies-in-waiting and often the reason that they sought such offices.

A lady-in-waiting had direct access to the queen, who wielded varying degrees of influence over the king and his court.

This allowed ladies-in-waiting to advance the petitions and career interests of their families and others.

Many ladies-in-waiting received no official compensation for their work and were understood to have taken the office solely to gain social and political capital.

In turn, many queens required their ladies-in-waiting to pass along intelligence about their families and members of the court.

Ladies-in-waiting were particularly powerful in the courts of female monarchs who ruled independently, as they had direct access to and influence with the highest power in the land.

Other Rules

While there were many rules and expectations for royal ladies-in-waiting, here are a few of their more surprising responsibilities.

They were expected to dedicate their lives to their mistress

They slept in the queen’s bedchamber. Historically, a lady-in-waiting had many duties and was expected to fulfill her responsibilities around the clock, even while her mistress was sleeping. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for one or more court ladies to share a sleeping space with a royal woman.

They kept their mistress entertained. It wasn’t all work and no play for royal companions. In their free time, ladies-in-waiting enjoyed a variety of hobbies, including reading and embroidery.

They had to navigate catching the eye of the king. Being a queen’s lady-in-waiting often meant learning how to diplomatically, and discreetly, deal with a king. Sometimes, the relationship between a court lady and the king became scandalously intimate.

They traveled, and moved, with their mistress. Along with attending their mistresses in their royal households, ladies-in-waiting also traveled alongside them as chaperones and companions. If their mistress moved to a new country for marriage or education, they often went with her.

They had to do the queen’s bidding or risk banishment. History is filled with stories of court ladies paying the price for their illicit activities, with punishments ranging from banishment to imprisonment to execution.

In Britain

In Britain, ladies-in-waiting are titled noblewomen who serve not only the queen, but also high-ranking women in the royal household.

Although they do not live at Buckingham Palace, they sometimes stay there or in royal apartments in London should their duties require it.

They are close, often childhood friends of the monarch, and come from titled families whose lineages stretch back alongside royalty.

They act as personal assistants to the queen, assisting in day-to-day activities such as running errands, delivering messages and organising correspondence, as well as attending to personal matters, and accompanying her on royal tours and visits.

Different Titles. A lady-in-waiting attending to the queen is usually called:

Lady of the Bedchamber and they are ranked between

First Lady of the Bedchamber and the

Women of the Bedchamber, each carrying out various duties.

The Mistress of the Robes is almost always a duchess and the senior woman in the royal household. She is responsible for the regent’s clothes and jewellery, arranging the rota of attendance of the ladies-in-waiting and other duties at state ceremonies.

As a Character Trope

Lady-in-Waiting - a personal assistant to a queen, princess, or noblewoman at court.

She is often of noble birth herself but is usually from a lower social rank than the woman she is attending to.

Her duties can vary greatly, as can her relationship with her mistress.

A lady-in-waiting will often:

serve her food,

help her get dressed, and

prepare her for bed, while also

accompanying her during courtly activities like dancing lessons or horse riding.

Depending on how much the mistress trusts her lady-in-waiting, she could be her confidante:

pass on secret messages for her, or

spy on other members of the court.

Ladies-in-waiting can be either viewed as friends by the mistress or as simple tools to use however she sees fit.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Writing References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

I assumed you were referring to ladies-in-waiting rather than just maids/servants within the royal household, who were usually not in direct contact with the monarchs. In which case, their selection/hiring was not as complex as that of ladies-in-waiting. Hope this helps with your writing!

[ieatedyourcrayons]

Princess!Reader x Knight

(random tags for reach, sorry!)

synopsis: Princess Y/n attends a family friend’s royal ball. While taking a breather in the garden, y/n meets one of their knights and gets to chatting, eventually slipping away and wandering the castle with him

The royal hall roared with music, chatter, and laughter. The faint sound of glasses clashing and forks scraping could be heard to the attentive ear.

The man on the piano played gracefully, his fingers dancing with every note and flowing beautifully with the orchestra. The pianist face showed pure bliss and adoration for his music, as did Y/n's.

She was soaking in the beautiful music and atmosphere. loving the vibe she never gets tired of. Her family, the Bauer's, were invited to the Meyers annual ball. Both families were friends and have a long history. They attend each others balls and formals every year, their children practically grew up together.

Both families were chatting and discussing plans for their kingdoms, children, vacations, etc. Y/n didn't pay much mind to the chatter and focused her attention onto the music.

"Miss. Y/n here, is still looking for her a love, yes?"- Mrs. Belle asks your mother.

"Well of course, we aren't pressuring her though." Your mother responds, hoping Mrs. Belle doesn't continue pushing her son onto your roster.

The mention of your name caught your attention and you focused into the conversation. Mrs. Belle, like your mother had expected, brought up her son Kacey.

"Well, you do know that Kacey is a good boy, he is my son after all." Mrs. Belle teases with a laugh. Your mother laughs it off as well, not wanting it to continue, but not wanting to be rude either. "Oh yes, we love Kacey, how could we not?" Your mother responds.

You laughed along with them. "Yeah, Kacey is great, he's like a brother to me!" you add. The brother comment hit Mrs. Belle like a brick. She doesn't know why you stomp the romance before it can bloom. She mainly wants your beautiful genetics and family name, but she won't admit that part, especially not to your mother...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You managed to get away from the group to go snag a few snacks and cheese cubes from the charcuterie table. As you reached for another toothpick, Kacey grabs it before you.

"Umm... Ma'am, what do you think this is? Charity?" He jokes with a sassy tone.

"Oh shut up and give me that." You laugh back while taking it from him. He puts on a fake shock and bring his hand to his chest. You guys have always had this sort of bond, constantly teasing each other since birth.

"So, you like my party?" He ask, back to his normal voice, while picking some grapes.

You turn and look at all the well dressed people dancing and chatting, then direct your eyes back to Kacey. "Nah." You shrug, trying not to grin but failing to as a huge smile breaks your face.

Kacey grins back, "Wow, you must really think you're funny." He teases. You two exchange banter and conversation for a little longer before his dad drags him off to meet a girl his mother found. Kacey hates this, he always has. If he wanted a girlfriend, he'd go get one. Kacey reluctantly follows his dad after telling you bye.

You watch as Kacey uncomfortably interacts with the girl to please his mother, the poor girl didn't even seem interested in Kacey, almost looking mad that Mrs. Belle convinced her to do this. Kacey is far from ugly, wavy shoulder length black hair with a strong face and green eyes, always well dressed and mannered in these situations.

You looked away from your friend's struggle, to not embarrass him any more then he already is. You walk away from the snack table to the nearest exit, your heels clicking with every step. Kacey eyed you as you left, wishing you'd come save him and confused to where you're leaving to.

You stepped out the back door without being stopped or called. The outside garden was beautiful and spayed out farther than you could see. Beautiful trees, bushes, and flowers placed in such an intricate way.

You followed a stone path that led you to another clearing in the yard, but as you got closer, the sound of water got louder. In the clearing stood a beautiful fountain. Towards the back were walls and windows of the castle, a few vines and flowers ran along the walls.

The moonlight lit up the clearing almost perfectly. You walked over to the fountain and took a seat on the edge, facing the yard. The music from inside could faintly be heard.

"Oh, hello there." A velvety german accent calls out, startling you. You turn and face the voice and you're met with the most handsome face you've seen in a while.

He stands tall, 6'4'' ish, with short, curly, black hair. He stands in full knight armor, minus his helmet. He has a straight nose with the slightest bump, perfect teeth, hazel eyes, finished with a set and defined jaw line. You stare at him, taking in all his features.

"Hi, sorry am I not supposed to be here?" You quickly question after zoning back in, scared that you're intruding on anything you shouldn't be. "Oh no, no. I assure you're not. May I sit?" He responds while pointing next to you.

"Yeah go ahead." you respond with relief. "Are you one of their knights?" You add. "Yes, I am, you're from the Bauer's right?" He responds with a grin.

Confusion hits your brain and it shows on your face. "Yes... How'd you know that?" You question with nervous laughter. "I've seen you around here, you may not have seen me, but that's kinda the point with the whole knight thing" He laughs.

"OH" You laugh back. "I didn't think of that." You add. He laughs along with you, studying all your features.

"Yeah, don't worry Y/N, I know you" He says teasing you.

"Oh well then, what's your name sir?" You respond with fake sass.

"My apologies to such royalty, it's Mark." He responds with joking sadness, with a hand over his heart. You both laugh at the silliness.

“Ever seen the castle? like other than the ball room and a few other rooms?” He adds while looking at one of the outer walls.

“Only a few rooms, I try not to be nosey.” You respond while staring at the flower bush, watching as the wind sways the delicate petals.

“Wanna be nosey?” He asks with a grin, tilting his head to face you. You mimic his gaze and think on what he asked. “Why not, as long as you don’t get me in trouble.” You say with a smile.

“I would never” He teases as he stands up, taking your hand. The unexpected touch sends shivers up your arm.

He leads you guys to another back entrance of the castle, slowly opens the door, and leads you guys in. The hall you enter is beautiful and has tall walls. The walls have small indents in them, creating a mantel that holds a intricate candle holders and decorations.

You follow behind him as he leads you through the hallway. After a few twist and turns, you find yourself in a small circular room that has a stone, spiral, staircase in it.

"you expect me to walk these stairs... with this dress and heels?" You laugh out with nervousness while pointing at the stair case.

He looks at you with a mischievous grin, "Oh I'm sorry pretty lady." He responds before scooping you up into his arms bridal style.

Your face goes red at the unexpected gesture but the cool metal of his armor on you arm sends chills down your body. Mark looks down at your red face, taking in your beautiful features, the eye contact makes you nervous and you quickly look away.

Mark softly laughs at you and begins taking the steps. Once at the top of the stairs, Mark sets you back down on your feet , leaving his hand on you hip for a few seconds, lingering on your soft dress.

The room in front of you was beautiful, the walls were a royal blue with intricate gold foil patterns across the blue. the room was curved and the ceiling was high and ended in a point. A small chandelier hung in the center. There was a big, open, window that looked over the castles pond.

Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you walked to the window, Mark behind you. You jaw slacked as you looked out at the view. the sound of the fountain was distant and the cool wind hit your face, blowing your hair back.

"Your castle doesn't have this?" Mark teased while placing his hand onto your lower back.

"No, It does not, this is so pretty." You say in awe. Your castle is surrounded by beautiful trees and foliage. You see deer and small bears on a daily, never beautiful ponds with swans and fish.

Mark pushes your hair behind your ear, "I wouldn't want your mother to get worried that someone stole you." He says quietly to you.

"yeah... let's go back, I fear it may be time for me to go soon." You respond sadly, while looking back at him, not wanting this feeling to end.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were right, it was time to go. You said your goodbyes and thanks to Kacey's family as you left the main entrance of the castle. Each step down the small stairs made you sad, knowing you were leaving Mark.

A few knights stood outside the castle, guarding of course. You couldn’t figure out which one was Mark.

"Gosh!, about time you get out of my castle!" Kacey fake groans once he spots you outside the castle. The sudden interaction snapped you back into realty.

"Yeah well, your party sucked, I'm never coming back." You respond with the same joking attitude. Both of you burst out in laughter and hug each other goodbye.

"so, how'd it go with that girl?" You tease, knowing he hated it and probably didn't talk to her long.

"Umm... no, just no. She's sweet and pretty but did not like me, which is fine because I didn't like her either." He laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Oh yeah, I could tell. very obvious." You tease. "Make sure to actuality write me back, Left me with no trace of you for a few months." You say with fake sternness

"I'll think about it" He responds with fake sass and an eye roll. Kacey walks you to your carriage and chats with your parents for a little bit before a knight walks over to your carriage to shut the door and secure the lock.

You and the knight make eye contact, it's Mark , He sends you a wink before walking away. The wink sends a rush down your spine. The carriage moving startles you back to reality.

"So Miss Y/N, whose the boy?" Your father ask you.

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[enjoythesilentworld]

fantasy au where Wille goes on a long journey to try to collect [insert magical items here] so that he can resurrect his dead brother, and along the way he collects a ragtag group of misfits to help him, including a pretty Bard named Simon who he slowly falls in love with and at the last stop of their mission to collect the last item, Simon dies in battle and Wille must choose who to bring back from the dead

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Reader resting on red velvets chest please...also one of reader resting on clotted cream's chest and affogato's chest and caramel arrow's and royal margarine's...aaand dark choco's too!

(Sorry, the mozzarella one inspired me a little too much and ended up throwing in the crushes...couldn't resist, I'm sorry! They are all just so amazing!)

He'll stop whatever he's doing whenever you decide to do this. When the cake hounds decide to join in, too, he knows he won't be getting up anytime soon. He doesn't mind at all, finding it very sweet.

It usually happens during his work hours, when you're curled on his lap and your head on his chest. Sometimes you'll drift off to sleep, but he'll keep you there. He can't help but crave your affection.

During her down times, she'll cuddle with you, and you'll rest your head on her chest. It gets her a little flustered, but hey, it makes you happy! She'll hold you closer too, enjoying your warmth.

Affogato will stroke your hair when you rest your head on his chest. He'll talk to you during this time, sometimes even lulling you to sleep. He loves seeing you ap vulnerable with him.

He gets incredibly flustered. He's not that used to physical affection, so you just resting your head on his chest throws him off guard. Doesn't mean he doesn't like it, though!

[maskedchip]

the juicebox bandits

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royalty and the Press

In our modern world, the media are known for going after anybody they can wring a story from and royalty sell newspapers like nobody's business. Anything from the Queen wrinkling her nose at a meeting with a diplomat or a Princess at some social occasion or the King making a speech and fumbling his words, the media is there to notice and spread the word. This is not even a modern concept; for as long as people could print things, the media have been printing every single thing that a royal says and does.

The Power of the Print

Think back to the last news headline you saw about a member of a royal family. It made you feel a certain way about that person on account of who wrote it. The media is not unbiased. Every outlet has a view, either approving or disapproving opinion of somebody and their actions and it's their intention to get you to think like them. There is power in their words, and sometimes it's what the media pumps out that can be life or death for the monarchy.

Using the Media Wisely

If your royal family is saavy in the knowledge of the media's power, they will use it to their advantage. You will notice at most events, the media is invited to snap photographs or observe what is going on. While some royals might be sympathetic and warm with the people they are meeting, the entire act is a performance at its most fundamental level. What they wear, who comes with them, what they say etc. Nothing is left to chance. They may even leak information beforehand so the media knows what to look out for. For example, Queen Elizabeth II often wore certain colours or broaches in order to convey a message or to mark the occasion, like wearing purple in Japan or her Silver Fern broach in New Zealand. Royalty will make sure they are seen doing events, not only for personal gain but to show the people they doing something or to bring awareness to whatever event they are doing.

When Media Use Goes Wrong

We all have embarrassing photographs or get caught saying things we shouldn't. For royalty, it refcts badly on them and the monarchy. From Prince Harry in his Nazi uniform to a cartoon of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna in bed with Rasputin, the media tends to feed on these things. Why? Because the media wants money and money is best obtained when the masses smell a scandal. So the media lurks hoping to catch them off guard, whether it's at a private party where they will have their guard down or somewhere they thought they would have privacy. The media is invasive, no matter how much they are kept happy by the royals. They will use any means necessary, harassing them while they are on their down time, using false documents to lure them into trusting them, crowding around them, bribing servants and their friends to spill the beans on them. These might range from being downright nuisances or fatal.

Protection from the Media

Royalty are well aware of media presence and they will take steps to protect themselves from any intrusion. They will exchange information in order to stop other stories coming to light. They will bribe/bully/threaten journalists into not publishing anything damaging and when they can't, it's likely they will flood the news with other less harmful news. They will use protected phone lines, hire only vetted staff, do the occasional sweep of their residences for bugs or spies, they will bury facts, pay off who they can and if things take a dark turn... Hey, people fall down stairs all the time. These are not people just protecting their children or their spouses, they are protecting the Crown and the government will be complicit in cover ups. Avoidance of media interference will often lead to royals going to lengths to keep secrets, such as hiding relationships, travelling incognito, disguises etc.

Communication with the Media

There is direct contact, such as interviews, photocalls, events and such and then there is indirect. Royals often release statements. These are short responses to say disasters or events in the world and sometimes in answer to media coverage on their actions - especially if it's negative. These can be speeches pre-recorded or in print or before a selected group of journalists. Bulletins might also be posted outside the palace gates to inform the people of births, marriages, deaths etc. The royal family will often have an agreement with the media surrounding the deaths of monarchs, usually if they find out before it's released that the media will wait until the formal announcement is made. Sometimes the media might even reach out to a royal for a comment or interview. Questions are always screened and most times, somebody is there to yank the royal out before they can say something dumb - like Prince Andrew "I can't sweat" dumb.

Your Royals and the Media

Pay attention to the climate out there i.e. don't be photographed dripping in diamonds while the people are starving.

PR is not mumbo jumbo. If you want to keep bring royal, you need the people and if you cannot make them like you or respect you at very least, you may need to find a new job.

All royals - ALL ROYALS - will have some sort of media training. They will know how to conduct themselves before a camera, in an interview etc. The consequences will be drilled into them from the get go. You do not send out loose canons and neither will you be caught with your guard down.

Stick to the script. Don't stray from what you have been told to say or do. Yes, work that PR magic but within certain perameters.

The Media can be Manipulated. The media can be a shield for the Crown. The Prince fucked up? Guess what, here's a picture of him after joining the army, here's 30+ photos of him in their uniform with all the other soldiers! The royal family is unpopular? Look, your favourite royal is out doing charity work! Use the media when you can.

The Media is not your friend. In the sane breath, never imagine those journalists care about your wellbeing. They have to sell papers. They will throw you under the bus if it would sell a few million copies.

Establish contacts you can trust. Know which journalists and publications that will give you a break. Know your enemies.

Never give them a real story. If they must write about something, better they write about something not so bad rather than a clusterfuck. Know which stories to leak, know which ones to bury.

There's a lot you can say not saying anything. Sometimes the most ingenious statement or action is silence on a matter but you can make a statement through your actions or clothes.

When in doubt, consult an expert. Have you news you're not sure how to break to the media? Or have you some damaging story you need to fight? Look no further, your royal probably has a guy for that. If not, call Ms. Pope.

[uhhlifeig]

Betrothed - Feb. 11th - word count: 400 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius was never one for following rules.

There were three- actually, two- reasons for this.

One, he was a rebel.

Two, most rules didn’t apply to him anyways- well, unless he was in the palace with Walburga and Orion breathing down his neck. But he was Sirius Black, the (former) prince of Night, liege of the stars. Rules were for other people.

And this was how he found himself in the Potters’ summer home.

Now, the Potters were his family’s mortal enemy. This was because they were the rulers of, like, Light or whatever. (Sirius didn’t pay attention in his classes, sue him.)

But they liked him. And he was friends with James, so that probably improved his chances of surviving any altercations.

Speak of the devil. “Sirius!” James exclaimed from the winding staircase. “Why-”

“I ran away,” Sirius said, looking dead into James’s eyes, daring him to try and take him back to the Blacks.

James launched himself over the staircase railing, landing in a conveniently-placed pile of pillows. He evidently did that a lot, seeing as the floor was sprinkled with feathers. 

“That’s great, mate!” James grinned, getting up and running at Sirius and enveloping him in a hug. “You’re staying with us now.”

“Oh, about that…” Sirius grinned sheepishly. “Uh, I brought someone else.”

“Who?” James looked around the room. “Where?”

“Oh. He’s… Remus, will you kill me if I say you’re my betrothed?” Siirus asked the room, directing the question nowhere in particular.

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Remus said, slipping out of the shadows and standing next to Sirius. “Maim, maybe, but no killing.”

Sirius brightened. “Moony!” he exclaimed. “Say hi to James.”

Remus waved hesitantly. “Hey. I’m Remus, Remus Lupin.”

James softened his smile. “Hey, Remus. I’m James. The hiding-in-the-shadows thing was cool.”

“Thanks,” Remus said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Sirius promised we’d get eloped if he ever ran off.”

“Oh, you remember that but not taking my sugar supply?” Sirius groaned. “The lollipops were a key part of my personality, Rem!”

“Shush,” Remus grinned, pecking Sirius on the cheek. “I needed that chocolate more than you needed the lollipops.”

“Fuckin’ traitor,” Sirius muttered. He turned to face James. “We should get married instead, Prongs. You won’t steal my candy, right?”

“Eh… yeah, I would. Sugar is life,” James said, shrugging unapologetically. “Better luck next time.”

Sirius pouted. “Traitors. Traitors, the lot of you.”

[afterthelambs]

Shuake Princess Bride AU where Sojiro is reading a bedtime story to a feverish Futaba. It's about the pissed-off Prince Akechi getting rescued by the country boy-turned-masked thief Joker. Because Westley has that cheeky confidence that suits Joker and Princess Buttercup has Goro's haughtiness and poise. I can imagine Joker pretending he's totally not Akira to get the tea on himself from Akechi right before Akechi loses it and pushes him down the hill.

Yusuke can be Inigo Montoya because they're both dramatic, Ryuji is Fezzik because they're supposedly dumb but have a good heart. Only difference is that when the storybook ends, instead of being disgusted by the kissing, Futaba is fujoing out. Sickness cured by fairytale yaoi

Oh also the author of the story is Maruki

[m0e-ru]

i cant believe p4g came out and every single one of you forgot about adachis sister

[thingsthatcometomymindwheniwrite]

father forgive me for the type of fictional characters I say “he just like me fr” about

[k-evans-reads]

The Spare

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Summary: When Princess Rosie unexpectedly is thrust into a political tour of the country, a working-class Air Force Captain is assigned to be her pilot. Although the princess is unhappy about the decision, she realizes she’s stepping into unknown territory when the unexpected happens

Previous | Main Masterlist | The Spare Masterlist

By @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

Word Count: 8,059

The loud applause echoed off the high ceilings of the historic hall as Rosie stepped back from the microphone, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. The speech she’d just given wasn’t like the countless amount of speeches she’d delivered the past four years written by the palace—stoic, strong, not one word misspoken or anything less than perfect. This speech was different because it was hers. Every word, every phrase, and every heartfelt sentiment had come from her. She had taken one look at the polished, impersonal speech her advisors had handed her and decided enough was enough.

The crowd’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Rosie saw their faces—some smiling, some teary-eyed, but all of them captivated. She had spoken about the challenges people faced, about resilience and hope, and most importantly, about how she felt about the country and her strong sense of duty to help unite the country during this uncertain time. It had been so many years since she’d spoken her own words, having been beaten down the palace for too long after she had made headline after headline in her younger years and once she stepped into James’ shoes, she knew it was a losing battle and she had to hold the party line. 

But something in her had changed. For years, she’d been told to keep her head down, to fit into the mold James had made. She had tried—God, had she tried. But it had left her feeling hollow, like she’d lost pieces of herself along the way. But there had been moments on this tour that a specific captain had helped to bring some of that spunk and sparkle back out of her, reminding Rosie that she had just simply had enough. She couldn’t keep wearing this heavy mask anymore… but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been nervous as hell. 

The applause and expressions of each person in the room had helped to make her breathe a sigh of relief but as she turned to step off the stage, her eyes instinctively searched for one face in particular. Chris stood at the edge of the room, arms at his sides, his posture as steady as ever. But his face wasn’t stoic now. His lips curved into a small smile, his eyes carrying a glint of pride. Rosie felt her heart skip, but she shook the thought away, focusing instead on the wave of adrenaline coursing through her.

An ear to ear smile was plastered on her face the entire time she slowly worked through the room as the event went on, Rosie fulfilling her duty to make her way to shake hands and chat with all of the people in the room. Normally she had dreaded these moments, each of them draining so much from her, but this time it felt different. She felt a little more confident, empowered and more like herself. 

The second that she could pull away though, she slipped into a side room when she caught a glimpse of Annie waiting for her in the corner of the green room. Her younger sister had been allowed to join her for the day, a rare treat for both of them. Rosie beamed as she walked over, pulling Annie into a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you were able to be here, Annie, even if it’s just for the day,” Rosie said, her voice warm and light.

“I am too. I miss you, Rosie,” Annie replied, squeezing her tightly before stepping back.

Rosie laughed softly, her nerves finally starting to ease. “Hopefully, when this tour is over, I’ll actually get time to come visit you at uni.”

“I’d love that,” Annie said with a grin. Then her expression softened as she added, “I think you’re going to make quite a splash with that speech you gave.”

Rosie chuckled, a genuine, lighthearted laugh bubbling out of her. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it from the palace.”

Annie blinked in surprise at her sister’s tone, then broke into a grin. “Now there’s my sister. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

Rosie tilted her head, the smile still on her face. “What do you mean by that?”

Annie hesitated for a moment, her gaze searching Rosie’s. Then she said plainly, “I just mean you haven’t really…been yourself the past couple of years.”

Rosie’s smile faltered. She knew her sister was right, but hearing it so plainly struck a chord deep inside her. A heavy sadness crept up on her, wrapping around the edges of her heart. She could feel the weight of the past few years pressing down on her—the weariness of trying to be something she wasn’t, of hiding the parts of herself that didn’t fit the royal mold. Her spunkiness, her humor, her heart-on-her-sleeve nature—all of it had been tucked away in favor of a stoic facade that pleased the palace but slowly chipped away at who she truly was.

“It’s kind of hard to be when people are constantly reminding you that the way you are inherently isn’t good enough,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Annie’s face softened. “I know,” she said gently. “But my sister wouldn’t have really cared what they thought if she knew she was doing the right thing.”

Rosie’s lips pressed together as she looked at her sister, the wheels in her mind turning. Finally, she asked, “Annie, why are you bringing this all up today?”

“Because today, I got to see the old Rosie back,” Annie said, her voice filled with warmth. “I got to hear your voice up there giving that speech. I got to see you really connecting with people and laughing and being expressive. I got to see your sparkle back, and that makes me so happy.”

Rosie’s heart ached at her sister’s words. “It was the first time I’ve felt like myself,” she admitted softly.

“And that showed,” Annie said, her tone encouraging. “You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your emotions, but I feel like I got to see them all today…especially after your speech.”

“Probably because I was about to fall over in shock that people clapped so loudly for it,” Rosie said, her lips curving into a small smile.

Annie laughed, then tilted her head with a mischievous grin. “I’m surprised you even noticed people were clapping with the way you were looking at a certain captain…”

Rosie rolled her eyes, though a blush crept up her cheeks. “I wasn’t looking just at Chris.”

“Yeah, you were,” Annie said with a knowing laugh. “I don’t blame you, though. He’s gorgeous.”

Rosie shook her head, laughing despite herself. But Annie’s words stayed with her, warming something inside her that had felt cold for far too long. 

Once the crowd had finally dispersed, and Rosie felt the weight of the evening beginning to lift. She lingered near the doorway of the green room, the soft hum of conversation fading into the distance as staff and dignitaries made their exits. Annie walked beside her, their steps slowing as the quiet of the building setted around them like a warm cocoon.

“I needed this,” Rosie admitted softly, her gaze flicking to her sister. “Having you here, I mean. It’s been…a long tour.”

Annie tilted her head, giving her a small, knowing smile. “You’re doing amazing, though. That speech? That was a side of you I haven’t seen in way too long.”

Rosie’s lips curved into a faint smile as they continued down the hallway, the marbled floors reflecting the soft light from the ornate chandeliers above. The weight of her sister’s words still lingered in her heart. 

They turned into one of the quieter rooms just off the main corridor, a space where Rosie could finally breathe. The room was simple but elegant, with plush seating and a large window overlooking the city’s twinkling lights. It felt like a moment stolen out of time—just her and Annie, a rare break from the chaos of her royal obligations.

As Rosie perched on the edge of a nearby armchair, Annie set her leather tote bag down on the table and began rummaging through it.

“I almost forgot—I brought this for you,” Annie said suddenly, her tone light but her smile carrying a hint of excitement.

Rosie raised a brow, her curiosity piqued as Annie pulled out a perfectly wrapped box. “And before you even start, don’t argue with me. Just open it.”

Rosie narrowed her eyes, a smile already tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t going to argue,” she said lightly, though they both knew better. Setting the box down on the table, she peeled back the wrapping and lifted the lid. The second she saw what was inside, she gasped. “Annie! This is gorgeous!”

Nestled in the box was a sleek film camera that Rosie picked up carefully, letting her fingers trace the smooth metal and textured leather accents.

“I know this tour hasn’t been easy,” Annie said, watching her sister’s reaction with a soft smile. “But I thought maybe you could use it to capture some of the good moments.”

Rosie’s throat tightened as she hugged the camera to her chest. Then, without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped Annie in a tight embrace. “This is the sweetest gift. Thank you, Annie.”

Annie returned the hug with equal warmth, and when they finally pulled apart, Rosie found herself smiling for what felt like the first time all day—a real, unguarded smile.

Before either of them could say more, a firm knock sounded against the open door. Chris leaned in, his hand still resting on the doorframe. He offered an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice gentle but steady. “But it’s time to wrap up. The team’s ready when you are, Ro.”

Rosie nodded, her gaze meeting his for a fleeting moment. “Thanks, Chris. We’ll be out in just a second.”

Chris nodded once, stepping back into the hallway and letting the door swing partially shut behind him.

When Rosie turned back to Annie, she immediately noticed the mischievous grin spreading across her sister’s face.

“What?” Rosie asked suspiciously.

“Ro?” Annie teased, tilting her head.

Rosie rolled her eyes, though she could feel heat creeping up her neck. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Annie countered with mock incredulity. “Your entire staff calls you Princess or Your Royal Highness. Your friends call you Rosalie. Only people who are really close to you call you Rosie. And now your very attractive pilot calls you Ro?”

“It’s just the way Chris is,” Rosie said with a shrug, trying to sound casual.

“Mhmm.” Annie crossed her arms, her smirk firmly in place. “You don’t think there’s anything significant about it?”

“Not at all,” Rosie said, adjusting the strap of the camera like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Annie just smiled at her before shrugging, “Fine. I’ll drop it…for now.”

Rosie laughed and gave her sister a playful shove toward the door. “Alright, time for you to go before you embarrass me any further.”

As Annie gathered her coat and bag, she turned back one last time. “You know, I really love seeing you like this, Rosie. Happy. And even if you won’t admit it, I think I have a certain Captain to thank for part of that.”

Rosie could only roll her eyes again as Annie left the room, the teasing lilt of her voice still ringing in her ears. Left alone, she glanced down at the camera in her hands, her mind replaying the warmth in Chris’s voice when he’d said her name.

And just for a moment, she let herself smile.

The door swung behind the last of the lower-level staffers as they quickly exited the room, having been beckoned by Thomas and Arthur, his junior security, to do so. Her arms crossed over her chest, feeling the tension ripple from her head to her toes as her jaw set anxiously.

“Your Royal Highness,” Thomas began, pausing momentarily as they met the other’s eyes. His brows furrowed as he looked over her, and she felt herself wanting to shrink under his beady stare.  “While we appreciate your... enthusiasm during today’s address, we must discuss the deviations from the prepared remarks.”

Rosie forced her shoulders back and her chin to rise, a defiant feeling stirring in her.  She had taken this narrative without argument for far too long, and was reminded of Annie’s words and compliments. She knew she did the right thing, even if the palace was too dense to realize. “I thought the speech I gave resonated better with the audience. The one the palace provided didn’t feel genuine.”

“Genuine,” he repeated, lips pursed as though the word tasted sour. “It is not the role of the monarchy to be genuine, Your Royal Highness. It is to be consistent. To preserve tradition.”

“I think it’s healthy for people to see the monarchy as human. They want to feel like the monarchy truly cares about them and understands what they feel,” Rosie firmly said, her eyes staying on Thomas. 

“It is precisely that humanity, Your Highness, that leads to destabilization. You are a symbol, not an individual.”

The words hit her like a slap in the face. Not an individual.

Rosie wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but she could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on her. They weren’t just critiquing her speech; they were reminding her that she was never allowed to be herself. 

“I think the monarchy needs to start adapting and listening to what the people want or we simply aren’t going to serve a purpose anymore,” she rebutted, but even she could tell that the words shook in the wake of that jab. 

“With all due respect, I don’t think that’s for you to decide Princess,” Thomas answered, and her heart sank with the soft chuckles that escaped many of the top-level staffers around the room. 

Rosie ran a hand down her blazer, trying to buy time as she smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from the pristinely-pressed fabric. “If I’m the one who’s upholding it, then I think it is.” 

Thomas’ eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and this time it was Arthur who spoke up. “This is not a discussion about what you think is best. Your role is to follow the guidelines set forth by the institution. The monarchy has thrived for centuries because it does not bend to the whims of the moment,” he informed her, his voice like nails on a chalkboard even at the best of times to Rosie, let alone now. 

“And I think that’s why it feels so out of touch now,” she all but pleaded, however she willed her voice to not sound desperate and vulnerable. Instead, she forced her tone to remain even, strong, and steadfast as she insisted, “The world has changed. People have changed. If we can’t change with them, we’ll be left behind.”

“This is not a debate, Your Highness. The Crown must remain above such sentiments. You represent stability, not controversy. You’ve already put too much personality and your own thoughts into the monarchy in the past and we aren’t going to see that happen again.”

The words hit her like a blow to the chest, knocking the air out of her. She swore she could never do anything right in their eyes, whether it was the way she wore flats underneath a long dress after weeks of the highest heels aching her feet, or the way they criticized the smiles they trained her to always have glued to her face. She could never win, and it was starting to bring her down in a way that seemingly enjoyed. 

But she vowed to herself that she wouldn’t back down. This was too important to her, and it seemed like the build up of many years of struggle between the palace staffers and herself. If anything, she’d promised to herself to fight for the chance to keep what little individuality and autonomy she had amongst this dour institution. “I stand by what I said. If we want to truly serve the people, then we have to show them that we care—not just with words, but with actions. That’s what I believe, and that’s the kind of leader I want to be.”

“You’re not the head of your monarchy, your father is King and Prince James is the heir apparent so they are the leaders,” Thomas reminded her, amusement flickering in his eyes as she huffed a sigh. “While you’re stepping in James’ role, you need to follow in his ways, not yours.” 

“Well I’m not James,” she muttered, hating the constant comparison to the golden heir. She swore nothing she did would ever be sufficient in their eyes, and it wasn’t because of James. It was because he’d been molded from a very young age to be the perfect ruler one day, whereas she was only trained up to a certain degree just enough to be able to step in if need be. She was never good enough, and would never be, not unless she had been the eldest. 

“You certainly are not.” 

The words echoed in Rosie’s mind as she left the room, refusing to look them in the eyes as Arthurt told her that her father would be calling in the morning to go over things with her. She headed up the stairwell hastily, heading to her quarters to change out of the clothing from the event and into something more comfortable. She debated staying in her room for the rest of the night, but the balcony across the hall from her room was calling her, almost incessantly. 

The late evening air felt cool against Rosie’s flushed cheeks as she stepped out onto the private balcony, her arms wrapped around herself. The city lights glittered in the distance, their soft glow contrasting with the chaos still swirling in her mind. The conversation with the advisors played on a loop in her head, each word a reminder of how trapped she felt in the role she hadn’t asked for.

She let out a long breath, resting her hands on the stone balustrade, staring out at the skyline as if it could offer her answers. The soft sound of footsteps behind her broke her thoughts, and she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“For being on my security team, you’re not good at sneaking up on me,” she murmured. She felt her cheeks warm at the soft chuckle that escaped him as the door shut quietly, leaving them alone on the balcony. 

His steps drew closer as he came to stand next to her, leaning as his arms rested on the railing. “I’m a pilot, we’re better at showing off,” he shrugged, and she could see the wry grin that spread across his face as she turned to look at him. 

“So I’ve noticed,” Rosie murmured, feeling some tension begin to leave her body at his company. 

They fell silent for several moments, just staring out at the sky beyond them. It was comfortable, and far more peaceful than most of the evening had felt for her. Chris dropped his head staring out at the grounds below before turning to look at her and asked, “Rough meeting?” 

“Let’s just say I’ve been thoroughly reminded of my place after giving a speech that I wrote myself rather than the one they fed me that only succeeds in making everyone feel like they’re going to fall asleep,” she explained with only a small roll of her eyes. She paused, then waved her hand as she added, “And now I’m pretty sure they think I’m going to single-handedly bring down the monarchy with my ‘radical’ ideas about being human.”

His eyebrows shot up, his jaw dropping. “Radical ideas like caring about people?” He repeated, incredulously and disbelievingly. 

“Exactly,” she agreed, relieved he saw the hypocrisy in their words. She shook her head, rhetorically asking,  “Can you imagine? A royal showing emotion? Connecting with the people? Truly scandalous.”

He laughed, but while the sound had quickly become one of her favorites lately, it did nothing to distract her from the insecurity rising within her. At every turn, she was badgered for the tiniest of choices, no matter what she did. It felt like she could never win, and while Rosie had struggled with this for years, the true weight of this burden was starting to be too much for her to carry alone. 

“It’s not just about the speech,” she told Chris, her voice quiet and quivering with the admission. “It’s everything. The way they look at me, the way they talk to me… it’s like I’m not even a person to them. Just some symbol. A walking, talking portrait of the monarchy. But I can’t do it anymore, Chris. I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. No matter what I do, I’m just a poor substitute for James.”

“You’re not just the spare, Ro. Not to the people who really matter,” he told her earnestly, and while she knew that must be true, it didn’t help when her entire world revolved around that simple fact. 

She turned, looking helplessly into his deep blue eyes, searching for something to grasp onto within them. “Then why does it feel like that’s all I’ll ever be? Like no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough for them?” She asked him hopelessly. 

“Who are they?” Chris quietly asked.

“The palace. The institution. The ones who run every moment of my life.” 

“Fuck them,” he told her quickly, causing her to sigh and roll her eyes. She felt, again, that no one could ever understand the struggle of being in this position, not unless they too were, but Chris rushed to explain, “No, I’m serious, fuck them and what they say Rosie. The speeches you normally give couldn’t be more aloof and out of touch. They sound like every other canned thing that royals say that make all of us roll our eyes.” 

She was completely silent as she listened to him go on, “You want to know why you’re so popular with average people, Rosie? Because you used to sound like us. You would give speeches that came from your heart and you meant the things you said. You were someone everyone felt like they could relate to, not some girl with a silver spoon in her mouth. People want who you are. They want your individuality. They want Rosie.” 

At that moment, it almost felt like someone was speaking a foreign language to her. Never in her life had Rosie ever heard someone say something even remotely similar to the words she just heard. In fact, she had just heard the opposite and had been hearing that same sentiment over the years.  She couldn’t even count the times she had been in a closed room, a small group of grey haired men telling her in detail all the ways she had gone wrong, misrepresented the royal family, and just all in all wasn’t who they really wanted. She was too opinionated, showed too much emotion, wrote the wrong things, was too soft, she was just too… wrong. 

She wasn’t stupid and certainly was well aware of the headlines that celebrated the people’s princess. She knew there were crowds of people at the events she was at, the thousands of letters she received from the public each week, and how the popularity of the royal family had soared since she came into the public eye but that seemed to only make it worse. It felt like the more she made headlines and the more the public became fans of hers, the more criticism from the palace, and her father, she got.

And now, now when she had decided she was going to take back some of that control and actually say what she wanted to say, yet again she had been berated for it. She was reminded that she was a square peg in a round hole that just never seemed to fit.  But right now, hearing from someone who had grown up as a normal person and chosen to dedicate his life to serving the country she represented, that people wanted her for almost more than her brain could process. 

“Being me is what’s gotten me into trouble,” she admitted in a small, wavering voice. 

“Maybe with some stuffy old guys who have been locked in that palace for a helluva long time, but trust me, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” Chris challenged her. 

“I just don’t understand why the public can think one thing and literally everyone at the palace tells me the complete opposite," she was exhausted from the seemingly endless debate that had quite literally ruled most of her life. 

“Because they’re wrong,” he said simply, his tone firm and unwavering. “You don’t need their approval to be enough. You already are. And that speech you gave today?” He shook his head slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. “It was the best thing I’ve heard in years. You didn’t just speak—you connected. You reminded people why they care about the monarchy in the first place. That’s something no one else could’ve done.”

Rosie stared at him, his words sinking deeper than she wanted to admit. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” he said, holding her gaze. “And I think you know it too.”

She exhaled shakily, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “It’s just... exhausting, you know? Fighting them all the time, feeling like I’m shouting into a void. Some days, I don’t even know why I bother.”

Chris’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. Then he said, “You bother because you care. Because you want to make a difference. That’s what makes you you, Rosie. That’s what people love you for.”

She bit her lower lip as she struggled, taking his words in earnestly. Feeling the weight of his gaze on her, she moved her eyes from the stone floor beneath their feet to meet his. “Maybe you should be the ones writing my speeches,” she suggested, only half-kidding. 

The corners of his lips turned, first moving to a grin before they reached a smirk. “I’m too busy flying your plane and kicking your ass in tennis,” he reminded her. 

Rosie felt the tension leave her body, knowing his earlier words were right. But this, this joking, playful banter was exactly what she needed, and she knew Chris knew it just as much as she. “I don’t remember the latter being in your job description,” she murmured, shifting her weight between her feet as she snuck a glance onto the quiet grounds below.  

“I threw that in for free,” he shot back, and her breath threatened to hitch at the hidden meaning beneath those words. 

The one that seemed dangerous. Like she should lock it in a box and leave it in the middle of a lake, never to be touched for fear of ruining it. Of ruining him. 

But her racing mind seemed to be of no concern to Chris, his tall frame moving to lean against the railing. He was silent, as if he was leaving her to her thoughts, in a way that was supportive even without words being spoken. 

“Thank you, Chris,” Rosie told him, the words practically trembling as they left her, her voice just barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“For what?”

Rosie paused, looking sideways at him, seeing his sweet, sincere expression, the one that would read as insincere on any other person in this building. Yet without hesitation, she knew just how honest it was. She was struck at how easy it was for him to be like this, to never waver from his morals. “For being here. For making me feel like…I matter.” 

“You do matter, Rosie,” his brows furrowed as he whispered, face screwing up as though the idea, the mere implication of something otherwise disgusted him. As she nodded, feeling the warmth of comfort within those words cascade over her. He gave a pleased look at the shift in her expression, nodding to her as a wide, sideways grin appeared on his face. “And I don’t want to see you let those men in grey take away the incredible moment you had today.” 

But suddenly, Rosie wasn’t here on this balcony, the early spring chill sending goosebumps down her arms with the odd breeze. She was far younger, in her room, back where she first saw that smile. 

Rosie was seventeen, her textbooks and notes scattered across the floor of her sitting room. The muffled hum of voices from the garden below barely registered as she worked through her history essay, her focus half-hearted at best. But then, a burst of laughter broke through the stillness, drawing her attention to the window.

Peering out, she saw James and his best friend—Chris. They were jogging back toward the palace, drenched in sweat, their hair sticking to their foreheads as they grinned at each other. A soccer ball was tucked under James’s arm, and Chris’s jersey was slung over his shoulder, leaving his toned, sun-kissed arms and chest exposed. 

She knew Chris had been coming around more often—James had talked about him endlessly. His friend from school, the one who was training to join the Air Force, the one who always had James’s back. Rosie had seen him in passing a handful of times, but this was the first time she really noticed him.

He was gorgeous. There was no other way to put it. With his strong jawline, easy smile, and natural confidence, Chris was... distracting and unlike anyone else she’d seen before.

As they neared the side entrance of the palace, she heard James groan dramatically. “Mate, you stink. I’m serious. You need a shower before anyone lets you back in here.”

Chris laughed, shoving James lightly in the shoulder. “You’re one to talk. I’m pretty sure your royal sweat is worse than mine.”

Rosie couldn’t help but smile at the easy banter between them, but her eyes stayed glued to Chris. He didn’t look like anyone else in the palace—he was casual, unpolished, and radiated an effortless charm that contrasted so sharply with the buttoned-up world she lived in.

Before they disappeared inside, Chris glanced up at her window. For a second, their eyes met. She froze, unsure if he had actually noticed her or if it was just a coincidence.

And then, he smiled.

It wasn’t flirtatious or self-assured, but kind and warm, as if to say, ‘Hi, I see you.’

Her cheeks burned, and she ducked away from the window, her heart racing.

“Oh my god,” she blurted, jaw dropping and eyes widening. 

Chris’ grin dropped, straightening up as he quickly glanced around, seemingly worried that something had happened, or perhaps someone had seen the two. “What?” He asked, repeating it again when she didn’t answer quickly enough. 

“I remember you,” Rosie told him, reaching her hand out to grasp his arm. He couldn’t have remembered, it was the slightest - the smallest - interaction amongst the busiest times in their lives - with Chris in University and Rosie pulling double duty with school and Royal Duties. “We’ve met before!” 

But it was Rosie’s turn to be surprised as he laughed, his opposite hand moving to scratch the back of his head absentmindedly. “Yeah a few times actually,” he informed her. 

She was torn. Torn between the admission that he remembered meeting her several times, none of which she remembered, and wanting to laugh. She felt like an absolute idiot and an asshole for not remembering something like this, not remembering the laugh she’d come to love hearing, the winks he shot her throughout the day, and just Chris. She wanted nothing more to apologize, feeling awful for not remembering something he so clearly did, but the laughter that escaped him, the unrestrained, uncontrollable, full-body laughter that escaped him, that he kept just quiet enough to not draw any attention to the balcony, kept her from letting the ‘You are an idiot!’ side from winning.  

“You remember meeting me?” She finally asked, her hand twitching with a want to slide up and hold his bicep. She quickly dropped it from his arm, putting it back on the railing as she leaned her hip against it. 

Chris scoffed, as if the idea was preposterous. “Of course I do,” he replied. 

Her brows furrowed and her head tilted to the side, studying his expression. He wasn’t mad, that much was obvious to her. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t…. Anything. And that was the issue, she couldn’t read him, and if it was the years of training, the years and years he spent learning to push aside his emotions for duty - something she knew all too well - that gave him that ability, she’d never be able to tell. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She finally asked, her voice soft as she anxiously picked a cuticle, knowing her manicurist would chastise her later for it. 

A sheepish look appeared on Chris’ face and he shrugged, but his voice was anything but embarrassed as he admitted, “Well with how many people you meet in a week, I didn’t expect you to remember and I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” 

Rosie nodded slowly, still wishing he had reminded her. For so long, she had resented the fact that he was another outsider, another person with no connection to her beyond James - like so many before. 

But now? Now she felt like memories were coming back in waves, with ten more coming to the surface and settling in her mind to digest, just before a new set came crashing in. Chris and James watching movies at the upcountry estate, laughter echoing through the halls as Rosie practiced piano with her instructor. Chris spending the first night of school holidays in James’ quarters before heading back home for the remainder. Rosie watching James’ university soccer match, walking side by side with the exhausted Chris and James back to their dorm afterwards.

“I’m surprised you remember,” she whispered to him, knowing all those memories would have been locked away in her mind forever, stuck down endless corridors until someone - Chris - could have reminded her of them, could have given her the key to remembering, if he ever would be able to in that world. 

But for as often as she had been surprised by herself and Chris today, there seemed to be one last one for the night. “It’s not everyday I meet someone like you,” he told her, and it was enough to feel as though the wind got knocked out of her. It was hidden behind the simplest of words. The most innocent, and yet, it meant more than she could have ever hoped and dreamed. 

Chris simply smiled at Rosie before he bid her a goodnight, and she bit back the selfish protest that threatened to rise as he slipped through the door back inside, heading down the hallway. She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help any of it. She had tried to fight it - fight all of this - for so long, and yet here she was. Completely and utterly in the palm of his hand. And worst of all? 

She never would deserve something like Chris. She could never - not this kind, smart, man, who would likely run back to his Air Force role as soon as the plane touched back down and she returned to the capital of Ellington. 

He was here for duty and a favor. She was here as an unwilling Royal, destined for a life of handshakes and kind, fake smiles while he had his head in the clouds. 

With a sigh, Rosie pushed herself off the railing, heading back inside and down the hall to her quarters. The door shut soundly behind herself as she sighed again, running a frustrated hand through her blonde hair. 

She was so stupid to let herself get so comfortable with Chris. What chance did she really have with him? The thoughts raced through her mind as she tied her hair back, washing her face clear of the usual makeup she’d had applied for the event earlier that night. 

Only this time, one pushed to the forefront of her mind. He was there. He had, as she just remembered, always been there. No matter where she ran into him over the years, she couldn’t help but realize that his smile, while virtually ever-present, had changed. It had grown…. Softer. More comfortable and more relaxed as the tour had progressed, even when compared to what she remembered from years ago. 

She wasn’t the only one that had changed during this tour. And she wanted to kick herself for only just now realizing this. 

With a decisive look in the mirror, Rosie slipped a jacket over her shoulders and her shoes back onto her feet, she headed back out of the door. Letting her feet carry her, she moved quickly through the otherwise quiet estate, ignoring the few guards she saw relaxing and enjoying the quiet evening. 

She turned the corner, counting the doors until she reached her final destination. With a bite of her lower lip, her hand hesitated momentarily, before quickly rapping on the door. 

She could hear movement from within the room, knowing that her intrusion was unexpected. Footsteps shuffled closer, before the handle clicked and the door swung open. 

“Rosie?” Chris asked, his hand moving to pass through his rumpled brown hair. She gave him a sheepish look, enjoying the sight of him in his sweatpants and wrinkled tee - for once, he looked comfortable in this big estate. “What’s going on?” 

“What makes you think something is going on?” Rosie bit back, a smirk on her lips. 

“Because you’re standing outside my door in the middle of the night looking like you’re up to no good,” Chris replied easily, but the soft look in his eyes matched the grin on his face. 

Rosie leaned against the door, shrugging slightly as her hands fiddled with the worn hem of her baggy sweatshirt. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to go get ice cream?” She asked, her voice hopeful, almost afraid of his rejection. 

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at her as he sarcastically said, “What? You need an escort to go to the kitchen now?” 

“I’m not going to the kitchen, I want to go downtown. I’m sneaking out,” she informed him, dropping her hands from the hem of her sweatshirt as she stood up straighter. “Are you in?” 

She saw the curiosity peak in his eyes - the flash of desire to jump in headfirst with her. But he couldn’t let her win too quickly. “Sneaking out with the princess? I could lose my job for that, ya know?” He told her with an overexaggerated sigh. 

Rosie couldn’t help but play along in this little game they had. She couldn’t tell you when it started, when it took off, but she was grasping onto it tightly with both hands, trying to keep it close. “Then I’ll just make sure you get hired back,” she retorted with a wink. 

Chris’ eyes narrowed at her and they were both quiet for a few beats. “What kind of ice cream are we talking about, here?” He finally asked her with another sigh, leaning his shoulder against the door. 

Her eyebrow arched sharply, mulling over what may be the thing to tip him onto her side. “I’ll buy you whatever kind you want,” she offered, even though it was already her plan. 

“Well I guess I can’t refuse that,” he sighed after a moment, shaking his head with a soft grin. He looked into her eyes, raised a single brow at her and asked, “So how are you planning on getting out of here without getting tailed by your security?” 

“I have a plan…” she said, nodding her head to the window behind him. 

“You’re kidding,” he began with a sharp intake of breath, grabbing her arm when she made a move to walk into the room. His voice dropped lower, almost as if he was worried someone may hear them, “Ro, this is the third floor.”

She tried to shrug him off, but couldn’t help the way goosebumps peppered her skin at his touch. “There’s a trellis, it’ll be easy to just climb down,” she reminded him, nodding her head as if to reassure him. 

“Absolutely not.”

Rosie leveled him with a look, her head tilted. “C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t done before,” she shot back, knowing 

“I wholeheartedly believe that,” he told her, his voice still low but without a trace of disbelief. His hand didn’t move off her hand, if anything, his grip tightened, causing her heart to race. “But I’m still not about to have you break your neck for ice cream.” 

With a deep sigh, she looked up at him through her eyelashes. “You got a better plan?” She asked.

It was his turn to roll his eyes as he pushed himself off the door, his hand dropping as he moved to get his shoes. “Just about anything I come up with will be better than that,” he told her, tossing the words over his shoulder as he slipped his feet into the sneakers haphazardly. 

“Then lead the way, Captain,” she smirked. 

She followed him through the estate, through the back corridors and stairwells she’d yet to venture down but he seemed to know like the back of his hand. They had just reached the final hallway when his hand darted backwards towards her, stopping her in her tracks without a word as footsteps drew closer and closer, until the click of a door echoed through the otherwise quiet house. Quickly, they darted out without a second glance, not making a sound until they slipped out of the front gate and made their way towards the nearby town square. 

Rosie gave into the temptation to sneak a glance at him, wanting nothing more than to see the sideways, boyish grin on his moonlit face as he laughed. But she hadn’t expected to see his eyes trailed on her as they moved farther from the estate and closer to reality. 

The butterflies stayed in her stomach as they reached an ice cream store, drawing her sleeves over her hand as they quickly ordered, paid, and left, strolling the empty streets lazily. Neither of them seemed to want to go back. Neither rushed, neither turned the other back towards the tree-lined street to head back home. 

They talked - about what? She couldn’t tell you. Everything under the sun, it seemed. But based on Chris’ expressions, his laughter, and the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned, she knew it wasn’t just her having a good time. When he grabbed her napkins, tossing them in the trash along with his own, she found herself disappointed as they turned onto the tree-lined street. Tonight, this adventure, it felt like medicine to her. She’d been craving something, some anonymity, some normalcy. And slipping out, walking side by side with Chris as they laughed, and not having anyone bat an eye at them in town was therapeutic. 

She wasn’t even disappointed when they made it back. If anything, she felt revitalized, refreshed, and eager for more. Being with him felt almost natural, effortless. The two of them, together, moving through the night as if it was meant to be. They snuck back in, retracing their steps without a second thought. As she followed him through the halls, she inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth as their hands brushed.

Rosie felt it coming.

Maybe not tonight, maybe not right now, but at some point, this was always going to happen.  

Chris had become… something to her. Someone. Someone steady, someone who didn’t treat her like she was fragile or untouchable. Someone who teased her and laughed with her, who felt like she was real and had actual feelings. Someone who had, without her realizing it, become the person she wanted to turn to when things felt heavy.  

And right now, walking beside him through the quiet palace halls, she felt it more than ever.  

They’d been flirting for weeks, little things, small moments. A look held too long, a teasing remark with too much weight behind it, the walks he’d join her on or tennis matches he jumped practically headfirst into. But more than that, they had just become close somewhere along the way, Chris had become someone who made her feel normal. And not just normal, enjoyed.  

He liked her, and not because he was supposed to, not because she was a princess. He just liked her.

And she was crazy about him.  

It was why her heart was racing now, why she felt warm all over as they slowed in front of her door, standing just close enough that their arms brushed.  

“Well, Rosie,” Chris said, hands in his pockets, that lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Gotta say, breaking palace protocol for ice cream wasn’t exactly in my job description, but I think I’ll let it slide.”  

Rosie smirked, tilting her chin up, “You had fun.”  

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.  

The air shifted, the teasing fading into something softer. More charged.  

She glanced up at him, heart hammering. He was watching her, that sharp blue gaze flickering over her face like he was committing every detail to memory. The way he looked at her, it made her feel like the most fascinating thing in the world.  

Chris liked her. And maybe, just maybe, he was just as crazy about her as she was about him.  

Her fingers brushed his forearm, and she felt his muscles tense under her touch.  

“Chris,” she said, barely more than a whisper.  

That was all it took.  

In an instant, his hand was on her waist, pulling her toward him, his other hand sliding up to cup her face, calloused fingers grazing her cheek. Her breath caught, anticipation curling in her stomach and then his lips were on hers.  

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t careful. It was everything she had been waiting for, everything she had felt coming, everything that had been building between them.  

Chris kissed her like he had been holding back, like the floodgates had finally broken. And Rosie melted into him, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer because close wasn’t close enough.  

She could feel his heart pounding, could hear the sharp breath he took through his nose before he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He tasted like vanilla and something warm, something that made her dizzy.  

And it felt so good.  

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them.  

“Hell,” Chris muttered, his voice rough. “We shouldn’t have done that.”  

Rosie swallowed, trying to catch her breath, trying to think through the haze of him, “Why not?”  

He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head slightly. She expected something about duty or royal protocol to come out of his mouth but it surprised her to the core when he just smirked and stated,  “Because you’re trouble.”  

A slow, knowing smile pulled at her lips, “And yet, here you are.”  

Chris exhaled sharply, his hands still lingering on her. But then, finally, he let go, stepping back just slightly, enough to make her ache for him again.  

“Go inside, Ro,” he murmured, almost more to himself than her. 

She hesitated. Just for a second.  

But then she nodded, reaching for the doorknob. Before stepping inside, she looked back at him, her voice softer now. “Goodnight, Chris.”  

His lips twitched at the edges, something unreadable in his gaze. “Goodnight, Rosie.”  

And as she shut the door behind her, leaning against it, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lips, a breathless smile curling at the edges.  

Yeah.  

She was completely, hopelessly gone for him.

A/N: THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE! We cannot begin to tell you how much we appreciate it. There has been so much going on and while our brains never stopped thinking of Rosie (seriously, 🌯 listens to the playlist we've made for her nearly daily), we needed time to get this behemoth of a chapter out into the world. We hope it was worth the wait and cannot wait to hear all of your thoughts!