#and her oc and gale are literally so cute

[urgeth-archive]

one day i'll romance you gale of waterdeep, one day i will.

[alicelufenia]

Had a couple weeks off due to life, but back with more Tavierra

I go back to the grove and release Sazza, since this will be my last chance.

Due to a bug with the Sit Out mod the game wasn't letting more than Tav and Karlach fight in the Worg Pens. I sorted it out later, it's a common hiccup.

Of course I knock out the goblin children, I'm not a monster.

Halsin flashbangs my drow ass right in the face, then we break the news to him about Kagha.

Does he?

We deal with Halsin's (somewhat) understandable but embarrassing prejudice.

Oh boy and this is the playthrough where I may even be romancing him! Fun first impression :D

At least he admits it may be unfair of him, and that we may "enlighten" him. Well y'see you're gonna love literally the next thing I do then cause-

But first we talk to Ragzlin, and as this is my first time playing a cleric, this scene can play out different by doing the Speak With Dead spell yourself! Not that Tav would need the scroll as she has the forbidden knowledge of Thay (what can I say she got curious)

I go deal with Gut first. I just have the other 3 active party members sneak in through the back entrance to her room, and with a Silence spell up and surrounded by all of us, she doesn't stand a chance.

We split the party into 2 groups. Tav, Astarion, Karlach and Lae'zel head to Minthara's office (and stealthily clear the hallway outside the Worg Pens) while Shadowheart, Gale and Wyll return for Halsin to go kill Ragzlin and the goblins gathered with him.

Bear time. Hopefully not the last time either.

We meet up with Sazza next to Minthara. I had already spoken to her without Sazza, so I was hoping there'd be a change with this scene, but it's the same as if you met her for the first time with Sazza. In my oc lore, Tav uses Sazza as cover for her "scouting" delay to find the grove.

I get Minthara to spare Sazza. I'm hoping to get her achievement this playthrough, otherwise I'll have to wait til the next one.

Haha what, slaughter the grove that's CRAZY, who would do that their first playthrough? Anyway

What follows was an hour and a half of misadventures as I tried to be cute by agreeing to raid the grove, and then as she's walking out, smacking her with a Tasha's Hideous Laughter, hoping to initiate combat with her rolling on the ground with Emma's insane laughter.

The game claimed Tasha's had a 30% chance to work. In reality it felt like 0.01%, as she kept passing the damn save each reload! (it's almost like Paladins are really good with saving throws, no idea how I'd know that) but are you ready for some quality bullshit?

At one point the combat log said she failed the roll, but she didn't actually get affected! It still treated her as if she'd saved successfully! What the hell game!

So in the end I just start the fight without the Tasha's opener, and beat her unconscious with Karlach's massive unarmed attack swings.

The way this works in the lore is that she merely gets dazed, and Tav's confliction over what to do leads to her sparing her, stripping Minthara of her weapons and leading the others to go join Shadowheart and the rest as they're finishing off Ragzlin.

By the time they're done with Ragzlin, they return to see if Minthara is still there, Tav entertaining thoughts of interrogating her, or trying to contact the dream visitor to see if there's anything they can do. But they're too late: Minthara's already snuck away. Karlach is uneasy about this, but Tav, having to improvise now, reassures her the grove won't come to harm.

By the way, look at the changes to the journal! Back in patch 5, this didn't say "defeated", it said "killed", even if you knocked them out.

THIS screenshot is from December! Notice the wording change. I wonder when this happened, I didn't do as extensive testing at patch 6, so I didn't notice.

After reporting to Halsin, Tav makes good on her promise that the grove will be safe. By leading the party through a secret passage in the ceiling back out to the camp where they proceed to KILL EVERY GOBLIN. Can't raid the grove without an army, yeah?

We use every drow's favorite trick, Darkness, to keep ourselves safe from all the ranged attacks and pick them off as they come to us. It's a total slaughter for the goblins.

And now the fate of Crusher in 3 screenshots

Tragic.

By the way, if you ever want to turn Zevlor's gift down cause you're a good person or whatever, you can still trade with him in the same dialogue and just buy the reward off him. Handy tip so you don't miss this unique helmet!

Everyone back at the grove is in a celebratory mood, except Tav doesn't feel at all like celebrating.

I'm gonna say "It was a hell full of blood and ash" was her exact in-character description of the experience.

At the party she's in such a dour mood despite the energy of the participants that she finds herself even chatting up Astarion.

Oh but that's where you're wrong Astarion! We killed a whole LOT more goblins than there were tieflings! Like 5 times as many! *sigh* and now we get to the heart of the matter and why she feels bad.

Must resist. Urge to. Reload. Not this. Run.

So yeah, Tav's drinking, and seeking distraction. And so is Astarion. Hmm. Yeah sure, fuck it.

And she did.

All sarcasm aside, I am able to appreciate the subtleties of Astarion's romance scene. He can't hide his uncomfortable expression when we say we want to lose ourselves in him. "I thought so." HNGGGG but I have a good reason for this, eventually.

The next morning I have a talk with Halsin, deciding we'll head through the mountain pass (I'm not done with Act 1 yet, but I do want to take care of that area first now that the time-sensitive quests are done)

But first, I make a new main save and then proceed to speedrun to Moonrise Towers. I drink a potion of invisibility to sneak Tav past the Death Shepherds and into act 2, then follow Kar'niss all the way to Moonrise, where we find

She's alright folks! :D And yes, I didn't loot her gear, just her weapons like I said. Y'all should know by now I would NEVER put Astarion in her armor, she's keeping all that!

Back to our main save, we continue to the encounter with the Gith at the mountain pass road, and continue onwards to Rosymorn Monastery.

Damn I just think Tavierra looks good in this shot, lookit my baby stare down a dragon!

Next is, *sigh* Lady Esther. I convince her to take the Owlbear egg, and then have Astarion pickpocket her inventory while Tav distracts with her bard playing. The classic pair! She's not usually one for robbing people, but she'll make an exception for racism.

Speaking of racism:

We explore the monastery, and I manage to find enough of the weapons to solve the Dawnmaster puzzle with just a bit of brute forcing it.

We arrive in the Creche, and I beeline it for why we're here so early:

The two pieces of gear Tav needed.

The lore here is that Tav and Astarion find the githyanki stash of plundered treasures from across Faerûn. Tav has little qualms with "liberating" the stolen goods, and once again distracts them while Astarion cleans out their inventory. He does nearly get caught, but he deceives his way out of it and gets away scot-free.

Now in possession of a stolen artifact dedicated to Corellon, Tav's personal quest hits the next step, as she wishes to seek the favor of the father of elves on this journey, a long shot considering he's basically responsible for the ancient dark elves being cursed to become drow. At least she's got several elven companions to consult, and thus while it's not his main deity, she begins discussing religion with Halsin.

One respec later and her build is now online.

Now that the goblin camp is done, my main stressor for this run is past. What was initially a struggle for survival is turning into a pilgrimage for our Chosen of Eilistraee. And soon-to-be Seeker of Corellon. This is definitely going to be a more religious and gods-focused playthrough than my first one. Next time I'll show off the builds for the rest of the companions, as I've done unique things with at least a few of them, and as the party hit level 6 on the way to the Creche, they're now established enough to show off.

[karahalloway]

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

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

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

Word Count: 4,500

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

Chapter theme song:

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

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

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

Chapter 17 - News Flash

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

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

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

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

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

Maxwell's snort drifts up from the backseat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The elder Beaumont bristles. "It was hardly—"

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

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

"How?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I frown. "My what?"

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

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

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

"Allard and Schweitzer have been teaching—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw hits the floor. "What!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olivia quirks a brow at me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"To give Christian the illusion of choice."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bertrand blanches. "I beg your pardon?!"

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

"But to suggest that—"

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

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

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

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

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

"Because you love him..."

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

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

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

"Hey!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The corner of her mouth lifts craftily.

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

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

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

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

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

"Which is closest to a latte?"

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

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

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

The story continues in Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Permatags

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

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

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[lanaevyssmoved]

hi I would LOVE to hear backstory and personality deep dive lore on your tief clown, she’s so so so cute

bro dont ur gonna make me cry ive literally never had anyone be interested in my ocs before (mind u i never shared anything about them out of fear so its my own fault BUT ALAS)

i dont have the Strength TM to go massively into her right now but .

she was born in baldur's gate lower city, to a poor family. they are the eldest of 6 children, with rather large age gaps between herself and the youngest!! the youngest, 6th, was born during the story!! she has no idea until she goes back to the city!!!!! (she is so, so upset she missed it. her parents named the babe after them though - they cried so hard man.) when the 5th was born she decided to not be a burden on her parents any longer, as they lived in a small 2 bedroom home, and left baldur's gate to travel the sword coast!!! they busked to survive wherever she stopped, and learnt how to survive on her own on the road through experience. they got robbed a few times and had some scary encounters on the road and sleeping rough in the wilds, but she's a strong clown and was okay!!! i promise!! her Kidnappy by Squids happened while travelling! she was on the road for about a year before this happened, so she got that Survivability Stat Maximum (she doesn't. she still struggles to start fires.)

their admiration and love for clowns comes from the circus at baldur's gate!!! dribble the clown is her HERO!!!! any dribble haters get PIED IN THE FACE!!!! her outfit is one her mother sewed for her. she really really wanted to join the circus but she was rejected because (spoilers) shes not actually a good clown . she can't make mean jokes and she can't make puns. her jokes suck . half the time she compliments people and thinks its somehow a bit and thats how to clown . however her flute is a FUNDAMENTAL part of her 'act' and she WILL sing (extremely poorly written) songs for u and thinks its a the natural evolution of clownery. she wants to suggest this idea to dribble (she never gets the chance). they bond with the SquadTM through her bardery though. in the late hours she practices her flute, and she's good, like, she's GOOD. so they like to listen.. and when moods and morale are down, she writes songs for each companion and performs for them. either by the fire for all, or privately 1 on 1 (this is seen as flirting. she is not flirting. they are autistic .) THIS is actually how gale came to like her because she wrote him a stupid song about books being fun and cool and cats being really cute and wine is ok but beer is better. absolutely SEDUCED by this bard.

i dont know what else to say. i like them a lot. clown haters dont interact or get pied

[timecma]

Weird question but how do you think your OC's would walk in heals(I'm just really bored and then I remembered amazing people like you still exists in this world😀

Aww that’s really nice thank you!

Hmmmmm.

I think Cyrus would have tons of trouble walking in heels at first, but he’d be too determined to learn how to do it well that he would eventually get it.

Juniper would be able to, but she doesn’t like it. She thinks heels are cute on occasion, but they just kill her feet and her healing magic can only do so much for so long to help her ankles and arches feel better.

Gale literally would break every single pair if he tried walking in them. Literally. Like he would step into them and the heels would snap because he is made of pure muscle and is so dense that he’d just walk once and fall over because something broke. He could even wear like platform heels and somehow would still break them. It’s that bad.

Aurelia would be fine in them, but she prefers to just wear flat shoes—well they have support but…you get what I mean. Just not have a heel. She will sometimes wear shoes that have a bit of like a thick platform heel but that’s about it.

Negative already wears heels. I don’t need to explain that. He’s a god at wearing stilettos and he will also fight with them because he’s just crazy like that.

Nova either goes barefoot or wears heels for special occasions. Because he wants to be tall and pretty.

Indicum probably wouldn’t wear heels because he needs to be ready and prepared to run and fight and be somewhat capable of actually moving, so he doesn’t. If he was asked to by Cyrus though? Yeah. He’d slip some on and wobble around because he loves him.

[taashed]

🍓&🧅 for the oc asks!

thank you so much for the ask! these are really good ones too that made me think

questions from here!

🍓 [STRAWBERRY] How do they feel about ‘cute’ things?

i think the answer really depends on what the thing is. she loves animals, for example, and basically tries to adopt every stray they meet. cute objects, like little nicknacks? she admires them from afar but doesn't really get to indulge in owning any until she gets a house post-game (even then her definition of cute is different than most people's). cute things as in things people do for her? she will literally be on the verge of tears if someone shows her a cool rock they found lmao

🧅 [ONION] What is surefire to make your OC cry? Who knows of this information?

okay this one made me think because obviously she's super emotionally invested in her friends and cries during their big moments (killing cazador, karlach's post-gortash speech, etc), but that's kind of obvious because those are the big emotional high points of the game for a reason. so i was trying to think of something a bit more personal and came to the conclusion that she really isn't much of a crier except for when she's really angry. after the ketheric fight she absolutely lays into gale for even considering detonating the orb, and when i imagine it i can see her red faced and screaming with tears all over her face. so to answer the next half of the question, everyone in moonrise knows but no one is going to risk her wrath by saying anything about it lmao

[kururu418]

Happy Sibling Day! In honor, how about some interactions of your sibling lesser known OCs (Umbriel and Cressida, Breeze and her bros, Slick and his little sis, etc)?

Umbriel and Cressida

Umbriel grunted as he looked over the clothes his sister had picked out for him. “I don’t see any reason for me to have to dawn these ridiculous robes,” he said annoyed. 

Cressida sighed. “You said you wanted to come with me around the mortal world. Well if that’s true, you have to learn to blend in. Most places are gonna be pretty suspicious of someone walking around in that old armor.” 

“This armor has been in our family for generations. It belongs to grandfather and-”

“That’s the problem Umbriel. It’s so old. Out of fashion. These will help you blend in way more. Trust me,” she said shoving the clothes into his arm. He frowned, but didn’t argue. His sister had been far more invested in the mortal world than he was, so he would assume she knew what she was doing. 

~~~~

Cressida quickly grabbed her brother's arm, pulling it away just before he could blast the mugger who had approached them. “No! You can’t do that!” she said. 

Umbriel narrowed his eyes. “And why not? This insignifiant ant would dare to raise his hand towards the likes of us. Such actions cannot go unpunished,” he said. 

“Yeah, but we can’t just kill him. That’s not how things work here,” she said, giving him a stern look. “They have people who take care of guys like him. We should drop him off at one of those places so they can-”

“I don’t care to busy myself with such work. If you insist that he must live, then let’s simply let him go. Scurry off the little insect. And think twice be approaching us again,” Umbriel said, shooing him away. The man got up and quickly ran off, panic in his eyes. 

~~~~

“The son of Typhon? You fancy him?” Umbriel asked with a glare.

Cressida’s face turned red, and she looked away. “I do not! I just… I was just curious about how he was doing it all. That’s the only reason I asked Nia about him. It’s just common courtesy,” she said, doing her best to avoid looking him in the eye. 

Umbriel crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t recommend growing attached to his dear sister. I still have every intention of settling the score between us.” 

“I’m pretty sure it got settled when he beat you…” 

“Silence!” 

~~~~

Breeze and Bros

Tor looked over his newborn sister in confusion. The rest of his brothers were crowded around her as well. “She’s so… tiny,” he said, poking her cheek. The infant hummed and weakly tried to swat his finger away. 

“Man, I thought we were gonna have another brother! Now we’re gonna have to help her to dumb girly stuff!” Twister said, frowning. 

“I think she’s cute,” Gus muttered, nudging her tiny little hand. 

“That’s because you’re a weenie,” Gale mocked.

Tor grunted. She was even more of a runt than Gus was. If she was gonna be able to protect herself, she was gonna have to grow tough quickly. He knew his mom and dad would help, but he had to make sure too. 

~~~~

Gale raised an eyebrow at his little sister. “So let me get this straight. You want me to teach you how to cook so you can impress lizard boy?” he asked. 

Breeze glared at him. “I never said anything about impressing anyone.” 

“Breeze, I know what it looks like when a girl tries to impress a guy. I’ve had literally hundreds of girls try the same thing for me. Anyway, what do I get out of this?” he asked with a smirk on his face. 

Breeze grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him downwards. “You get the comfort of knowing that I won’t beat you within an inch of your life…” he said. 

“...okay, you make a good point.” 

~~~~

Twister scowled towards Gus, who was re-stringing his bow. “The goat girl, are you serious? Like Breeze and that Wyot kid weren’t bad enough. Get you head on straight man, she’s nasty,” he said shaking his head. 

Gus looked back at his brother with a frown. He was used to being picked on, but… he didn’t like anyone talking about Reishi like that. “Well, I like nasty. So shut up and leave her alone or else I’ll tell mom about you sneaking off to meet that nymph girl at Scotch’s place.” 

Twister grit his teeth as his little brother. “When did you get the balls to threaten us…?” 

“If I said it didn’t have anything to do with Reishi I’d be lying.” 

~~~~  

[milky-teaway]

Questions for your fic "I'll have to drive through those gale force winds": 8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it? 9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? 11: What do you like best about this fic? Thanks in advance. :)

Hi there, you don’t know how ecstatic I was to see your question about the fanfiction, tezlababe! Thank you for the ask, I’ll try not to ramble!

Did Any Real People or Events Inspire Any Part of it?

YES, most of the original characters are loosely based on people I’ve met before that left some impact on me. The strangest part was that I hadn’t realized it until I looked back on the way they are written into the story. I think that’s what makes writing the fic easier, because I can sort of scramble experiences with new imagined ideas together. For example, the character Tony is based on this guy that was sort of my friend in elementary school. He was always just a dick to me and a major follower. He regularly singled me out and teased me because I was the quiet girl in the group and had fun doing things solo, coincidentally much like Melise.

This is gonna sound weird, but I named the character Emla after this product for numbing the skin I had randomly found in my house. It’s literally called Emla, and I thought, wow, that’s kind of a cute name… Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking giving her that name, but ah whatever, its not so bad, I guess.

Leon, Jackson’s pitty forklift was based on an early name of Jackson Storm’s supposed ‘trainer’ (the name there was ‘Leo’ that appeared on his wikia page in the ally subcategory. I researched and found zero evidence of this character existing, so I just took him and turned him into a tech savvy sort of pit crew member for IGNTR instead. 

The biggest event that catalyzed the start of writing the story was how poorly Jackson Storm was developed in Cars 3. Even today, most of us barely know what kind of personality Jackson has below the surface past our fandom interpretations, so I wanted to explore that. I think it was exactly a day or week after watching the movie that I walked all the way to Chapters in the town over to buy the Storm Chasing book and get some basic personality to work with for beginning the fanfiction. Quickly, I figured out, yeah… this guy ain’t so bad, he’s a competent young adult with no direction of where to go. Jackson is basically a chill kind of car living in an era (now) where he must put in twice the effort with minimum rewards. He hates it and that’s his drive to push against mostly happy-go-lucky cars like Cruz and Lightning. Racing made his world complete, but that chill personality will always be there. Jackson loves the fame and fortune and knows his way around, nonetheless he’s established himself in adulthood already (a contrast to McQueen in the first film, hence Lightning’s immaturity) so he has no problem being a jerk because he’s got a reason; being tired of the cookie-cut ideals of modern culture. I honestly think Jackson is the kind of guy that likes creativity, individuality and unique aspects someone can bring to the table, it makes the boring world out there a little more bearable for him.

Were There Any Alternate Versions of This Fic?

 I will admit, I’ve been basically improvising every single chapter along the way, and I didn’t plan properly for the choice of making Melise take up modelling. It was purely improvised because I needed some sort of conflict to take the story forward in a way where she was affected by the photos of her and Jackson that allowed her to still maintain contact with him, I had no idea where to go, so I pulled the modelling idea out of nowhere. Here’s a little secret, the fanfiction was originally supposed to be about Melise befriending Jackson Storm and it would be purely platonic, she would basically show him how to not be a jerk. I quickly found that concept to be lacking because it didn’t create enough of a plot and it was just boring. Furthermore, Jackson Storm liking someone was a lot more interesting to write. I could explore his personality even more, which was the whole point of writing the story in the first place. 

I also had a list of names to choose from for my OC, and Melise was just one that I liked best. I had this idea once where she was going to be the younger non-twin sister of Mia and Tia, but it didn’t really stick either.

On another note, about a year ago, I wrote a now scrapped chapter where Jackson would randomly throw a family reunion party to basically brag about himself being legendary in the entire Storm family, and he would invite Melise along. Subsequently, I deleted the draft because it would be another side story with little connection to the main one between Jackson and Melise.

 I was going to include some more McQueen and friends  POV, but found that it– again, took away from the main plot. Also, there are tons of Lightning McQueen and Cruz Ramirez fics on FF.net. so I opted out of the idea… I just find Jackson more interesting and realistic, plus there aren’t much Jackson Storm fics out there, so win-win. 

What Do You Like Best About The Fic?

I love that so many people like the story! Seriously, it means so much to me to be able to write in my own personal way for you guys and to have people love genuine story telling. My favourite thing about the fic is how likeable, yet full on jerk I’ve managed to write Jackson Storm and the simple yet captivating story thus far with what i consider realistic and relatable characters. I love the art, especially the digital artwork FeDrawsStuff made of Melise, and how active the fandom is in helping me with art and just chatting away random ideas for fics or headcanons. Its fantastic to engage with so many positive people daily. Love Y’all!

[everlarkrealornot]

TPI - Self Interview

I focused on my fic The PANEM Initiative (TPI). The basic concept of this fic is that the Human Race is experiencing issues with fertility. Women are having multiple miscarriages and a large percentage of the population can’t even get pregnant. By percentage, the population is growing old and the number of births is declining. The PANEM Initiative was established as a genetic matching system to increase the population. Peeta and Katniss are matched up and this fic covers their year of courting. 

Writing Process:

·         For TPI I had a general idea when I started writing and after a few chapters I ended up sitting down to write a basic timeline for the fic. I was getting lost in the details from chapter to chapter and having on outline was extremely helpful.

·         I actually had two betas for a short period of time. It went well at first but there was miscommunication and I think we both got frustrated which lead to me finishing the fic without a beta. I don’t know if I will try to use a beta again as I have expectations that I know are really high, especially for someone who isn’t getting paid to help me.

·         When I write for Everlark I tend to listen to Taylor Swift (her country music) or RaeLynn.

·         I had about five chapters written before I started posting. I was able to actual post the last chapter of the fic three years to the date after I posted the first chapter. There were a lot of things that happened in my life during those three years, so this fic means a lot to me.

The Story

·         I don’t remember what inspired TPI but it took me awhile before I started writing. The scene where Katniss throws the remote at the TV was the first thing that I ever wrote down for this it originally went like this: “Making happy matches and prospering lives for the future. Katniss still had her hand in the air as the remote crashed through the front of the TV. She blinked several times before lowering her hand. She jerked her head around as small crash startled her.”  

·         The story changed often as I wrote it. The general timeline stayed the same, but details changed. The biggest thing that changed the fic was the Review Hearing with Gale – I literally run into that idea as I was writing…it took on a life of its own and it really helped the story line. Also, the scene where Katniss threw the remote at the TV changed places in the fic several different times.

·         The hardest part of the fic to write was the rules for the PANEM Initiative. Trying to keep them consistent throughout the fic was difficult. Also, it was really hard to not just write Peeta and Katniss in love with no issues – I just want my babies to be happy!!!

·         The easiest part of the fic to write was probably any time Peeta and Katniss were having cute moments, kissing, flirting, ect…I love these two being in love!

·         So I have lots of favorite parts – The Christmas Meet Up, the entire time surrounding Christmas, the Review Hearing with Gale…I could honestly go on and on! OH!!!! I also really really love the friendship between Rye and Katniss.

Characters

·         The easiest character to write for TPI was probably Peeta.

·         The hardest character to write was probably Gale. I didn’t want to write him as being obviously in love with Katniss (ie. no way she could miss it)…I wanted it to be in the background. I am not sure I achieved this, but it is what it is now lol.

·         In this fic I loved anytime I got to write Finnick and Johanna. I loved the addition of them to the story and how they interacted with Peeta and Katniss.

·         All major characters in this fic are not OC’s, but I did choose my own names for Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. and Mrs. Mellark.

Random

·         I was completely shocked by the response this story got. It was only the second Everlark fic I have ever written (the first one I wrote was a one shot (smut)) and it was extremely well received by THG fandom. Honestly, it still blows me away how much people loved this fic.

·         There were comments from readers that I struggled not to take personally as it was more of a comment on the character’s personality and not on my writing or storytelling abilities. I was extremely grateful for the numerous amount of comments with kind words.

·         I am currently writing the sequel to TPI!!! I am really really excited to share this fic with you guys, but I am struggling to write a title, so until that comes you have to wait lol.

·         Also, I have shared the visuals that I used as inspiration for this fic before and they can be found here. 

[starrystarrybabe]

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER SEVEN (Ben Hardy x OC)

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while.

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE, CHAPTER SIX

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

Hello everyone! I apologize for the long ass wait time. Emotionally and mentally, I’m not doing the best rn, and it’s really kicking my ass. I tried my hardest on this chapter, and I hope y’all like it!

-- casey

TRIGGERS: mentions of alcoholism? Honestly nothing is really that spicy in this installment of the story

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

“Can you believe this shit? I’m not invited to the Golden Globes because I wasn’t ‘close enough to the project!’” Lily Anne scoffs, pacing in the studio as she rants to Zichi. “That’s complete and utter horseshit and we all know it. I was there almost every day we weren’t on tour! Fuck the Golden Globes!”

Ezichi sips her tea, frowning in confusion. “You’re Freddie’s daughter. You helped in every step of the project. You’re dedicated to keeping his memory alive. Why wouldn’t you be invited to an event celebrating a movie that created a whole new generation of Queen fans to help in those efforts?”

Lily Anne nods furiously, flailing her arms in distress. “Exactly! I don’t get it.”

Zichi nods. “It makes no sense. I’m going as Gwil’s plus one, but if you really want to be there, I would give up my spot for you.”

Lily Anne shakes her head. “No, please don’t do that. You and Gwil deserve to have a nice night out and some rocking sex in a hotel bed. I won’t take that away from you.”

Ezichi blushes at Lily’s comment. “Really, Lily. My sex life is fine without hotel rooms. I don’t need to go.”

She raises a brow. “Just fine? That’s upsetting, I thought Gwil would do better than fine.”

Ezichi rolls her eyes before putting down her cup. “Lily, tell Ben and Joe that you’re not invited to the Globes.”

Lily frowns. “Why?”

Ezichi grins. “If Gwil got a plus one, I’m sure that the same invitation went out to Ben and Joe. Either of them could bring you.”

She perks up and kisses Zichi’s forehead, cupping her cheeks. “Ezichi Adebayo, you absolute genius of a woman. I love you to the moon and back.”

She takes out her phone as Ezichi grins.

Lily Anne: IM SENDING OUT AN SOS TO EVERYONE

Lily Anne: I HAVE NOT BEEN INVITED TO THE GOLDEN GLOBES

Lily Anne: I NEED TO BE SOMEONE’S PLUS ONE

Dinosaur Boy: why didn’t they invite you???

Lily Anne: i wasn’t “close enough to the project”

Benjamin Jones: that’s absolute bullshit!

Benjamin Jones: fuckin wankers

Lily Anne: i know, right? anyways, if one of you lovely men could take me as a plus one, i’d fucking love that.

---

“Hello?” Joe picks up his phone, leaning back on his couch.

“Hey. It’s Ben. I need a favor,” his friend frantically asks.

“Sure thing, Benny. What do you need?” Joe asks, perking up.

“Ask Lily to be your plus one,” he says.

“But-- but she loves you, not me! She’d like it more if you brought her,” Joe says, frowning.

Ben lets out a whine of distress. “Please, Joe. I’ll get too nervous, and fuck something up, and I can’t afford to lose this-- I can’t afford to lose her.”

Joe nods slowly, biting his lip. “Okay. I get what you’re saying--”

“--then do this one favor for me, please!” Ben interrupts, stressed out.

“I will! Just promise me one thing,” Joe says.

“What is it? I’ll do literally anything to repay you for this,” Ben asks.

“You ask her to the Oscars,” Joe responds.

Ben fumbles with his words for a minute before sighing heavily. “Sure. I’ll do that.”

Joe grins. “Good. I’ll ask her later today, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much, buddy,” Ben says, sounding much more relaxed.

“You’re welcome, Ben,” Joe says. “Remember, you’re asking her to the Oscars!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” Ben insists.

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, Ben.”

“Thanks, mate. Bye.”

When Ben hangs up, he sees Frankie looking at him with a distinctly unimpressed expression.

“You wouldn’t understand, Frankie.”

The dog huffs and walks out of the room.

---

Lily Anne is reclining in her oversized bathtub, enjoying a bath bomb and a face mask. Reykja sits on the bath mat, chewing on her bone, and Lily Anne has her eyes closed and is listening to royalty-free spa music she downloaded online onto her phone. She’s very zen at the moment. Suddenly her phone rings, and she frowns, opening one eye in annoyance. This is her free time. How dare someone interrupt it.

She looks at the phone and sees that Joe is calling, and picks up. “Lily Anne Mercury, speaking. You’ve interrupted my bath time, so this better be worth it, Dinosaur Boy.”

Joe gasps. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Lily. I can call later, but I think you’d want to hear this.”

She nods and leans back. “Alright. What’s going on?”

“Ben asked me to do something,” he says.

Lily Anne perks up, smiling. “Oh?”

“Don’t get too happy. He asked me to ask you to the Golden Globes.”

She sighs and leans back in the tub. “Oh… why isn’t he asking me?”

“He got scared, alright? I know I’m not him, and you’d rather be with him, but would you like to go to the Golden Globes with me? You don’t need to be by my side the entire time, just on the red carpet. Once that’s over, feel free to do whatever--” Joe begins ranting, and it’s the most considerate rant Lily Anne has ever heard.

“I’d love to go to the Golden Globes with you, Joe,” Lily says, smiling fondly.

“Great! It’s a date then,” Joe responds.

“What color is your bow tie? I can try to match it, if you’d like,” Lily asks, petting her pup lazily with one hand.

“I was thinking just doing a black one. Wear whatever you want. You’ll look good in anything.”

Lily laughs. “You’re too kind, darling. I’ll try not to overdress.”

Joe lets out a breath of laughter. “Alright. I’ll see you soon, Lily. Get back to your bath.”

“Have a nice night, Joe,” she responds before hanging up and letting out a deep sigh.

She looks down as Reykja blinks up at her curiously.

“I really thought Ben was going to ask me, didn’t you, girl?”

The dog lets out a yip of agreement.

“It’s alright, though. I’ll be fine, love. There’s always other events.”

1991

“Darling, must you do this?” Freddie asks from the tub filled with bubbles, looking over at Jim. “She’s still so young.”

Jim raises a brow and looks over at Freddie. “I found a knot in her hair yesterday that looked like it could be a bird’s nest, Freddie. It’s time.”

Freddie takes time to release a bone-shaking cough and leans back in the tub. “It’s such a shame, though. Her curls are immaculate!”

Jim sighs. “She’ll still have the curls afterward. If anything they’ll be more pronounced since her hair will be shorter.”

Lily Anne’s hair has gotten out of control, lately. It is past her butt, and the Indian genetics she has makes it very thick. Nobody in their right mind would be alright with spending over an hour detangling a two-year-old’s hair every day.

Freddie frowns. “Oh, alright. Just make sure she looks cute.”

Jim grins and kisses the little girl propped up on the bathroom counter. “She’s half you. Of course she’ll look cute. She’ll be beautiful no matter what haircut she has.”

Lily Anne coos, waving her little hands around. Her parents grin at her, and Freddie looks on with a happy gaze. He’s so lucky to be able to see her grow at least this much, though he knows that his time in this world is coming to its close.

“Ready for the cut, flower?” Jim asks. “It won’t hurt, sweetie.”

Lily blows a spit bubble and as Jim cuts her wet curls, she makes her mouth into an ‘o’ shape and watches in the mirror. She giggles and takes a handful of her hair, giving it a gentle tug. Jim pries her fingers away and quickly finishes the job, and Lily grins, looking at her shoulder-length curls.

Jim turns the girl towards Freddie and grins.

“You look amazing, darling girl!” Freddie coos hoarsely, smiling at his baby girl.

“You really should trust me more, love. I told you she’d look wonderful no matter what haircut she has,” Jim chuckles, kissing Lily’s cheek.

Preparing for the Golden Globes

Lily Anne smiles as her ends are trimmed, watching in the mirror. “My dad gave me my first haircut, you know. He was a barber before becoming the gardener at Garden Lodge,” she says, smiling wistfully.

The hair stylist smiles, trimming a little bit more off her ends. “That’s so sweet! Did he always cut your hair?”

She laughs. “Yes, until I began dying my hair in college and doing crazy punk hairstyles by myself. He seemed horrified but didn’t complain. He even bought me a hair straightener that wouldn’t fry it nearly as much as the cheap one I had.”

The stylist nods. “I remember when you would come out with crazy hair colors and choppy bangs and I really loved it.”

She grins. “Thank you, darling. That’s so sweet!”

The rest of the time passes and by the end of it, Lily’s hair is in a half bun, with the rest of it gently curled. Then, the makeup artist comes in and does a fairly natural look on her, but with an intense smokey eye. When she looks in the mirror, she smiles.

“Oh, it’s perfect, darling! Thank you so much!”

The artist smiles and shrugs. “You were a wonderful canvas. Thank you for the opportunity, Miss Mercury.”

She scoffs. “Call me Lily. I will be calling you the next time I’m in Los Angeles. Consider yourself booked for the Oscars, love.”

The makeup artist leaves and Lily changes into her dress, which is a stunning custom McQueen mermaid gown, emerald green with Swarovski crystals adorning the entire thing in place of embroidery. It dips low and creates a lot of cleavage, and the crystals are in the shape of Freddie’s face. Her assistant helps her put on her crystal choker and hoops, and she smiles as she looks in the mirror. Finally, her Louboutins are put on, and she hears a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” She asks.

“Your hot date,” Joe replies.

She picks up her matching clutch and opens the door, revealing Joe in a nicely tailored suit. He looks her over, in awe.

“Wow, Lily… I’m the one with the hot date,” he says, looking at the dress. “That’s Freddie’s face! Holy shit!”

She shakes her head. “The suit fits you perfectly, Mr. Mazzello. You look absolutely dashing. How are you still single?”

Joe shrugs. “I dunno. Must be my personality, I guess.”

Lily scoffs and shakes her head. “I’ll have none of that self-depricating nonsense tonight. Now, let’s get to the car, shall we?”

Joe holds out his arm for her and she takes it, smiling as they walk downstairs to the car, where Gwil and Ezichi are waiting. Allen, his daughter, Ben, Rami, and Lucy have already left for the event.

They enter the car and Gwil looks at Lily’s dress, nodding in approval. “You look very nice tonight, Lily. I love the dress.”

She grins. “Why thank you, Gwil! The suit is fabulous. Did Ezichi have the final say?”

Ezichi kisses Gwil’s cheek and nods. “Of course I did, and didn’t I do well?”

Joe nods. “Hell yeah, you did. You didn’t do too badly yourself, Zichi. That’s a wonderful pantsuit.”

Ezichi is wearing a white and black harlequin wide leg pantsuit with small diamonds on the edges of it, and she looks stunning.

Ezichi grins. “Thank you, Joe. It might be hard to piss in, but at least I look great.”

Gwil wraps an arm around his girlfriend. “You look magnificent, Zichi.”

Ezichi leans into her boyfriend and Lily lets out a fake vomit noise with Joe.

“Disgusting,” Lily says.

“Find a room,” Joe adds.

“If you wanted to fuck that badly, you shouldn’t have chosen a pantsuit,” Lily comments.

The pair blushes and Lily and Joe crack up, leaning back in their seats.

---

When they’re escorted to the red carpet, Ben is waiting for Joe to arrive, and when he sees Lily Anne--

Wow. She looks gorgeous.

Instant regret fills his head, and thoughts swirl as she approaches in her green gown.

‘Why didn’t you ask you, you bloody idiot? She’s stunning, and she could be on your arm right now if you had the fucking balls to ask her to the event. You’re an idiot, a right idiot, and you blew it.’

He’s forced out of his thoughts when she comes up to him, smiling. “No plus one, Ben?”

Ben refocuses on her. “A-ah, no. No plus one. My mum couldn’t come with me, and I didn’t want to ask anyone on Tinder.” He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

She shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s a shame.” She thinks for a moment before smiling. “You know what? I can be both yours and Joe’s plus one. I’m alright with being shared for the night.”

Joe comes up to Ben and gives him a hug. “Looking good, buddy.”

Ben grins at Joe. “Better than Cardy B?”

Joe laughs and nods. “Much better than Cardy B.”

Lily grins, taking both boys’ arms. “It’s showtime, boys. Let’s show them all how wonderful we are.”

The trio walks down the red carpet, and their names are screamed by the masses. Cameras flash, and Lily helps them navigate with practiced poise. She’s been doing this since she was a child, and the spotlight is where she belongs. They split up once it gets to the photos, and she puts on a smile, showing off her custom gown.

After some group photo ops, Lily goes off with Zichi and Lucy, and the girls enter the building.

Lucy smiles at Lily as they stop by the bar, and squeezes her hand. “What was your favorite cocktail when you drank?”

Lily looks at Lucy and smiles. “I loved Moscow mules.”

Lucy nods and looks to the bartender. “Can you make a vodka tonic and a virgin Moscow mule, please?” The bartender nods, and Lucy turns back to Lily. “You look upset. Is it because Ben didn’t ask you to the event?”

She lets out a deep sigh and Zichi rubs her back. “He loves you, Lily. It’s just because he’s nervous.”

Lily shakes her head. “Everyone is saying that, but… I need to hear it from him before I fully let myself believe it. I mean, him loving me would be a dream come true. I’ve never experienced my dreams going according to plan. Most times they backfire. I can’t risk losing this one. If I do… I’ll never find anyone I love as much as I love him.”

The bartender passes them their drinks, and Lily Anne tries hers. It tastes… delicious. Her face lights up.

“Excuse me, darling? I must have the recipe for this drink. It’s amazing, and to do it without alcohol is impressive.”

The bartender nods and writes down the recipe on a napkin, grinning. “I’m glad you like it! Here you go. Enjoy.”

She takes the napkin and places it in her clutch, grinning.

Lucy smiles. “Did that make tonight a little better?”

Lily nods, and Zichi hugs her friend. “You deserve nice things, Lily. One of those nice things can be Ben.”

Lily smiles and when she pulls away, she smirks. “One of your nice things can be rocking hotel sex. You don’t have to clean the sheets the next day, so go wild!”

Ezichi coughs, keeling over at Lily’s words. Lucy laughs, leaning against the bar. Lily sips her drink, pleased with herself.

When Brian and Roger enter and see the scene, immediately they tense up as they see a drink in Lily’s hand.

“That better be bloody virgin, Lily,” Roger says, raising a brow.

She nods and smiles, holding out her drink for him to try. “100% virgin, unlike us.”

He sips the drink and nods before handing it back to her. “Not bad. I like it. What’s got Zichi so red?”

She smirks. “I told her that she deserves good hotel sex.”

Roger scoffs and nods. “Hell yeah, she does! The best part is that you don’t have to wash the sheets afterward!”

Lily grins. “That’s what I said.”

Ezichi grimaces. “He’s corrupted you.”

Roger grins and kisses Lily’s forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and jostling her. “Been doing that since day one.”

Brian speaks up, rubbing Ezichi’s back. “We’re going to take our seats with Rami, but we’ll see you later. Hopefully, we win something,” he says, crossing his fingers.

Lily nods and hugs her uncle. “Of course you will. Freddie’s energy was central in the movie, and he thrived despite the odds. This movie will too.”

Brian kisses the top of her head and smiles. “Send some good energy to us, alright?”

She nods. “Of course we will. You go sit down.”

Rami is walking by and comes over, kissing Lucy. She smiles and as he leaves, he yells, “Let's do this shit!”

Brian and Roger join the younger man and Lily laughs.

“He’s so strange and wonderful,” Lucy says, placing her hand on her cheek.

Lily nods. “I agree. Let’s go to our seats.”

The girls head off to get to their seats.

—-

Ben leans back on the couch, nursing a glass of sparkling water. Joe comes over to join him, holding a vodka tonic.

“Not drinking yet, Ben?” He asks, sitting next to his friend.

Ben shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t want Lily to be the only sober one and have to take care of us both. I’d feel bad if she had to do that.”

Joe presses his lips together. “You regret not asking her, don’t you?”

Ben nods, closing his eyes. “She looks… so beautiful. To think I could’ve had her on my arm but I chickened out makes me feel like an idiot.”

Joe nods. “She looks amazing. You know what? Don’t be sad.” He slaps Ben’s thigh. “She can sit in between us. You’ll get to have time with her alone later, alright?”

Ben rubs his thigh. “Sure. Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it.”

Lily walks in with Zichi and Lucy, and Gwil wraps an arm around his girlfriend, leading her over to the couch, where she promptly leans her head on his chest. Lucy sits next to Rami’s mother.

Joe and Ben part and pat the seat in between them, and Lily sits in between the pair, smiling.

Joe stands up and looks over the crowd. “I’m going to get a refill. Does anyone want anything?”

The group gives Joe their orders, and he walks over to the bar. Lily Anne leans back, squeezing Ben’s hand.

“How’d the red carpet stuff go?” she asks him, smiling.

“Good,” he says, smiling. “The interviews went well.”

She smiles and nods. “Great! That’s wonderful, Ben! Interviewers can be shitty and ask dumb questions, so I’m glad yours were good.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “One of them implied that Roger in the 70’s wasn’t beautiful, so I replied and said that he was wrong, and if I was around, I may have turned.”

She snorts, covering her mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that answer.”

Joe comes back and hands people their drinks. He takes his seat and sips his own, watching as the T.V. turns on the awards show starting. The crowd quiets, and Lily smiles. Her parents are watching fondly from above.

---

The anticipation in the room is palpable when the announcer opens the envelope containing the name of the winner. Lily squeezes Ben and Joe’s hands and prays a silent prayer that Rami wins.

When his name is announced, they stand and scream, hugging each other and laughing. There is no sweeter feeling than a well-earned victory. She launches herself into Ben’s arms, and the sound of his laughter fills her with joy. She looks up at him, and their noses touch, and she freezes up because if she just leaned in a few inches closer she’d be kissing him, and he’s looking down at her and panicking--

Joe comes up behind her and turns the affair into a group hug, and she’s snapped out of her thoughts, laughing once more. When they sit down, she takes a deep breath and looks at Ben, who’s staring straight ahead with a wide eyed look on his face.

Oh, God. That could’ve been fucked up so quickly.

When she turns back to the screen to watch Rami’s acceptance speech, she feels Ben’s eyes on her and blushes.

The second win garners a similar reaction, but this time, Lily hugs Joe, just to avoid making a mistake with Ben. Lord knows that this time, she might not have been able to restrain herself.

---

The afterparty is hosted in Roger’s suite, and after being so kind as to ask permission to drink from Lily, she tells Ben that he can drink however much he wants. He promptly downs four shots of vodka without blinking, and Lily is shocked. The alcohol will hit hard and she knows it. However, she’s curious to see what the alcohol does to Ben.

Apparently, he becomes a frat boy. He’s with Joe, who’s honestly just a sillier version of himself under the influence of alcohol, and they walk over to where she’s sitting.

“Are you from Tennessee?” Ben asks her, grinning.

“I’m from London, you know that, Ben,” she says, raising one unimpressed brow.

“‘Cause you’re the only ten I see,” he continues, laughing at his own joke.

She snorts and sips her sparkling water, shaking her head. “Those four shots hit you hard, didn’t they, Ben?”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try another one.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair, and Lily Anne is so confused as to why she isn’t completely turned off by this behavior. “I hope you know CPR.”

“I’m certified,” Lily Anne replies, nodding matter of factly.

“Because you’re taking my breath away!” Ben finishes, a grin only growing on his face.

Joe is leaning on Ben, laughing heartily. Lily purses her lips, sighing.

“Still not impressed?” Ben asks, pouting. “Fine. One more.” He holds out his arm to her. “Feel my shirt.”

“This is your jacket, Ben,” she states, looking up at him.

He shakes his arm, whining. “Just feel it, okay?”

She sighs and feels the jacket material before looking up to see a smirk on his face.

He leans down and grins, his breath smelling like alcohol. “It’s boyfriend material.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “That was great, Ben.”

Ben giggles and looks at Joe with excitement in his eyes. “Mate, she likes me! Your lines worked!”

Lily laughs. She likes Ben, but not because of some cheesy pick up lines. Joe grins and hugs Ben, and she watches them tackle each other happily.

“I think someone had pizza delivered. Why don’t you two get some?” Lily comments, smiling.

The two boys grin at each other and stumble through the crowd towards the kitchen for food.

When they leave, Lucy sits down next to her, and holds her free hand. “Are you having fun, Lily?”

She nods, smiling. “Of course I am! I love seeing all my friends happy.”

Lucy grins. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She leans in, her smile widening. “I saw Ben and Joe coming over here. What happened?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ben tried to use some pick up lines Joe taught him on me. They were exceptionally bad.”

She laughs, and sips her champagne. “He really does like you, Lily.”

She nods, rubbing her temples. “I know. We nearly kissed earlier, but stopped before it happened.”

Lucy gasps. “Oh my god, when? How did I miss it? Why did you stop?”

Lily sighs. “When Rami won, we hugged, our noses touched, and I froze up, panicking. I don’t want to ruin anything between him and I, so we both didn’t go any closer.”

Lucy squeals. “But that would’ve been so cute!”

Lily raises a brow. “It wouldn’t have been cute once I found out that he doesn’t love me as deeply as I love him.”

Lucy nods, pursing her lips. “I understand why you’re scared. You don’t want to lose a good thing. I get it. But one of these days, you’ll need to confess.”

Lily nods. “I know. I’ll do it eventually.”

Lucy shrugs. “Who knows? It could lead to something beautiful.”

She smiles and squeezes Lucy’s hand. “You should probably find Rami. He’s a mess navigating a party without you.”

Lucy smiles. “I should. Take what I said into consideration though, alright?”

Lily nods. “Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Lucy leaves to find her man, and Lily sits back, watching as everyone enjoys themselves.

---

After frat boy Ben comes clingy Ben. Joe brings him over, and Lily raises a brow.

“I surely hope you’re not here for more bad pick up lines,” she says.

Joe shakes his head. “Nah. He just started whining and wanted to see you, so I brought him over before he could start crying.”

Ben whines into Joe’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently.

Lily nods. “I think we should take him back to his hotel room. He seems a little too far gone.”

Joe nods in agreement. “Yeah. I’m going to stay a little longer and make sure everyone gets back safely, but if you don’t mind taking him back, I’d appreciate it.”

She smiles and nods. “I’ll manage him.” She stands up and lets Joe drape Ben onto her.

Joe smiles and looks at Ben. “You’re with Lily now. Are you happy?”

Ben nuzzles into Lily and nods, mumbling, “Yay. Finally.”

Joe lets out a little laugh. “I’m going to go now. Get back safe, alright?”

She smiles and nods. “Of course. Come along, Ben. Let’s get you home.”

Ben looks up at her and blinks, confused. “Home is in London.” He gasps, eyes wide. “We’re not in London, are we?”

She shakes her head. “No, darling. We’re in Los Angeles. I meant home as in your hotel room.”

Ben blinks, pouting slightly. “I wanna go home.”

She nods, placing a hand on his cheek. “We’re going home tomorrow, lovie.”

He whines, shaking his head. “No, like-- like my room.”

She sighs and supports his waist as he follows her out of the suite and down the hallway. He begins to ramble, and she simply entertains his commentary.

“You look real pretty tonight, Lily.”

“Thank you, Ben. You looked very pretty as well.”

“My stylist chose the suit. I like it.”

“I like it too, Ben.”

“Who chose your outfit?”

“I helped design it with the head fashion stylist at Alexander McQueen.”

“Wow. You did good.”

“I know, love.”

“Can you design something for me?”

“I can do that, Ben.”

Ben squeals happily and buries his head in her shoulder, squeezing her waist tightly. “Yay!”

They get to the elevator and walk in, and Lily presses the button, keeping Ben’s hands away from the console as he reaches for it. He whines and shakes his head, and as the bell dings and they get to the lobby, a chauffer for the BoRhap cast sees them and helps them into the car, where Ben promptly lays his head down in Lily’s lap. He mumbles something as she straps him in and she looks down at him.

“What did you say, darling?”

“Touch my hair.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He looks up at her with pleading eyes. “It feels good.”

She sighs and obliges, running her hands through his hair, and within five minutes of the ride, he’s snoring into her lap. It feels comfortable and soft and she takes a picture of him, smiling. She’s saving that to her hidden files in her camera roll.

When they get to the hotel ten minutes later, she shakes Ben awake, and he lets out a confused noise, lifting his head.

“It’s time to get up, love.”

“We’re home?”

“Mhm. We’re home.”

The driver helps her get Ben out of the car, and he leans heavily on her as they walk inside and to the elevator. They get to Ben’s floor and she takes the key card from his pocket, helping him inside. He flops onto his bed, and she sighs heavily.

“Ben.”

A tired groan.

“Take off your jacket, at least.”

“You do it.”

“Turn over, and I will.”

Ben slowly obliges, and Lily walks over, unbuttoning the jacket. She heaves him up to take it off, and he looks at her, smiling. She looks down at him and raises a brow.

“What’s that look for, Ben?”

“Thanks, Lil.”

She smiles and helps him back down, squeezing his hand. “Of course. It’s no problem, darling. You’d do the same for me.”

She hangs up the jacket and looks back to see Ben failing to unlace his shoes. She leans down and helps him, and when he curls up on the bed, she covers him with a hotel blanket. Immediately, she hears snores, and leaves the room, heading back for her own.

---

Ben wakes up and blinks, confused. He has no idea how he got here, and no idea how he managed to take off and hang his suit jacket and untie his shoe laces. He drank far too much last night, and doesn’t remember much after eating pizza with Joe.

When he sits up, he groans from a pounding headache, and lays back down. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table and groggily tells Siri to call Joe. After putting the phone on speaker phone mode, and a few rings, Joe answers him.

“How much do you hurt?” he asks.

“More than I ever have in my life. Will you tell me what happened?” Ben asks, rubbing his eyes.

“You took some shots, drank some more, hit on Lily with bad pick up lines I gave you, and almost cried when I wouldn’t bring you immediately to her, but ultimately, she brought you back.”

He frowns and groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, God… First I almost kiss her, then I hit on her, then she drags my ass back?”

Joe chokes on the water he’s drinking. “You almost did what?!”

“When Rami won, she hugged me, our noses touched, and shit-- I almost leaned in, but I panicked, and then she panicked, and then you made it a group hug.”

Joe lets out a groan. “Why’d I third wheel that? Jesus, Ben, I’m so sorry.”

Ben frowns. “What? You want me to have kissed her?”

Joe scoffs. “Of fucking course I want you to kiss her! You two are soulmates! I want you to get married and have babies!”

Ben shakes his head. “Get the fuck out of here with that crap, mate. I can’t think about things like that.”

Someone opens the hotel room door, and the smell of breakfast wafts into the room. Ben groans and opens one eye, and when he sees Lily walking in with a tray of eggs, salsa, and buttered toast, he blinks, confused.

“Lily? What’s all this?” he asks, slowly sitting up in bed.

“Hangover food. I had a feeling you’d need it.” She holds out a water bottle and two advil. “Take these first.”

Joe greets Lily. “Hi, Lily! How did getting Ben home go?”

She shrugs. “It was fine. He was a bit heavy to carry, but I managed.”

Joe laughs. “Well, I’m gonna let you go now, buddy. Enjoy your meal.”

Joe hangs up, and Ben blushes, unable to meet Lily’s gaze once he’s taken the advil and downed some water. “How’d you get in?”

She holds up his keycard. “I took this from you, because I knew you’d need the meal and I’d need a way to get in.”

He nods, and looks at the meal. “Why salsa?”

She smiles. “Put it in with the eggs. The spice helps immensely. Don’t worry. I told them to give you mild.”

He nods, and does as she says. He bites his lip, leaning back in bed. “Lily, I am so sorry for what I did when I was drunk. How bad were the pick up lines?”

Lily winces. “Pretty bad, mate. I’ll spare you the details.”

He groans, and takes a bite of the food. In a moment, he feels… almost better? He looks up at Lily as if she’s God.

“That already helped. How do you know such good hangover food?”

She looks down at him, and with a straight face, says, “I was an alcoholic, Benjamin.”

Ben covers his mouth, his face flushing bright red. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I absolutely forgot about that.”

Lily smiles gently and ruffles his hair fondly. “It’s alright, Ben. I take no offense.”

He continues eating, and looks absolutely miserable. She sits in a chair in the corner of the room and checks her emails. After a few minutes of silence, Ben speaks up.

“When do we leave the hotel?”

Lily looks at the itinerary and shrugs. “At six tonight. It’s currently eleven a.m., so you have plenty of time to recover and pack.”

Ben nods, slowly chewing his toast. “Okay. Good. If I were to get in a car right now, this meal would go to waste.”

She laughs and nods, rubbing the back of her neck. “I can’t say that’s never happened to me. Taking a bath always helped me with the nausea, so when you’re ready to get up, try that.”

Ben smiles at her and swallows. “Thanks, Lil.”

She smiles back at him. “Don’t mention it.” Her phone buzzes and she looks down at it. “Business call. I have to go, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

He nods, and watches as she leaves the room.

Maybe if after all he did to be a nuisance while drunk didn’t drive her away, she truly is his soulmate.

TAGLIST: @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @plethora-of-things @borhap-socials @everybodyplaythegame @i-the-fangirl @deakydeakydeaky @shisterfackisback @samanthadegaro @lv7867 @fatbottomedcurls @redspecialty @haisimsim @peterparkeroos @teenwolflover28 @ixchel-9275 @alessandra-elle @onexlittlespark @queenficarchive @leah-halliwell92 @rrrogah-tayluhh @maddistudiess @queen-fam @evrsncnewyork @reddiefreddieee @babebenhardy

[dragon-zena]

Experimental Thing; sets of texts/messages between my OCs; part one probably

I'm not giving them screen names because let's be honest, those change so often and a lot of the time you don't know who anyone else is unless it's stated

Madena: who remembers Club Penguin

Zi: yeah my fav was trying to tip the iceberg

Hughes: Love the way they *clenches fist* Tipped That Iceberg

Narla: I was more of a dress up and daily quiz person, honestly.

Madena: I feel it tbh

Hughes: I liked being a secret agent. Made me feel special

Madena: fuck Herbert P. Bitch

Hughes: oh my god

Zi: did anyone know how to catch that one big fish in that one game

Hughes: You had to keep a small one on your line

Zi: OH.

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

Zi: what the fuck is physics Hughes

Hughes: 👀👀👀

Zi: help me im FAIWING

Hughes: then perish

Zi: D:

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

Hughes, later on: Honestly tho wht do u need help w

Zi: fuckign...angular momentum?

Hughes: Bet

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

Narla: Zi, do you have any plans, today?

Zi: no why

Narla: Can I come over?

Zi: my doors are always open, Narla

Narla: Cool.

Narla: Mom's acting...extra, again.

Zi: you don't have to explain if you don't want to

Narla: Rhanks.

Narla: *Thanls.

Narla: Ugh.

Zi: take your time

Narla: I'll just. See you there.

Zi: alright. I love you, Narla

Narla: Love you, too.

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

Madena: thecuddlers.png

Hughes: Aw they look so cute

Hughes: Wait why are you in Zi's house

Madena: 😉

Hughes: Madena they live in another state wh

Hughes: Madena come back online I just wanna talk

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

Zi: Mads I Just Saw Your Winter Show

Madena: oh yeah?

Zi: YEAH IT'S SO GOOD

Madena: unholy screeching thank u

Zi: one question, though

Zi: who let you add all of those musical references to your script

Zi: Mads

Zi: MADS COME OUT I JUST WANT TO TALK

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

Madena: I fucking hate my mom.

Madena: Who the fuck does she think she is? What fucking gives her the right to treat her fucking children like they're scum of the Earth? What the fuck did we do to her.

Madena: I've only been alive for fucking 18 years and she makes me feel like I'm fucking 60.

Madena: Scratch that, I feel like I'm fucking. Six years old. All the time.

Hughes: Madena

Madena: She Steals My Things and She Tells Me That I Don't Know Anything and She WON'T ADMIT THAT SHE'S FUFKING WRONG ABOUT EVWRYTHING THAT I AM

Zi: oh, madena

Madena: im almost out of this sbuthole.

Madena: shithole

Madena: dbut itsso hard

Madena: I dnt want to be here anymore

Hughes: Do you want me to come over?

Madena: I'm halfway oht and to your hosue.

Zi: I'm coming, too. I'll pick you up in mom's car.

Madena: thamks.

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

Fiyera: Hughes.

Hughes: Oh fhck hey Fi

Hughes: What's up? You rarely message me

Fiyera: I'm just wondering something.

Hughes: Shoot

Fiyera: Does Madena talk about me to you?

Hughes: She does more than that honestly

Fiyera: What?

Hughes: Why do you ask

Fiyera: It feels like I'm not...doing enough. And they deserve more. It's not fair to them, but if they're happy with me, then I won't...I don't want to do anything rash.

Hughes: Madena would literally die for you

Hughes: They're happy with you

Hughes: So yes, by all means, avoid doing anything rash

Hughes: Talk to them about how you feel

Hughes: Because if something like Gale happens again

Hughes: even if I doubt it will

Hughes: I Won't Ever Forgive You.

Fiyera: I understand.

Fiyera: Thanks, Hughes. Underneath all of the memes you constantly spout, you're a caring, loving person.

Hughes: ouch that hurts all three of my feelings

Fiyera: Goodbye, Hughes.

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

Hughes: You ever wonder why you're alive

Zi: yeah

Madena: mhm

Narla: Yes.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 12 - Ennobled

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper and Drake have a rude awakening… and Christian unveails an unexpected surprise.

Word Count: 6,400

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, some smuttiness, angst, aggravation)

A/N1: So... I know people were hoping for Part III of Extraction, but a few weeks ago, I got hit with the scene that starts off this chapter, so I ended up writing out the whole thing (and starting on the following chapter as well, because that follows directly after the events of this chapter). Hopefully this doesn’t cause any major disappointments! 🙃 My plan is to get back to Extraction and/or Sleepless in New York after I post Chapter 13... She said... hoping that the fickle muse will be cooperative🤞

A/N2: Big thank you to @angelasscribbles​ for pulling me out of a massive tagent / rabbit hole that I accidentally threw myself down half-through this chapter, and for brainstorming the second half of the chapter with me! Also, big shoutout to hubby (who is worming himself into my writing process more and more as time goes on - the sneaky rascal! 🤣) for helping me out with a bunch of details for this chapter!

A/N3: Finally, special shoutout to @thegreentwin​ for insipring the bonus content at the end of the chapter. If you have not read The Rebel Prince, please do so! It is cute, funny, insightful and the gossip magazine covers that accompany several of the chapters are something else!

Chapter 12 - Ennobled

Bzzt... bzzt...

The loud buzzing rattles me from sleep. Scrunching my eyes together, I snuggle deeper into Drake's chest, hoping that if I ignore the ominous sound, it will just disappear.

Bzzt... bzzt...

But... no such luck.

"Sorry, baby..." mutters Drake into my hair. "Need to check who that is."

"Can't it wait...?" I groan, tightening my hold on his hand.

After gluing Drake's arm back together, putting our blood-splattered clothes in the sink to soak, and having a long, hot shower to wash away the stresses of the day, we hadn't ended up falling into bed until close to midnight. And I even though I had slept quite well — thanks to Drake's comforting presence by my side — I’m not ready to wake up just yet because I know that if I do, then this brief, peaceful interlude is going to be over.

"Probably not, by the sounds of it," he admits as his phone buzzes adamantly again.

"But it's still dark..." I protest.

"I know. But it could be important..." he murmurs, laying a soft kiss on my shoulder as he draws his free hand up my body.

His fingers coasting over the exposed skin of my stomach causes my body to arch back against him. "More important... than what you've obviously got in mind?" I ask as my backside brushes against the tell-tale bulge of his morning wood.

Bzzt... bzzt... bzzt...

"Evidently..." he sighs, dropping his head against the crook of my neck in defeat.

Untangling himself from me, he rolls over with a grunt of disapproval to check his phone.

I flop face-first into the pillow. "Will we ever be able to just wake up at a normal time like normal people...?" I grumble against the silk-clad goose-down.

It’s bad enough that I can literally count on one hand the number of times Drake and I have been able to fall asleep in the same bed since we've become semi-official. But even when we have managed to carve out some much-needed couple time, we aren’t even allowed two minutes to enjoy waking up together because one or both of us is always needed for some urgent thing at stupid-o'clock in the morning.

"Probably not while the tour's underway," he admits, falling back into his space next to me. "And definitely not while the Beaumonts run your schedule..."

"Is that who it was?" I ask, twisting around to settle my head against his shoulder with a frown. My bleary eyes widen as they land on the time at the top of the screen. "Are they being serious right now!"

"You know they don't sleep," he reminds me, scrolling through his texts.

"But it's not even 5am!" I protest. "What the hell could they want at this time?"

"You, apparently," he observes, tilting the screen so I could read the messages.

"Wow..." I breathe. "Our room switch caused quite the Beaumont meltdown, huh?"

"Seems so..." he agrees, locking his phone and dropping it back onto the bedside table. "But at least we know it's a solid countermeasure."

"Yes, and no..." I grumble. "They still woke us up, didn't they?"

"True..." he concedes, turning to face me with that impenetrable look of his. "But they're not in here with us."

"Don't count your blessings yet, bud," I warn as he snakes his arm around my waist. "They could get desperate and start searching all the rooms in the manor."

"That's why I locked the door," he states, pulling me on top of him. "So, unless they've got a battering ram, they ain't gettin' in."

"Mmm..." I purr, luxuriating in the feel of his solid warmth beneath me. "I love the way you think. But shouldn't we put them out of their misery?"

"They've survived this long," he declares roughly, splaying a possessive hand on my ass. "They can wait five more minutes."

"You sure?" I gasp as he pushes me down against his now very indisputable arousal. "It sounds like Bertrand is about to have a coronary."

"Max likes to over-exaggerate..." he murmurs, threading his other hand into my hair to draw me closer. "Plus, my alarm hasn't gone off yet, so..."

Beep...beep...beep...beep...

His head drops back against the pillow. "...motherfucker."

"You were sayin'...?" I ask sweetly, reaching over to turn the blaring off.

"Can't catch a fuckin' break..." he grits, digging his fingers into the softness of my backside, as if this will help alleviate his aggravation.

"Says the person who had to be convinced to stay last night..." I remind him, bopping him on the nose.

"Because I knew how goddamn hard it was gonna be to leave in the morning," he growls, flicking his tongue over the underside of my finger hungrily as I trail it past his mouth. "Especially since we never finished what we started back at Maddi’s."

"I thought we did finish..." I tease, rocking my pelvis against him. "Very loudly."

He swallows a groan as I feel his length nudge me through his boxers. "And was it enough?"

I flick my eyes up to his coyly as I continue to trail my finger down his chest. "Wasn't it?"

"Like hell."

In the next instant I find myself pinned beneath him, a leg hooked over his arm and his mouth claiming mine as he drives purposefully into me.

"Drake..." I moan against his lips, feeling him grind against the damp lace of my underwear, teasing me with the promise of fulfilment.

"Fuck, Harper," he growls, nipping my bottom lip. "You have no idea... how much I want you... how much I always want you."

"You have me," I assure him, wrapping my other leg around him, wanting to feel all of him with all of me. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Having you... doesn't make me want you... any less," he huffs, meeting my eyes with his molten espresso gaze as he continues to move against me. "If anything... it makes me want you more. Christ, I want you... And it's never enough."

He’s right. Our much-too-brief reunion two nights ago hadn’t been nearly enough to make up for the time we'd had to spend apart. And the undeniable urgency of his need sparks my own desire alight faster than dropping a match into a propane tank.

"So, have me," I urge breathlessly, sliding my hands down his back to grip his ass, as he did with me.

He rams into me once more with a guttural sound before pulling back, breathing hard. "Don't tempt me, girl. I'm barely holding it together as it is. If we start, I'm not gonna be able to stop."

"Then don't," I prompt, coasting a hand around his waist to slip it beneath the waistband of his boxers.

A low groan rattles in his throat as he grits his teeth, fighting for control. "Trust me. If it were up to me, we wouldn't. Not until I've fucked you six ways to Sunday on every available surface in this room. And then some..."

His eyes meet mine with a darkly feral look that instantly drenches whatever part of my panties remained dry... before he drops his gaze ruefully.

"...but we can't. The Beaumonts are already going ape looking for you, and the rest of the court's about to descend on us. And we both know that you ain't exactly quiet when we get going..."

"You complainin'?" I ask cheekily, wrapping my fingers around the protrusion straining the front of his boxers.

"Never," he grins, bucking into my palm. Turning serious, he adds, "But you screaming the manor down isn't conducive to our plan to get your name cleared. So, we gotta wait."

"Can I convince you to stay five more minutes...?" I counter sweetly, giving him a meaningful squeeze. "Seeing as we're now both very much up?"

"And who's fault is that?" he smirks, diving down to scrape his teeth over my t-shirt clad breast.

"The Beaumonts'," I gasp with a jolt as he catches my nipple with his teeth.

He scoffs dryly, moving lower. "The only thing those two'll get pointing up in their direction is my middle finger."

My giggle scuttles into a moan as he skims his lips and tongue over the sensitive skin just below the hem of my t-shirt. "So, does that mean you'll stay?"

He pauses above the lace of my panties, the basic instincts of his physical desire clearly at war with the cold, hard logic of his self-imposed sense of responsibility.

"No..." he sighs begrudgingly, dropping his head. "As much as I want to, you know I can't. I need to make myself scarce before the staff start their rounds."

"Eugh... Fine..." I grump, my hands falling off him with a dejected thud. "But, you better make this up to me later, bud."

"Don't worry," he drawls, his breath fluttering over my heated skin. "I will. And by the time I'll get done with you, girl, you won't be able to see, let alone walk straight..." He rakes his tongue over my damp underwear to underscore his intent. "And that's a promise."

I reach for him with a mew, desperate for more...

...but all I grasp is air.

"Damn you, Walker..."

"Think of it as foreplay, Gale."

Opening eyes, I see that he's already on the other side of the room, rummaging around his duffle for some clean clothes.

I snort caustically. "Of course you'd call it that..."

He meets my less-than-amused glare with a brief, nonchalant smirk. "Hey. You're the one who started it."

"Me?" I gasp, snapping upright in disbelief. "You're the one who woke up horny!"

"And why d'you think that is...?"

My breath catches in my throat at the intensity of his gaze. "I—"

Bzzt... bzzt...

"You best find out what the Beaumonts want with you before they call in search and rescue," he advises, unfurling a fresh pair of jeans.

"Fine..." I grumble, shunting myself onto the other side of the bed like a land-locked seal to grab my own phone out of my bag.

Stupid Beaumonts... Stupid scandal... Stupid rules... Why can’t I just have sex with my boyfriend like a normal person...?

Lolling back onto the pillow, I unlock the screen, and nearly die of shock when I see how many missed calls and texts I've gotten.

"Jesus Christ...!"

"Everythin' okay?" queries Drake.

"I have twenty missed calls!" I exclaim. "Twenty! In the space of fifteen minutes!"

"They're nothing if not persistent..." he observes dryly, pulling on blue plaid shirt.

"That's one word for it," I mutter, hitting dial on Maxwell's number.

The line barely has a chance to connect before my sponsor's overtly excited voice assaults my eardrums. "Harper! Thank God you're okay! Wait... Are you okay? Why were you not picking up? Where are you? Bertrand and I have been going mental—"

"I'm fine..." I reply with deliberate slowness, hoping that he'll take the hint and tone the volume down...

...but, I’m going to have to keep on dreaming.

"Awesome!" enthuses Maxwell. "Bertrand will be thrilled that he can stop tearing his hair out!"

I massage my eyes, realising that I’m going to have to take control of this conversation. "Great. So, where's the fire?"

There's an audible intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Fire? What fire? Oh, my giddy aunt! Bertrand! Harper's trapped in an inferno and sh—"

I suppress a sigh. This is way too much nervous energy for this early in the morning...

"I mean," I emphasise painstakingly, "what's the massive emergency?"

There is a long pause, followed by a sheepish chuckle. "Oh. Right. Whoops! Silly me! This is why Bertrand doesn't trust me with House Beaumont stuff. He says I'm always—"

"Give me that!"

I groan wearily. Great. Now Bertrand has the phone...

"Where in the blazes are you?" the elder Beaumont snaps down the line without preamble.

"In my room," I reply, pushing myself up.

This is not a conversation I’m having lying down... Literally, or metaphorically.

"I can assure you, that you are not," he hits back. "Maxwell and I have searched every inch of your room, and unless you have managed to squeeze yourself between the floorboards — which would be a mean feat, indeed! — you are to cease this childish game of hide-and-go-seek and—!"

"No."

I swear I hear the sound of Bertrand bursting a blood vessel. "I beg your pardon?"

I set my jaw determinedly. "First of all, I am not hiding. I switched rooms because someone — whether intentionally, or not — assigned me to the same room as last time, and there was no way in hell that I was going to sleep in the bed that I nearly got raped in."

I give him a moment to let that sink in.

"Oh. I-I see..." The consternation in his voice is palpable. "Erm... Yes. Of course... How crass of me... I—"

"Second," I continue, leaning into Drake as he bends down to drop a good-bye kiss into my hair, "you better have a damned good reason for waking me up before the crack of dawn—"

"It is hardly—"

"—especially since you told me in the car yesterday that today's event doesn't start until mid-morning, and we'd agreed in Ramsford that the way-too-early-o'clock wake up calls would stop."

"Unless there are extenuating circumstances," he reminds me.

"What kind of extenuating circumstances could there possibly be at four-thirty in the morning!" I cry exasperatedly.

"The kind that requires you to be dressed and presentable at six o'clock sharp."

I frown. "Why? What's happening at six?"

"You are meeting with the Royal Press Secretary. He has request—"

Not bothering to wait for Bertrand to mansplain how early morning appointments work, I pull the phone away from my ear and put myself on mute. Glancing up at Drake, I ask, "Did you know about this?"

He turns back from the door he’d just been about to open. "Know about what?"

"That I'm supposed to be meeting with the Royal Press Secretary this morning."

His grip on the door handle tightens. "No."

"Didn't think so," I mutter under my breath as I resume the call.

"—especially since His Majesty will be in attendance, and you will—"

My eyes widen. "Christian's going to be there too? Does that mean they have a lead on Tariq?"

I flick my gaze up to Drake's questioningly.

He shakes his head. No clue.

"I was not informed of the purpose of the meeting," replies Bertrand tartly. "I was simply tasked with ensuring your attendance. Now, since time is of the essence, we need to—"

"I am perfectly capable of getting myself ready," I inform him flatly. "So, just tell me where to go, and I'll meet you there."

Bertrand sucks in a scandalised breath. "That is highly improper! A young lady of your station should be escorted to the venue by her—"

"This isn't 1785, Bertrand..." I remind him exasperatedly. "My reputation isn't going to be ruined because I was found wandering around unsupervised. At least, not any more than it already has been by Tariq and his co-conspirators."

"Granted," he concedes. "But this isn't just about your reputation. It is about your safety as well. I gave my word to His Majesty that House Beaumont will look after you, and since you have a rather irksome habit of slinking off by yourself—"

"I don't slink off...!"

"Yes. You do."

I throw my head up in surprise.

Drake is leaning against the door with his arms crossed in stoic agreement. "You're a nightmare to run security for. Almost as bad as Leo."

"No, I'm not!" I protest. "I don't deliberately try and ditch my detail!"

"No," he concedes. "You just try to knock 'em out."

I feel the heat rise up my cheeks.

"Not to mention, you ain't exactly great at gettin’ where you're supposed to be without incident, or staying put once there."

"Well, no one told me that court was going to be such a literal minefield..." I gripe.

He cocks a brow. "Does the phrase 'be careful' mean somethin' different in Montana?"

"You could've been more specific!" I cry.

"Who are you talking to?"

Oh, shit... I'd forgotten about Bertrand.

"Erm... Doesn't matter," I say dismissively. Bertrand doesn’t need to know that Drake and I spent the night together, even if we didn't do anything besides sleeping. Returning to the topic at hand, I say, "And anyway. I have Allard and Schweitzer looking out for me, so I don't—"

"Who are conspicuously missing from outside of your room," Bertrand points out. "And any other room in the wing, for that matter. Therefore, I repeat: you are to cease this childish game of hide-and-go-seek and reveal to us your whereabouts, so we can find you and make you ready for your appointment, post haste."

"Wait..." I interject, suddenly realising something. "If the meeting is at six, what's the crazy rush? And why were you trying to wake me up at 4:30am?"

"Because the meeting is in Valtoria."

"Valtoria?" I ask, struggling a bit with the unfamiliar combination of vowels and consonants on my tongue. "Where is that?"

"Approximately thirty minutes away, so if you wish to partake in breakfast prior to our departure, I suggest you get a move on. I expect to see you in the entry hall by twenty-five past at the very latest."

The call clicks off.

Lowering the phone in a bit of a daze, I glance over at Drake.

He's typing away furiously on his phone with an expression that could've rent stone.

Pushing myself to my feet, I walk over to him. "Hey," I say softly, laying a hand on his wrist. "There's no need to crack your screen. I'll be—"

"That's not the point," he grits, fingers flying over the keyboard with a vengeance.

"Then, what?"

He sends off the text with a forceful jab at the screen. "Gee, I don't know... How 'bout the fact that I — the head of your protection detail — am only finding out about this meeting less than an hour before it's supposed to happen? Through the Beaumonts, of all people? Or the fact that the venue for said meeting happens to be a château that hasn't been lived in for over a decade, and which hasn't been vetted or swept by me or my guys? And let's not even get into the fact that this meeting isn't even in Chris' official diary, let alone his private one."

"Maybe because he doesn't want Madeleine finding out about it...?" I offer.

He scoffs acerbically. "Or me."

"I'm sure he just—"

Drake's phone pings with an incoming message. He glances at it briefly. "Un-fuckin'-believable..."

"What's wrong?" I ask as he starts throttling out a pissed-off response.

"Jurisdictional bullshit..."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Apparently," he grits sarcastically, eyes not leaving the screen, "I didn't need to be notified of the meet because Chris' personal Guard are handling all the security arrangements. So, my involvement would've been redundant."

I raise a brow. "Are the Guard normally this territorial?"

"No," he scoffs bitterly, sending the text off. "You can't run a tight ship in terms of security if the different teams aren't in sync. They should've roped me in from the get-go."

"Maybe they just forgot...?" I suggest hopefully. "You used to be part of Christian's detail, so maybe whoever organised this just assumed you'd be passed the message?"

He shoves his phone back into his pocket with a non-committal grunt. "You better get ready. We don't want to keep His Royal Majesty waiting..." His voice drips with acrimony.

"Hey..." I say, reaching up to stroke his face. "Is there something else that's—?"

He pulls abruptly away. "I'll see you there."

Before I can say another word, he's out the door without so much as a backwards glance, duffle forgotten on the floor.

I heave a sigh.

This morning just keeps getting better and better...

"Wow..." I breathe, stepping out of the limo. "This place almost puts Riverrun to shame!"

The venue of today's impromptu meeting could've been pulled straight from a fairytale. The soft light of the rising sun colours the cream walls of the neo-gothic château’s sandstone a pale pink, making them glow with a seeming inner warmth. A long row of pear trees — heavy with fruit — line the gravel drive leading up to the romantic, fortress-like structure, behind which stretched pine-covered hills as far as the eye could see.

So idyllic is this place that I am half expecting a unicorn to come strolling out of the woods to the accompaniment of ethereal elven lute music.

"Riverrun?" queries Bertrand from the other side of the limo, snapping me out of my awed gawking. "That is not a domain that I am familiar with..."

I whirl around to face my sponsor disbelievingly. "Wait... You're a Harry Potter fan, but you haven't seen or read Game of Thrones?"

Bertrand tugs at his collar. "Wh-who is this Potter fellow that you speak of? I am afraid I do not—"

A snort of amusement escapes me. "Save the histrionics for the aristos, Bertrand. Maxwell's already let me in on the secret of your guilty little pleasure."

Bertrand's eyes widen in shock before he snaps his customary sneer back into place. "I thought we agreed to keep that information private!" he hisses, rounding in his brother.

Maxwell shrugs, totally non-pulsed by the unspoken threat of imminent punishment and/or death for his treacherous transgression. "It is private. Harper's basically family, isn't she?"

Bertrand opens, then and closes his mouth. "I... I suppose she is," he admits begrudgingly. "But I feel I should reiterate that—"

"My lips are sealed," I assure him with a wink, miming the closure of a zip over my mouth.

"Good," he grumbles. "See to it that it stays that way. We are having a bad enough time as it is as a result of this Ana de Luca piece about our finances without the nobility—"

"Ah, here you all are!" exclaims Christian with a grin, jogging down the manor's steps.

Today — in contrast to yesterday's garden party where he'd been in a suit — he is dressed quite casually in beige slacks and a pale blue button-down that he'd rolled up at the sleeves. And, for once, he looks happy and at ease — like the guy I met in New York, instead of the more serious royal that I've become accustomed to seeing since arriving in Cordonia.

"So glad you could make it!" he continues, giving each of the Beaumonts a quick shake and a familiar slap on the arm. "I know it was rather short notice, but given that the apple picking doesn't start until later in the day, I wanted to take advantage of this rare break in the itinerary to bring you out here."

"Of course, Your Highness," nods Bertrand dutifully. "The Beaumonts are always at your disposal."

"And why are we here exactly?" I ask, as Christian leans in to drop a kiss on my cheek by way of greeting. "Not that I'm complaining... This place is breathtaking and all, but wouldn't it have been easier to meet at Applewood, given that—"

"Ohmygiddyaunttheyhavepeacocks!"

Maxwell barrels past us in a blur, nearly knocking Christian over in his haste to get to the pair of indigo-coloured fowl that have wandered casually out onto the other side of the drive.

"He really does have a thing for peacocks, doesn't he?" I observe, watching Maxwell throw himself onto the ground, so he could start snapping eye-level selfies with the majestic birds.

"Quite," agrees Christian with a wry look, smoothing his hair back down. "So did the previous duchess, I believe."

Something about his tone gives me pause. But before I can formulate a response, Bertrand's already kow-towed himself in front of Christian.

"Your Highness, I am— What just happened was—" He hops stessily from foot-to-foot, evidently caught between the twin desires of wanting to apologise for Maxwell's clearly unacceptable behaviour, and marching after his brother to pummel him senseless.

"It is quite alright," Christian assures him with a gallant smile. "One cannot begrudge a man for pursuing his passion with such uncompromising enthusiasm."

"Even so, I— He should not hav—" Bertrand forces himself to draw a breath. "Please excuse me."

Turning on his heel, he rushes after his brother, hollering blue murder. "Maxwell!"

I glance up questioningly at Christian. "Should we...?"

"They'll be fine," he assures me, taking my hand to loop my arm through his. "Shall we?"

"Don't you want to wait for them?" I ask as he begins leading me towards the manor's heavy-looking wood and wrought-iron doors.

"It looks like they'll be otherwise occupied for some time," he observes dryly, as Bertrand tries to shoo the offending fowl away, much to Maxwell's dismay. "And, I must admit, I was looking for a convenient excuse to divest ourselves of their company, anyway."

"Oh?" I query. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Show you, rather," he corrects. "I was hoping to use the time to give you the grand tour. There is one room in particular that I think you'll be interested in seeing."

"Grand tour?" I query, confused. "I thought we were here to meet with the Royal Press Secretary."

"We are," he assures me. "But he is arriving a bit later."

I squint suspiciously up at him. "So, why the crazy morning rush, then?"

"Yes. We're all dying to find out the answer to that question, aren't we?"

"Jesus Christ!"

The sound of the unexpected voice nearly sends me up into the rafters.

Recollecting myself, I spin towards the source of the interruption… and spot Drake in the shadow of the doorway, leaning against the wall with an accusatory scowl on his face.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that!" I snipe, heart still hammering from the sudden spike of adrenaline.

"Should pay more attention to your surroundings, girl," he advises nonchalantly, keeping his eyes fixed on Christian. "Especially since we have no idea what you're walking into."

"My personal Guard have already done a full sweep of the property," Christian assures us. If he is surprised by Drake's presence — or his thinly veiled insinuation — he doesn't show it. "I can assure you that it is perfectly safe."

"For you, maybe," responds Drake, peeling himself away from the wall to stand in front of Christian with crossed arms. "But not for her."

Christian meets Drake's steely glare unflinchingly. "Why would Harper not be—?"

"Because if shit goes south, your team's priority will be to get you out. Not Gale. She'll be left high and dry."

I feel myself pale. "What?"

Christian's shaking his head. "If you're suggesting that I'd allow—"

Drake scoffs derisively. "Don't pretend you don't know how this works, Chris. Your safety trumps everything else, including — and especially — whatever noble intentions you may have. They're not gonna let you jeopardise an evac by bringing extra bodies along, nor are they gonna let you play martyr. When the life of the King is on the line, everyone else becomes expendable."

My eyes widen in sudden realisation. "That's why you got so pissed earlier..."

Drake nods. "Had I not happened to've still been in the room when Gale got the call from the Beaumonts, she'd've been rolling up here with zero security."

Christian's brows furrow. "But I gave her additional Guard for her detail."

"Who I've assigned to perimeter work. And with Allard and Schweitzer off-duty last night, not to mention Gale's habit of keeping important information to herself—"

"Hey!" I protest. "That happened one time!"

"Three times," corrects Drake. "And counting."

My jaw drops in disbelief. "You're counting?"

"Always," declares Drake without skipping a beat. "But that's not the point. Point is, this entire SNAFU could've been avoided if I'd been looped in from the start. Because the whole reason she got assigned her own detail in the first place was to avoid the same kinds of slip-ups that led to Tariq ending up alone with her at the Jamboree. But I can't coordinate her security if I don't know what the fuck is going on."

Christian's Adam's Apple bobs as he digests Drake's words. "No. You are right. And I can only apologise for—"

"I don't care who's fault it was," cuts in Drake brusquely. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

Christian nods. "I will. Though, that will involve notifying all the Guard commanders of your new status. And since you were previously operating under the official radar—"

"Tell whoever you need to tell," Drake responds. "Gale's safety is more important than me staying covert. I'll even put on the uniform if needed."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Christian assures him with a smile. "Especially given that you hate wearing formal jackets on the best of days..."

Drake pulls a face. "They're always too tight around the shoulders."

"Then there is no need to compromise your comfort," Christian tells him with a clap on the shoulder, instantly dissipating the previous tension. "We want you paying attention to Harper, instead of fiddling with an ill-fitting piece of apparel."

"Shame," I murmur, meeting Drake's eye coquettishly. "I think you'd look hot in uniform."

He quirks a brow at me. "Does someone have a secret role-play fantasy they want to act out?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," I quip back. "And anyway. I'm not sure it counts as role-play if you actually are a Guard..."

"Maybe not," he admits, mocha eyes boring into mine. "But it'll sure as hell make the experience that much more immersive..."

"Only one way to found out, cowboy..." I purr, feeling the heat that he'd ignited in me earlier this morning burst into flame again under the intensity of his gaze...

...which immediately gets doused by the sound of Christian's polite cough.

"Erm, I hate to interrupt—"

I snap back from Drake in mortification, my cheeks flaming. Oh, my God, I can't believe we just engaged in dirty talk in front of the King of Cordonia!

"—but time is getting on," he continues, somehow managing to maintain a stoic façade despite what he'd just overheard, "and if we are to make it back in time for the apple picking, we should proceed with the reason for our visit."

"Which you still haven't shared..." Drake points out, completely unfazed by the fact that his friend had shared in our saucy moment. If anything, he looked annoyed at having been interrupted.

I peek up at Christian expectantly, also curious to hear his answer, even though I’m still dying inside.

He meets my gaze with a knowing look. "To show Harper her duchy, of course."

My jaw drops to the floor. "My...what!"

"Your duchy," Christian reiterates calmly. "Since you — as the Royal Consort — are now a de facto member of not only the court, but of the royal household as well, it is only proper that we bestow upon you the accordant lands and titles that normally complement such a high-ranking position."

"But I'm only pretending to be the Royal Consort," I remind him dazedly, my mind still whirling from this unexpected revelation. "You don't need t—"

"Actually, I do," he insists. "Granting you a duchy helps legitimise your new status both domestically and abroad, and aids in improving your image in the eyes of the press. After the double blow to your reputation caused by the candid photos of you and Tariq, and the revelation about the Beaumonts' financial situation, an uplift to your reputation is very much needed. Especially since you will be meeting with foreign dignitaries from next week onwards."

"Tell me about it," I mutter with a roll of my eyes. "But I don't really see how this helps... Doesn't this just make it look like you're playing favourites? And make people resent me more? I mean, I did something 'bad'—" I emphasise the interpretive nature of the word with air-quotes, "—and now you're rewarding me for it."

"Or," counters an unfamiliar voice, "—and this is the way we plan to spin it — you did nothing wrong and these royal favours are simply a public demonstration of the King's continued affection for you. As well as an official snub to your naysayers."

"Jonathan!" exclaims Christian with a wide smile as he turns to face the newcomer. "You got here earlier than expected."

"On the contrary, You Highness," replies Jonathan, who — based on his smartly tailored pinstripe suit, slicked back hair, and clipped accent — I am guessing is the Royal Press Secretary. "I am already running behind. So, if you'll pardon me, I have a press conference to organise. M'lady... Sir..." With a curt nod of his head, he's already disappeared inside the manor.

I stare at the spot he just occupied in stupefaction before finally finding my voice again. "What press conference?"

"The press conference where we will officially announce you as the new Duchess of Valtoria," explains Christian, looping my hand through his arm again to lead me after Jonathan.

"But—" I look back at Drake beseechingly, seeking back-up...

...and nearly lose my footing when I see the look on his face.

Oh, no...

I thought I'd seen Drake angry before — when he'd realised what Tariq had done to me… when he'd faced off against Bastien as the Guard dragged me from the Coronation Ball… and when he'd ripped into Christian at Ramsford for sending me away in the first place.

But this... This is something else.

This is beyond simple rage, or mere indignation. This is an expression that could've frozen all nine circles of hell... And it gives me the shivers, even though I’m not the target of it.

Christian — for his part — is completely oblivious to Drake's state of being, pulling me eagerly through the doors of the manor, as if he were a kid about to step through the gates of Disneyland for the first time.

I try to disentangle myself from him, wanting to rush back to Drake, wanting to stop for a minute so I could process what the hell was happening, but the next thing I know, we're over the threshold...

...and I am literally rendered speechless by the sight in front of me.

To say that I have stepped into a dream is an understatement. Someone has spent a literal fortune renovating the inside of the manor. No trace of the original gothic-style fixtures or furnishings could be seen. Instead, gilt and marble stretches as far as the eye can see in a fresh, modern take on Louis XIV's opulent style.

"Wow," is all I can say, taking in the pièce de la résistance of the place, which is a bifurcated grand-staircase that any real or wannabe princess would kill to make an entrance on.

"Makes an impression, doesn't it?" chuckles Christian softly from next to me.

"That's... one word for it," I reply dazedly, craning my neck around, trying to take it all in.

Had someone actually lived here? This place feels like a temple or a museum, rather than someone's house... How do they keep everything so spotless?

"The former Duke and Duchess were keen patrons of art and architecture. During their life, they helped fund several important renovation projects in the kingdom. And I am told that their private art collection is one of the finest on the continent."

"They definitely had a unique style," I agree, tracing my eyes around the intricate loops and swirls of the marble inlay at the foot of the staircase.

"Yes. They certainly did."

Turning my head, I see that Christian is surveying my reactions with an intent expression.

"Do you like it?" he asks, eyes searching mine as he waits for my answer.

"It's out of this world..." I admit carefully, fully conscious of Drake's blistering presence behind me. "But—"

"Let me show you the rest of it."

Before I have a chance to blink, he's swept me down the entrance hall.

We spend the next thirty minutes traipsing through more lavishly decorated rooms than I could count. There is a drawing room. A sitting room. A reading room. A study. A library. A games room. A spa. A home cinema complete with popcorn machine and reclining armchairs. Two ballrooms. An art gallery. A massive kitchen. A formal and an informal dining room. Twelve bedrooms, each with king size beds. A wine room — yes, a whole room devoted to housing all manner of one-of-kind, expensive wines that puts even Olivia's impressive collection to shame. Not to mention an entire wing of the upstairs seemed to function as an oversized closet for all the clothes, shoes and other fancy accessories that a nobleman and his wife apparently require to make themselves presentable at any given time.

But just when I think my head is about to burst from the never-ending display of wealth and extravagance, we arrive at a room that truly takes my breath away.

"Welcome... to the observatory," declares Christian grandly, sweeping his arm out.

"Is that... a telescope?" I breathe, eyes glued to the centrepiece of the oak-panelled attic room we are stood in.

"It most certainly is," affirms Christian with a wide smile, taking my hand to lead me up to it. "The former Duke was a keen—"

Bang!

The sound of the door slamming shut reverberates around the space, making me jump.

I glance behind me... and my stomach drops.

Drake is nowhere in sight.

I stare at the door in confusion, trying to figure out what could've caused him to storm out like this all of a sudden.

Yes, he'd spent the entire duration of the tour following behind Christian and me in tense, judgemental silence, but I'd thought that was because he was pissed about not having been given the heads-up about the upcoming press conference, and he was worried about a potential security breach...

...but then it hits me.

The stars.

My chest constricts in anguish. "Christian, I'm sorry..."

Wrenching my hand from his, I whirl around and sprint towards the door. Yanking it open, I fly down the narrow spiral staircase of the turret that housed the observatory, trying to catch up with Drake.

But — as always — he's much faster than me, and there's so sight or sound of him.

I reach the bottom step, panting, and finally spot him at the end of the hallway.

"Drake!" I call, dashing after him.

But if he hears me, he doesn't slow down. If anything, he only seems to speed up.

"Dra—!"

"Ah, there you are!" Bertrand appears in front of me, blocking my path. "I was asked t—"

"I can't," I gasp, dodging around him to get to the front door that Drake had just stormed through. "I need to—"

But I feel Bertrand grab me by the wrist.

"Now is not the time for personal sideshows," he declares, dragging me back the way I'd come... and away from Drake. "The members of the press are already here, eager for the briefing to start. And it would be rude to keep them waiting. Especially since we need to rough your appearance into shape first."

"But I—"

"And I'm sure Mr Walker has important matters to attend to as well. He appeared to be in quite the hurry."

I clench my eyes shut. If only you knew the half of it...

Gritting my teeth, I snap my wrist from my sponsor’s hold like Allard had taught me, and peg it towards the door, determined to catch up with Drake.

But just as I reach the threshold, I hear the sound of tires spitting gravel, and I realise that I'm too late.

He is gone.

The story continues in Chapter 13 - Invidia

A few notes for your attention, as per usual 😇:

Apple picking: Yes, this chapter (and the next) reference ‘apple picking’ as the next event on the engagement tour calendar, instead of ‘barn raising’. This is deliberate: barn raising is very much a Midwestern US tradition (with some mentions of it taking place in England), and definately not something that would happen in a Mediterranean country, especially as part of a high-profile royal tour. Since apples feature a lot in canon, I decided to just keep things close to home, and - since this part of the story takes place in August - that ties in nicely with the traditional timing of European harvest festivals.

Valtoria: For anyone who is interested, I have used Chateau Amboise - located in France’s Loire Valley - as my stand-in for Valtoria. 

SNAFU: For anyone not familiar with military slang, SNAFU means ‘situation normal: all fucked up’ and basically is a sarcastic way of saying that everything has gone to shit (though a SNAFU is generally more salvageable than a complete FUBAR i.e. a situation that is ‘fucked up beyond all recognition’.)

Security: Everything security-related that Drake mentions in this chapter is accurate. A security team is exclusively responsible for their own principle, and - in a crisis situation - each team would focus on evacuating their principal, and their principal only (at the expense of everyone else). It would not matter if the principal wanted to save someone else - s/he would not be allowed to, because such actions would be deemed to compromise the principal’s safety, and potentially undermine a successful evacuation. Therefore, on this basis, Drake storming off is probably not 100% realistic (especially if he is literally the only person present from Harper’s detail), but I HC that he’d radioed for Allard and Schweitzer to come up as well (and I will mention this in the next chapter probably), but this is a work of fiction, and I don’t always need to let facts get in the way of a juicy bit of dramatic tension 😅

Picture credits: Valtoria - Harper

Permatags (let me know if you want to be added):

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @aussiegurl1234 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @angelasscribbles @drakewalkerisreal @nestledonthaveone @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @lunaseasblog @indiana-jr @knaussal @differenttyphoonwerewolf @eversoaringqueen12 @pinklipsandmasonjars @sillydg @spookycolorpeanut @peonierose @mrsnazariowrites @shellybee85 @3pawandme @honey358luv​ @atha68 @anahoreva @minicraftywitch @deepestphantomstranger @xpandass420x @choicesficwriterscreations @ficloverevie @alexabeta @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13​ 

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

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Meet the Cast - Harper Gale

Masterlist: Meet the Cast of (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Meet Harper Gale, my OC and main protagonist.

Character Aesthetics

Hair colour

Caramel with natural honey highlights

Eye Colour

Hazel green

Favourite colour

Probably yellow. It’s such a happy and warm colour 🌞In terms of clothes, though, I love wearing white — it’s cute and chic at the same time and goes with literally anything!

Favourite Smell

You mean apart from Drake? 😅 (It should be illegal for someone to smell so good...!) I guess it would be the smell of pancakes in the morning.

Favourite Music

Oh, my God... So many! It really depends on what mood I’m in! I love songs that you can sing and dance along to, and I love listening to music in the car (makes the drive go by so much faster when you’re listening to something catchy).

In terms of artists I listen to regularly, it would be: Luke Bryan, Thomas Rhett, The Reklaws, Justin Timberlake, Bryan Adams, Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran.

Perfect Date

Something simple and fun like going to a theme park or a fair where you can get to know the other person in a natural setting and have a laugh. Dinner and movie is okay, but not very imaginative (don’t get me wrong - I love good food and an over-the-top action movie!) but I’d prefer to cook something together at home and then snuggle up on the couch with Netflix afterwards.

Pet Peeves

Being made to feel like an idiot

Having to ‘perform’ in front of people

Not having any privacy

Three things you’d take with you to a desert island

Drake 🥰

Bikini

A good book

Celebrity Look-Alike

I’ve been told I look a bit like a younger Kate Bosworth. I’d love to have different coloured eyes like her!

Share a photo that captures who you are

Playlist

Main Attraction by Jeremy Renner

Dead Man’s Hand by Moonshine Bandits

Save Tonight by Eagle-Eye Cherry

How Bad Do You Want It by Sevyn Streeter

Runaway by Avril Lavigne

Stop the Rain by Ed Sheeran

Photo credits

Face claim: Marina Laswick

Others: In Bed - Paparazzi - Event - Car - Bridge

Permatags (let me know if you want to be added!)

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @petiteboheme @aussiegurl1234 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @fictionloveevie @angelasscribbles @drakewalkerisreal @nestledonthaveone @tinkie1973 @lunaseasblog @indiana-jr @knaussal @differenttyphoonwerewolf @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019