#drake walker and claire berkley

[likethetailofacomet]

Come Back to Me

A/N: I thought this chapter might actually be the death of me, guys, no lie. But, by some miracle, I am still here and so are these characters. One more chapter, ya’ll. ONE. MORE. (phewwwwww) 

Pairings: Drake x Claire, Jackson x Bianca, Bastien x Annabelle

Warning: gun violence, character death, angst out the wazoo  

no music for this one. silence. deafening silence. 

The room was dark and empty and for a moment he couldn't quite place where he was standing. There didn’t appear to be any walls, just an endless expanse of deep black oblivion all around him. He took a step forward and the hard soles of his shoes slapped against the marble floor loudly. He looked down and recognized the intricate golden inlay- a seven pointed star, one point for each of the seven duchies, with a Cordonian Ruby at the center. He was in the palace ballroom. He looked up and sure enough the enormous crystal chandelier glittered down at him. He was starting to wonder where everyone was, was starting to realize that something was not right, when he turned and saw her. She was standing alone in the middle of the floor in her white gown, the silver embellishments twinkling like stars in the heavenly light that shone around her. He felt happiness spread through him as he made his way towards her, forgetting his worry that something was wrong, reaching out to take her hand in his. "Berkley," he whispered as he brushed his lips to her knuckles. "May I have this dance?" she nodded, not really meeting his eyes, and he couldn't understand why she looked so sad. He circled his arm around her and drew her in. She laid her cheek against his chest and brought her free hand up to his shoulder, running her fingertips over the fabric of his jacket. Drake’s eyes fell to his right hand, fingers twined with hers, his thick and knobby, hers thin and delicate. He started to sweep her across the floor, simply content to have her in his arms. Who knew I’d like dancing so much? Just needed the right partner, he thought, closing his eyes and breathing her in, feeling her lean her slight weight into his body.

For a few beats they swayed together, his hand pressed to the small of her back as she continued to run her fingers over his shoulder and chest. Drake opened his eyes and looked down at her. His heart plummeted into his stomach as he realized her cheeks were wet with tears. “Hey, Berkley, don’t cry. What’s wrong?” He ran his hand up and down her back soothingly, the fabric of her dress smooth against his palm.

“I love you, Drake,” she mumbled softly. “I love you. I love you, you have to come back to me.”

Come back to her? What does that mean? He shook his head slightly, his forehead wrinkling with confusion. “I’m right here, Berkley. I love you, I’m right here, not going anywhere. Wherever you are, remember?” He looked down at the heart shaped charm hanging from her neck.

She seemed not to hear him, despite her closeness as she pressed even closer to his chest. Her eyes were following her fingers, now tracing two circles where his chest meets his shoulder. “I love you,” she just mumbled again. “You have to fight, Drake. You're so strong...you have to fight.”

He was about to ask her what she meant again when something in his peripheral vision caught his eye and he whipped his head around to see what it was. They weren't alone, after all. Laughter, sounding far away as though traveling through a tunnel, underwater, through time. The swish of a skirt as two more dancers came into view, smiles on their faces, on their lips and in their eyes, floating across the floor. Is that...how can... He looked down at Claire. She hadn't seemed to notice the other couple gliding across the floor. His eyes found their way back to them and he realized he knew exactly who and what he was looking at. My parents...my...dad...

As suddenly as he found himself standing in the ballroom, he was transported out of his body, watching the two couples- himself and Claire, and his mother and father- twirling on the floor from the doorway. He realized that he was watching a memory, his own memory. He was maybe seven, and he and Liam had sneaked back downstairs to pilfer more desserts after having been sent to bed an hour ago. They were on their way to the kitchens when they passed the open door of the ballroom, music, and the musicality of laughter and clinking glasses and revelry spilling out. He was caught, like a spell, like a trance, as his eyes landed on his mother and father dancing among the royals and the nobles. His mother's mouth was open wide in surprise as his father turned her under his arm sending the light blue skirt of her gown swirling around her ankles. The look on his father's face was pure joy, dark eyes lit with love and happiness as his wife leaned in to kiss him upon returning to the hold. Before he could react to what he was seeing, he was back, his arms around Claire, her tears against his shirt, her mumbled “I love you,” in his ears.

He wanted to tell her it was alright, wanted to wipe her tears away, wanted her to look up, to see his parents, to meet them. As he opened his mouth to speak, a third couple danced into view, and he squinted in their direction as they came closer. Bastien? But he looks...young... But there was no mistaking the silver eyes of the man he'd always known to be a part of his life. He was much younger here, his face not yet set into the stern mask he wore now. In his arms was a lithe young woman, brightness in her eyes, her copper hair cascading in soft curls down her back. She looks so familiar...I know her...she's...she was... but he couldn't remember her name. The girl laid her head against Bastien's chest and he rested his head atop hers lovingly. Drake could taste the young woman's name on the tip of his tongue, knew that somehow she had been part of his life, too. But it flew away, just out of reach, like a bluebird taking wing.

“You have to wake up, Drake.” His attention was brought back to the woman in his own arms. Her eyes were focused up at him, red rimmed but alert. She took the hand that had been on his chest and brought it to his face. He leaned into the feel of her touch, his skin tingling where it was met with hers. “I love you, and you love me, and you can't leave me now... we still...you're still...Drake, you have to come back to me, please.”

“Berkley,” he breathed, feeling a tear slip down his own cheek at the pain and pleading in her voice. What does she mean? Why doesn't she understand? I'm here, I'm right here and I'd never...

His thoughts were interrupted again by a loud bang, shattering the splendor, and a scream, piercing the picture. He felt Claire shudder and held her tighter to his chest. That was a gunshot. His heart pounded and his pupils dilated and he realized that while they’d been dancing it had been getting dimmer and dimmer around them. Another scream, another bang, and then he saw; his father on the ground, his mother sobbing as she slowly faded away from the ballroom; Bastien clutching his arm, stumbling, the copper haired girl, eyes flooded with tears as she slipped out the back door.

Dad... Bas...

The chandelier crashed down behind him, sending shards of glass all over the floor. Drake moved to shield Claire with his body only to realize she was no longer in his arms. No, where is she? “Claire,” he choked out her name as the air cleared she came into view, just a few feet in front of him. He opened his arms, ready to scoop her back into them, to protect her, get her out of here. As his foot left the ground to take a step towards her, he saw her lips drop open in a scream, one word, “No!” followed by his name, as her eyes went wide and focused on his chest. He hadn’t heard the third shot, or the fourth, hadn’t felt them pierce his shoulder blade, tear through artery and bone, through the front of his shoulder and pectoral muscles. He hadn’t felt any of it, just a need to be near her. He looked down to his jacket. Where a boutonniere might adorn his pocket, two bright red stains were blooming instead. 

When he brought his eyes back up to Claire, he was looking at her from the ground. She was calling out to him frantically, but something, someone was dragging her away. 

“This can’t keep happening, Drake.” A voice filled his ears as the last bit of light left the ballroom. Who... Bastien? And as Claire vanished from view the voice, Bastien’s voice spoke once more. “Bianca, Annabelle, Claire...” Annabelle, that’s right. “Don’t let this place tear you from her, break your love apart. Drake, you have to wake up.”

He felt his eyes slip closed, felt the world shrink. “This can’t keep happening” bouncing around the inside of his skull, “I love you, Drake, come back to me,” etching itself in his heart.

How? How do I get back to her? I need to, but how? 

“Please Drake, you have to wake up.”

.  .  .  .  . 

An inhale through his nose. Sterile, clean. But also, daises, lemongrass, her.

A deep ache in his chest. Burning, spreading. But also, a change to the rhythm of his heart, a skip as it found it’s mate, hers. 

His eyes opened slowly. Blinding, dry. But there she was. Another inhale, less pain, as his eyes found her hand wrapped around his. Another thump of his heart, pumping warmth and life and love through him. His heavy eyelids fell closed again but he pried them open again to drink her in. She was really there, he’d made it back to her. Her cheek was resting against the bed where he lay, her eyes closed, soft golden hair feathered out against the white sheets. White sheets, white walls, hospital. He was distantly aware of beeps and hums, of a bulky bandage wrapped tightly around his upper torso and left shoulder, and a much smaller one wrapped around his right hand. He was aware of that dull, deep digging feeling in his back and chest and bicep. But he blinked again and felt her breath on his fingers and he tried to squeeze her hand but couldn’t. He needed to look in her eyes though, needed to hear her voice, needed her to hear his. He attempted to clear his throat. it felt like he’d swallowed broken bits of glass but he didn’t care. “Berkley,” he managed, using all the strength he had to make his voice as loud as he could.

She stirred, a small hum from the back of her throat, a sniff as she moved her head. “Berkley,” said again, this time more clearly, this time less painfully. Her eyes snapped open and she let out a gasp as they met his. My girl, there she is. “Good morning, Berkley”. He didn’t know if it was morning. Didn’t matter.

“Dr-Drake?” Her voice wavered as she gasped again, her fingers tightening on his, the blue pools of her eyes deepening like the sea. “Drake! Oh, god, Drake! Drake, you... you’re awake, oh my god,” she scrambled to stand, to get closer to him. Her hands both went to his face and he closed his eyes as he felt her forehead rest against his own. “You came back to me,” she whispered, “I knew you’d come back to me.”

There was pain, some confusion, as flashes of what he could remember and what he’d just dreamed traded places and danced through his head. But relief was flooding his veins along with the medication, just to feel her close to him, to know that they were still together. Wherever she is, so am i.

“I’ll always come back to you, Berkley,” he whispered, his throat still sore but the words he needed to say mattered more to him than the discomfort. “Always.” She was kissing him gently on his eyelids, his temple, the crest of his cheek. “I love you, Gra Go Deo, I love you forever.” Forever. He wouldn’t let anything break that, wouldn’t let anything tear her away from him or him from her.

Jackson and Bianca. Bastien and Annabelle. The dangers of the Cordonian court had torn them apart. But it wouldn't happen again. Not to Drake and Claire. He felt a smile form as he took another breath, as her lips and her hands and her words fell all over him. There was still a lot he didn’t know, still a long road to healing ahead of him, but he was here, alive, in the arms of his soul mate meaning that she was there, alive, and that was all that mattered. He could endure anything with her by his side. That’s what love was, what he had learned it to be.

.  .  .  .  

Bastien’s phone had vibrated in his pocket just minutes before Drake had woken up, and he’d stepped out of the room to take the call. Closing the door softly behind him, he answered the call he’d been waiting for since he promised it to Liam almost 48 hours prior.  But he’d managed to do better than a secure line. “Hello? Leo? Have you landed?” A pause and then, “A car will be there any minute to pick you up. See you soon.” He hung up the phone and walked past the other room on the private wing, Liam’s. The King was resting, Lady Olivia by his side. He let out a breath, glad that Liam would have his brother soon, would have his family to help him through everything that had happened.

Just then, A nurse ran towards Drake’s room, then another, and Bastien felt the air grow still. Don’t let this happen again, he silently pleaded as a doctor entered Drake’s room and he hovered closer to the room. No whining beep of a flatline, no wailing or screaming from Claire. He held his breath until his feet took him to the door and he peered inside to see Drake and Claire, their eyes locked on one another while the doctor took vitals and made notes. 

Olivia poked her head out into the hallway, catching Bastien’s eye. “Is he...?” Her eyes were sharp and her tone was even but her quick, almost gasping breaths were giving her away. 

“He’s awake,” Bastien told her, and they both  felt peace settle into their hearts. Bastien cleared his throat and headed for the waiting area, settling back into one of the chairs he’d sat in with Claire and Olivia. 

The Duchess was only a few paces behind him, carrying Claire’s phone. He watched her    dial a number before she covered the speaker and said “Claire’s family,” pointing to the phone. Bastien nodded. “Hi, Dan, it’s Olivia... I just wanted you to know... he’s awake.” A pause. “Yes,” she wiped at her eyes and nodded at what Dan was saying. “Yes I think you should. I think... I think she’d like that.” They spoke for a minute or two more before he heard her say “Bye Dan... see you soon.” 

. . . . . 

tagging:  @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic  @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake

[zaffrenotes]

Top Gun playing in the background, and I'm gonna try and connect these crazy, apple-killing seven devils that @likethetailofacomet has scattered in Learning to Love Again...

[likethetailofacomet]

The Broken Bits, Chapter One:

Twenty One Years, Four Months, and One Day

A/N: Well, here it is, the thing I’ve been most excited about since LTLA was still only halfway complete. OF COURSE I love Drake and Claire with all of my heart, and I always will. And they will play a large part in this series, too. But the main players here are my beloved broken bits: Bastien and Annabelle. This series will take a look at how and why they fell apart, and if and when they might fall back together. I’ve always loved the beauty found in broken things- it reminds me that not all is lost no matter how stacked against you the odds may seem. Alright, enough of this or I’ll start waxing poetic all over your Thursday. 

Pairing: Bastien x Annabelle, Drake x Claire, Bertrand x ??? 

Warnings: mentions of character death

Word Count: 3,178

Bastien looked around the empty room that had served as his study for the past twenty one years and as Jackson Walker’s before him. The office of the Captain of the King’s Guard would be vacant for the first time in Cordonia’s history; because for the first time in Cordonia’s history, there would be no King to guard. He spun, slowly, eyes roving over every nook and cranny of the empty shelves, over the nicks in the walls from where things had been thrown in frustration, over the diamond patterns of the leaded window panes. These four walls and the title that came with them had bound him by duty to set aside anything that wouldn’t fit within them. His mind went immediately to the framed photo that used to sit on the desk that used to fill one corner of the room, and to the ethereal, copper haired woman it used to depict. Annabelle. Even thinking her name inside this room was difficult; she was a free bird, and her wings were best spread outdoors. But not a day went by, when, sitting in this room, he hadn’t wished that he was anywhere else, anywhere with her. Not a day went by that he didn’t wish for more than the broken bits of their love, slashing through his memories; her laughter and the way it started in her eyes, her hair and the way it would always get in his mouth, her fingers and the way that they were always stained with charcoal or paint or grass or mud. He tried to imagine her now, imagine how time may have changed the shape of her face, or the curve of her body. He tried to imagine that no matter what had changed, that she was still Belle, still the brightest star in the sky, still the sweetest song on the breeze.

But he knew that he was far from the man that she’d left behind, and he wondered in what ways she may have changed, too. He wondered, more often than he’d like to admit, if she’d kept her word that she’d wait for him. He was surprised to find, as the years went by, that he both hoped she had and hadn’t. Part of him held on to that fragile fiber of “what if”; what if he was able to give her what she wanted? What if he was able to get away from the danger of his position like she’d begged him? Would she still have space in her heart for him? That idea, the thought of her waiting in Paris…waiting for him…waiting with all that love and no one to share it with…that idea made him ache, and as painful as it would be to find out that she’d moved on, part of him hoped that she had. Annabelle Walsh had so much love in her heart, and Bastien thought it would be a damn shame if that all went to waste simply because he couldn’t give her as much of himself as she wanted. She deserves someone that can put all the pieces back together, and show her that she was never broken in the first place, not someone who took a sledgehammer to her dreams, he’d think, sipping a glass of leathery bourbon at the end of a long day, reflecting on all the ways that his life wasn’t right for hers.

Now though, standing in the empty room, he found a third part of himself that he never knew was there, and that part told him that he might be able to erase all the “what ifs” and all the doubts- that he might be able to start over, start fresh. Now, there was a part of him that existed only to find her, to know, once and for all, not what could have been, but what might still be. He tapped his fingers twice against the windowsill, gazing out at the grounds for the last time. Echoes of the thousands of conversations that had happened in this room behind a closed and locked door faded as her voice, like a song, filled his head and he heard the words that she’d written to him the day that she’d left Cordonia. He’d read them so many times he could see the curling blue ribbons of her scripted handwriting with his eyes closed, could feel the soft texture of the handmade paper on the tips of his fingers, could smell the ink as though she’d just dipped her pen in it minutes and not decades ago.  

Bastien,

                I am broken, Bas. It breaks me, leaving like this, leaving you. But I know that it would only break me more, crush me, really, to stay and lose you. I can’t do what Bianca did, Bastien. I can’t stay here and wait for a car to pull up outside. I can’t stay here and wait for someone in a suit to tell me that you’re not coming home. I lost my brother that way, Bas. I can’t lose you like that. Not you.

                You have to believe me when I say that all I’ve wanted since we met is just for us to be together. For you and I to be together, Bas. But we can’t be together if you’re not willing to give yourself to me- your whole self, not just the parts that you can spare, not just what’s left over, or what doesn’t fit in your job description. You told me that your position as Captain would only be temporary- that you would find someone suitable to take over, and that you’d leave the King’s Guard. And I waited, Bas. I waited the six months you asked me to wait, and then I waited six more months. I can’t help but wonder if you ever intended on leaving, or if you just hoped that I’d give in. But I can’t give in to this. You were shot, Bastien, and you were lucky this time. But luck always runs out, and I can’t be here when yours does.

                Do you remember Paris, Bas? We talked about it, dreamed about it, about the life we could make there. That’s where I’ll be. I’ll wait for you, Bas, but I can’t wait here. If there is ever a time that you have space for me in your life, come find me in Paris.

Forever yours,  Belle

He tapped his fingers against the window ledge once more as the words he’d committed to memory finally gave him something to hope for. As much as he loved Annabelle- like the moon loved the stars, like the sun loved the Earth- there was something in him, something he was born with, something fostered by Jackson’s tutelage that kept him from being able to put that love before his duty. He’d sworn an oath, not just to his King, but to his future King, to his country, to the other members of the guard, to Jackson himself, and Bastien took that swearing seriously. He reasoned with himself that to break the oath he’d taken would be to prove himself a liar, untrustworthy, and therefore unworthy of Annabelle’s love. If he could break that vow, what was to stop him from breaking another? That was the reason that his 25 year old mind had come up with, and for a long time it was a sound reason, to him. But in the years that had passed in her absence, he started to see things with new perspective. He watched the way that Bianca was broken after losing Jackson- how the fact that he had died honorably meant nothing to her battered heart. He watched as others in the guard fell in the line of duty, watched as their husbands and wives and families mourned them, and not their accomplishments. He watched the way that Drake had allowed Claire’s love to completely transform him, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Annabelle’s might have done the same to him. Yes, he still felt bound to his position, but he found that it had less and less to do with the King that he served, and more and more to do with the hope that he was holding onto for the future. And now that future was here- here in this empty room. All those oaths, all that honor, all that duty. What did it mean, now? He looked around once more. There was nothing to see. It meant nothing, now. With an exhale of more than just breath, he left the room, and his duty, for the last time.

.  .  .  .  .  .

Four months had passed since the attack at Ramsford. Four months since the remaining members of the Seven Devils, Lady Kiara of Castelsarreillan among them, stood trial for their crimes and were sentenced to life imprisonment. Four months since Liam announced the changes that had sent ripples through all of Cordonia. At first, there was shock and some pushback from some of the older Noble families- the Pykes of Essenwood, to be specific, but overall the changes were being well-received. Almost all of the Council positions had been appointed, and new governmental legislation was being passed almost daily. There was still plenty of work to be done, but four months was not that much time.

Four months, and Drake was still recovering from his injuries, still working through physical therapy, still paying for the sacrifice he’d made. He still could barely lift his arm, still had to limit his activity, still couldn’t get through a night without waking in agony. Four months, and most of Claire’s nightmares had subsided, but plenty still seeped in between her closed eyelids. After finally being able to sleep in the same bed as Drake, his presence kept most of the more awful visions at bay, but not all of them were so easily expelled. She had been undergoing therapy since the second week after the attacks, finally making strides to heal not just these new wounds, but the old ones that had been haunting her for far longer than the past four months.

It had been four months since Bertrand Beaumont had learned that his younger brother Maxwell would be chosen as the Representative from Ramsford. He wasn’t at all surprised. In honesty, Bertrand knew that Max was better suited to help usher in a new age. Max was brighter, his mind more open. Bertrand’s mind was shackled by the old way of things, by custom and protocol. He knew that wasn’t what Cordonia needed, not anymore. He thought about the night of the ball... of the attacks on his home... and how all he could think of was them. Would he see them again? She’d called him several times that night, and even as he wondered if he’d ever see them again, he couldn’t bring himself to call her back. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want him back in their lives when he’d finally tracked her down and visited her during the social season. How much could have changed? Four months wasn’t that much time. 

Brielle had spent a few sleepless nights after seeing her sister’s name scroll across the television of the bar she was playing at. American Suitor Claire Berkley listed amongst those injured in terror attack at Cordonian royal ball. She hadn’t seen her sister in years. Most days she tried not to think about her, her heart aching with regret over the terrible things she’d said to her the last time she’d seen Claire. But three triangles inked onto her wrist stood as a permanent reminder of the sister she had estranged herself from. After learning that she’d made it safely through the chaos abroad, Brielle had spent a few more sleepless nights, tossing and turning, trying to decide how and if she could reconnect with her sister. It had been four months, and while that wasn’t much time, she thought she’d come up with a plan. A good one. I’m sorry, Claire, I’m so sorry.

.  . .  .  .  .

Annabelle sat cross legged in the gallery. For the past four months, all the papers had been reporting on the shifting state of things in Cordonia, one of France’s oldest allies. The dissolution of the monarchy. The end to nobility, to House this and House that, to knights and guardians of the realm... to the King’s Guard. She thought of Liam, the tiny little thing he was when she saw him last; now making big changes, bold moves. She smiled. I knew that little lion would have a mighty roar, she’d allow herself to think. She’d read about Drake’s appointment to the new Common Council... about how he’d been seriously injured in the attacks. My sour little apple, I hope you find the sweetness now. She’d allowed herself to think about one last name that she’d read in the papers. One last name that she still thought about daily. Bastien. My silver eyed hawk... are you finally free? Four months, she’d asked herself that question. But four months wasn’t very long at all. 

Twenty one years, though, was a long time to think about one name. It was a long time to wonder, to hope, to cry and love and hate and hate that she loved. It was a long time to defend the love she’d walked away from to her family, to her friends. It was a long time to defend it to herself. She had two allies, and it had been too long since she’d been able to speak with either of them. She looked around the gallery, quiet in the early morning as the sun’s first rays spilled in through the windows, glinting off of the glass in the frames that hung all around her. Most of the art was hers, now, though a few of Brigitte’s works still remained. The gallery itself was hers, now, on paper, though in her heart it would always be Brigitte’s.

She sighed, sipping her coffee and pulling her sweater around her shoulders. She hadn’t understood the full extent of Bastien’s relationship, his attachment to Jackson Walker, until she’d found the same thing in Brigitte. It had been two years, almost to the day, since Annabelle had lost the woman that had come to mean more to her than her own mother; who had been there for her and supported her and helped her grow as an artist, as a woman, as a person. She’d taught her French, she’d taken her under her wing; she’d kept her afloat in the moments when she was sinking fast. “I have no children of my own, mon petit oiseau,” she’d said during one of their last morning coffee sessions together, one of the last mornings that Brigitte was strong enough to come into the gallery. She’d set her warm, nut brown eyes on the grown woman who would always be her little bird, and Annabelle could remember how thin her face had looked, how frail the immensely strong and free woman had become in her illness. “But you, my darling Belle, you have become my family, and there is no one else in this wild world that I would trust more with my gallery.” It had been a short few weeks after that when Annabelle had said goodbye to Brigitte, and at that moment, she’d understood everything that Bastien had felt about his mentor- all the duty, all the promises, all the things he felt like he owed him. Oh what a mistake I’ve made. The regrets that had been building up inside of her since she fled Cordonia threatened to burst from her heart, but she’d fought them back, held them in, kept them from corrupting her. Until now. Until the past four months.

Her other ally, whom she hadn’t heard from in almost a decade, when the two had had a major falling out over Bianca’s absence in her children’s lives, had called her late one night after the news of the attack broke. Annabelle could hardly believe the number that was flashing on her phone as she groggily answered it, heart pounding in her throat.

“Annabelle?” the woman’s voice was raspier than she remembered, more raw, more thin.

She cleared her throat, sitting up in bed. Her eyes immediately went to the small, mosaic frame that had sat on her bedside for the past twenty one years- dried glue was visible seeping out from shells and bits of sea glass that a tiny Savannah had stuck to a wooden frame that Bastien had nailed together. The photo depicted Bastien, grinning with Drake on his shoulders and Liam hanging off of his arm and Savannah leaning against his leg. It was from that day on the beach, when Bas had made good on his promise to help the boys build a clubhouse, when Belle had given Savannah a long “princess braid” and helped her collect “beach treasures”. It was the last real happy memory that she had with them all, and it was her most cherished possession. The call from Bianca frightened her, thinking the worst, she found her voice. “Yes, Hi, Bianca…I’m here…is it…did you hear something?”

There was a second of stillness over the line before the woman spoke again, the hint of a sob stuck in her throat. “No, I…I haven’t heard anything, Belle…I was hoping that maybe…maybe Bastien had…”

“He hasn’t,” Annabelle clutched the blankets around herself and closed her eyes.

“And…” there was another second of hesitation. “And nothing from Drake either? I know…” Annabelle could hear an exhale of breath that sounded like crying. “I know that… that you care about him very much…”

More than you know, Bianca. I care about that sour apple more than you could ever know. “I do, Bianca. Very much. But I haven’t heard from him. I haven’t heard from anyone in Cordonia in ages… I would tell you, if I had.” It was true. Despite her feelings on Bianca’s broken hearted abandonment, she of course would never keep information about her children from her.

Another sound like a sob. “Okay, well…well I thought it was worth a try…”

They’d ended the call and Annabelle had picked up the frame, running her fingers over the shells and the bubbled, dried blue. She’d cried herself back to sleep that night, the frame resting against her chest.

Twenty one years- she’d lived her life, she’d travelled, she’d found happiness. But she’d waited, as well. Twenty one years and four months, she’d waited to be made whole again. The clock tower outside the gallery struck 9 and she sighed again, setting her coffee down on the counter and walking across the room to unlock the door. She passed by one of her more recent works and saw him in it, as she saw him in everything. Come find me in Paris, Bas, she thought to herself as the door lock clicked and another day began.

Twenty one years, four months, and one day.

tagging:  @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal@drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby

[likethetailofacomet]

Love, Again

A/N: (flourish) With this chapter I do hereby proclaim the official end to “Learning to Love Again”! (cease)  It has been a long, bumpy, unexpected ride, and I want to thank each and every one of you that read, commented, liked, reblogged, yelled at me, threatened me, suggested songs, gave me input, helped me dig out of a plot hole, or messaged me to chat about this series and Drake and Claire. I enjoyed playing with these characters and bending the rules a bit so that they could have the chance at love that I felt like they deserved. I loved giving them backstories and motives. I answered some questions here, but left a few things still hanging in the balance- those things will come back into play very soon in the planned follow up called The Broken Bits...I left a few things broken, and I need to fix them. ;) 

Pairing: Drake x Claire (featuring: Liam, Olivia, Dan, Leo, and Bastien) 

Word Count: 5,116 

Tunes: Learning to Love Again, Mat Kearney AND Latch (acoustic), Sam Smith

“There was damage to the subscapular artery, which is why the procedure took as long as it did. You had lost quite a lot of blood by the time you arrived, Mr. Walker,” Claire's fingers tightened around Drake's as the doctor explained the extent of his injuries, recalling the scene in the ballroom and the pool of blood she'd seen him lying in. He squeezed back, as tightly as he could, reassuring her that it was alright as the doctor continued. “And once we got that under control we were able to repair the artery. We did have to open the bicep to access the entire affected area, which was unexpected, and does prolong the necessary monitoring period.” Drake flicked his eyes to his left arm. The medication was starting to fade and he could feel the sharp, deep, pain starting to return in his arm and back, his shoulder feeling heavy and unstable. “The blood loss and damaged artery had put a decent amount of stress on your heart, so we made the call to finish the arterial repair and close up. We will still have to go back in to repair the shoulder joint and scapula, but we needed to wait so as not to place too much stress on your body.”

The full weight of how close he'd come to death seemed finally to settle in and he swallowed a hard, dry lump in his throat, nodding at the doctor. He tilted his head to the side to look at Claire, who was still gazing intently at the doctor who had saved Drake's life, listening as he went on about medications, the anticipated second surgery and therapy that would follow. His eyes fell to the bandages that covered her throat and wrist, and he was reminded of how close he'd come to losing her. As that chilling fact settled in his chest, right next to his own brush with mortality, he felt a strangled breath escape him, felt his lungs burn as his ribs contracted and expanded with his quick breathing. His sudden alarm drew Claire's attention immediately, her free hand joining the other one, both grasping Drake's as his eyes found hers, and she saw the fear inside them.  

The doctor was checking the monitors attentively, and Claire held her breath until he spoke. “It's alright, Mr. Walker, you're going to be fine, you were very lucky.” He finished taking notes on his chart and said that a nurse would be by in a few hours to take him for some tests and scans before exiting the room.

Claire brought one hand up to Drake's face, her thumb moving slowly back and forth across his cheek. “Hey,” she whispered softly, leaning her top half over the bed, trying to be as close to his as possible. “What's going on in there?” she asked, bringing her fingertips to dance over his forehead.

Drake closed his eyes as her touch lingered over his face, over his temples, fingers eventually brushing back his unkempt hair. He couldn't believe he'd come so close to never feeling that again, to never hearing the way her voice vibrates in her throat when she whispers, to never watching the way a certain strand of hair would always fall across her eyes as she leaned forward. “Berkley,” he finally choked out, eyes still closed, and she paused her movements, returning her hands to his. His dark eyes opened and latched onto hers, and she saw for the first time just how deep they went- down, all the way into his heart, into his soul, into the hidden parts that made him who he was. He slid his fingers between hers as he spoke. “I almost lost you,” his eyes filled with pain as they roved over the place on her throat where a gash had been fixed with nine stitches, to the place on her arm where a bullet had grazed her as she tried to help him. “I've never been more scared in my life, Claire, and it wasn't because of this,” he nodded down at his shoulder and chest. “It wasn't getting shot, it wasn't that I could have died...” although that part wasn't great, either. He swallowed as his voice cracked a bit, throat still sore from the tubes that had been necessary for him to breathe during surgery. “It was the thought that I might never see you again, might never ...hold you again...Claire, I was terrified of losing you.”

Claire took a shaking breath as flashes of the last 48 hours cut through her mind- the waiting, the agonizing expanse of time, the hum of the florescent lighting, the acrid, chemical smell that permeated the paint on the walls; the weakness, the way she felt boneless and frail, how she had relied on Olivia and Bastien for all but air. She blinked a few times, clearing her mind. “Drake,” when she finally spoke she stroked her thumb over the pulse point on his wrist, heard him release a low breath at the light touch. “I was so, so scared that I might lose you, too. So scared...” she bent to kiss the spot she'd been stroking, felt his skin warm beneath her lips. “But I'm right here,” she softened her eyes. “I'm here, because of you. You saved my life, Drake...”

He ached with the need to hold her, but his injuries rendered his arms useless. “Berkley,” he said softly as tears threatened to slide down her cheeks again. “Don't think for one second that you didn't save mine, too.” He struggled, using all of his strength and will power so as not to grimace, but he picked his hand up off the bed and folded his fingers around her wrist, drawing her eyes to where he touched her. “You were my reason to hold on, Berkley...you gave me something to look forward to...you taught me that there's something worth fighting for...you saved me, Claire Berkley, long before this.”

Claire wasted no time in bringing her lips to his before kissing him slowly, like air, like breathing. She felt the little hiss of breath he let out when her mouth found his; felt the way his whole being was reaching and stretching, trying to connect to her- felt the way that her soul was trying to curl around his inside that kiss. “Lets not do all this again, then, huh?” she gasped as they broke the kiss, but smiled as his own lips twitched upwards. “You saved me, I saved you...we're good on this now, right?” she was crying but her smile was bigger than her tears and it caused his to grow, too.

“Sounds like something I could get behind, Berkley,” his eyes flicked down to her lips, summoning her for another life giving kiss. “I love you, beautiful,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“I know you do, you big softy,” she said, leaning her forehead against his. “And I love you. And we're going to get you through this, and then Drake, you know what we're going to do?” That dreamy quality that he hadn't heard in weeks was back in her voice and it made him feel like finally, they could live without fear.

“Tell me, Berkley,” he said, looking at her though his lashes, still holding her wrist, his fingers moving over her skin.

“We're going to live, Drake. Just live. Just us.”

Just us. His heart fluttered and a warm wave rippled through his entire body that had nothing to do with the new round of medication that the doctor had set up before leaving the room earlier. “Just us,” he said softly as his eyelids became heavy and he let sleep take him back under. Claire sat with him, ghosting her fingers over the exposed skin of his forearm, until she too, had fallen asleep, woken only by the nurse that had come to take Drake for testing.

“Why don't you go get some rest, wash up and maybe have something to eat, ma'am,” the nurse was young and bright eyed, but had a soft, warm voice, and Claire nodded, kissing Drake's knuckles gently before the woman wheeled him out of the room.

.  .   .  .  .  .

Dan had landed in Cordonia International exactly ten hours after speaking with Olivia. He'd gotten a cab and headed directly for JFK, practically before they'd even hung up the phone. He hadn't even bothered to tell himself that he'd sleep on the plane- he knew better than to think that he'd be able to rest until he saw Claire, saw that she was alright, put his arms around her and felt her, solid and safe. The headlines had been hard to read, and harder to believe- Alex had been killed, along with two other members of the rebel group he'd joined up with. Cordonian police, in cooperation with the Royal King's Guard had detained the remaining members, all of whom were due to stand trial, all of whom would likely never see the outside of a jail cell again. The King had been killed, his wife gravely injured, and Liam, Claire's friend the Prince...or, King, now... had also suffered injuries in the attacks. There was nothing in the news that spoke of Drake Walker's heroics, but from what Olivia had told him, Dan owed Drake everything for saving the life of his best friend. There was space in the news for articles about how this all would shake things up at court, questioning the stability of the to crown, speculating on whether or not there were more rebel forces, waiting quietly for the right time to strike, but there was no space for a common citizen who'd risked his life to save the life of a foreigner, and that point wasn't lost on Dan. Headlines or not, Drake Walker had become one of Dan's favorite people and he hadn't even met the man. Leaning his forehead against the window in the plane's cabin as it made its descent into the Kingdom of Cordonia, he silently hoped he'd get the chance to.

He'd taken another cab right to the hospital, sending Olivia a text before he'd even pulled up to the curb. I'm here. Where do I go? He didn't bother pocketing the phone, holding it in one hand as the other dragged across his face and covered a yawn. The phone buzzed not a full two seconds later.

I'll be right down

He waited where she'd instructed him to be dropped off, kicking his shoe against the curb. He sniffed the cool afternoon air, looking around the back alley where he stood. Dan had never left the country before, but had always wanted to travel. This wasn't what he had in mind, but there was no where else in the world he'd rather be. Claire needed him, and he needed her. A door to a stairwell opened and a stunning red haired woman appeared. She was tall and thin, wearing sleek black pants and a casual black top, scarlet lipstick coloring her plump lips. Her sharp eyes flashed, green and attentive, and he beckoned him over as she called out. “Dan?” she crossed her arms over her chest but stood straight as she addressed him.

He took a step in her direction, his hand outstretched to greet her. “Duchess Olivia, or...I,” he nervously stuck his other hand in his pocket as she shook his hand firmly. “I'm not sure what to call you...” He shrugged.

Olivia noted the bags beneath his eyes, the wrinkles in his clothing, and surmised that he'd slept about as much as she had in the past few days. She noted his strong jawline and the dark, inked lines of a tattoo peeking out from beneath his shirtsleeve. “Just Olivia is fine,” she said coolly, trying not to let her eyes linger too long on any one aspect of the attractive stranger in front of her. “I'm glad you're here,” she said, reclaiming her hand and letting it fall to her side.  

“Yeah,” he said, a humorless, exhausted laugh leaving his mouth, causing the few days of growth on his lip and chin to twitch. “Wish it was under better circumstances, but hey...” he cleared his throat. “I'm, uh...I'm glad I'm here too...thank you,” he said, a note of genuine sincerity taking the place of sarcasm and snark. “Thank you, for...everything you did for C...I...well, just thanks, hmm?” he pressed his lips together and nodded, gesturing with his hands, hoping they'd make up for his lack of speech.

“You're welcome,” Olivia returned his nod, studying the nervous use of his hands. “Follow me, I'll take you to her,” she inclined her head towards the door to indicate that he should follow her, his sneakers silently one step behind the click of her low but fashionable heels.

“I uh, I heard that the prince... er, King, that he was also injured?” Dan asked tentatively as they climbed the staircase.

Olivia faltered and he saw her clutch the railing a bit tighter for the briefest of seconds. “Yes,” she said after clearing her throat and without turning around. “He's going to make a full recovery, though, Drake too.” She stated the facts as though she needed to hear them as much as Dan did. “They're both very strong...very lucky...”

“Lucky to have people like you on their side,” Dan said as they reached the top. Olivia faltered again, caught off guard by the compliment. She wasn't used to them, not on her personality, not on her character.

“Oh, I don't know,” she said quietly. “I think they'd be fine without me...” she shrugged her shoulders and tried to shrug his sentiments with them, but his words and they way that he spoke them stuck.

“Olivia, just take my word for it,” Dan laid his hand gently on her shoulder, her skin tingling through the fabric of her shirt, not used to the touch.

She nodded, sniffed and averted her eyes. “Well, alright. Thanks.” she sighed. “Anyway, they took Drake for some testing a little while ago. Claire's in the waiting area just through there,” she pointed to the double doors ahead of them. “I have to go make some calls,” she made up an excuse not to follow him, not wanting to be there in the way of Dan and Claire's reunion.

Dan could tell that she was giving him space, and smiled. “Okay, sure,” he said. “Well, I'll see you around then.” She had already started dialing a number on her phone, shooting him a glance before bringing it to her ear and returning his smile with a smaller one of her own. He pushed through the doors and on instinct, his eyes found her immediately. “C!” he called, and hastened his steps to close the distance as quickly as possible.

Claire's eyes widened and she stood bolt upright at the unmistakable sound of Dan's voice. “Dan?!” she felt a relief she didn't even know that she was missing come over her as she looked up and saw him only a few feet away. “Dan! ” she said again as his strong arms came around her in a brotherly hug, pulling her into his chest. Hugging Daniel was like coming home for the holidays and smelling your favorite meal cooking. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after coming in from the storm, like laughing forever at your favorite joke, finding it just as funny the hundredth time as it was the first. Hugging Daniel was to feel family. She felt his uneven breath on her scalp as he held her tight.

“C, oh my god, I'm so happy you're okay, you're safe...I  was so worried when you didn't call me,” he was speaking directly into her hair and she could feel him shaking slightly. She was immediately filled with guilt for not getting in touch with him.

“I'm so sorry, Dan,” she felt tears slip past her eyelids, felt her throat tighten. “I'm..I was...”

He peeled her away from him to look her in the eye. “Hey, no, that's not what I meant, okay? I know Drake was...hurt bad and...look I understand why you didn't call, okay? I'm just so glad you're safe.” He pulled her into another hug and she threw her arms back around him, holding on to the big brother the universe had given her later in life. They embraced for a few long moments before sitting back down, Claire filling him in on everything that had happened, his arm around her the entire time.

After about an hour, Dan drifted off to sleep. The jet lag and general stress of not knowing if Claire was safe, of helplessness and worry had finally caught up to him. Claire stretched and yawned, took a few moments to answer some messages from Hana and Maxwell. She checked the time and saw that there was still at least another hour before she could expect Drake to return based on what the nurse had told her, so she took advantage of the comfort of having Dan with her to get some sleep.

. .  .  .  .  .  

Drake's scans and tests had all gone without a hitch- they were still waiting for the results, but nothing had happened to inhibit the diagnostics. A nurse informed him that “Ms. Berkley” had fallen asleep in the waiting area, and asked if he wanted her to be woken up.

“No,” he said with a slight shake of his head, “no, thank you, ma'am...she should rest,” he knew how little sleep she'd been getting, and was glad to know that she'd found some. The nurse smiled and nodded, leaving his room. Drake sighed, imagining Claire asleep curled up in a chair in the waiting area, wishing that she could curl up against his body instead. It would be a long while before that was an option, according to his doctors, and while he hated that fact, not much could dim the happiness in his heart just knowing that they were both alive and safe and that they'd have a lifetime of curling up together to look forward to.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, as Bastien appeared. He'd been in the previous evening, shortly after Drake had woken up, and the two had shared a moment of appreciation for the others' safety. Drake had wanted to talk to Bastien about the dream he'd had, about the woman, Annabelle, that he could almost remember- ask him why she'd been part of his vision, why she'd come to him along with the most influential people in his life... but he hadn't even talked to Claire about his dream yet. He could wait to bring it up with Bastien, too. He sensed that Bastien needed to focus on the here and now, and if he was being honest with himself, that's what he needed as well.  

“Bas,” Drake greeted him, trying to sit up a little straighter against the pillows.

“Relax, Drake,” Bastien put his hands up. “You have a visitor,” he stepped aside and opened the door wider to reveal Leo, and Drake's eyes nearly dropped out of his head.

“Rhys!” Drake exclaimed as Leo entered the room.

Leo's eyes washed slowly over Drake, taking in the bandages and monitors, his pale complexion, the slightly clouded look in his eyes. “Shit, Walker, you look like Hell,” he said, trying for a joke but coming up just a touch short.

Drake scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, I know, this is a lot, huh?” He knew Leo's way was to cover everything with sarcasm. In that way they were quite a bit alike...well, until recently, anyway, when Drake had learned that it was alright to feel things, and to show it.

“You...you okay, Drake?” Leo asked, a look of shock on his face that he was trying to get rid of by blinking repeatedly. He'd just been in to see Liam, had just met Claire, spoken with Olivia...he'd just learned all the details and seen all the damage, and Drake knew he was having a hard time processing it all, but also that he was having a hard time with the guilt he knew Leo felt for not being around for Liam through the season.

“I will be,” he said assuredly. “Got too much to look forward to, not to make it now.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah, I just met her,” he said with a smile. “You got a good one, Walker. Don't fuck it up.” The joke was back in his voice, a sparkle in his eye that Drake had known to be pretty much constant.

“No intention to do any such thing,” he promised.

Leo cleared his throat. “Good,” he said with a smile before sitting down. Bastien dragged the second chair in the room closer to Drake's bed. “Now, as happy as I am to see you in...relatively...one piece, I'm here on official business for my brother.” He nodded in the direction of Liam's room. “He wanted to come in here himself- he's been wanting to come see you- but the doctors say he can't get out of bed for another day or so, and this couldn't wait.” Leo paused to make sure that Drake understood the gravity of what they were about to discuss. “Drake, you know Liam has a different viewpoint of how the country should be run...different from our father's...different from any other King in Cordonia's history...” Drake nodded. He did know, and he supported, Liam's open mindedness. He knew that the Cordonian citizens were growing tired of the old fashioned ways of the nobility and the crown. “Well,” Leo continued with Bastien's steely eyes focused on Drake, ready for his reaction. “Well, Liam has decided that his first act as King will be to... to dissolve the Monarchy.” Drake's eyebrows flew up and he searched Leo and Bastien's faces. Bastien nodded once and Drake felt a shock that wasn't necessarily unwelcome pass through his mind as he started wrapping it around the idea of a Kingless Cordonia. “He wants to institute a Common Council, with one representative from each Duchy...well, they'd be referred to as Regions...” Leo went on to explain Liam's plans for a new government in Cordonia, one that would give more power to the people, more of a say in how their country was lead, more of a chance to have their problems heard and their questions answered. Each representative would serve a 2 year term, at the end of which their Region would vote on whether or not they are happy with their representation. If so, that representative would serve another 2 years should they choose to stay on, and if not, another election would be held to find a suitable replacement. Liam would serve as the first Head of Council, but would be subjected to the same 2 year terms as the Regional Representatives. Future Heads of Council would be elected from existing Council members, by the Council.

There were still quite a few details to iron out, and clearly a lot of legislation and paperwork that would have to happen, and Drake's head was spinning slightly. But the more Leo spoke, the more he could hear Liam in his words, and the more he knew that this was exactly what Cordonia needed. He looked over to Bastien again, and thought he saw something that looked like hope in the man's tired eyes. He realized that it never occurred to him that Bastien might have been putting a life on hold to serve in the King's Guard, and that now that there wouldn't be a King to guard... Drake found himself wondering for the first time what life might be like for Bastien once he was no longer bound by duty. Again, a conversation for another time.

“He's appointed me as the Representative from Fydelia,” Leo went on, mentioning Cordonia's capital. Most of the other appointments are still up in the air...Olivia will likely be chosen for Lythikos...but...Drake,” Leo wasn't quite done, his eyes still serious as he hit Drake with Liam's last bit of news. “He wants you to serve on the first Common Council of Cordonia, as the Representative from Valtoria. He...he wants you there to support him...to help him lead... to help him take care of the people.”

Again, the shock that wasn't completely a shock passed through his chest and mind, and he found himself nodding as words fell out of his mouth. “Tell him I accept,” Drake didn't need to think twice. He knew that if Liam needed him, he'd be there, and he was actually feeling oddly confident and sure about all of this. If Claire could teach him how to love again after all the pain and damage that he'd had in his life, surely he and Liam and the rest of the Council could teach the country to trust their leaders again. This would be different from a ruling noble class- Liam was calling for the end of titles, the end of rule being passed down based on a name. Several of the estates owned by the royal family would be donated to the State of Cordonia, to be converted into museums, or used as academic buildings. He knew there would be push back from some of the older families- Lord Pyke's smug, yellowed face came to mind- but he knew that ultimately they would have the support of the people, that ultimately, this would save their country from slipping into constant turmoil. Drake wished he could go and speak with Liam in person, wished he could look him in the eye as he made the promise to support him, to take on his new role with integrity and responsibility.

“You should tell him yourself,” Leo said, picking Drake's phone up off of the bedside and handing it to him. “But, unofficially, welcome to the Council,” Leo stood and held his hand out. Drake struggled and grimaced, but was able to shake Leo's hand, a unifying look passing between them- Leo and Drake had a lot in common, but a distaste for the way things had been going in Cordonia was the largest one, and now they'd get a chance to help Liam change things. Leo let go of Drake's hand and exited the room.

“Bas,” Drake looked at the man who'd been his father figure for the past twenty two years. “What do you think of all of this?” he shook his head slightly.

Bastien gazed down at his mentor's son as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “I think that this is exactly what Cordonia needs. I think Liam is doing the right thing. And Drake?” Drake had been nodding along with Bastien, but looked into the man's eyes when he said his name. “You are the right man for the job. Even if you reach a point where you doubt yourself. Remember, Liam chose you for this position. It's not a default, it's not a favor. He chose you, Drake Walker. Claire chose you...” Bastien finished with his sleeves. “You've come a long way, Drake. You have a long way to go, a lot of work to put in, but you're on the right road, with the right people...your father...he'd be very proud of you, I hope you know that.”

Drake felt Bastien's words resonate in his heart as he followed Leo out of the room. He stared at the phone in his hand before dialing Liam's number, holding it up to speak with his best friend. It rang twice before Liam's voice was coming through the speaker. “Drake?”

“Hey, Li,” Drake tried to sound nonchalant, but the truth was that they were both overwhelmed with relief and happiness at the sound of the others' voice.

“Hey, didn't anyone tell you not to go throwing yourself in front of bullets, Drake?”  

“Not sure anyone thought they'd have to,” Drake joked.

There was a brief moment of silence before Liam spoke again. “I'm...shit,” he cleared his throat. “I'm glad that...”

Drake knew what he was trying to say. He knew he couldn't fathom losing Liam any more than he could losing Claire or Bastien, knew Liam felt the same. “I know, Li. Me too,” he said, clearing his own throat. “But sounds like we have a lot to talk about...” he changed the subject to the Council, accepting Liam's offer to serve. They would have a lot of work to do once they were out of the hospital.

“But you need to focus on recovering, first and foremost, Councilman Walker,” Liam said, “Cordonia needs you in top form...and so does Claire,” Drake could hear the smile in his friend's voice, and knew that even though he was hurting from the loss of his father, from Kiara's betrayal and the shock of everything that had happened, he knew that Liam was still happy for Drake and Claire and the love that they'd found.

“Yeah,” Drake said, as his door opened and a sleepy-eyed Claire walked towards him. “Hey, brother, you focus on that, too,” the ended their conversation as Claire crossed the room to stand next to the bed. Drake could barely keep his eyes open. He had so much he needed to tell her, but it would have to wait for the morning as he felt sleep start to wrap itself around him like a blanket.

“Hey, you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly, her feather soft hair tickling his skin like magic.

“Hey, Berkley,” he mumbled, turning his head so that his lips would find a bit of skin near her jaw. She sunk into the chair beside his bed and her fingers found his. She laid her head down on her arms, her breath warm against the skin of his wrist as she resumed the position they'd fallen asleep together in earlier that day. “Berkley,” he said her name again, both of them barely awake. She hummed a response. “Berkley, everything is going to change soon...but not you...not us...wherever you are, so am I...always, Berkley. I love you.”

“Gra go deo, Walker,” she yawned the words but he felt the warmth and the truth behind them despite how tired she was, how battered they both had been, how much they'd all been through. “Forever, Drake,” she said through another yawn as her eyes slipped closed. “I love you, forever.”

Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again. 

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic  @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake

[likethetailofacomet]

The Broken Bits, Chapter Three:

Remember Me

A/N: Bastien joins Drake and Claire for dinner and memories play a part in answering some questions that Drake has. Annabelle is reminded of all that she left behind and all that she might still get back. 

Pairings: Bastien x Annabelle, Drake x Claire 

Word Count: 3,022

Song: Remember Me, Augustana

Will you hear me blowing in the wind? Will it give you shivers down your skin? Will you stop and stare, wonder if I'm there? Will you think about me now and then?

The rocks crunched beneath the tires of Bastien’s car as he pulled off of the dirt road and into the long, secluded driveway that lead to the cabin. Thick evergreen trunks cropped up on either side with silver stars starting to dot the sky above, and before long he was met with the sight that had at one time been a staple in his life: the warm glow of the kitchen light through the window, two figures moving inside setting a table. He pulled up alongside the blue truck that was already parked in front and turned the engine off. The Walker home would always feel like home to him as well for all the times that Jackson and Bianca had welcomed him for weeknight dinners and holiday celebrations. He stepped out into the crisp night and headed up the path to the porch, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a bottle of bourbon in the other.

As the car door closed with a heavy metallic thud, he saw Claire look up and wave through the window, a bright smile on her face. It brought a smile to his own pewter eyes, and he raised one elbow to wave back, both hands full. As he headed up to the front door he was hit with the memory of bringing Annabelle here for the first time; something in Claire’s wistful wave had stirred something that had been dormant for years. He felt a slight tightening in his throat and he recalled the way she’d nervously clutched his arm as they’d climbed the steps.

 “What if they don’t like me, Bas?” she’d asked.

“Not possible,” he’d said with a grin before leaving a quick kiss on her cheek. “Besides, you’ve met Jackson already.”

“Yeah, just…” she bit her lower lip and looked up at him as they paused on the steps.

“Belle,” he cupped the side of her face with his hand, fingers sliding behind her earlobe. Bastien looked into her eyes and for the first time in his life, he saw something that he was undeniably sure of. “Not possible,” he said again. She’d smiled and it reaffirmed what he’d seen in her eyes; that this was it, him and Annabelle, and that this was love.

The cool breeze blew through the dark boughs of the tall pines and took the memory away as quickly as it had come to him, leaving only the lingering feeling of her fingertips in the crook of his arm. He’d been thinking about her at lot in the past few months, as he transitioned from life with the King’s Guard to simply having his life to himself. It was an adjustment he was never sure he’d actually make, but one he’d been wishing for since the day he came home to her note. The end of all the things that were keeping him from her- from giving himself to her the way she wanted and deserved. The upcoming trip that Liam had planned for the council would be the last time Bastien provided his services as head of security, and then he would be truly free go to her. Before his thoughts could reach for her, the door swung open and Drake was there to greet him.

“Bas,” he greeted him with a grin. His tie was loosened but still around his neck, the top few buttons undone, and his sleeves were pushed up around his elbows.

“Hello, Drake,” Bastien smiled back and stepped through the door into the familiar surroundings of the living room.

Claire appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a red checkered towel before swinging it over her shoulder. “Hi, Bas!” she exclaimed, all brightness as she snuck past Drake to hug Bastien. Her thin arms came around him before he could unload either of the items he was carrying, eliciting a chuckle as she squeezed him. “It’s so good to see you,” she said as she let go, Drake’s arm coming around her waist. They looked like a family and it made Bastien extremely happy.

“Claire,” he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, his coarse stubble scratching her smooth skin. “Always a pleasure to see you.” His eyes shone warmly as he extended the bouquet of red and white Amaryllis out to her. “Congratulations, Miss Cordonian citizen.” She had finalized her paperwork earlier that day, coming home with her new passport displaying Drake’s address as her new permanent residence.

Claire beamed as she took the flowers, bringing them to her nose to inhale their scent. “Thanks Bas,” she said, looking as happy as Bastien felt.

“And this is for you, Councilman,” he handed the bottle of leathery bourbon over to Drake, his eyes locked onto the younger man’s. He watched as Drake reached out and took it, eyes scanning the label. His Adam’s apple moved in his throat as he swallowed the ball of emotion that seeing that bottle brought on.

“Is this…” he asked, fingers curling around the neck of the bottle, already knowing the answer to the question. It was the same bourbon his father always kept around the house; the same that Jackson had toasted Bastien on his first night in the King’s Guard, and the same that Bastien still toasted him back with nearly every evening.

“He’s proud of you, Drake. And so am I.” Bastien stood watching as the look on Drake’s face changed to one of appreciation.

“Thank you,” was all Drake could say as the two shook hands, Bastien clapping him on his shoulder lightly. 

Claire headed back into the kitchen to put the flowers in water and finish with dinner as Drake and Bastien moved towards the table. They sat and Bastien asked Drake how his first day on the council was, Drake excitedly recounting his day. Claire listened in, smiling to herself as she doled out portions of hearty chili with freshly baked corn bread, passing them to Bas and Drake before taking a seat in front of her own bowl. The three dug in, enjoying the warmth of the fire that crackled pleasantly behind them in the next room. Bastien caught Drake glancing over at Claire smiling through a mouthful as she talked excitedly about passing her citizenship test, and watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Happy. They’re just happy, Bastien thought, finishing his meal. It was all he wanted for them.

“Claire, that was excellent,” Bastien said when they had all finished, pushing his chair back from the table. “You’re quite the chef.”

“Glad you liked it,” she said brightly, rising to collect the bowls. “Old family recipe.” She stacked Drake’s bowl on top of hers and ran her hand along his shoulder as she passed behind his chair. He reached up and gripped her fingers, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. They locked eyes for a second and Drake’s lips twitched into a small smile. Bastien passed his empty bowl to Claire who thanked him and brought the dishes and silverware to the sink. She busied herself with cleaning up and putting away leftovers, packing a container for Bastien to take home with him as well. Drake cleared his throat as she turned the water on to start the dishes.

“Bas, I…I need to ask you something,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table top.

Bastien shifted in his chair keeping his eyes focused on Drake. “Sure,” he responded. “Everything alright?”

Drake nodded, took a breath and answered, “Yeah, everything is fine I just…” he shook his head. “Bas, when I was in the hospital…after the attack…before I was awake I…” he dragged a hand through his hair as Bastien sat quietly. “I had a dream.” He looked up as Claire shut the water off, coming back to sit next to him. She reached for his hand and he gave it to her, their fingers linking. “I saw my parents, I saw Claire,” he looked over to the woman he loved, his eyes softening as they fell on her face. “I saw you, too, Bas,” he said, looking back across the table at him. “And all that made sense to me, because you’re all the most important people in my life…because there were similarities…what happened to my father… and me…and Bas I saw you get hurt, too…and there was a woman.” Bastien felt his throat tighten, felt a stale, old nagging pain shoot through his chest as his heart pounded. “At first I couldn’t remember her name…but then I heard your voice...”

“Annabelle,” Bastien heard his own voice, felt the name scrape against his tongue as it left his mouth.

Drake nodded. “She must have been important to me…but I can’t remember how or why… who was she, Bas?”

Who was she? His thoughts swam with her; the soft contour of her lips as they pressed between his shoulder blades in the middle of the night; her long graceful fingers wrapped around a charcoal pencil and smudged with dark gray smears; the tingling way her laughter would catch the breeze and float through the air. Annabelle. Her whispered, breathy I love you, Bas. Her eyes full of tears and her voice full of pleading. Her absence.

Bastien sighed and scrubbed a rough hand over his face. “She’s the woman I love, Drake…she…she was my world…she’s my world.” Bastien felt his brow furrow and his heartbeat quicken, but then a wave of warmth washed over him as another memory seized his mind.

“Belle, let’s close up out here and…” he’d come into the small living room of their apartment after cleaning up the kitchen. They were babysitting Drake and Savannah while the Walkers celebrated their anniversary. He’d expected to find Annabelle tucking the children into their sleeping bags on the couches, perhaps bargaining with Drake to close his eyes. Instead he’d come in to find her sandwiched between two sleeping faces, Savannah’s fingers clasped tightly around Annabelle’s, Drake tucked under her arm and nestled against her side, her long copper hair cascading over them like a curtain. She was asleep, too, and Bastien was hit hard with how simple and beautiful and normal and right the whole scene looked. He looked around the living room at the easel in the corner where her latest painting stood, and the two pieces of sketchbook paper she’d taped on the wall for Drake and Savannah to paint on while she worked. His eyes fell on the empty popcorn bowl that they’d all shared while watching a movie after dinner, remembering the laughter that bubbled out of the three of them. This could be mine someday, he thought to himself as he leaned over her sleeping form to brush a kiss to her lips. She stirred awake, blinking her eyes open. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” she hummed, sitting up gingerly and unwinding her arm from around Drake. “They wouldn’t fall asleep without a story,” she explained, raking her fingers through Drake’s messy locks as his mouth fell open in sleep. She stood, turning back to pull the sleeping bags up over both of them before facing Bastien again.

“Let’s get some sleep, they’ll have us up early I’m sure,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple as he laced his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. All this could be mine, he thought to himself with a smile as he flicked the light off and lead her to bed, all this will be mine, someday.

“Bas?” Drake’s voice snapped him back to the present and he felt her slip from his thoughts again. He blinked and met Drake and Claire’s eyes.

“She loved you and your sister very much, Drake.” He said, truth keeping his voice even. “We…she and I, we used to watch you two for your parents sometimes and she,” he sighed, “she loved you. It makes sense that you saw her in your dream.”

“Where is she, Bas?” Claire’s voice was a curious whisper tinted with sadness as she read the emotion he was sure was clear in his eyes.

Bastien averted his eyes as he answered. “Paris…she…I wanted to marry her…but she wouldn’t while I was captain of the guard.” He shook his head. “She had a brother who she was very close with- Andrew- he was a few years older than her…He was a police officer and he was killed on the job,” his heart ached as he recalled the first time she told him about Andrew and the way her eyes had shattered into tears at just the mention of her brother’s name. “She was afraid of losing me that way…she said she couldn’t marry me while I lived in danger…said she’d wait for me in Paris…” He trailed off, looking out the window at the night sky, wondering if the sun was up yet where she was, casting pinkish light through the slats in the blinds and dancing in her hair.

“We’re set to travel to Paris on this trip with the council,” Drake said, knowing that Bastien had agreed to come along on the trip, lending his services one last time.

The silver-eyed man nodded. “Yes,” he said simply, and something in his tone told Drake not to press the matter further. “Maybe I’ll see her again.” The thought had been the only one swirling in his head for weeks. Maybe I’ll see her again, maybe I’ll love her again, maybe she’ll be mine again. It was the only thought that mattered, the only thought that scared him, the only thought that had his entire future hinging on it.

“Maybe,” Claire said, but there was hope in her voice, and strength, and Bastien knew she was trying to encourage him. It was working; Claire Berkley had a way of making even the most hopeless things seem possible.

He left Drake’s that night with her name echoing through his heart and his mind. Annabelle. I’m coming, Belle, I remember your promise…do you remember me?

.  .  . .  .  .  .  .

“That’s very good, Celine,” Annabelle stood behind her student, watching the way she blended blues and grays on the edge of her brush to add texture and depth to the canvas in front of her. The little girl’s hair was tied back, but there was a dab of yellow paint coloring the ends of her braid, and without warning she became Savannah Walker, perched on a stepstool in front of a taped up piece of paper on the wall, her fingers covered in purple and green. The flash changed and Celine was back, her toothy grin beaming up at her teacher, as Annabelle wiped the paint from her hair with a paper towel. “You’re improving, little dove.”

Later, as they were waiting for Celine’s mother to come get her from Annabelle’s apartment, Celine wandered around looking at the paintings and photographs that covered the walls. Occasionally she’d ask a question, “did you paint this, Belle?” “where are you in this picture?” “is this your family?”- the last question caught Annabelle’s attention and she spun on her heel to see the photo from her bedside table in Celine’s hand. Bastien, Liam, Drake and Savannah with sun on their shoulders and seawater in their hair and laughter on their faces. She could still see the way they smiled at her as she looked through the camera lens, could still feel the way the ocean was crashing in her chest as she imagined someday having all of that with him.

“As close to a family as I ever had,” she answered finally, noticing that Celine was still looking at her and holding the frame. “You remind me of the girl in that picture, little dove.”  She ruffled Celine’s hair, taking the frame from her and swallowing the knot in her throat.

“Where are they now, Belle?” she looked up expectantly. Children were always full of questions, and to them, all questions should have answers.

Annabelle sighed as the doorbell chimed announcing Celine’s mother’s arrival. “They grew up and flew off,” she said, moving to press the button on the panel near the door.

“Are they gonna fly home?” Celine clutched the painting she’d done that day.

“Maybe,” Annabelle looked at her contemplatively before her eyes darted out the window. She wondered where they all were now, wondered if they remembered her, if she was written in their hearts like they were in hers.

Celine smiled. “I hope so, Belle.”

“Me too, little dove,” Annabelle tapped Celine on the nose and gave her a smile. “Me too. Now, your mom is waiting. I’ll see you next week, okay?” The girl nodded, smiling wide to show off her missing teeth as she said goodbye and headed out into the hallway to meet her mother. Annabelle waved to the woman and watched as the little girl linked hands with her mother and they walked away chatting excitedly about Celine’s masterpiece.

“I want to give mine to Mommy and Papa!” Savannah announced proudly as Belle stood behind her at the bathroom sink, rubbing her hands together under the water. The white porcelain swirled with wisps of violet as the paint ran from Savannah’s fingertips and down the drain.

“They’ll love it, Savvy,” Belle assured her, shutting the faucet and wiping her hands off with a towel before turning to see if Drake needed help. She knew he wouldn’t, preferring to do everything for himself, the independent little apple. She felt Bastien’s eyes watching her as she helped the kids clean up, and she liked the way it felt. We could have this, someday. We will have this, she thought.

She closed the door and returned to her quiet apartment. Do you remember me, Bas? Do you remember the promises you wanted to make- the ones I didn’t let you keep? I remember. She felt a tear slip past her eyelashes as she allowed herself, just this once, to hope that he was coming for her. Remember me, she pleaded, please, remember me.

.  .  .  .  .  .  

Tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @mind-reader1 @jovialyouthmusic @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mfackenthal @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @iplaydrake @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @carabeth

[likethetailofacomet]

Aftermath

A/N: OH BOY. Sorry to rain on your fluffy friday everyone, but I had to get this out of my head because it’s been festering in there for weeks. I see maybe two more chapters and then we are finished with this mess. But for now, there is plenty of cleanup to be done. 

Warning: Angst, angst and...oh...more angst. cool.

Pairing: Drake x Claire 

Word Count: 4,894

He was striding through the back hallway, taking the steps two at a time, blood from a gash above his right eye dripping down, obscuring his vision. He swiped it away, feeling nothing from the deep cut that stopped just centimeters from his eye, adrenaline coursing through him and blocking the pain signals in his brain. He burst through the fire exit door on the emergency floor, and headed to the secret wing of the hospital where he knew they’d taken Drake and Liam. His chest burned and his mind reeled, needing to know the hard facts, needing to know if they were safe... alive... needing...

He rounded the corner and was stopped in his tracks by her-by the sight of her, on the ground, her blood stained gown spread out, dirty and torn, the magic of it gone, the spell worn off. Her arm and throat had been bandaged, white wrappings covering both wounds, her hair falling from its twist, the silver comb hanging limply from the side of her head. Her back was pressed against the wall, her eyes closed, chest barely moving as she took just the smallest breaths necessary, hollow and ragged. Her face was streaked with her makeup from the way her tears had poured down her cheeks- she looked less like herself than he’d ever seen her, and it gripped his heart with an icy fist, twisting and squeezing. Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn his head to the right, where Lady Olivia was approaching him, nervous worry painted on her face, rearranging her normally strong, fierce features. She was sporting her own bandage around her left hand and wrist and her dress was torn at the knees, but otherwise looked unharmed. “Bastien,” her voice was softer than normal, but not shaking or wavering, which he took as a good sign- surely if... surely she’d be in worse shape if she’d heard... he shook his head and focused on the woman before him, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Bastien, I tried to get her off the floor... she just... she won’t move...” her eyes flicked over to Claire sadly and then settled back on his. “Drake?” He asked, his heart threatening to stop, to give out and quit on him. “In surgery,” Olivia answered. “But that’s…that’s all I know,” her already pale complexion lost a bit more color. “He just…Bastien, he lost a lot of blood and…” she shook her head a little and forced some of the strength back into her voice. “But we don’t know anything yet, so,” she cleared her throat. “So we just need to stay positive until we do know.”

Bastien felt some anxiety dissipate at those words and the renewed resolve in her voice, and let out the breath he’d been holding. Drake was alive. “Liam?” He asked next, Olivia not at all surprised by the sequence in which he asked.  She grimaced. “Also in surgery... the knife slipped between his ribs but didn’t do any major damage to any of his organs... that’s all they were able to tell me. He’s…he’s very lucky, is what they said.”

Bastien felt some of the sting return above his eye brow as he sighed and let his shoulders relax, just a bit. “Thank you, Lady Olivia.” He set his sharp eyes on Claire and Olivia saw his face fall at how broken and scared she looked.  “She’s a mess, Bastien,” she whispered, “I... I tried, she won’t let me help her.”

He nodded, resting his hand on Olivia’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll talk to her,” he locked eyes with her and saw genuine concern there. Olivia may have had a prickly past but it seemed she was trying to change, and Bastien knew she was a powerful and loyal ally. He was glad she’d been there for Claire, for Drake. “Clean this up first,” she muttered, motioning to his forehead. “She doesn’t need to see this, and we don’t need you keeling over from blood loss.” She reached for the supply cart against the wall and grabbed an alcohol swab, tearing it open. Before he could move she dabbed it to the wound over his eye, the sting becoming a brilliant, blinding burn. He grit his teeth as she used sterile gauze to clean the cut before pulling open three steri-strips to close the wound with. It would just be temporary, he’d need stitches later, but it’d do for now. “There,” she said, her thin fingers falling from his face.   “Thank you,” He said again, this time with a bit more baritone to his voice.

_  _  _  _

Claire blinked. She hadn't been sleeping, but she wasn't awake either, stuck in a bubble free from time and oxygen and feeling. She guessed that she was breathing because she was still alive, though she didn't understand how. They told her that the bullets had ripped through his shoulder and chest, catching an artery and destroying the muscle tissue, that one had grazed her arm as she rushed towards him. They told her that she'd suffered a three inch laceration to the side of her throat from where Alex had pressed the blade against and into her skin. She supposed that she should believe them- bandages covered both areas- though she couldn’t remember feeling anything. Not when it happened, not when they cleaned and dressed her wounds, and not now, sitting in the chair between Olivia and Bastien. Lifting her head she realized she'd slumped over onto the silver eyed man's shoulder, and that he'd not only let her, but had put his arm around her. She had no recollection of how she had gotten to where she sat, or, looking down at herself, when she'd changed out of her dress, or where the sweatpants and t-shirt she was now wearing had come from. She picked her head fully up and off of Bastien's shoulder and was met with his eyes, concern and anguish filling their liquid metallic depths. She felt fresh tears well in her eyes realizing that it must have been him- he must have picked her up- yes, she remembers being on the floor, and then strong arms lifting her. He must have gotten her and Olivia new clothes from somewhere, must have had a nurse help her out of her torn, blood stained gown.

Blood stained.

 Blood.

 His.

 Drake.

 Her eyes went wide and her breathing started coming in quick, painful, short, gasps again. Her sudden alarm drew Olivia's attention, the Duchess turning to face her, a hand suspended in the air, not sure if she should touch her.

“Claire, it's alright, shh, it's alright,” Bastien was already soothing her, his normally severe and serious tone replaced by a much softer one that Olivia had never known him to use. He removed the arm he had around her and turned in his seat to face her, and when he did it stopped his heart for a second as he saw a flash of Annabelle's tear stained face pleading with him to quit after suffering an injury in the line of duty. As quickly as the flash struck it faded, and he was once again looking at Claire Berkley, and not the love he'd lost all those years ago. He shook her from his mind as best as he could- she'd always be there, but he forced her to the background as he focused on the woman before him, focused on trying to do a better job offering her comfort than he had with Annabelle. He opened his arms for her and she wordlessly leaned into him, sobbing as he held her gently, locking eyes with Olivia over her head. “I know,” he said, using every ounce of his resolve to keep his voice from breaking, to keep from joining her as they waited to hear the news about the people they loved. “I know...I know...” it was all he could say. He did know.

Olivia stood, biting her bottom lip. “I'm going to see about an update,” she said flatly, just wanting to be doing something to help, anything at all. Just wanting to give her own brain something else to do for a minute. Bastien nodded, checking his watch. He'd been there for about two hours now, and knew based on what Olivia had told him upon his arrival that they'd be hearing something soon. He silently prayed to every god he could think of that the news would be good. He knew Claire couldn't take it if it wasn't; was sure that he couldn't either. He cleared his throat as her sobbing gave way to quiet whimpers and sniffles, sheer and utter exhaustion making it impossible to cry anymore.

“I love him, Bastien,” she rasped quietly into the fabric of his now wrinkled shirt. “He can’t die…I love him. We never even got a real chance….Bas…he can’t…” Her eyes widened then, as her mind filled with the image of Drake lying on the ground as Olivia dragged her to safety, the bright vermillion stain on his shirt growing and spreading into a pool on the floor. She thought back to the way she’d pressed her hands to his wound and felt how rapidly he was losing blood. She remembered insisting that she wouldn’t leave him; remembered him insisting that she had to. What she couldn’t remember, because it hadn’t happened, was telling him that she loved him before being pulled from the room and thrust into a vehicle. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she drew in a sharp breath that cut at her insides. I didn’t say it. I didn’t say I love you before I left him and now… “Bastien, I didn’t say it. I didn’t tell him that I love him,” her words were tumbling out frantically. And now it might be too late. Now he might be stolen away from me.  

Her words and the distressed, keening quality her normally clear and musical voice took on sent fresh daggers to his heart. “He knows, Claire, it’s okay. He knows, of course he knows.” This needs to stop. He thought,  Bianca, Annabelle, Claire...

Before he could finish his thought, the door that Olivia had vanished through opened again and she came back, a young, sharp- eyed doctor at her heels. Claire felt the air thicken, could feel the minute hand in her mind stop, paused right before the chime. She fought hard to stand, raising her trembling eyes to meet the cool green, are they too calm? depths of the doctor’s eyes, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides. She felt her mouth fall open as a few phantom sobs still slipped out, and she blinked hard and took a deep shuddering breath before snapping it shut and pressing her lips together. She took a step closer to Bastien and felt Olivia do the same, taking a step right behind her as the Dr. introduced herself. Her name went unregistered by Claire, the dull hum of the florescent lightbulbs filling her ears.

“Is there news?” Bastien engaged his professional voice and Claire felt herself ache for him as she realized that this was work for him; he was at work right now, needing to be professional and collected as he interacts with the people who hold the fate of Cordonia’s leader in their hands, who hold the fate of his surrogate son.

The doctor nodded and looked down at her clipboard before flicking her eyes up to meet each of theirs. “King Liam,” she began and Claire noted that this was the first time she had heard anyone refer to Liam as King, but by default, even though the coronation hadn’t officially happened, that’s what he was now. “King Liam is out of surgery. He’s still in recovery, and is expected to wake up within the hour. He suffered a minor laceration to the small intestine and is being monitored and preventatively treated against all manner of infection. His surgical procedure to repair the laceration was successful, and he is expected to make a full recovery with no lasting effects.”

Claire heard Olivia release the breath she’d been holding, felt relief fall from both Olivia and Bastien. She was, of course, happy to hear that Liam would pull through, that he’d made it successfully out of surgery, and that Cordonia would have the King it deserved. But she hadn’t heard the news that her heart was hinging on, and that fact wasn’t lost on her.

“If you’d like to come with me,” the doctor was addressing Bastien, indicating that he should follow her to Liam’s room, already half turned away and heading back the way she had come.

“What about Drake?” Claire heard her own voice fill the air. Bastien hesitated.

The doctor turned back to fully face her and blinked once before checking her clip board and returning her glance to Claire. “I’m sorry; I don’t have an update on Mr. Walker at this time. As far as I know he’s still in surgery.”

“As far as…” Claire let out a breath that came from the back of her throat, from the depths of her lungs. “As far as you know?” she asked, repeating the doctor’s words incredulously. They had been waiting for over two and a half hours and no one had told them anything about him yet. Aside from how much blood he’d lost. Aside from how much damage there was.

The doctor softened her gaze if only slightly. “Yes ma’am, that’s correct. When I have an update, I promise to make sure that you are told. Alright?”

Claire felt the room become smaller as her heart thumped wildly. She doesn’t care. How could she not care? Because he’s not a prince or a king or a duke? “No, it’s not alright,” She could feel the shaking starting again and the searing heat of the fire in her blood. She was vaguely aware of Bastien’s hands on her shoulders, but he underestimated the amount of force necessary to restrain her and she shrugged him off. “Okay, who knows then?” She wiped at her eyes and dragged a hand through her hair. “Who can I ask, huh? Who knows? Who can I ask?” she began looking around as though the room were full of medical professionals that might have some news for her. “Who can tell me about Drake?!” When the doctor didn’t answer right away she brought her palms up to shove at the woman’s shoulders. “Who?” she demanded again, dissolving into tears. Bastien didn’t make the same mistake twice, this time wrapping both arms around her and pulling her away from the doctor, who’s green eyes flashed and lost all of the calm that had been there before.

“Is she going to be a problem? Do I need to call security?” the doctor asked of whoever would answer.

“No,” Olivia’s response was firm and definitive. She looked over and locked eyes with Claire. “No, she won’t be a problem. She’s just concerned about the man she loves. Right, Claire?”

Claire tearfully nodded and relaxed as Bastien let go of her. The doctor nodded and again motioned for Bastien to follow her. “I need to go now, Claire,” he told her. “I need to be with King Liam. As soon as I can, I’ll be back and if there is any news on Drake before I come back,” he turned to the doctor and addressed her, “You’ll come get me, correct, Dr. Morgan?” The doctor nodded and responded affirmatively. He turned back to Claire and his eyes were nothing but comfort and conviction. “He’s going to pull through, Claire. You have to believe that. He needs you to believe that.” His forehead creased and un-creased as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before following the doctor and leaving her with Olivia.

Claire felt hollow and brittle as she watched the door swing closed. The old crippling fear that had been chasing her since she lost her father awakened in her veins; everyone I love leaves. Dad, Mom, Brielle… she refused to think his name despite the way the fear was whispering it to her. She tried to use her coping method, taking three deep breathes. But as she looked around the sterile white space she couldn’t find anything green, couldn’t find anything in color at all- as though her ability to interpret colors was somehow connected to Drake. She only felt less at ease. She gave up and let her shoulders sag.

“He’s strong, you know.” Olivia said, her tone even. She was still right beside her, and Claire turned her head to face her. Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and a small, wistful smile made her lips twitch though her eyes remained sad. “Drake. He’s so strong. Stronger than me, and that’s saying something.” She exhaled quickly through her nose as her lips dropped back to a neutral position. “He’s been through just about every type of loss a man can go through.” She sighed, “But he always pulls through, always finds a way to keep going. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about him- no matter how hard he gets kicked, he always gets back up. If you can breathe you can stand, and if you can stand you can fight. Those are the Nevrakis family words, and he lives those words with more truth than most of my relatives did.” Claire listened raptly. This was as much interaction as she’d had with Olivia, but this was an entirely different person than she’d known the woman to be. She was getting a glimpse at what Liam had said about Olivia meaning well, and was learning for herself how true it was. Olivia dropped her arms and looked down at her feet as she continued. “I will always regret treating him the way that I did, Claire. He never deserved it.” She lifted her eyes back to Claire’s. “And because of how I treated him, I never deserved him. I can see that now. I can see it because I see how much love there is between the two of you. Like I said, he’s one of the strongest men I know. But he’s never been as strong as your love makes him.” She reached down and took Claire’s hand and squeezed it, taking her completely off guard. “He’s going to fight, Claire, I know he is. He’s going to fight because he won’t give up on you.”

Claire nodded as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt Olivia’s arms encircle her and allowed herself to be held as exhaustion set in. She felt weightless, like she was floating above her body, like none of this could possibly be real and any moment she’d wake screaming from a dream and his thumbs would come to brush her tears away. But at the same time she felt the crushing weight of reality pressing down on her, and realized she was in a nightmare, but that didn’t make it less real. “I won’t give up on him either, Liv,” she whispered. I won’t. Olivia led her back to the seat they’d been sitting in before, and despite the adrenaline and the fear, the anxiety and the numbness of the unknown, Claire felt her eyes slip closed as sleep dropped a heavy curtain around her.

_  _  _  _

Another two hours passed in silence and Olivia nearly slipped into sleep herself until a buzz caught her ear.  She looked down at the phone as it buzzed yet again, vibrating against the wooden veneer of the waiting room table. She glanced over at Claire, still asleep, and then back down at Claire’s phone. 27 missed calls and at least that many unanswered text messages, all from the same person, the name on the contact simply reading “Dan”. Should I? she asked herself. Could be family… she realized that she knew nothing about Claire’s life and therefore had no way of knowing who this Dan was to her. The phone buzzed again. Should I wake her? She’s not really in the best shape to chat right now… Olivia bit her lip and decided to scroll through a few of the text messages to get a feel for who it might be. Make sure it’s not another Alex…

Claire- the news here…call me, okay?

Claire, I really need you to call me.

I’m scared now, Claire. Please, please call me.

Are you okay? Please be okay…

Sounds like a brother, or a friend. The display lit up as she held the phone and a call came through from Dan. Just do it, Liv, she told herself, and pressed the button to answer. She didn’t even have the chance to say “Hello,” before the frantic voice of a young man came through the speakers, strained and half crazed. “Claire?!” 

“This is Claire’s phone, she…she can’t talk right now.”

“The fuck does that mean? Who are you? Where is she?!” the voice demanded.

“She’s right here, she’s…she’s with me. My name is Olivia Nevrakis. I’m a Duchess here in Cordonia. You can look me up, I’m not lying.” She kept her voice as calm as she could.

“Why can’t she come to the phone? What’s going on over there? I saw…Christ, I saw on the news there was an attack and…”

Olivia cut him off, needing some answers of her own before she started spilling Claire’s story. “Who are you to her? How do I know you’re not one of them? How do I know you’re not working with-“

“With Alex?” Dan cut her off. “Because I beat the shit out of that sick fuck last time he hurt her. And I’ll get on a plane to do it again if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on and where Claire is. She is my best friend in this world, she’s like family to me she…I’m all the family she’s got…” Olivia sensed desperation in his voice, genuine care and a real need to know that his friend was okay.

“She’s safe. There was an attack, but I got her out. She’s fine but…her…I assume you know about-“

“About Drake? Yeah, I do…” there was a pause. “Is he…”

“He was shot, protecting her. We’re at the hospital now, she has a few minor injuries but she’s physically alright. She’s…she’s not handling it well though, Drake I mean.” Olivia flicked her eyes over to where Claire was still asleep. “She loves him though…how could she take it any other way than…” She felt her heart break for Claire then, and an uncharacteristic want to learn more about the woman she thought she had pegged. Everyone thought they had her pegged but there’s more to her, isn’t there?

“Olivia?” Dan’s voice was quiet this time. “Can…can you please have her call me as soon as she can? As soon as she…look I know she won’t call me before she knows what’s going on with Drake…she loves him, and she loves hard.” Yes she does. “So I get it…I just…”

“You just need to hear her voice. I understand, Dan.” He was loyal and protective, she could tell, and she respected that.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Thank you for being there for her…”

Olivia swallowed down her emotion. “Of course,” she answered. “And…and thank you, too, for being there for her…she…she’s a good person and she doesn’t deserve this shit. Neither of them do…” she wiped at a stray tear that she didn’t feel forming. The door opened and the doctor that had come to give them the update on Liam was back. “Dan, I have to go, the doctor is here…” She ended the call with Dan saying that he hoped the news was good, and asked her to please call him back if Claire couldn’t.

Olivia set the phone down and stood. Dr. Morgan began addressing her, but she held up a finger. “Hold on please,” she took a step over to where Claire was curled in the chair and put her hand gently on her shoulder. “Claire,” she said her name softly but Claire jumped as though she had screamed it. She blinked her eyes open and sat up. When she saw the doctor her eyes came back to Olivia’s and she nodded, standing. Olivia slipped her arm around her, just in case, and then turned to the doctor. “Okay,” she told the woman.

Dr. Morgan cleared her throat. “Mr. Walker is out of surgery now,” she said, and Claire felt a rush of relief rumble through her with the force of a waterfall as a strangled sound came from her mouth. “He will likely need another procedure to repair the structural damage done to the shoulder joint and to the bone and muscle, but for now he’s stable and in recovery.”

For now. Another procedure. Oh, Drake…

“Can she see him?” Olivia’s voice cut through Claire’s thoughts, her arm still around her shoulders.

The doctor eyed Claire, seemingly trying to decide if she was going to hit her again, before answering. “Yes, but know that he won’t be awake for a few more hours.”

Claire felt tears stream down her face and felt her knees buckle just a bit from the relief of knowing he was alive, and right now that was all that mattered. “Bastien,” she looked up at Olivia questioningly and Olivia nodded, asking the doctor to make Bastien aware of the update. She promised that she would and then told Claire that she could follow her if she was ready. Claire put her arms around Olivia and squeezed with as much strength as she could which wasn’t much, but Olivia could feel it. “Thank you, Liv. Thank you for everything.”

She wiped at Claire’s eyes. “Don’t mention it, Claire…thank you…for loving Drake the way he deserves to be loved.” She but back tears of her own. “Now go, go see him.”

Claire nodded tearfully and followed the doctor. They stopped outside of a private patient room and the doctor knocked before entering to collect Bastien. Claire looked inside and caught a brief glimpse of Liam but couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. Bastien and the doctor appeared a second later and she locked eyes with the man as he nodded. The doctor lead them two doors down to another private room and stopped. “Again, I do need to remind you that he won’t be awake, and that you’ll need to be delicate.”

“We understand,” Bastien assured her, and she opened the door and Claire felt Bastien’s hands support her as they walked in together.  

Drake was lying in bed surrounded by monitors and I.V.s, an oxygen tube situated under his nose, his chest and shoulder heavily bandaged. His color was pale and his eyes were closed, but Claire was staring at the slow but steady pattern of the green line that depicted his heartbeat; at the subtle way his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. Her own heart beat those words over and over as she slowly stepped towards him, deep sobs of relief wracking her chest. Bastien moved one of two chairs next to the bedside and then his hands her on her arms again. He carefully set her down in the chair. She looked up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right here,” he said quietly, motioning to the second chair, still against the wall a few feet away. He walked over and took a seat, watching her close her fingers around his, watching as she brought her trembling lips to his hand and laid dozens of delicate kisses there. “I love you,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “I love you, I love you” over and over again, making up for not saying it before she left him in the ballroom. “I love you, Drake Walker.” Her tears fell onto the sheets, onto the blankets, onto Drake’s skin; her lips never leaving his hand.

_  _  _  _

Bastien checked his watch. Just after 5:30am. The sun was starting to rise as evidenced by the sliver of pinkish light that was visible around the edges of the drawn blinds. He looked across the room and sighed to himself at the sight of Claire leaning over Drake’s hospital bed, fear and concern still etched into her face, but he could tell that just seeing Drake, just knowing that he was still here, still breathing, still hers, made all the difference in the world. He knew that even though Drake wasn’t awake, that his heart could hear hers calling to it, and he knew that meant that he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew that King Liam was stable and would make a full recovery. He knew that there was a long road ahead for all of them in cleaning this all up, in repairing all the broken pieces. But for today he’d done all that he could. He quietly unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, fingers deftly working at the task he’d done every night for nearly 30 years. Sleeves up, guard down. Deep breath. Tomorrow is another day, and tonight we’ve made it through.

_  _  _  _

tagging:  @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal 

[likethetailofacomet]

Hold My Girl Part 2: One Hard Second

A/N: So, I really hate splitting things into parts and I try not to do it, but just like with Talk, this chapter needed a hard split. Also, doing this made me nauseous, FYI. 

Pairing: Drake x Claire (MC), Liam x Kiara

Warnings: Gun violence, language, character death 

Word Count: 4,188

Song: Hold My Girl, George Ezra

“Liam,” Claire kept her voice low as she let the prince lead her around the dance floor. “Liam, are you alright? I mean, with the attack earlier…how, how are you holding up?” She tried not to let concern show on her face, knowing that everyone in the room was analyzing every movement of their eyebrows, every twitch of their lips. She kept her frame sharp and focused on her footwork hoping that if she didn’t falter the night would somehow be easier for him. Safer. She looked into his eyes as he returned her from a spin and saw the burden o the crown already resting there.

“I’m…” he let out a small breath. “Claire, I’m afraid. That it’s not over, that everything is happening so quickly, that,” he broke off, spinning her again as the dance demanded, pausing for a few beats with her back to his chest. “That something might happen to someone that I love.” He said the last part into her ear, and the way that his voice wavered shot a chill down the back of her neck. Her eyes landed on Drake, standing across the room by the bar. Her heart lurched to a stop like a train on rusty tracks at the thought of anything happening to him, the man who had shown her that it was alright to love again, who had given her his whole heart. End of the Line. The hastily scrawled words across the glass of the picture frame would be forever etched in her mind, and she knew that they would haunt her until anyone associated with the seven devils- Alex especially- was caught. Just as Liam began to spin her back, she caught a glimpse of someone walking towards Drake.

_  _  _  _

“We need to talk, Walker.”

He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, eyes glued to the woman dancing with his best friend. He hadn’t heard her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floor, ears still ringing with the reverberating gun shots in his mind, reliving the moment he’d dragged Claire to the ground fearing it might have been his last chance to hold her.

“Drake,” she was standing right in front of him now, blocking his view as Liam spun Claire back into his arms out on the floor, her gown billowing around her ankles like she was dancing on a cloud, ethereal, angelic. His dark eyes met those of the woman in front of him, focused and alert. “Drake,” she said again, “We need to talk. Now.” She gripped his elbow and steered him a few feet away from the bar, behind an ornately carved stone pillar.

“Olivia, hey! What’s going- I don’t want to-“ he protested, trying to crane his neck to keep Claire in his sight. He hadn’t spoken to Olivia since that night in Lythikos, the glow from the fire’s light glinting off that hardened look in the Duchess’ eyes as she tore open his old wounds. If this was her attempt at an apology, he still wasn’t interested in hearing it.

“I don’t care, Drake, it’s not about you. It’s about Liam. It’s about her,” she said quickly, urgently. It caught his attention entirely, left his mouth hanging open.

“What about her, Liv?” he asked, heartrate quickening, eyes darting around the room looking for signs of danger. He scanned the room quickly, noting that the guards still stood by every door, and that the doors to the balconies that were normally flung open were shuttered closed to cut down on entrance points. He saw Bastien in place behind the Royal Family’s table, speaking into his earpiece, laser focus in his metallic eyes. Nothing appeared to be out of order, although Drake knew better than to make assumptions based on appearances. He turned back to Olivia. “What about her? What about Liam? What are you talking about?” The words were spilling from him in rapid fire succession.

“I’m talking about the very real threats that were made, Walker.” She emphasized his name as if to remind him that someone was gunning for him, too. “I’m talking about how that scuffle before couldn’t have been all that they were planning, and-“ Her eyes flashed and he noted an underlying tinge of sorrow to her tone. “I’m talking about giving them a little more credit. I’m talking about how that could have been a distraction, make us all feel safe, like we’d caught them.” She paused and Drake saw that flash in her eyes again, felt something close to forgiveness for her as she stood before him trying to keep safe the people he loved. “Drake. What if they meant to be caught?”

_  _  _  _

Claire felt her pulse relax as she recognized the person approaching Drake as Olivia, although she wondered what the Duchess would have to say to him now. She watched Olivia lead him behind a pillar and surmised that it was something of great importance from her body language: her hand gripping his elbow, white knuckled; her movements quick and precise. The two of them ducked behind the pillar and Claire lost sight of them, returning her focus to Liam. She could tell that her time on the floor with him was drawing to a close by the way that the song was progressing, and from the steps of the dance that she had surprisingly committed to memory over the course of the season. She had little time left to speak her mind and try to reach him. “And the people you love…Liam…” she looked at him with all the sincerity that she could muster. “Liam, do you love Kiara?”

Liam’s eyebrows came together slightly, lips turning down just a touch in a frown. His hand on hers tightened a bit. “Claire, I-“

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, so small that her chandelier earrings didn’t even sway, but Liam noticed. “Liam, look, I’m sorry, I know how this must sound, but, are…” her teeth pulled her bottom lip, bright red and plump, between them as she paused. “Are you sure about Kiara? Really sure? I just-“ Now or never, Claire. “Just, it seems strange to me how everyone is just going along like everything is fine, and…and Liam, I don’t trust her.” She brought up the few uneasy interactions that she’d had with Kiara over the season. “Liam, please, I just care about you and I…I want everyone to be safe and,” her eyes roved over to the pillar where Drake and Olivia had emerged. “And I don’t trust her.”

“Claire, I do appreciate your concerns, and,” his face softened. “And I know that Lady Kiara and the others weren’t very…accepting of you in the beginning, but…Kiara…” the look in his eyes turned wistful.“She means well, I know she does. I’ve known her and her family almost my entire life…I know her, Claire. I know that she can come off as…abrupt, or cold, even, uncaring, but…” he smiled, his eyes flickering with affection. “But you don’t know her like I do. And…” he sighed. “And to answer your question…yes…I’m…I’m falling in love with her, Claire.”

Claire thought back to the venom she’d seen in Kiara’s eyes, the disdain she’d heard in her voice. She wondered if she could have misread something, but her ability to read people was one of her greatest talents. Aside from Alex, she told herself, so maybe… But no, she was sure she was right about Kiara. She needed to find a way to make him see, all the while knowing how impossible of a task it was; Liam was right- he'd known Kiara all his life. Why would he suddenly believe the word of someone he'd only met a few weeks ago? She shook her head and asked, “What did Olivia have to say? I know she was talking to you before…” Claire knew it was abrupt, but she was running out of time. “She doesn’t trust her either, does she?”

Liam sighed again. “Olivia…” he twirled Claire beneath his raised arm. “She doesn’t trust anyone…” he said sadly.

“Liam. Kiara… she…she asked me where Drake’s cabin was. When she and I rode back from Applewood together? She asked me, and then just days later, someone had found us there. And Micah was her personal guard, and now…well, maybe all along…he’s with these Seven Devils, and…please, Liam, just…please think about what Olivia and I are saying, okay? Please, I…” he looked into her eyes and she could tell how conflicted it was making him to hear these things from her and from Olivia. “I’m afraid of something happening to the people that I love, too.” The song was ending and Claire hoped beyond hope that something she’d said to him had clicked.

Liam brought her hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Lady Claire, it has truly been an honor getting to know you, getting to call you a friend. It has been a pleasure to see you and Drake find one another. You are a spectacular woman, Claire Berkley. Thank you, for everything.” Claire nodded and curtsied, following protocol, as she allowed Liam to walk her back to the edge of the dance floor, head swimming with worry and hope.

_  _  _  _

Drake was waiting for her as Liam went off to find Lady Hana for her turn on the floor, his mind turning over with the conversation he'd just had with Olivia.

“Look, Drake,” she'd said, her voice taking on a quality he'd never heard from her, “I know I've hurt you. I've hurt you over and over again, and I do not deserve a chance at an apology.” He'd tried to interrupt her then, recognizing that different tone in her voice as sincerity. “No,” she'd held her hand up. “No, let me finish,” she looked down before meeting his eyes again, and he could have sworn he saw her swallow down some of her emotion. “I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I know that. But the least I can do is try to make sure that you get your goddamn happy ending, Walker, because you do deserve it. So I'll watch out for Claire. If anything...” she took a shuddering breath and he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. “If anything happens...I'll look out for her. I'll keep her safe for you.”

“Hey,” she whispered up at him, face tilted upwards, eyes trying to hide how scared she was, and suddenly he couldn't keep the charade up any longer; he needed to hold her and he didn't care who saw or what they thought. His throat tightened until he couldn't get a breath in or out, until he couldn't stop himself from reaching for her face, from drawing her into his arms and holding her against his chest. He felt her own chest heave against him with a surprised breath, noted the way his biceps curved around the contour of her back, felt his fingertips absorb the feel of her skin, brushing them along her thin arms.

“Berkley,” he exhaled her name into her soft hair before he released his hold on her, stepping back to drink her in with his eyes before gripping her hand and pulling her behind the pillar Olivia had dragged him behind. He pressed her against the cool stone and kissed her with reckless abandon, his mouth devouring hers, his hips lurching forward to meet hers. He felt her sigh into the kiss before he ended it, before it would be impossible to do so. He rested his forehead against hers for a beat as they both returned to breathing air from their own lungs.

“Claire,” he finally said her name as the song playing on the other side of the pillar came to a close. Only two more suitors for Liam to dance with, only two more songs to get through before she'd be taken off with the other ladies to be announced for the official engagement ceremony. Drake felt his stomach flip and clench at the thought of them being separated even if it was just for a bit, even if she would have Olivia looking out for her. “Claire, listen, stick with Olivia, okay? When they take all the suitors for the announcement,” he was running the fingers of his left hand down the side of her face, his eyes shining with a desire to do whatever was necessary to keep her safe. “When they take you all out into the hall, promise me that you'll stick with Liv, okay? She...” he looked down at his shoes and when he looked back up he felt a tear slipping past his bottom eyelid and swallowed the rest of them. “She promised me she'd keep you safe if,” he cleared his throat but couldn't finish, didn't need to.

Claire nodded and reached up for his hand, still touching her face. Her fingers curled around his wrist and she felt the way his pulse was racing. As she brushed the pads of her fingers against his skin he let out a breath and the beat beneath her fingers slowed a bit to a more normal pace. “And you promise me that you'll stay safe, too, okay Drake? Promise me.”

He felt a cold wave crash through the cavity of his chest, icy water surrounding his heart and slipping in and over his ribs, chilling the blood in his veins. He didn't let on to it as he promised her whatever she wanted him to. Time was passing with exponential speed, and they were vaguely aware of Liam and Kiara twirling out on the floor behind them. As the song passed the half way mark, Drake took Claire in his arms loosely and swayed back and forth with her, forgetting the rigid rules of the waltz and letting her rest her head against him. “Some day, Berkley, someday we'll be able to dance, just like this, as close as want, wherever we want, and I'll be able to hold you whenever I want, and no one will be able to stop us.” “Some day,” she said. “Some day soon.” Her voice was dreamy and he could hear how hopeful she was, could feel how hopeful she made him. When the music came to a close he steadied their movements and stood in the stillness, in the dark behind the pillar with the only woman for him, unwilling to let her go. She seemed just as unwilling to leave, and they stayed there until Bertrand's voice came from the podium, announcing that the suitors should assemble for the engagement ceremony.

Drake sighed and patted her shoulder as she clutched him tighter. “That's you, beautiful,” he said softly. “It's going to be alright, baby, just remember what I said, okay? Stick with Olivia. Stay safe, and I'll see you in a few minutes. After the engagement, it's just a quick ceremony for the coronation and then you and I are home-free,” he tucked her hair back in place and kissed her forehead. “I'll be waiting, okay? I love you, Claire.” he leaned down and kissed her sweetly, a quick peck.

“I love you, Drake. I'll see you soon,” she said it with as much conviction as she could, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. “I love you,” she said again as she slipped away, around the pillar, and towards the tall red haired woman that had promised to look out for her.

_  _  _  _  

Penelope and Hana had been announced first, and had made their entrances though the ornate double doors and into the ballroom to the applause of the entire court, their gowns sparkling beneath the lights of the chandelier. They were received by the King and Queen in the center of the room, before taking the final few steps across the floor to where Liam stood. The Prince greeted each Lady with a kiss on the hand and a smile, and they stepped off to his side. Drake tried to keep his breaths even as he stood with Maxwell and Bertrand, watching the ridiculous parade of suitors, eyes flicking from Liam to Bastien to the door that he knew Claire would come through. Olivia came next and he shuffled from foot to foot hoping that Claire would follow. Olivia kept her head high as she strode out to meet Constantine and Regina, her sharp eyes locked on Liam as she presented her hand for him to kiss. Drake saw her lean in to whisper something to the prince before she took her place next to Hana and Penelope. Okay, Berkley, you're up, he thought, staring at the door, waiting for it to open. His eyes swept the room once more, looking for any sign of Alex or anyone that didn't belong before she would be on display, alone and vulnerable in the center of the room.

As the doors opened, a distant BOOM rumbled through the estate, shaking the floor and causing a collective gasp and shout to fill the room. Drake's palms were sweating and his skin crawled as his balance was challenged by the explosion. His hands flew to his hair, and his eyes widened as the door flew open and he saw her. Her name fell from his lips as he registered the look of fear on her face, the arms of the man that held her in front of him, the knife that was pressed to her throat. He felt the world shrink, his vision honing in on the point of Alex's knife; on the pinprick of crimson against the soft porcelain skin of her throat. He felt reality slip away as the blade bit deeper and the pinprick turned to a slow stream running down to stain the lace neckline of her gown. She let out a strangled, painful sob that pierced deep into his chest stopping his heart short. It stayed stagnant, missing a few beats as Alex leaned in to whisper something to her, pressing the blade harder into her flesh, wrenching that sound from her again, pulling pain from her again. All at once his heart came back, restarted with the sole purpose of crossing the room and getting to her, getting her away from Alex. Sound and color came rushing back to him as the room came back into view. He was vaguely aware of Bastien's presence behind him, of Liam a few steps ahead of him and to the left. He started moving in the same direction as Liam and noticed Kiara, being held a few feet from Claire by a dark haired man whose glasses magnified the malicious look in his eyes. Drake knew he should stop Liam, that he shouldn't be heading towards danger, but his one and only thought was on Claire. He forced his legs to turn over faster, felt the floor hard beneath the soles of his shoes. That's when the second BOOM tore through the room, louder and closer, and with not a half a second to spare, Drake crossed the center of the ballroom as the chandelier came crashing down. He registered Constantine shoving the Queen to safety, but didn't see the King again, the sound of crystal shattering, the dust of the roof collapsing as the chandelier came down swallowing the man completely.

He coughed and gasped as the dust settled a bit, enough for his eyes to find Liam, who'd reached Kiara and was engaging the man who held her captive. “Anton Severus, let her go, your quarrel is with me,” he was pleading, reaching for Kiara. Suddenly, the frightened look in the woman's eyes hardened, and she reached up to the knife at her throat, curling her fingers around it and taking it from her captor.

“Actually, my prince, your quarrel is with me,” and with that, she plunged the knife to the hilt in Liam's side, his blue eyes widening with hurt and confusion. Drake felt helpless as his friend fell to the ground, and was only vaguely aware of Olivia moving behind the man, Anton, before he too fell to the floor. He saw a silver flash and knew she must have used one of her concealed daggers. His heart pounded with a need to know if Liam was alright, but he saw Bastien already by his side and knew there was nothing more he could do.

Bodies blurred across his vision as people fled the ballroom screaming, as others entered it, guns drawn. And as though time were stopping to let him catch up, he locked eyes with Claire again, and in an instant he was back in motion, lungs burning with how his breathing was wracking his chest as he made his way towards her, his mind on overdrive with what he would do to Alex when he got to them. He reached out with his left hand and with viper precision closed his fingers around Alex's wrist, pulling the blade down and away from Claire's throat as Alex grunted angrily. Though he wasn't a small man, Drake made quick work of throwing him to the ground, his back slamming hard against the marble, surely breaking a rib or two. In nothing flat he was on top of him, still grasping the wrist that held the knife while Alex fought to use it on him. In a flash Drake twisted Alex's arm up and behind his back, wrenching it until he felt every last tendon and muscle in the shoulder tear, until Alex involuntarily dropped the knife, screaming in agony. Drake took the blade and used it against the man it belonged to, feeling sick as he watched the life drain from Alex's cold eyes, but regretting nothing, knowing that he had done what he had to do. Nauseous and dizzy, he stood, eyes blinking until they found her, a few feet away. “Claire,” he gasped her name and took a step, arms already spread wide to gather her up when her face turned tissue paper white and she screamed his name with all the fear he'd heard from her in the middle of the night, when her nightmares were playing visions in her mind. “DRAKE! DRAKE NO!”

A loud bang deafened him as prickling heat spread through his shoulder blade and he grunted out a breath, staggering forward. He blinked and looked up at her questioningly, seeing the panic in her eyes and the trembling of her body as another bang echoed in the room and her voice cried out “NO!” again as he felt himself fall. A white blur passed his eyes and he could feel her next to him, though with every second his vision faded and the fire in the back of his shoulder intensified. Another bang resounded behind them and another body slumped to the ground, his attacker, but he tried to focus his eyes on Claire as she knelt beside him cradling him in her lap. “Cl-Claire,” he choked her name, a growing pressure spreading through his chest and body, and he tried to reach for her but found his arms unable to move. “Cl-Claire, you...you have to...”

“Drake,” tears were pouring from her eyes, her mouth contorted in agony as she pressed her hands to the two wounds on his back, his head laying sideways on her lap, his blood soaking into the fabric of her dress. “Drake, stay with me!” she was begging him, her whole body shaking. “Stay with me, you promised!” she sobbed.

“I-” he grunted, “I did...but you have to...”

“I'm not leaving you!” she protested, her voice barely audible as she pressed her lips to his face. “I won't leave you...”

“You...have...to,” he rasped, his chest heaving with the strain of speaking. Suddenly Olivia was there, her strong hands closing around Claire's arms and lifting the woman off of the floor.

“Hey! No! No! Liv!” she was flailing against Olivia's grasp, but the Duchess was stronger.

“Berkley...go...with Liv...you pr-promised,” he trained his eyes on her as she went limp in Olivia's arms.

“Come on, Claire, we have to go. The medics are coming and we can't be in the way. Come on...we'll meet them at the hospital but we have to get out of here.” As if to drive her point another gunshot went off somewhere in the room, and Olivia used the momentary distraction to drag Claire away from Drake, even as she sobbed and screamed.

Drake watched her recede into the hall with Olivia until his vision was too fuzzy and he felt his eyes slipping shut. A cold sheet fell over him, almost pleasantly numbing the heat of the two gunshots he took in the back, and he struggled against oblivion, mind repeating one thought over and over and over: this can't be it. I need more time. More time to hold her. It was the last thought he could recall.

_  _  _  _

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[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six 2/17/19- Interlude 17: Around the World

Tragedy Strikes at Cordonian Royal Engagement Ball: Rebel Faction Known as The Seven Devils Attacks Court at Ramsford Estate Leaving Four Dead and Multiple Wounded.

Those were the headlines around the world as the sun came up on the morning after the ball. News outlets of every kind reported on the death of King Constantine Rhys, on the attempted assassination of Prince Liam. Some channels had coverage of the rebels- the ones that remained, as recently revealed daughter of the late King, Erika Manderly; former founding member of The Sons of Earth, and one of Cordonia's most wanted men, Eamon Krass; and the American, whose true role in all of this was still a mystery to most, Alex Miltner had all been killed in the attack. Anton Severus, Lady Kiara of Castelsarreillan, and former member of thr King's Guard, Micah Sarks (real name: Krass- son of Eamon Krass) had been apprehended, though their condition was being reported as “unknown”. The seventh member of the rebel faction, Cordonian National Times reporter Will Odgen had remained in custody the entire time, and was reportedly cooperating with the investiagtion.

There were interviews with some of the attendees of the ball that had escaped safely. “It was the most terrifying night of my life,” one of the suitors, Lady Penelope of Portavira was quoted. Lady Hana Lee of Shanghai and Lord Maxwell Beaumont were both among those interviewed. They expressed worry for their friends and their king- worry for the state of things in their country. Some details were shared by the King's Guard and Cordonian law enforcement, but they weren't sharing anything specific.

People all over the world were waking up to this news. Sipping a cup of coffee, maybe holding a bit tighter to their loved ones before heading off to work like always because it didn't really concern them. Others were coming home to the news from a long day at the office, or catching it as it interrupted the baseball game they were watching at the bar. They might talk about it for a moment, but then the Mets were back, still losing to the Phillies, and a groan would go through the bar at the game as the forieng news was forgotten.

But in the private wing of the hospital, a prince was waking up a King; was learning of his father's death and his step-mother's injuries; had remembered being betrayed by the woman he thought that he loved; had been told that in the room next door, his best friend still had not woken up. And in that room, Claire still clutched Drake's fingers in hers, the fingers of her other hand absently stroking his forearm, careful not to disturb the tubes for the I.V. She'd not taken her eyes off of him since she set foot in the room, and she didn't plan to until he opened his. Behind her, Bastien tried not to question every decision he'd made, and every detail he'd authorized and every step he'd taken and in what order. To these people, the news mattered.

In a window seat in Paris, a woman sat looking out over the city, tears slowly slipping down her cheeks as she listened to the reports. She hadn't seen him in almost twenty years, but every time there was news from Cordonia, she listened for his name. Still alive, she thought, as a feather-light flutter of hope flickered in her heart and a parakeet chirped at her from its cage. In a small New York City apartment, a bartender sat staring at his phone, waiting for it to blink with his best friend's name. Waiting to see whether he'd be hearing her voice, or speaking with Olivia again. How could his be happening? He wanted to ask himself. But Daniel wasn't naive. Bad things happened to good people sometimes. He just thought that by now Claire had had enough of that. Across the city, a single mother pressed the redial button for the tenth time as she bounced her son on her knee. The man's phone rang and rang and rang but his voice never answered. She took a deep, shuddering breath before dialing the only other number that mattered to her in Cordonia- her brother's. She hadn't spoken to him since the morning that she left, and it seemed that that wasn't changing any time soon. It rang and rang and rang before a pre-set automated answering machine picked up. She set her phone down and cradled her son to her chest so he wouldn't see his mama cry. In a small bar in Arizona, a young girl with long blonde hair plucked at her guitar as she got ready to take the stage. Her eye was drawn to the small screen behind the bar, and the ticker that was running below the news story. “American suitor Claire Berkley listed among those injured in the attack at Ramsford, Cordonia”. Brielle felt the room spin as she read her sister's name. To these people, the news mattered also.  

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[likethetailofacomet]

Hold My Girl, Part 1

A/N: So, I really hate splitting things into parts and I try not to do it, but just like with Talk, this chapter needs a hard split. I’ll try not to keep part 2 from you for too long! 

Pairing: Drake x Claire (MC) 

Warnings: Gun violence, language 

Word Count: 3,227

Music: Hold My Girl, George Ezra (thanks to @ooo-barff-ooo for this suggestion for Drake and Claire from months ago that I have finally worked into this crazy train)

Drake kept his arm looped through hers, his eyes scanning the room attentively as he walked her inside. Bastien and several other high ranking members of the King's Guard were stationed at every door, and though he wasn't supposed to notice, Drake spotted a few undercover guards throughout the room. Several nobles were starting to file in, chattering to one another, though not quite as lively as they might be under different circumstances. A good number of the nobility that hadn't been partaking in the social season were simply not coming this evening, due to the risk being so high; too high, even, to see their prince choose his bride...or see him become crowned as King, though that part was still undisclosed. He noted the number of serving staff that milled around- at how few of them there were. Bastien was taking no chances, not after Applewood. The Seven Devils had all but promised an attack this evening, so there was no such thing as too tight when it came to security. Drake felt Claire's hand gripping his arm, her fingers curling in the crease of his jacket sleeve. He looked down at her and tried to offer her a smile. She was so damn beautiful it made him ache, and he wished for the millionth time that they were far away, that he'd stayed in New York instead of coming back to Cordonia, giving her something to follow. She smiled back up at him. He led her to their table in the dining room and pulled out a seat for her as she gracefully sat down, her gown billowing around her as she did. He took the seat next to her and scanned the place cards to see who would be joining them. He felt his nostrils flare and his lip pull up in a snarl as he read the card directly to his right: Bertrand Beaumont.

Claire noticed his sudden reaction. Their hands were clasped in her lap, and she felt him inadvertently tighten his grip. “What's wrong?” She asked quietly, turning to speak into his ear. Her eyes drifted past his shoulder, around the room to where some of the other suitors and nobles were seated. She saw Olivia speaking to some noblemen, her expression neutral but her eyes alert and fiery and her posture poised and ready to spring. She saw Kiara laughing with Penelope, the sound carrying across the room quite well through the thicker than normal still in the air.

“Bertrand,” he scowled, gesturing to the place card with his cast. Claire's eyes followed and fell on the curling script spelling out the older Beaumont's name before they went wide with shock. Drake let a humorless laugh fall from his mouth. “He's gonna have some talking to do.”

As if on cue, the Beaumont brothers walked into the room and made their way to the table. Maxwell wore his usual black suit and typical charismatic smile, despite the circumstances. Claire admired that about him- no matter what, he always found the strength to put forth his best foot so no one would know what was happening behind the scenes. Bertrand though, looked every bit of the stress he was likely under. He was paler than she'd last seen him, with smudgy bags beneath his eyes, and his shoulders hung a little more loosely than his normal proud posture. Claire wondered if there was something else wearing on him besides the threats. Before she could get too deep in her thinking, she felt Drake take his hand from her lap and abruptly rise as Bertrand came to stand behind his assigned seat.

“Ah, Drake, Claire, nice to see you-” on the surface his voice was balanced, practiced, but Claire caught another level of it, beneath the diplomatic veneer, and it was cracked and shaking.

“Nice to see us? Nice to see Claire?” Drake cut him off and Claire's eyes shot up to his face- anger-before flicking over to Bertrand's-surprise. “Where the fuck have you been this whole time, Bertrand?”

Maxwell was shifting from foot to foot. “Come on, Drake, calm down. Like I told you, Bertrand was checking on foreign investments,” Drake whirled to face the younger Beaumont, who frowned. “I...I told you, House Beaumont was in some trouble, so Bertrand had to go-”

“Check on things, yeah, Max, that's what you said,” Drake reserved his anger for the older Beaumont brother, but he made it clear with a look that Maxwell shouldn't interrupt again. He turned slowly back to Bertrand, eyes burning and dark, breaths coming through his nose, and one eyebrow arched high. “You want to explain yourself? Explain why you left Claire to deal with all this shit? Why you left your house's representative to wade through the fucking mud?” He cocked his head to the side. “ What investments were you checking on, Bertrand? What exactly was worth not being here for the social season?” Drake's good hand was slowly curling into a fist and it caught Claire's eye. Without thinking, she laced her fingers through his. When their palms pressed together she felt him release some of the tension in his shoulders as he let out a breath closed his fingers around hers.

Bertrand was standing stock still, one hand on the back of his chair. He glanced down at where Claire and Drake's hands were twined, grateful that Claire seemed to be able to help him control himself- he wasn't a fool, he knew that Drake had every right to want to hit him; more than even Drake himself knew, and he knew that one good punch from a man like Drake would be more than enough. “I had...obligations...to handle...to...” he sighed, then straightened up and set his features in a serious expression. “To check on. Investments, for the future of House Beaumont.” He looked from Drake to Claire, to her bright blue eyes and the way that they seemed to be equally full of sympathy and hurt. “Lady Claire, I...I am truly sorry that I was not here to help you through any of this...I hope, in time, you can come to... to understand.”

Drake scoffed. “Understand,” he shook his head and looked down at the ground, an incredulous smirk on his face. He looked back up at the man beside him, this time the anger fading and giving way to the frightened look of a man who knew how close he was to losing it all. “Understand? Bertrand...she was attacked. She could have...” he swallowed and squeezed her hand, not daring to look at her as he spoke the words, “She could have been killed. And you want her to understand...”

“Look, guys-”

“Max, stay out of it,” Drake growled, making it clear that would be his last warning. Maxwell dropped his hands.

“Drake,” Claire tugged on his hand and brought her other hand to clasp around his wrist. He looked down at her and she rubbed her thumb against his skin, under his shirt sleeve, beneath his cufflinks . She made eye contact with him, and he was instantly subdued by the cool depths of her blue eyes, by the gentle curve of her lips, her mouth opened just slightly as a small breath escaped. She looked over at Bertrand. “Bertrand, I understand that you have obligations...investments, things that need checking on. I do. I understand that. What I hope that I can understand, someday, is why those things were still more important that what was going on here. Drake's not wrong, Bertrand. It was bad. And you left us all to deal with it. And we did, barely.” She sighed and Drake cringed. “But Bertrand?” The man nodded, indicating that she should go on. “It would have been nice to feel like you were on my side. I didn't know who I could trust...I...I still don't, really. It just...it would have been nice.”

Drake watched her as she spoke and realized that even though she was sad and hurt and angry that Bertrand hadn't been around, she didn't need him to fight her battles or speak her words. He had his own feelings about what Bertrand had done, but Claire was more than capable of speaking for herself. He brought her hand to his lips and left a gentle kiss there, softening his gaze. This woman is so strong, he thought, so amazing.

Bertrand had mumbled an apology and Drake nodded at him, and the four of them sat down to dinner, the rest of the room miraculously not having noticed their brief disturbance. Just before King Constantine- he'd only have that title for another hour or so- was about to make an announcement, his glossy eyes looking down on all of them from the podium at the font of the hall, the loud, unmistakable sound of gunshots echoing from a distance sent vibrations through their bones. Drake acted immediately. He wrapped both arms around Claire and tugged her to the floor, pulling her to him as his heart raced. He slid beneath the table, taking her with him, adrenaline coursing through his blood. Around the room others had done the same, dropping to the ground, some of them getting under the tables. Some shouts and screams could be heard above the radios of the Kings Guard members as their shoes slapped the ground and they ran towards the sound of the shots. “I've got you, Claire, you're okay,” he whispered into her ear as she shook against him and their hearts thundered uncomfortably in their chests. Drake peeked out from behind the table cloth and craned his neck around to see Liam and Bastien crouched behind the table at the front of the room. He let out a sigh of relief. Long moments seemed to stretch on in silence until more shots rang out and Claire gasped against Drake's chest. “I've got you, baby, it’s okay, we're okay.” He muttered, hoping that they would be. I need more time with her, this can't be it. It can't be. I need more time to hold her, but not like this. The shots stopped and there were a few shouts and then silence again, the room heavy with it, no one daring to breathe.

Finally, the radios of the Kings Guard members that stayed behind started crackling and Drake strained his ears to hear what was being reported. “3 suspects apprehended, 1 shot, 2 in custody- confirmed Erika Manderly, Will Ogden, and Micah Krass.- Derrins is hit but it's not serious- We got them- plans, confirmed affiliation with the devils.” Drake felt Claire lean into him heavily as he allowed himself to breathe again. He cradled her head to his chest, his fingers gently working against the base of her neck. They had all stayed put until they were given the all clear by Bastien. Before he let her go, Drake tightened his grasp on her. “Wait,” he whispered. She placed her hand flat against his chest and felt the beating of his heart as she looked up into his eyes. “Just…” he took his good hand and used it to right the clip in her hair that had come askew, fingers trailing down her face as he finished. “Just give me a minute to hold you,” his voice cracked and Claire could feel his fear in the trembling of his fingers.

She twisted in his arms, pressed her forehead to his, and clutched his shirt lapels, nodding slowly. Her lips found his and she didn't hold back, greedily kissing him, needing it and taking it. He pressed her to him tightly, the thin material of her dress bunched beneath his strong hands as he deepened the kiss. He felt the room spin at double speed as their lips parted, but it was from the rush of kissing her, of feeling her and holding her, and not from the fear. They came out from the cover of the table, Drake pulling her up to her feet as she brushed off her dress and the shoulders of his jacket. Her fingers lingered on his shoulder for just a second longer before her lips twitched upwards in a brave smile. Amazing, he thought again.

There were a few minutes of shuffling and mumbled conversations as everyone returned to their seats and the guards returned to their posts, minus the few that had gone to help subdue the suspects and take them for questioning. Constantine stepped up to the podium once more and addressed the crowd, silencing them as he spoke. He made a comment about the disturbance, praising the Kings Guard for their quick handling of the situation and the actions that they took to keep everyone safe. He paused and there was a brief smattering of applause. Drake caught Bastien’s eye and an extra thank you passed between them. Thank you for keeping Liam safe, for keeping Claire safe. Bastien nodded by dropping his chin, but Drake knew that his silent thanks were received. When the applause died down, Constantine flicked his clouded blue eyes over to Liam before returning his gaze to his audience to make his announcement- that tonight, he’d be stepping down as their King. A hushed murmur went through the lords and ladies, the diplomats and even the service staff. “Tonight, immediately after he chooses his bride, my son, your Prince, will become your King.”

Liam stood from where he was seated and stiffly crossed the stage to shake his father’s hand. No one could tell that he was furious to be standing so close to the man he’d be taking the reins from. No one but the ones who knew him best. Claire looked around the room and saw knowing in the eyes of Bastien and Drake, of Olivia. Hana and Penelope were applauding with congratulatory expressions, Kiara was smiling smugly. Claire felt the urge to wipe the smug look from the dark haired woman’s face, and an uneasy feeling swam in her stomach as she looked back up at Liam and realized that his eyes were locked on Kiara. Constantine announced that the dinner portion of the evening had concluded, and that they would be moving to the ballroom for the ceremonial portion of the night; Liam would dance with each other suitors, then they would be announced formally and he would make his choice. Following another dance with his chosen lady, there would be a coronation, and by the end of the night, Liam would be a King, engaged to his future Queen.

Claire watched as everyone made their way to the ornate double doors, all carved in gold, and into the ball room. She noted how calmly everyone was moving despite what had just transpired, and it struck her, finally, how unsafe Cordonia truly had become if that wasn’t enough to rattle them. She looked up at Drake and recalled the night in Lythikos, when he gestured out past the grounds to the towns and cities of Cordonia, telling her how disgruntled and unhappy many of the people were with the nobility. She felt a chill go through her as they made their way to the ballroom, the thought hitting her that most of the nobility seemed not to know or, worse, care, that their people were unhappy. Their citizens had become caged, frightened, threatened animals, and that was something dangerous.

Liam began the dances with Olivia, and Claire could see the tall woman speaking quickly and deliberately to him as they waltzed, Liam’s hand platonically holding hers, fingers clasped loosely. Claire didn’t know how, but she knew that Olivia was cautioning Liam, knew that the Duchess was wary of the other suitors and of all of the things that simply couldn’t have been coincidences. Claire hoped that Olivia could reach him, but she wasn’t sure, and made a note to use her own dance with him to do the same. As the pair whirled around for the first spin, the floor opened to the rest of the ballroom, and Claire felt a hand on her back. “Can I have this dance, Berkley?” His voice was low and thick and Claire could hear want and worry and love and lust all mixed together as he asked her to dance for the first time.

She turned to face him, his hand still on her back, as she laced her fingers with his bandaged hand. “There’s no one else I want to dance with but you, Drake,” she replied. “No one.” She smiled softly up at him, feeling the truth in her words. There was an intimacy in dancing that they hadn’t shared yet, and though neither of them would say it, they both thought it- we need this, just in case.

“You just keep finding ways to make me happier, don’t you?” he squeezed her fingers and led her onto the floor, circling his arms around her and taking her hand. As she took position, he was flooded with emotion. Dancing. This woman brought me from hiding to dancing. He held her closer than he ever had in the public eye- even though the photos were out, they weren’t trying to bring any more scrutiny to Liam’s social season, or to this night by being open with their love, their affection. But dancing gave him the excuse he needed to hold her, to feel her warm skin through the fabric of his shirt, to watch her body react to his, to guide her and twirl her as the world fell away and all he could see were her eyes. “Claire,” he said her name softly as he spun her back into his arms, “You have changed every aspect of my life. I know we haven’t had much time together,” not nearly enough, but could it ever be enough? “But the time we’ve had, even with everything that’s been going on, Claire, I’ve never seen my future more clearly than when I’m with you. I can’t wait to have a future with you. I can’t wait for warm fires on cold Wednesday nights.”

“And lazy Sunday mornings,” she added dreamily. “Drake, you have changed my life, too. All I want is for us to be able to share our new lives together. That’s it, that’s all I want,” he twirled her again and as she came back into his embrace she said, “just me and you.”

“Just me and you, Berkley…I like the sound of that.” He imagined holding her without time limits, without looking over their shoulders, without their love putting them in danger. The dance came to an end and so did their moment as Liam approached them and asked Claire for the next dance, much to Kiara’s dismay- Claire noted the way the woman’s eyes narrowed as Drake passed her hand to Liam’s. She turned away from her and sent a tiny kiss through the air in Drake’s direction as she let Liam lead her back onto the floor. “Just me and my girl,” he muttered softly to himself, watching his girl dance with his best friend.

Outside the night was quiet and dark with the absence of stars and Drake stood by the bar looking out the window, waiting for Claire to return to him. He didn’t notice the person approaching him until they were standing next to him.  “We need to talk, Walker.”

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[likethetailofacomet]

Sunday Six: 2/10/19- Interlude 16: Cordonia

warnings: violence, character death 

Alex stood beside Anton in the darkness waiting for Eamon's signal. He was still in mild disbelief that this whole plan was working; that the group of nobles inside the Ramsford Estate were so gullible that they truly believed that Micah's distraction was the extent of what the Seven Devils had planned. He still had doubts that he'd so easily be able to bait Drake, that he'd so easily be able to finally have Claire to himself again. He was still in mild disbelief that this Lady Kiara could be trusted to carry out the most integral part of the plan. “What's in it for her, though?” He'd asked Anton. “Why would she just throw away her chance at becoming Queen? Why not just marry the Prince?”

Anton had explained that Kiara's family had been feeling slighted by the crown for decades. He told him about King Constantine's repeated empty promises to sponsor the Castelsarreillan Arts Program, the repeated empty promises to pass pieces of legislature that Kiara's parents had fought for on behalf of their people. “So, you see, Kiara is a black swan, a spider in disguise. She'll gain his trust, his love, and he won't see her coming. And she's not throwing away her chance at being Queen. If she lives, she'll rule by my side as my Queen. We can trust her. She is still highly motivated.” He adjusted his glasses habitually. “I know how to keep my people motivated. Kiara wants power, you want your girl, Erika, Micah and Eamon want revenge, Will wants to print the truth...Everyone wants something. And I know what everyone wants. Trust me, Alex, the plan will work. By the end of the night everyone will have their prize. The Walkers and Rhyses will be dead, Claire will be yours and the Crown will be mine.

Eamon's signal caught their eyes from the tiny rectangular basement window. Three short flashes of light from one of the guards' torches. Eamon had blown the grate from the window, freed Micah, and the two of them had dispatched the two guards in the room before taking care of any others in the hallway. They were to leave Erika and Will behind so they wouldn't get in their way. Alex and Anton made their way to a side entrance that the Krass men opened from the inside. The timing had been perfect, and the two men entered the Great Hall just as the third of the suitors had been announced. Eamon silently took out the few guards while Alex slid up behind Claire, clamping a hand over her mouth and holding his knife to her throat. “Don't struggle, sweetie,” he whispered in her ear as she wriggled in his grasp. “Feel that?” He gritted his teeth and hissed as he pressed the point of the knife into her throat. “That goes right through your jugular if you don't do exactly what I say, got it, sweetie?” Claire whimpered and nodded, tears spilling from her eyes as Anton sidled up behind Kiara, placed a kiss to the back of her neck, and assumed the same position that Alex had taken with Claire. The four of them moved into the ballroom as Eamon blew the final charge to bring down the chandelier. Constantine Rhys. Check.

In the fray Alex caught sight of that filthy stable hand, Drake, and felt a sneer pulling ta his face. “Here he comes, your fucking knight in shining armor. You know he's going to die, right Sweetie? He's going to die for you and you're going to watch.” He pressed the knife deeper into her skin and she cried out- from pain or fear he didn't know nor did he care; it pleased him just the same. On the far side of the room he saw the man that he knew to be Bastien apprehending Micah. Knew that jackass would get himself caught, he thought, before looking to his side and watching Kiara bury her blade between the Prince's ribs. Liam Rhys. Check. Anton had slumped on the ground in a growing pool of blood, but Alex didn't care. Just here for my own revenge anyway, he thought, returning his eyes forward.

He had just enough time to curse himself for taking his eyes off of Drake before the man's hand had clamped around Alex's wrist, wrenching the blade away from Claire's throat, freeing her. “No! Fuck!” he heard himself gasp- he'd doubted Micah. He'd doubted Kiara and Erika. He couldn't believe that he was the one who would fail. His mind went blank as Drake ripped his arm behind his body at an angle that destroyed his shoulder, feeling every tendon pop and tear. He was forced to drop his knife. He could feel white hot hate rolling off of the man on top of him, and an animalistic instinct to protect Claire. Love. He didn't understand it but he knew that that's what it was. This idiot loves her and he's going to die for it. Just like me. He saw Eamon lining up his shot behind Drake as Drake took Alex's own knife and used it to slit his throat, finishing it. End of the line.

As the life drained out of him, Alex felt something like peace come over him. He knew, deep down, that he would never get through his revenge on Claire Scot-free; knew he'd end up in prison or dead, and from experience he was glad that this was the route things had taken. Drake stood, leaving Alex to die behind him as he made his way closer to Claire. With his last breath on his lips, Alex saw Eamon fire, heard Claire scream. He closed his eyes as another bullet lodged in Drake's back, as Bastien emptied one into Eamon's skull. Alex's lips curled upwards as Claire fell to the ground. Drake Walker. Check. Alex Miltner left the world with a sick smile on his face and the sounds of screaming in his ears.  

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @drakewalkerisreal 

[likethetailofacomet]

Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking

Author’s Note: Seriously winding things down for Learning to Love Again. which means ramping things up. I see about 3 more chapters coming after this one, possibly 4 because you know me, I’m wordy. This one picks up right after the box incident. The title comes from a Snow Patrol Song of the same name which set the tone for this chapter. 

Warning: NS*W ;) 

Pairing: Drake x Claire 

Word Count: 2,471 (about 1,000 of them smutty)

Bastien paced in his study. After getting Drake and Claire safely back to the palace, meeting with Liam and the King, debriefing his team and doing his final rounds, he'd gone through his private nightly ritual; rolling up his sleeves and letting the stress of the day roll away. Some of it, anyway. Today had been one of the more stressful days he'd had lately, the box at Drake's cabin, the fact that someone had broken into his home... He strode over to his desk and pulled the bottle of bourbon out from the bottom drawer, pouring himself another glass. He checked his watch again- past midnight. Blowing out a breath he brought the glass to his lips and downed a third of his pour in one go. Setting the glass down on the desk with more force than he meant to, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Where is that kid? Should have been back an hour ago. Last time I give him the day off if he's going to take advantage of it. He dialed Micah's number and frowned as it went directly to voicemail. His phone was off – a setting that a member of the King's Guard did not have the luxury of, even on their days off. Are you fucking kidding? Bastien fumed, dialing the number again. Voicemail, again. “Micah Sarks, its Bastien. You better have a good fucking excuse.” He hung up abruptly, his words full of venom. He hadn't ever had to raise his voice or even reprimand or correct Micah before. This behavior was completely out of character for the kid, and it didn't sit well with him.

He set the phone down and picked his glass up, walking around the desk to sit at his computer. He took another big drink, downing the second third, the muscles in his throat working to swallow the liquid as it burned slightly on the way down. Setting the glass back on the coaster to his right with appropriate force this time, he opened his laptop and pulled up the GPS program that he used to track all of the vehicles utilized by the Guard. He entered Micah's license plate number and waited as the program tracked the location of his vehicle. He rested his elbows on the surface in front of the computer, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin between his thumbs and fists. The dialogue box popped up and he read the location three times, not wanting to believe it. He double checked the coordinates but he didn't need to- over 20 years of service in the King's Guard had stamped certain things to his brain in permanent ink, approximate latitudes and longitudes being one of those things. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at full attention. The GPS was showing the location of Micah's tracking device to be in the center of Lake Mythra, 160 kilometers away. He pushed the chair back from his desk and left his study, forgetting the last third of his bourbon.

Drake held her loosely, eyes scanning every inch of the bewitching woman in his bed as she floated in a sleep so delicate, he was afraid that if he closed his eyes it might wake her. He suspected that she might be plagued by nightmares again after everything that had happened that day, and wanted her to get as much restful sleep as she could before they made it impossible. Her hair still damp from the shower and what they’d done after, she lay with her back against his bare chest, her head on his pillow. He watched her eyelids flutter, watched as her lungs filled with air and slowly let it out. The ticking clock that had started in his brain when they found the box on his front step was still there; ticking seconds away or counting them up he wasn’t sure, but he silenced it forcibly and let his mind wander back over the last hour and the body in the bed with him.

Their slow, lingering kisses in the shower had turned heated quickly; his lips and hands grew hungry to taste her, her sweet sighs turning to needy moans, and both of them filled with a sudden and undeniable urge for one another, knowing but not saying that they weren’t promised tomorrow. They’d fumbled out of the shower, his left arm wrapped around her back, fingers biting into her soft flesh, keeping her steady as her lips moved in unison with his. Her hands grabbed at the towel dangling from the hook behind the door, and he pulled himself from her as she dried them off hastily, taking care not to jostle or dampen his cast. When they were sufficiently dry he yanked the cotton towel from her hands, discarding it on the floor and once again his hands and lips and tongue were on her, her hips and chest and abdomen rolling against his body. Their breathing turned to gasps into one another’s open mouths as he walked her out of the bathroom and towards the bed. Drake’s hand curled around the back of her neck at the base of her head as Claire placed both hands on his shoulders, using them to pull herself up with a little jump. She wrapped her long legs around his torso, the heat at the apex of her thighs pressed to his lower stomach and forcing a deep groan from him- she wanted him, and her wanting made him want her more. His hands scooped beneath her ass, thumbs squeezing into her. He felt the room sway as she intoxicated him further, and took three blind steps to the bed where he fell down onto her.

“Drake,” her voice sounded foreign, drenched with want and strained thin with need as her thin arms snaked around his neck and pulled him ever closer, their skin hot and still slick enough to slip deliciously smooth against one another. He thought he might burst from the rush of her body and the threat that hung over them and the way that she said his name. “Drake,” she said again as he nipped at her ear and she spread her hands down his back, “I need you…” his teeth and tongue trailed down her throat, from behind her ear to the edge of her collarbone, a low rumbling growl in his throat as she admitted her need.

He picked his head up to look at her- her mouth hanging open as her tongue slipped out to wet her dry lips, her eyes closed as stars burst behind them. “Open your eyes, baby,” he whispered and she obliged, their clear blue depths nearly black with how lust blown her pupils were. For me, he thought, feeling himself grow harder, that look is for me. He kept his own darkened eyes locked with hers as he positioned himself over her entrance, teasing her slightly with the tip of his cock before pushing inside of her slowly. Her breath caught and one eyebrow rose as she took her bottom lip between her teeth before letting it go again. He sunk deeper into her as she gasped his name again, and the sound coupled with the way that their bodies were joined made his blood burn and his skin tingle and he forgot for a moment that they weren’t the only two humans on Earth; that the world was bigger than the bed that they were in. “I love it when you say my name,” he growled into her ear before pulling her legs up to rest on his shoulders, allowing for a deeper angle.

He was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath as her eyes snapped shut for just a second before flying open again, the exhale coming through the whisper of his name. That’s my girl, let me see those beautiful eyes, he delighted in the fact that she was doing what she knew he wanted. He reached down with his left hand to massage her breasts, tugging at her hardened nipples and drawing more sounds from her lips. He increased his pace for four thrusts before pulling almost completely out of her slowly, both of them releasing strangled sounds of ecstasy, before he reached for her left ankle and moved it in an arch over his head to turn her on her side. He thrust deeply back inside of her, groaning as she cried out from the pleasure of the new position. “Oh, Drake…don’t…don’t stop…” she fought to keep her eyes open but realized that his had slid closed so she let her own do the same as she pleaded with him to keep going, keep pushing her closer to her release, the warm coil in her abdomen wound so tightly it was nearly painful. Just when she could feel herself reaching the tipping point, he withdrew himself entirely, grabbing her ankle again and spreading her legs once more. The look of need and shock on her face brought a wolfish smile to his lips and she whimpered with the absence of him.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he felt his words with a primal realness, but his love for her made them come out soft and gentler than they sounded in his head, and in a way he liked that better. He let his tongue flick out of the corner of his mouth before sliding his right arm under her lower back and using that purchase to pull himself down to her wet core. He gripped her hip bone hard with his left hand, his thumb brushing against her skin soothingly. “I want to taste you when you say my name,” he said, his mouth hot as he lowered it to her, lips wrapping around her, sucking lightly to draw sweet cries from her throat as she scratched red lines into the skin of his shoulders, his muscles taught and fibrous. Oh, fuck Berkley… He glanced up at her through his long lashes and smiled against her when he saw the shapes she was making as she writhed, as her fingers gripped the sheets and twisted them, as her lips fell open. He slid his tongue inside of her and at the sensation she gasped his name and he tasted her, licking and giving her slight pressure as he groaned with pleasure. He could feel her orgasm crashing through her and kept his lips on her, his tongue inside of her until he felt her grasping at his biceps, pulling him towards her. He let her steer him back to her, entering her once more and crushing her mouth with his.

She gasped again as he gently pumped into her. “Drake,” she was utterly spent, pushed so far past the point of teetering over the edge that her voice was barely a squeak.  “I love you,” she whimpered, and as always it did him in.

She’d fallen asleep not long after he’d gotten a warm damp cloth from the bathroom and run it over her limbs and stomach, over her sensitive areas, trailing warm kisses everywhere. He sighed softly, not wanting to wake her with his little puff of breath, as he vowed to himself again that he would never let her go, would never let anything or anyone come between him and his love for the woman in his arms. His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his phone on the bedside table, jolting his mind and spraying ice cold water across the warmth they’d given one another- his phone was set to vibrate save for one important number. Claire jumped awake, the sudden ringing of the phone pulling her from the fragile sleep she’d fallen into, her eyes opening wide and seeking out his. She’d wrestled with dreams even in the afterglow of their heated lovemaking, and the late call only served to remind them both that they couldn’t get too comfortable, couldn’t feel too safe.

“Drake?” she questioned, turning to face him.

He was frowning at his phone, eyes squinted as he read the time- ten past midnight. He leaned over to press a lingering kiss to her temple before answering. “Bastien? What is it?”

“Drake,” the voice on the other end of the line sounded as far from the Bastien he knew. The ever calm, serious and professional tone was gone, replaced by one that shook slightly with concern and…was that anger? He wasn’t sure, thinking back and not remembering a time that he’d seen Bastien get mad. He sat upright, heart pounding, knowing that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Claire sat up as well, knitting her eyebrows together and reaching for his hand. He sandwiched the phone between his ear and shoulder to pull her to him. “Drake, it’s Micah…Drake, I’m sorry, Micah he...” he sighed heavily. “Drake, Micah betrayed us. He’s working with them.”

. Bastien laid out his intention to get them and Liam safely to Ramsford early the next morning, where they would spend the last two days of the social season, telling him that he and the team were securing evidence to use against Micah, gathering clues as to where he might be…or how many others he might be working with. He apologized again, and Drake knew that it was killing him that this had come down to Micah, to the young guard member that Bastien had hoped could serve as his own replacement and soon- the young guard member that had until today, reminded him so much of the clueless, naïve young guard member that he was under Jackson. Drake knew that Bastien would feel like he was letting his mentor down, letting Drake’s father down, letting Drake down. “Bas,” he said once Bastien had finished, “Bas it’s not your fault, you know that. I know that. These people are sick…they must have hooked Micah in somehow…”

“I know,” he sounded a bit more like himself and Drake was glad. “I will get to the bottom of this,” he promised. “You and Claire should be ready to leave by 8am. I will see you then. And Drake?”

“Yeah Bas”?

“Stay safe,” the silver eyed man said sincerely.

“You too, Bas,” Drake responded, and it was certain that neither could stand it if something were to happen to the other. They ended the call and he pulled Claire close, holding her through the night. Neither of them slept after that, neither of them spoke either.

The clock in his head resumed its ticking, the seconds slipping by at double the speed, his heart hammering away and hers racing to keep up, both of them desperately clinging to the idea that in 2 days this might all be over…

Neither of them daring to think about how it all might end.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @zaffrenotes @sleepwalkingelite @brightpinkpeppercorn @nekkidmolerat @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @endlessly-searching-for-you @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @gardeningourmet @indiacater @cordoniantrash @the-whiskeywife @the-everlasting-dream @drakewalkerrosenberg @roonarific @endlesstaylormckenzie

[likethetailofacomet]

Before the Storm

A/N: How does the revelation of Erika’s true identity change things for everyone? Can they all get though the final hours of the social season without another visit from the devils? And who is the seventh devil? 

Pairings: Drake x Claire (MC), Liam x Kiara

Word Count: 4,560- sorry this one got away from me! 

Liam sat in his study alone. The air was full of tension and the ticking of a mantle clock, thick with uncertainty and something shy of shock but more than expectation. He turned his chair to face the window behind his desk, staring out at the kingdom he would inherit roughly twelve hours from now. His father had dropped that bomb on him immediately after the news about Erika had leaked. King Constantine’s public image couldn’t take a hit like an alleged out of wedlock daughter that he refused to have a relationship with, and rather than continue to taint the name Rhys, he had chosen to relinquish his title, his crown, his responsibility to his son. Liam was always going to become King, this he knew. But the plan was for Constantine to rule for another five years to allow Liam more time to settle in to the role, and to allow him time to settle in to the marriage he would be entering in sooner rather than later. He sighed, thinking to himself that he’d need to tell Kiara before the ball that evening- he was going to choose her to be his Queen, and she had the right to know how immediately she’d be stepping into her new role. He wasn’t worried. He knew that Lady Kiara was an excellent choice for the country given her political knowledge, her diplomatic upbringing, love of culture and ability to speak fluently in several languages. He allowed a small amount of warmth to enter his heart as he pictured her face during his announcement; pictured the way she’d smile and the way her dark eyes would shine like onyxes as she stepped to his side. At least he’d been lucky enough to have feelings for the woman he was choosing as his bride, unlike many of his ancestors.

He watched the sun come up, glinting off of the lake in the distance, off the gilded dome of the Cathedral that was just visible past the palace grounds, drinking his coffee slowly. This was the last day he would spend as a Prince, and the first day he’d spend questioning every aspect of his relationship with his father and Regina. That they knew he and Leo had a sister and never shared it simply because of her social status made him second guess everything they’d ever told him, everything he’d ever thought about them. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to imagine how Erika must have felt, knowing who she was; knowing that Constantine couldn’t even spare her an hour to answer 30 years’ worth of questions. He felt a pang of longing, thinking about how he had another sibling in the world- how he’d had another sibling all his life and had been denied the chance to know her, and how now it was likely too late. She’d chosen to throw her lot in with the rebels, and Liam honestly couldn’t blame her. The glint of the sun changed angles as the glowing orb rose higher over his kingdom, shining in his eye and blinding him. He squinted against it and rose from his chair as the citizens beyond the window rose from their beds to read the news that had thrown yet another wrench in his social season.

Bastien had woken him at quarter after five in the morning, pounding on his door to call him for an emergency meeting with his father. It was that meeting where Liam learned of Erika, of Constantine’s knowledge and denial of her, of her involvement with the Seven Devils and what that might mean for the ball that evening. He’d gaped, open mouthed at his father as he nodded and admitted that Erika Manderly was in fact his child, conceived during a fling with one of the suitors he hadn’t chosen when he was in Liam’s shoes. Liam shook his head, disappointment filling the space between his ears and the cavity of his ribs. He couldn’t imagine denying his own child, his own flesh and blood simply because they had a different last name- simply because he had been careless in his actions and had relied on his own status to erase the mistake for him. “Who are you, father?” Liam asked the man before him, his eyes narrow and his lips pressed thinly together. Constantine didn’t have an answer. Instead he looked sadly at his son before rolling his head to the side to look out the window. He sighed and Liam supposed that he felt some remorse over how everything had gone, but he wasn't ready to forgive his father.

“Liam, your father did what he thought was right.” Regina's voice suddenly sounded foreign to him. Where he once looked at her as a mother, now he didn’t know how he could ever see her that way again. A mother wouldn't do what she'd done. A father wouldn't. He didn't dignify her words with a response, simply turned to Bastien, ignoring the fact that the two most powerful people in the country were in the room.

“Where is Leo? Does he know?” It was clear to Liam that Bastien had no prior knowledge of Erika's existence from the tone of his voice and the angle of his eyebrows as he spoke. It was clear to Liam that he could trust Bastien.

Bastien cleared his throat before answering. “Prince Leo was on his way back to Cordonia for this evening's events,” he paused to spare Liam a sympathetic glance, knowing that Liam had been looking forward to seeing his brother, to having him there while he chose his Queen, and now that things had changed, while he he became crowned as King. “But with the new developments,” his eyes flicked over towards the King, still gazing empty-eyed out the window, before returning to meet Liam's. “I've contacted his security detail, and they've changed their travel plans. I'm sorry, your highness, but Prince Leo won't be in attendance tonight.” He left the next part unsaid, but Liam knew what he wasn't saying: We can't have the entire Rhys family in one place. Even though Leo had abdicated his claim, passing his birth rite to Liam, Cordonian Law would require him to resume his place in the line of succession in the event that there were no living heirs.

A shiver went through Liam's spine, but he nodded. “And we're certain that his location is secure? Can I,” he sighed and let his shoulders fall a little, releasing some of the tension, knowing that it would be back seconds later. “Am I able to speak with my brother?”

Bastien blinked, trying not to let any pity show through his gaze. “I'm sorry, your highness, I think it would be best to keep communication to an absolute minimum until after the ball this evening. That way we won't risk any phone lines being tapped or information being intercepted.” He put a hand on Liam's shoulder and the two men locked eyes. “I know there are,” he flicked his eyes back to the King and Queen, both wearing a look that asked How did this all come crashing down on us? He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I know there are things that you need to discuss with your brother. As soon as the event has concluded, I will have a secure line ready for you to speak with Prince Leo.” Liam sucked in a breath as he thought about what the conclusion of the evening's events would mean: his engagement, his coronation. He'd be King. And all without Leo's presence.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, that's...that's good, Bastien. Thank you.” He shook the man's hand and the meeting wrapped up with Bastien excusing himself to see to all of the protocol that would need adjusting.

“Liam,” Constantine had somehow found his voice, looking at his son through eyes full of regret. “Son,” he turned his body to face him.

“Don't-” Liam held up one hand. Regina let out a gasp at the harsh tone in her step-son's voice. “Don't call me that.” He dropped his hand and let out a breath. “I... I need some time, please just...” he cleared his throat and, with painfully practiced precision, forced his tone to return to a more even one. “I need some time to think.” He stood stock still, not moving.

Constantine blinked a few times, as though he was having a hard time processing Liam's words. He nodded as they sunk in, and he squared his shoulders, turning to his wife. “Come, Regina...” he let his eyes slip to where Liam stood, still not moving, gaze still fixed firmly and defensively on the two of them. “We've done enough damage.” He took the Queen's arm, tugging lightly to get her to follow him from the room. The door closed behind them and Liam crossed the room to the desk, lowering himself slowly into the chair to look out the window, to watch the sun rise on the day that would change his life, his country, forever.

*** *** *** ***

Claire lay awake in the dim light of the barely risen sun. She'd not slept much, mind racing with thoughts of the ball that evening, signaling the end of the social season, and what that might mean, what that might change. She feared anything coming of the threats that had been made, feared anything happening to Drake or to Liam, imagination working overtime to fill her head with images and scenarios that she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to fully erase. At the same time, she felt her heart lighten as she realized that the end of the season meant that she and Drake could leave, could get away from everything and just be together without all of the pressures of court, all of the prying eyes and the gossip and the strict rules. She sighed softly, eyes roving over his sleeping face as his eyelids fluttered, long lashes moving like feathers. He must have been dreaming, and she wondered what of. The corners of his closed eyes wrinkled up a bit and she felt her chest swell and her throat tighten with how she loved him. He was laying on his stomach, face tilted towards her, one arm draped across her hip, the other curled under his pillow, and her eyes traveled next to his bare back, to the steady rise and fall of his breathing, to way his defined muscles moved with each breath. She reached over to brush her fingers across what was exposed of his forehead, moving a piece of hair aside to find his skin. She let her touches trail down his cheek, down the side of his neck before curving her palm around his far shoulder blade. She used his body as a handhold to pull herself closer to him, and she felt him stir and wake as she did. “Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up,” she whispered into his shoulder, his left arm coming up to her back, fingers spreading out across her spine.

“S'okay, Berkley,” he mumbled sleepily, words muffled by the pillow. He turned his face a little more so that he could speak more clearly. “You okay, beautiful?” He kissed her forehead, his lips pressed slowly against her skin as he exhaled through his nose and let his fingers dance across her back.

“Um, hmm,” she hummed, non-convincingly into him, inhaling deeply, his scent filling her lungs.

Drake took the hand from her back and used it to gently pry her face away from his side. “Hey, there you are,” he said softly, dipping his lips down to hers for a kiss. She whimpered against his mouth. “It's going to be alright, Berkley, everything's going to be alright. It'll all be over tonight. You'll see,” he rested his forehead against hers, needing to believe what he was telling her.

“I know,” she said, wanting to mean it. They lay like that for a few minutes, just breathing one another, feeling the other against themselves, and she let images from the entire social season fly through her mind- her first night in Cordonia, the day at the racetrack, how he'd saved her from getting trampled, how he'd jumped back from her like she'd burned him before turning around and burning her with a fiery kiss. She saw flashes from Lythikos, skating with Drake, the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since they left New York; following him into the snow, the way his hand had grasped her wrist, fingers closing gently around her, thumb brushing against her pulse point as meteors swept across the sky. She saw them sitting in her window seat as he bared his soul to her, saw the two of them walking towards that hut on the beach the day of the Regatta, their hands linked, their feet splashing in the water, almost as though they hadn't a care in the world. All the mornings at the cabin, all the sighs and moans and bites, all the languid kisses that reached far down into her heart. She blocked out all the awful things that had happened, focusing on the arms around her and how they'd become her home, how she had become his. “I know, we'll be okay,” she said softly. In a way, she wasn't lying. She knew that they would be okay, that nothing could come between what they had found in one another. She sighed wishing it was enough to keep them both safe- to keep him safe and breathing, to keep his heart beating so they could go on loving.

Drake’s phone lit up on the side table casting a blueish light up towards the ceiling. Claire heard him sigh as he tapped her lightly on the hip, fingers grazing her tattoo, before shifting his weight. He brought both elbows up to rest on either side of her head and she turned onto her back so he could lower himself down for a kiss. His lips worked slowly against hers as he wished that he could slow time with that kiss. Drake brought the fingers of his good hand up to her face and let them wander into her hair as she parted her lips to allow his tongue to slip into her mouth. He wished they could forgo the ball that evening, wished that they could stay right where they were. The phone lit up a second time, and he tugged at her bottom lip lightly breaking the kiss and sitting up to check his messages.

Claire sat up slowly, keeping her eyes on him as he opened his lock screen, his own dark eyes widening before he swore under his breath with a frown. She closed her eyes and let out a breath slowly. “What is it, Drake?” she asked, reaching out and laying her hand against his back.

Drake stared at his screen for a few more seconds, re-reading the texts before answering her. “It’s Liam,” he turned to look at her, dropping his phone to his lap. “Constantine is stepping down tonight. Claire,” he shook his head. “There was another article and…” he sighed and picked his phone back up to show her the news. After she’d read the article and seen the photos- a sharp intake of breath as she saw the one of she and Drake holding the cardboard box; the one of Liam and Kiara through the window of his study- he told her that he needed to go see Liam…that Liam needed his support.

She swallowed and nodded, looking at the time. 6:30 am. It was 11:30 pm in New York. “Of course,” she leaned forward on her knees to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Of course, Drake. Go talk to him. I should…” she swallowed again. “I should call Daniel. Let him know what’s going on…” Drake understood. Claire didn’t know where her sister was or how to reach her. Dan was the closest thing to family that she had, and she wanted her family to know she loved him, just in case. He shook the just in case from his mind.

“I’ll come right back to you,” he told her, returning her kiss with a gentle peck to the crest of her cheek.

“I know you will.” She gave him a small smile, mustering up every bit of confidence and bravado that she could. As soon as he had gone from the room she fell back into the pillows and pulled her phone out to call Dan.

It rang four times. She knew he was at work, and just before she was about to hang up to try again later, his voice came across the speaker. “Hey stinker, everything okay?”

“Dan…” she filled him in on everything, trying not to make it sound like feared this might be their last conversation.

*** *** *** ***

A clock struck nine as Liam readied himself to knock on her door. He tried to keep calm as he walked through the hallway, the conversation he’d just had with Drake replaying in his mind. His friend, his brother, had reassured him that he had his unwavering support, that he had Claire’s. He was so grateful for Drake’s friendship through the years, but especially now, especially as he’d lost faith in his father, in everything he thought he knew about the crown and his country. Drake had told him that he would make a better leader than Constantine could have been in his own wildest dreams; that he believed that Liam would help Cordonia start to heal. He’d been sympathetic towards his discovery of Erika, towards the remorse Liam felt for never getting the chance to know her, to have a relationship with her and let her into his heart and his family the way that Constantine and Regina had refused to do. Liam had confided how nervous, how shaken he truly was from all of the threats and the press and the constantly shifting circumstances, and Drake had confided that he was, too, but that he’d have his back no matter what happened. The way he’d clapped him on the shoulder and held his gaze felt like a signature on a binding contract, and he knew the he could always count on the man before him. It helped him steady his heartbeat and slow his breathing and calm the storm that was brewing in his mind. It helped to have a friend, a brother, like Drake.

He approached her door and nodded to the guard that had been assigned to stand outside- after Micah’s betrayal and disappearance, Liam had insisted that she be constantly guarded in case the snake decided to come back, in case he had any unfinished business with his former charge. The guard moved aside, greeting Liam by bowing his head, and Liam knocked on the door, waiting for her answer. She opened it, meeting his cool blue eyes with hers and without a word he could tell that she’d seen the article. “Ki,” he breathed as he entered the room and entered her embrace. She wrapped her thin arms around him and he delighted in her warmth. He crashed his lips to hers as the door shut behind them, and all the fear and worry fell away for a moment as he deepened the kiss and poured what he really and truly believed to be love into it. They broke apart, breaths heavy, and she traced his jaw with her fingers. “Kiara…we need to talk, love,” he said before pressing another quick kiss to her lips for courage. She led him to the chaise lounge in her room and he sat next to her, holding her hands in his as he confided everything to her; that he’d be choosing her as his queen, that he’d be taking up the crown that evening. She’d kissed him again, sweetly, and whispered that she loved him into his ear, wrapping him in her arms again, and he stayed there with her for most of the morning, until he tore himself from her to start getting ready, a promise to make time only for her at the ball that evening.

*** *** *** ***

Claire had finished her conversation with Daniel, not bothering to try to reassure him of anything that she had no business reassuring him of. She hadn’t promised to stay safe, she hadn’t promised to leave Cordonia. She’d only told him that she needed him to know what was going on, and that she loved him. Surprisingly, he hadn’t argued, finally understanding the love between Drake and Claire, and how strong it must be if she was willing to stay in such danger for him. “You’ll call me as soon as it’s over tonight, Claire, you hear me?”

“I hear you, D,” she responded, grateful that he wasn’t trying to push her to leave, to leave it all behind, leave Drake and Liam and Hana and the Beaumonts, leave Cordonia and come home where it was safe. She was glad he realized that while Alex was out there, there really wasn’t such a thing as safe. “I hear you and I promise, I’ll call you as soon as it wraps up, as soon as Drake and I leave the palace.”

“Love you, stinker.”

“Love you more,” she’d responded as they ended their call. Not a full minute had passed when there was a knock on the door. She straightened her spine, unsure of whether or not she should answer it. Drake wouldn’t knock. He’d only been gone thirty minutes and she assumed he’d be gone longer, assumed that his conversation with Liam would last longer than that. Just as she was about to text Drake about the knocking, the sound came back, this time accompanied by a voice. “Claire,” the voice said, and she immediately relaxed, standing to cross to the door to open it. “Claire, its Bastien.”

She pulled the door open and the man stood before her, a serious quality to his steely eyes. “Good morning, Bastien,” she said flatly, letting him in.

“Good morning, Claire.” He responded, stepping past her. “I won’t be long, I just,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Claire knit her eyebrows together and reached out to touch his shoulder. She felt his hardened muscles stretching the material of his jacket, he felt her soft, warm touch. “What’s wrong, Bas, is it Drake? Is everything alright?”

He dropped his hand and softened his features, taking in her worried expression. “Drake is fine, Claire, everyone is safe. I…I just wanted to talk to you.”

Claire felt her eyes grow wide and her mouth drop open before she forced it to shut not wanting to look like a fish. “Of course,” she said, trying not to sound so shocked. She sat down and he followed suit, taking the chair across from her. He folded his hands and rested them against his bent knee. She noticed his watch, solid and masculine. She noticed his fingers, ringless and bulky, the knuckles knobby from having been broken through the years.

He wasted no time. “Claire, I know that you love Drake. Its obvious, its written all over the both of you.” She blushed and he let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards quickly. “And I couldn’t be happier. Drake is like family to me, and I can see how happy you can make him, how whole you can make his life. I just have to be sure, Claire, that you’re in it for the long haul with him. That no matter what happens tonight, or in the future…” he dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment, palms rubbing together before meeting her eyes again. “That you won’t run if things don’t get better.”

“I’ll never leave him out of fear, Bastien. I could never do that. He accepted my past like it was nothing. He accepted Alex like it was nothing, he’s put himself in danger for me. I love him, Bas, and I’m fully aware of what that means.” She assured him.

Bastien nodded. “That’s good, Claire.” He sighed. “That’s very good. He loves you so fiercely… I’m glad that love is being returned. I’m glad he’ll have you to come home to after all of this.” He stood as he spoke and Claire could hear something in his voice that sounded like regret, but she certainly wasn’t going to pry. Instead, she stood as well and wrapped her arms around the man in a tight hug, taking him by surprise. He let out a soft chuckle, continuing the surprise.

“Thank you for looking out for him, Bastien.  He’s got both of us now, I promise you.”

He patted her shoulder lightly as he removed himself from the hug. “And you’ve both got me,” he said, giving her another small, one sided smile that brightened his eyes a touch, but not so much that that longing, that regret she’d heard in his voice had vanished, and she wondered who the woman was that had such a hold on this man’s heart. Who the woman was and where she’d run off to once things had gotten hard. He didn’t give her long to ponder, excusing himself and leaving the room, Drake entering seconds later. “Hey,” he said, coming in and greeting her with a kiss. “What was Bastien doing here?”

Claire smiled up at him as his arms came around her, his clunky casted right hand resting on her hip, his left pressing against the small of her back. “Just checking in,” she said, rising on her toes to kiss his nose, lips lingering there as it crinkled with his smile. “Just making sure he could trust me to love you through all of this.” She reached up and smoothed his hair down, running her fingers through it. “I told him that nothing could keep me from loving you, Drake. Not a thing.” She dropped back down to her feet with a sigh.

“He’s a good man,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Even with everything that’s going on, he’s looking out for me…”

“He loves you. I love you. You look out for the people you love.”

Drake thought about her words. He would. He’d look out for the people he loved. Claire, Liam, Bastien…hell, even Olivia and Max and Hana. He’d look out for them all. “Yeah, Berkley, you do.”

They spent the rest of the day lounging in each other’s embrace, until it got to the point where they would be pushing their luck on getting ready in time for the ball if they didn’t start moving. They’d cleaned up and gotten dressed, Drake in a sleek gray suit, Claire in a deep cut white gown, and as a clock chimed seven that evening, he escorted her out into the hallway. “One more time, baby, one more of these and then it’s just you and me. Just you and me…” he leaned in and brushed his lips to her ear.

Outside the storm clouds gathered, dark and ominous, but not a bolt of lightning nor a drop of rain interrupted their silvery swirls. As the nobles started gathering in the ballroom, three figures entered through the garage, slinking in the shadows, unnoticed.

 tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @indiacater @endlesstaylormckenzie @gardeningourmet @nekkidmolerat @cordoniantrash @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @roonarific @the-whiskeywife

[likethetailofacomet]

Stay, You Belong

Getting close to the end now friends!! 

Warning: stalker situation, eerie scenario. alex is gross, we can all agree on that. 

Ice. Through her veins and on her skin and in her lungs, cutting and slicing like shards of glass. Cold. A flash of frigid reality splashing her in the face and making her sputter for air. Her heart hammered numbly as fog invaded her brain, hazy and dizzy as she blinked over and over again trying to force her eyes to focus. She couldn't move, frozen where she sat with her hand on his knee and her chest heaving with the uneven breaths that were fighting to escape her. He held the frame in his shaking hand, but she could see that it wasn't the only thing in the box. There was another framed picture, and one printed out on plain paper, without a frame. The first was Liam and Drake, their arms slung around one another like the brothers they were, smiling in the sunshine at the racetrack from a few years back. Both framed photos had black grease pencil lettering written over the glass reading “End of the Line” in shaky handwriting. End of the line. Those words and the way that they were scrawled made her sick, waves of nausea roiling in her stomach at the thought of Drake or Liam or both of them meeting any sort of end. But Drake's eyes were wide and stuck on the third photo, the one without the frame. Claire shifted closer to him and peeked farther into the box and when she did it happened all over again. Ice. Cold. Sick.

It was them. The two of them from just two days ago. The grainy quality of the photo told her that it was most likely taken from afar and zoomed in heavily, through the window of his bedroom, capturing the moment that she'd wrapped him in a blanket as he kissed her head and told her about his favorite photo, the family portrait in his hand. She broke, a sound coming from her mouth that didn't sound human, and she began to shake and hyperventilate. Drake felt her trembling next to him and it snapped him from his trance. He placed the photo back in the box and turned to her, fear and anger and hopelessness, love and sadness all clear in his eyes. He reached for her and drew her close, his own breaths coming quick and shallow. I need to protect her. I can't protect her. We need to get out of here...his thoughts raced to get ahead of one another as his heart thumped against hers.

She let him clutch her to his chest as her hands pressed him closer to her own body. But even as her throat tried to close, even as her heart was trying to run itself into the ground and her vision swam with dots and swirls, she shook her head and cleared her thoughts. They needed to move. “Drake?” she put every effort into piecing her voice together, needing him to hear her.

He was in my house. His thoughts were loud, reverberating, and dangerously close to the way he'd felt when he'd punched that wall. He held her closer, his chin resting on her head, breathing raggedly through his open mouth.

“Drake,” she said again, straining to make her voice louder as she tried to pull back to look him in the eye.

He was in my fucking house. He's been watching us. That sick fuck has been here, watching us and waiting...just to toy with me...with her...Her. Claire. He blinked and looked down at her just as she'd said his name...for the first time? No, it couldn't have been, from the look in her eye and the way that she was struggling to move in his embrace. He loosened the grip he had on her, tighter than he'd realized he was holding her. “Claire,” he gasped, as though he were stunned to see her.

“Drake,” relief took some of the anguish from her eyes as he acknowledged her, finally, still leaving plenty behind. “Drake, we need to get out of here. Now...we...where do we go?” She tentatively reached up and placed her hand to the side of his face, a few days of growth bristling against her palm, and her touch silenced his raging thoughts, bringing him back to her, to right now. “Where do we go?” she asked him again, her eyes pleading with him to have an answer.

The stupor fell away leaving him disappointed in himself for letting those thoughts get so close to her again, even if he'd been able to steer himself back, even if she'd been able to guide him. He shook his head and exhaled, kissing her temple before pulling his phone out. “I need to call Bastien,” he told her as he dialed, and she settled against him, his right arm still around her, but just holding, not crushing. Supporting and protecting, not clutching greedily. One ring, two, and on the third that ever calm “Hello, Drake, is everything alright?” was in his ear, helping to anchor him.

“No Bas,” he said, “it's not.” He relayed everything to Bastien, running his fingertips over Claire's arm as he did, needing to soak up as much of her as he could, every second that he could. This box made him feel like somewhere a clock was ticking and he didn't know what for or what would happen when it struck, but he felt her thigh against his, felt her chest moving with her breaths against his side, and he tried to commit those sensations to memory, suddenly feeling the importance of this moment, right now.

“I'm coming,” he answered, and Drake could hear keys jingling, already in his hand.

“I have my truck, I could come to you, quicker that way,” he suggested.

“No,” he said, tone becoming more serious and urgent. “Listen to me, Drake, stay right where you are. Don't go inside, don't get into the truck. You don't know what else Alex did.” Drake understood. “I'll be there in less than twenty minutes,” an engine revved and tires peeled out of the garage as the call dropped out.

He put his phone back in his pocket and combed his left hand through her hair. “Bastien's on his way,” he said, a slight hollowness present. He still couldn't believe what was happening, his eyes scanning every inch of the tree line before realizing something that shot a numbing chill down his spine- his back was to the front door, and there was no way of knowing if someone was inside. He slowly turned his back to the railing so he could keep both the door and the darkening woods in his sight line, trying not to let her on to what he was doing. “We'll be okay, Berkley,” he said softly, trying to convince them both.

Claire's thoughts drifted back to all those nightmares she'd had and how they'd been few and far between for the past week or so. And how that was likely to change. She sighed into Drake's side wondering when they'd get their chance to really live this love they'd found. As the sky turned violet and the trees turned to black silhouettes, Bastien's headlights came up the driveway and he parked the car, stepping out. “Come on,” he said, silver eyes sharp as he threw a glance around the cabin and surrounding area before letting them land on Drake and Claire. “Grab the box, let's go,” he said, and Drake rose, helping Claire to her feet as he took the box, feeling heavier than it was with the meaning outweighing the physical objects inside of it. They got into Bastien's car and he drove away, getting them back to the palace in less than twenty minutes, just like he'd said before.

He had already called ahead to tell the rest of the guard to be aware, and also to pull more resources to the palace. He set up a debriefing with King Constantine and Liam, promising that he'd handle all of the talking, but insisting that they both be present. They nodded and followed him down the halls of the palace to the King's study, addressing the guard outside the door and knocking once. “Come in,” Constantine's professional, political voice rang out. Bastien opened the impressive, hand carved wooden door and the three of them entered to find King Constantine seated at his desk, and Liam standing behind one of the high backed leather chairs, his hands gripping the top of the headrest. Bastien quickly relayed the details of what had happened, showing the Rys men the photos, both framed and not. Constantine scoffed to himself and Liam shot him a look. “More of this. She should have gone back to America,” he said.

“That's neither here nor there right now, father,” Liam said, surprising Drake with the tone he took with his father. He might be next in line but he wasn't king just yet. “What's important is ensuring everyone's safety until this group is caught.” It was clear that they had differing views on many aspects of the recent developments, and both Drake and Claire shifted uncomfortably behind Bastien, who stood like a pillar, unmoved. No doubt he'd seen worse spats among royals in his time with the guard.

Constantine grumbled under his breath but ultimately nodded, and Bastien laid out the current plan, describing what each branch of security would be designated to for the next 3 days, until the season would finally end at the Beaumont Estate, and the suitors and other nobles would all go home, lessening the spread of security that occurred when they all gathered at court. The nobility was not nearly as popular with the citizens as they thought, and Bastien could see why, when their instincts were like Constantine's- blame Claire. Blame someone else. The outsider, not one of us, the perfect ones. But Liam could be different, and Liam was why Bastien was still in the King's Guard at all- he knew his country was in trouble, and he thought the best way for him to help it was to ensure that Liam got his chance to make his mark and turn things around. If it weren't for his more modern viewpoints and open mindedness, Bastien would have left for Paris immediately after Leo's abdication. When the meeting ended, Bastien escorted the King back to his quarters, leaving Drake and  Claire with Liam.

“He was in my house, Li...in my father's house, my family's house...” Drake swallowed, his throat working hard to choke down everything he was feeling. He was leaning against the bookshelf that lined one wall, Claire seated in the chair to his side.

“I know,” Liam said. “I know, Drake. We're going to catch him and anyone he's working with. All of them.” He said it with a sort of certainty that made it clear that he didn't think it would be easy, that he knew the risk and the danger, but knew that this needed to end, and that it would. And soon.

“Liam,” Claire piped up and both men turned their eyes to her, Drake's warm and loving, Liam's clear and reassuring. “What your father said...”

“Don't give it another thought, Claire, you are welcome here as long as you want to stay.” He said it seriously and genuinely.

Claire nodded, a small, tired smile for him. “Thank you, I know...but, was he right? Should I have left?”

“Of course not, Berkley,” Drake stepped towards her and dropping to both knees in front of her, taking her small hands in his, bringing them to his lips. Liam smiled at his friend in love. “Of course not, Adelfi psychi. You're not the problem. You could never be the problem.” His thumb ran over her knuckles and his eyes narrowed quickly before he leaned in to kiss her nose, his breath lingering on her skin.

“Drake's right, Claire.” Liam said. “Cordonia has it's problems, but you are far from one of them. We will catch this group. I won't let my country be taken by terrorists, I won't let that happen to my people.” He looked and sounded like a King already. He was going to be the leader Cordonia has needed for decades. Bastien came back to escort Liam, leaving Drake and Claire to head to Drake's suite.

They headed inside, realizing they were still in the clothes they'd hiked in earlier that morning, bits of leaves still in their hair and dirt on their jeans and hands. “Shower?” he asked, and she nodded, following him quietly into the bathroom. He ran the water and steam fogged up the glass as they removed their clothing. “Claire...” he said her name as she peeled her shirt off, catching her off guard with his lips on hers, running his tongue along her bottom lip before delving it into his mouth, one hand going to the small of her back, her bare skin warm from the heat of the small tiled room, the other to the back of her neck, fingers curling gently around it and through her hair. He pressed closer as he used up all the air in his lungs for that kiss, releasing her and taking a breath. “Do you really want to leave Cordonia? Did you ask if you should because you want to?”

Her eyebrows came together and her forehead wrinkled. “No, Drake,” she kissed him. “No, I love you, I want to stay with you...I...I just want this to be over...”

He took her hand, careful to keep his cast out of the stream of water as he helped her under the waterfall shower head. “I know, baby,” his arms snaked around her wet skin and pulled her back to his chest. “Me too,” he kissed her neck, her throat, behind her ear, nibbling on her earlobe, pulling at the silver stud there. “But I love you, no matter how long it takes. No matter what happens. And Claire?”

“Yeah?” her response was breathy from the emotional exhaustion of the day, the heat of the shower, the heat of his touch and his lips.

“You belong here. Here with me, okay? And we'll be okay.”

“Okay, Walker,” she turned and kissed his chest. “Then I'll stay.” she smiled up at him and they fell into another breathless kiss, the hot water spilling around them, plinking and splattering around their feet as their lips danced and they took a moment just to be still.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @mind-reader1 @brightpinkpeppercorn @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @gardeningourmet @endlessly-searching-for-you @indiacater @cordoniantrash @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @drakewalkerrosenberg @roonarific @the-whiskeywife @endlesstaylormckenzie @nekkidmolerat @the-everlasting-dream 

[likethetailofacomet]

Worth 1,000 Words

Closing in on the end of the social season and I don’t know who is more relieved, me or Drake and Claire...Anyway, proud to announce that EVERYONE made it out of Applewood Murder Mansion, and we’re back safe and sound...

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @nekkidmolerat @gardeningourmet @indiacater @roonarific @mind-reader1 @notoriouscs @cordoniantrash @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich

Tunes: Never be Ready- Mat Kearney 

Sitting on the back porch watching the setting sun turn the sky orange as it sunk beneath the rippled surface of the lake, Claire took a full, deep breath for the first time in days. Here, with Drake, secluded and safe, tucked away in the trees she felt more at home than she ever did in her own apartment, and thought to herself that it wasn't her apartment anymore- her lease had expired sometime last week. This was the only home she had now, this cabin, and the arms around her. She settled against his side, tucked under his arm, her knees hugged up in front of her and her head resting lightly against his shoulder. The last few days at Applewood Manor had been some of the most terrifying moments in her life, and some of that still lingered, but she was astonished at how much of it he was able to erase simply by holding her, by brushing his lips to hers, by saying her name, by meeting her airy blue eyes with his deep chocolate brown ones.

The ride back to the palace had been stressful, especially with Kiara's random interest in her safety, and seeing him after their brief separation had produced the biggest sigh of relief that her soul had ever felt. He'd pulled his truck into the garage just two cars behind hers, and both of them had sought out the other's eyes as they exited their vehicles. Claire allowed Micah to escort her and Kiara all the way into the palace hallways, with Drake just a few steps behind. She felt his eyes on her and knew she was safe. When he'd caught up to the two ladies and Micah, he turned to the young man to thank him for getting Claire and Kiara back safely. Micah had smiled slightly, nodding and replying that he was happy to do his job before excusing himself to join Bastien for the security meeting. Kiara turned to head towards her room, looking back over her shoulder at Drake and Claire, still standing there together. The look in her eye was unreadable and Claire's heart thumped at the strangely pointed question that Kiara had asked her. She shook her head and let Drake's hand on the small of her back lead her down the hall to her room.

As soon as they were behind closed doors she wrapped herself around him and he pressed her as close as he could. She tilted her face up to meet his as he brought his left hand gently to her face. “Hey, beautiful,” he said softly, eyes shining as he leaned down to kiss her gently, stealing her breath slowly. She needed to talk to him about what Kiara had said, but she needed this too. She gave in to the kiss, letting his tongue part her lips, her own tongue entering his mouth hungrily. She felt his hand slip to the back of her neck pulling her even closer as the swell inside her chest grew and overflowed resulting in her whimpering into his mouth. The sounds she made pulled a breathy groan from the back of his throat as his lips worked against hers, hot and passionate. She wanted to melt into him, to become nothing but this kiss in this moment, to feel nothing but this love, this warmth, this desire. She pulled lightly away, lips tingling with the absence of his as she ended the kiss before it was too late.

“Drake,” she breathed, and he could tell instantly that something was off, his eyes filling with concern, jaw setting firmly in preparation for whatever she was about to say. “Drake, I...I think Kiara  might know something. Or she might... I don't think we can trust her.” Her voice shook a little as she told him what Kiara had asked her, how she'd not told her anything, but then how the other woman had completely retreated into herself and left the conversation alone once she realized Claire wouldn't play her game. Her forehead wrinkled with worry and he brought his thumbs up to smooth it back out before gripping her face and kissing her again.

“It's okay, baby, you didn't tell her anything. And she was probably just looking for gossip, if I know Kiara.”

Claire wanted to believe that, but something was gnawing at the corners of her mind. She's not on the list. Drake. Liam. Hana. Max. Olivia. Bastien. Kiara was no where near the list, no where near Claire's trust, and she wondered how much of that had to do with the fact that she knew that Drake knew Kiara well. Very well. She pushed those thoughts from her mind, knowing without a doubt that he harbored no feelings at all for Kiara, that Kiara seemed head over heels for Liam and Liam for her, knowing without a doubt that she was completely in love with Drake and he with her. But something still told her that Kiara's questions were more than common curiosity, though she didn't say anything else about it. They waited together, Claire's back pressed against his chest as they sat in the window seat watching the rain. Drake rested his bandaged hand on her bent knee, her thin fingers coming up to twine with the tips of his where they stuck out from the cast, his good hand running gently through her hair and down the side of her neck. They talked about all the things they were looking forward to when the social season was over in ten days, and for just a little while the terror faded away and they were just Drake and Claire, in love and happy, making plans for next month, next year, forever. Bastien's knock on the door interrupted their bubble, and Drake sighed before laying a kiss to her temple and removing himself from behind her to answer the door. She followed closely.

Bastien greeted them with a nod, looking professional as always, but Claire could see something else in his steely gray eyes. He looked tired, but more than that, he had the look of a parent who'd been worrying, though he was trying to hide it. Claire's eyes flicked from Bastien's face to Drake's, and it didn't seem that Drake had noticed anything. She returned her eyes to Bastien's and tried to convey sympathy to him, tried to let him know that she knew this was all taking a toll on him and that she appreciated all he was doing to help them, to support them. She thought she saw a glimmer of recognition pass across his face, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly, but she saw. He cleared his throat and let them know that the security sweeps had all turned up clear, and that they could return to Drake's cabin if they so chose. Claire couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be. Bastien also relayed that while the garage attendants were refueling the cars, they noticed a flat tire on Drake's truck, and while they stocked extra tires for the cars used to transport the nobility, they would have to order a tire to fit his truck, which could take a day. “Or, I can have Micah drive you back before he rejoins me for detail,” he offered, and Drake jumped at the chance to get her back home quickly. Bastien nodded and arranged for them to head back to the garage to where Micah would meet them.  Claire felt something nibble at her brain again, but Drake had told Bastien that he'd hit a pothole on the way back from Applewood, shrugging and saying that must have been when the flat happened and he just hadn't noticed. It checked out so Claire tried not to give it a second thought- there was enough going on up there as it was.

Micah stood waiting by a shiny black car, a friendly smile on his face as he greeted Drake and Claire by name, asking Drake about his hand, opening the door for them. He really was a nice kid, like Drake had said, like Bastien had said. There was just something. He wasn't on the list. The ride was quick, Drake giving directions through the open partition, Micah nodding and following, making rights and lefts as instructed. Before long they were back, they were home, and Claire felt another chunk of the last few days fall from her mind as Drake's hand closed around hers and he brought her up the steps and through the front door. Micah pulled away, arranging to drop Drake's truck off as soon as possible, the sound of his tires on the gravel receding as they closed the door behind them. They'd spent the day as normally as possible after that, taking showers, making lunch, making love, sharing kisses and sharing things like what they wanted to be when they were younger. When the sun began to set he'd suggested that they watch it from the porch, bringing a blanket to wrap around themselves.

Four days went by just like this. Just the two of them laughing at the other's bed hair in the morning, dropping lazy kisses to bridges of noses and crests of cheeks, learning the freckles and birthmarks and scars that dotted each other's skin like constellations. He'd fallen further in love with her when one morning he's left her in bed to start making coffee, expecting to find her still curled up beneath the sheets when he returned. Instead she'd gotten up, the red and blue plaid blanket wrapped around her skinny frame, and was inspecting the few framed photos on his shelf, holding one, a smile on her lips and warmth in her eyes. He tilted his head to see which one she was looking at, and his heart skipped and flipped when he realized it was the last family photo he'd had with his father...when his family was still whole. She set the frame back down and turned to face him, the smile still there. “Good morning,” she said, crossing the room to wrap him in the blanket with her.

“Good morning, Adelfi Psychi,” he murmured, burying his lips in her hair and leaving a kiss there. “You found my favorite picture,” he added, his voice dropping just a bit, laced with bittersweet longing.

“It's beautiful,” she sighed. “I'm so glad you have that to hold onto.”

“I'm so glad I have you to hold onto.”

On the sixth day they went out for a hike in the woods, the green canopy filtering the light through the clean air, changing the color of everything around them. These woods seemed enchanted, filled with magic and love and safety. She couldn't imagine anything penetrating this perfect dome of simplicity, and each step through the rooted, muddy, rocky woods, her fingers meshed with his, made her feel more and more sure that this was home, that he was home and this was family. That this was perfect and sure, that there was nothing more certain, and that nothing could shake how she felt when she was with him, in this place. The breeze danced through the branches of the trees and through their hair, and she felt her heart soar at the grin on his face, knowing that he was thinking the same as she was. They found a spot near a stream to sit and relax a while, and it didn't take long at all for her to find her way into his lap, for his lips to be drawn to her neck, her collar bone, sliding her shirt down her shoulder to brush them there as well. Her sweet sighs joined the songs of birds and the bubbling of the stream as it slipped over smooth stones while his tongue slipped and flicked against the hollow of her throat. She tilted her face back towards him, brushing her nose softly against his before leaving a trail of kisses across his cheeks, over his eyelids, finally finding her way back down to his mouth.

Several minutes later, after they'd fallen into one another, breathless and dizzy, they sat still dragging their fingertips over bots of exposed skin, like their fingerprints could memorize each pore, each goosebump. “Drake,” she whispered, not wanting to break the moment, but needing to, as the kiss dissolved and that nagging thing at the back of her mind came back. “Will this really be over when the season ends? All of this...will it really go away? Will we be safe then?”

He sighed, wanting to just jump at a yes, but knowing it wasn't quite that easy to answer. He thought back to what Bastien had told him, about how he needed to keep his priorities in line. His number one priority was sitting right here in his lap, and he knew how he needed to answer. “I don't know, Claire.”

She looked at him sadly, clearly wanting to hear a different answer, but understanding why he hadn't lied to her. She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly, her eyebrows coming together in concern.

“What I do know,” he said, tracing a finger along her jaw and up behind her ear. “Is that I love you, Claire Berkley. And you and I are what I'm focused on. I can't promise you the things I thought I could, I see that now. I can't promise you that nothing bad will happen, or that we'll always be safe. What I can and will promise you, every day of my life,” she softened her gaze as her eyes melted under his, and he kept them on her as he continued, “Is that I will always put us first. I'll always put my love for you first.”

“Every day of my life, too,” she said, her lips already pressed to his half way through her response. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. It was so much better. It was everything. As the sun started disappearing behind the trees, they made their way back home. Drake carefully lead her around every rock and root, not needing the light, having memorized these woods from the years he’d spent running through them as a child, and then later tromping through as an adult. His feet found the way home and they came around to the front door, but stopped in their tracks at the sight of a plain, unmarked cardboard box sitting on the third step. Claire’s heart started beating so wildly Drake swore he could feel it in his veins, causing his own heart to thump out of control. “Stay here,” He said, squeezing her hand before he walked over to the box. The lid wasn’t quite shut, one flap waving in the breeze. Claire hugged her arms around herself and tried to steady her breathing as he neared the object. He used two fingers to lift the open flap, leaning away until the box was opened. When he looked inside his blood crystalized and he sat on the step, his mouth agape, his hand shaking as it reached in and gripped the hard wooden edges of the picture frame. He pulled it from the box and as soon as Claire saw it she felt a scream inside her lungs that never made it past her lips.

 In his hands he held the photo of Jackson Walker, a tiny Savannah on one knee, a toothless, grinning Drake in the other, and a smiling Bianca looking down on all of them. He slowly turned to face her and the look in his eyes was a mixture of all the things she’d ever seen there, with the addition of one new thing that broke her heart and made her fly to his side: for just a second, and a second too long, she saw a flash of hopelessness, like he knew this wouldn’t end easily, like he knew that he couldn’t keep them safe... like he knew that they weren’t safe. Not at all.

[likethetailofacomet]

Promises

So I tried to work on my nano story this afternoon but the characters were being little turd muffins and not cooperating. Luckily, Drake and Claire always do exactly what I want from them, so surprise! More Learning to Love Again! 

Pairing: Drake x Claire 

Warning: gun violence, NSFW (yeah)

Song Pairing: Fire and the Flood by Vance Joy

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @endlessly-searching-for-you @brightpinkpeppercorn @mind-reader1 @nekkidmolerat @cordoniantrash @natalievgoodehenry @gardeningourmet @indiacater @agent-bossypants @notoriouscs @endlesshero1122 @simmerbychoices let me know if you’d like a tag! :)

Alex's boots clomped heavily up the stairs as he eerily called out her name. She could hear the door creak open as he entered the cabin, could feel his presence invading their peace. She felt her heart racing and her blood go cold but she couldn't make her body move. Looking to her left she saw Drake still asleep by her side and she tried to shout for him to wake up, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out. She panicked and tried to scream but still the only sound she could hear was the sound of something heavy and metallic being dragged along the hallway wall, and she knew without question that it was a gun. She lay there stuck in place as the door opened and the face of the monster peered through. Drake sat bolt up beside her, and was on his feet in nothing flat, rushing at Alex, strong hands forming fists. She tried to stop him, tried to tell him about the gun, but her shouts didn't reach him and then there was a sickening bang that broke the night and Claire watched as Alex's arm fell back to his side, pistol in hand, sickening grin on his face as he laughed. She snapped her head back to Drake just in time to see him crumple to the ground, a bright red pool seeping out from under him. She strained against her invisible bonds to try to get to him, tears pouring from her eyes as her heart ripped itself to shreds, but still she remained nailed in place. Alex raised his arm again and she closed her eyes just before the bang.

Claire sat bolt upright, breath coming in shallow gasps, hands clutching her chest. Shaking, she jumped as a pair of strong hands gripped her arms from behind her, letting out a frightened scream. She whipped her head around and was met with his dark eyes, full of concern. “Hey, hey, Berkley it's okay...shh...” he muttered softly, trying to connect with her and pull her from the nightmare. She inhaled a few ragged breaths, eyes roving over his face, his chest and arms, assuring herself that he was unharmed. Convinced that it hadn't been real, she collapsed against him, his arms circling around her as he pressed his cheek against her hair. “Shh...its alright, it was just a dream,” he continued to tell her, until her breathing evened out and the shaking subsided.

“Berkley?” he said her name gently and heard her hum an acknowledgment. “It was Alex...wasn't it. Your dream...” Drake felt an ache in his chest as he lightly rubbed her back. Claire nodded and the ache deepened tenfold. He closed his eyes and took a breath in through his nose. He hated this man. He thought back to earlier in the night, back in Liam's study when she'd told them about him. She'd said that he was abusive, that he'd hurt her, but she hadn't been more specific than that. Drake didn't need the details. He saw it in her eyes and in the way she physically made herself smaller when she talked about him, letting her shoulders fall, shrinking. This was the woman he'd been enamored with on the beach- who'd done cartwheels and climbed rocks, whose laughter danced through the air, who'd taken him by surprise and left his thoughts to rearrange themselves. She was vibrant and seemed fearless. Seeing her like this...it wasn't right. He'd stood there listening to her, trying not to react, trying to stay calm and not let her see the rage that was swelling inside him that this, this...excuse for a man, had thought that he had any right to hurt her... Look at her, she doesn't need that right now,he'd thought. She didn't need rescuing, she needed comforting. So he'd set his face into a calm expression, he'd been soft with his tone and he'd held her close. But under the surface he felt sick, bubbling, seething. He took another breath and pushed it all further down. “I'm not going to let him touch you, Berkley, that's a promise, you know that right?”

She picked her head up then, her eyes swimming with tears she seemed determined to hold back. “No, Drake,” she'd said, and the act of speaking proved too much to keep the tears back. They slipped out and she closed her eyes with a sniffle.

“No?” he asked, not sure what she meant. He continued to run his fingers up and down her bare back.

She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. “No.” she said again, firmly this time. “You don't understand...”

He took one hand from her back and brought it to her face, brushing her hair out of the way. It was sticking up in odd angles and he hoped that some day he'd get to hold her like this and brush her hair from her eyes like that without their pasts hovering over them, trying to keep them apart. “What don't I understand?”

“My...my dream,” she said, voice small and unsure. “In my dream, we were lying in bed together...like this... and then he...he came in and I knew he had a gun but my voice, I...I tried to wake you but I couldn't speak and then he...”

Drake tightened his arm around her body. “He shot you?” he asked, the idea of it sending a shock wave through him, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

She shook her head. “No he...he shot you.” It became clear to him then, her fear, the way she'd looked at him, as though trying to convince herself that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. “Drake...” she said his name with such feeling in it that it almost didn't sound like it belonged to him, “he shot you...and I...” she looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I can't have that...” she finished.

“Hey, look, I'm okay, I'm fine,” he said, lifting her chin to meet her gaze. He smiled at her. “Don't worry about me, okay Berkley? We're going to be okay, I promise.” She opened her mouth to protest but he continued before she could get a word out, “ask me the last time I made a promise.”

“Drake,” she said exasperatedly, trying to make him understand the desperation she felt to keep him safe from Alex.

“Ask me, Berkley,” she insisted, kissing her nose.

Claire sighed. “When was the last time you made a promise?”

“I don't even remember. I don't really make them, because I know how the world works. I know that no matter how you try to guarantee that everything will work out, or that you'll achieve a certain goal, or that you'll always feel a certain way...” his eyes flashed with desire as he gave that last example. “I know that sometimes life has other plans and even if you do everything right, your promise means nothing. But Berkley, this is something that I would never let happen, okay? I promise you.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Drake,” she said, and returned her cheek to his chest.

Drake sighed deeply, sadly. He wanted her to believe him more than anything. He knew how crazy it sounded- he'd told himself as much earlier when he'd thought it- but even though he'd only known Claire Berkley for two weeks, he knew that she was the one. She'd reached down into the depths of him and saved him from drowning in his solitude. She'd persisted against his pushing her away until he couldn't push anymore. He still couldn't say it out loud, but he'd started to let himself think it- he loved her. “I'm not going to fight with you,” he said quietly, “but I know in my heart that I won't let him hurt you. If he even lays on finger on you again Berkley, I'll kill him myself. That's a promise, too.”

Claire could hear the sincerity in his voice and wanted so badly to believe him. Against her better judgment she had fallen hopelessly for the complicated, contemplative man whose chest she was resting upon, his heartbeat answering hers, their skin stitched together. She'd known there was something different about him the very first night they'd met, when his smile caused an explosion of heat to burst throughout her, a deep tug in the very fiber of her being- like magnets being drawn together. She knew she was in for it when she got on that plane and flew to a foreign country off the cuff to chase a man she'd only spent a few hours with. She could tell there was no turning back when they'd kissed in the stable, and after the events in Lythikos, she knew her fate was sealed: she was falling in love with Drake Walker, even if she wouldn't say it aloud just yet, fearing that it would all come crashing down on her if the universe caught wind of it.

“Alex is sick,” she said. “He's demented, Drake, and he won't stop until he finds me. And no one that I care about is safe until he does.” Her voice broke on the last few words as she thought of all the people that were at risk right now: Daniel and Ruby, Liam and Drake and Maxwell and Hana...everyone. “And it sounds like this guy, this Anton has a pretty big bone to pick here...I just,” she took a big, shuddering breath, “I can't lose you, okay?”

Drake took her by the waist and lifted her up, sitting up himself. She laced her long legs around his torso and placed her hands on his chest, looking directly into his eyes, noses touching. “You're not going to lose me, Berkley. You're never going to lose me,” he crashed his lips to hers then and the room swam around them as they breathed the air from each other's lungs and tasted the want on other's tongues. Claire's hands wound themselves in his shaggy bedroom hair, pulling him closer as his hands squeezed her hips, pushing his own against her. She whimpered as his mouth traveled to her neck, kissing, sucking and lightly dragging his teeth across her skin, getting drunk on her. Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and his lips were on her again, this time trailing down her throat towards her chest. She tilted her head back, giving him more access, as she ground her hips up against his growing hardness.

He couldn't remember wanting anyone this badly in his entire life- certainly not Kiara or even Isla had made him feel like he'd stop breathing if he couldn't have her. He lavished kisses across her soft breasts, delighting in the sounds she made as he did. His lips roved further south as he moved down her body, stopping to place a kiss on each of her pointy hip bones. He propped himself up to look her in the eye before continuing. “Berkley,” he said, voice thick and heavy with need.

She cut him off with a searing kiss, her tongue delving so deep into his mouth that he growled against it and gripped the back of her neck. She broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his. “Drake, I don't want to talk anymore, I want you.”

It was all he needed to hear. He fused their lips together once more, his fingers flying to dip under the waistband of her underwear. She lifted her hips and he slid them off. He met her eye for a fraction of a second- lust clear and present- before grabbing each thigh and spreading her legs. He brought his head between them and she gasped as his hot tongue made contact with her wetness, licking and swirling against her as all thoughts of Alex and Anton faded into the background. He flicked his tongue against her clit before sliding it into her entrance and she couldn't contain the sweet sigh that slipped out. He smiled against her and leaned back to adjust himself, once more meeting her eyes. Breathlessly she nodded and he lined himself up with her entrance, slowly filling her. He wrapped one arm under her body and around her shoulders holding her close as he thrust gently into her, pleasure he never knew existed coursing through him. She bit his shoulder and he groaned into her ear, goosebumps cropping up all over her. “Berkley,” he breathed her name, kissing the side of her neck, “you feel amazing...” He knew he wouldn't last long and he wanted to tell her while he was still inside of her.

“Drake,” she answered, “Ooh,” her wanton sigh interrupting her, “I think I...” she stopped herself from saying I think I'm falling in love with you.

The sound of her voice saying his name was all it took. He pulled out of her and spilled himself on the sheet next to her, panting. He brought his fingers to her core and brought wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over her as she came undone. They tangled themselves together and lay there, silently wrapped up in each other as the sun rose outside and filled the room with early morning light. Twice now, Drake thought to himself as his eyes scanned the incredible woman in bed with him, twice I've held her in my arms in the light of morning. A fire roared inside of him, a flood of warmth as they dozed lazily in and out of sleep until he kissed her softly on the cheek and said, “Come on, beautiful, let's get cleaned up.” He scooped her up and she giggled as he headed toward the bedroom door.

“Where are we going?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“Shower,” he said, thoughts of their wet, naked bodies pressed together in that tight space making him feel anything but clean.

Later that afternoon, after Drake had surprised her by making eggs and bacon, they lounged on his couch. She was wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a big, wooly pair of his socks. Their feet were tangled together, her back against his chest, grateful for the distraction they'd found in one another that morning. But as the day turned to evening, they both knew they'd have to talk about it eventually. “Hey, Berkley?” he said, softly stroking her arm.

“Hmm?” she answered.

“Will you stay with me...here? At least until the Regatta this weekend?” He wanted to keep her with him, to keep her safe and away from the palace, from where Alex thought she was.

“Drake, I...” she started to explain that she didn't want to make him a target, but she dropped it almost immediately, knowing that it was a losing battle. “Yes.” she said, “Yes, promise.” She turned her face to kiss his bicep. “Drake?”

“What, beautiful?” she could hear him smiling and knew he was pleased that she said she'd stay.

She swallowed, preparing herself to say what she was about to say. She'd thought about it all morning; while they were in the shower together, when he wrapped her in a huge towel and dried her off, kissing her the whole time, while he cooked them breakfast, the daylight streaming into the tiny cabin kitchen. She needed to tell him how she felt, in case Alex saw to it not to give her a chance to. “I think I'm falling in love with you...” she said finally.

Drake felt his heart quicken and his cheeks pull up involuntarily. “Well that's great news, Berkley, because I know I'm falling for you.”  

[likethetailofacomet]

Anchor, Lighthouse

It’s been a week since Claire left the palace, since she and Drake had carved out a piece of paradise for themselves. But it’s time for the Regatta- time to return to the rigors of the social season. 

Pairing: Drake x Claire 

Warning: violence, murder, mentions of abusive behaviors 

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @gardeningourmet @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @endlesstaylormckenzie @cordoniantrash @notoriouscs @natalievgoodehenry @endlesshero1122 

Claire stood on the dock gazing out at the cerulean expanse of ocean before her, the energizing warmth of the sun at her back. She smiled, completely at home with the wind and the sea, with the boats and anchors and gulls. Flags from every duchy in Cordonia whipped about in the breeze, cheerful and bright. Drake had been telling her about the Regatta all week. It was one of his favorite yearly events and she could see why. She heard footsteps coming up the dock and a tingling feeling went through her as she waited for his arms to snake around her waist.“Claire,” it wasn’t the voice she expected to hear, and it sucked the air right from her lungs. The warmth of the sun did nothing against the chill his threatening tone induced. “Turn around, Claire.”

She knew she shouldn’t, but she pivoted slowly until his Cheshire Cat grin filled her view. Her heartbeat quickened as she heard a drip drip drip and looked down in horror to see his hand hanging at his side, a long, black knife dripping drops of deep red blood onto the dock. She gasped, choking on fear, as her eyes came back up to his face, glee in his cold eyes at the reaction he’d caused in her. “I met your new friends, sweetie, see?” He moved aside and pointed down the dock with the knife.

Claire heard her own scream as she flew towards them, but it was too late. she collapsed to her knees beside Liam, Max and Hana, their blank eyes boring into her, their chests ripped to ribbons. She knew they were gone but her hands still pressed to their wounds to try to stop the bleeding. They came away crimson and hot, shaking. She couldn’t breathe. “No, no, no, no!” The word tumbled from her lips as though saying it over and over again would erase what Alex had done- what she had brought upon them all. She heard another pair of footsteps approaching and snapped her eyes up to see Drake running towards her, his soft leather eyes wide and panicked. “Berkley!” He shouted her name, “come on, we have to get out of here!” He reached for her hand to pull her to her feet.

“No, Drake, we have to help them!” Her voice sounded foreign to her as her blood rushed in her ears. “We can’t, Berkley, we have to go, come on!” He scooped her up, her bloody hands staining his shirt and skin. He set her on her feet and, grabbing her hand, started running. She stumbled and fell, hitting the dock boards hard, and he spun around to help her up again. As she reached for him he jerked to a halt, eyes widening. The hand he’d been stretching out to help her up with went to his chest, where Alex’s knife was burried to the handle. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing but shallow breaths came out as he fell beside her. She screamed his name, begged him to open his eyes. But just like the others, she knew there was nothing she could do. She lay her head on his chest and listened as his heart stopped beating. Sobs wracked her body, her breaths coming jaggedly, tearing at her lungs. She heard Alex’s footsteps coming towards her but didn’t move- wouldn’t move from Drake’s side. She’d die there with him, she wouldn’t let him be alone. She didn’t turn around as she heard him say “your turn, sweetie.”

Claire’s eyes opened and her breath shuddered. It was just a dream- another one. The regatta was that afternoon, and Drake was asleep next to her, his arm draped protectively over her side. She’d gotten good over the last week at realizing that the too real visions and feelings were just her sleeping mind’s way of reminding her that Alex was still out there- that no matter how safe she felt here with Drake in this haven away from the palace, she wasn’t. None of them were.

She twisted to face him, his arm sliding over her skin, still asleep. His dark hair fell across his forehead, messy and endearing. Soft, comforting snores came from somewhere in the back of his throat, his lips parted slightly. Claire’s eyes roved over his jaw where almost a weeks ‘s worth of growth covered his chin- their time away from the palace meant he didn’t have to keep up his normal shaving routine, but she knew he’d shave today before the Regatta. She knew he didn’t want to, but that he would. She was learning things like that about him. For a few moments she lay there, watching the rise and fall of his muscular, bare chest- gentle and rhythmic. No bad dreams for him.

He’d promised her after every dream that he wouldn’t let Alex hurt her. That he’d stop him before he got anywhere near them. She’d wanted to believe him so, so badly, but she also didn’t want him promising anything that could make her nightmares reality; that could put him in the crosshairs meant for her.

Claire brought her thin, still trembling fingers to brush the hair from his forehead. she tilted her face upwards to kiss him sweetly, lips still quivering from watching him die for the fifth time that week. He’d comforted her and held her and dried her tears each time, softly reassuring her that it was alright, that they were safe, together, and that their friends were, too. She shivered as she remembered her last phone call with Dan. He’d told her that he’d seen Alex walking towards Keagan’s during Ruby’s shift from a block away. He’d turned and looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Dan before waving and smirking, then turned down a different street. Dan had called the police and let them know and asked to keep an extra eye around the bar, but it was New York and Alex was just one of millions.

Drake stirred awake as she kissed him again, opening his eyes and inhaling through his nose. “Morning, Berkley,” he mumbled, voice lazy.

“Morning, Drake,” she said, and fit herself against his shoulder.

“Sleep okay?” He asked, trailing his fingers up her back. He knew the answer was probably no, that her dreams had probably haunted her again, but he asked her every morning anyway, hoping for a different answer. Hoping that he’d made her feel safe enough, that he’d shown her that he would be her anchor in any storm. He felt her shake her head against his chest and thought, tomorrow, maybe. “Dreams again?”

“It was everyone this time, Drake.” Her voice was barely audible. “It was Liam and Max and Hana and you... at the Regatta...he killed everyone.” She let out a breath and he kissed the top of her head.

“Everyone’s okay, Berkley. There’s extra security, everyones okay.” He tightened his hold on her, pressing her to him, warm and real. “And I’m not letting him near you, baby, not if I can help it. You know that.” It wasn’t a question.

“I know, Drake...” she lifted her head to meet his eyes and a love so deep it took his breath away echoed throughout his whole body. “Make love to me?” She asked.

He cupped the side of her face and drew her in for a long, languid kiss that made her sigh against his mouth. When their bodies joined all thoughts of her dreams faded away, replaced with the ecstasy of feeling him move in her. After, they lay tangled, Claire dropping tiny kisses behind his ear and down his neck, his lips twitching up into a smile with each one. They stayed like that for most of the morning, until it was time to get dressed and ready for the Regatta. The two of them shared the small bathroom; Claire fixing her hair, Drake shaving, and for a second everything felt so peaceful, so perfect- a loving couple getting ready together. Drake wiped the excess shaving cream from his face and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “You look beautiful, Berkley,” he said, smiling at her. He craved these moments, these little pieces of the normal life he pictured for the two of them. She smiled back and he thought about how he'd never grow tired of seeing that sight.

The drive to the docks was quick and quiet, Claire's hand firmly secured in Drake's, resting on the shifter. Drake knew she was nervous to be around everyone again, nervous that something might happen at the Regatta. She'd been back to the palace a few times this week, for appearances, but Drake had been right by her side most of the time, and they'd never stayed for more than an hour or two. Today was going to be different as it was a very public event with tons of media coverage and on lookers. Claire remembered Drake's words the night of the Lythikos Ball, when he'd told her that no one could know that she wasn't in Cordonia to vie for Liam's hand. She remembered Dan telling her about the tabloid picture of her and Drake walking side by side near the stables back at the racetrack and shivered, wondering if Bastien's handling of the situation by telling the magazine that Drake had been asked by Liam to help acclimate the American to Cordonia's ways had worked. She knew the magazine hadn't run any more stories on them, but couldn't help but wonder whether or not anyone believed that excuse. This afternoon, at the race, Drake and Claire would have to spend as little time together in the public eye as possible, and Drake knew that she was scared. If he was being honest, he was a little scared, too.

They pulled in and Drake put the truck in park. He brought Claire's knuckles up to his lips and kissed them sweetly. “Okay, Berkley, now you know everything is going to be alright, right? It's just a few hours of this and then we can relax, and I'll be keeping my eye on you, even if I can't be there holding your hand,” he kissed her knuckles again. “I'm still not letting anything happen to you. Not today, not ever. So don't let that nightmare rent any space in your mind today, alright?” He smiled, his eyes softening.

Claire nodded. “I know,” she said quietly. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek before pressing her lips to his. She closed her eyes and kissed him like it might be her last kiss on Earth and felt him sigh against her mouth. They broke apart, noses brushing, foreheads together, and sat there for a few seconds soaking up the lingering love left over from the kiss. Finally, she nodded again and sad, “See you in a few hours,” before giving him what she hoped was a brave grin and exiting the truck.

The day had proven to be enjoyable; the absolutely stunning blue sky and wide open ocean, the boat races, the conversation. Claire had stolen glances at Drake all afternoon and he'd done the same, careful not to spend too much time in the same vicinity as one another. Aside from a momentary flashback to her dream when she saw her friends- their cold, lifeless faces, their blood soaked chests- she'd been holding herself together quite well. Eventually it was time to leave, but first the media was asking a few questions of each of the suitors. Most of the questions revolved around fashion, the history of the Regatta, or how the suitor in question was feeling about her odds of Liam choosing her. When it was Claire's tun, however, they seemed hell-bent on exposing the American Mystery Woman in some way, making her reiterate what Bastien had said about her relationship with Drake, making her answer tough questions about why she thought she even deserved to take part in Cordonia's traditions. They'd asked her about her past and if there were any jealous ex boyfriends out there that the crown should worry about- the reporters and photographers had all laughed then, their words just a joke. She felt her blood run cold and tried to keep from shaking as she'd answered with a simple “no.” She'd somehow gotten through it, and strode to the spot where Drake had parked as quickly as she could. Her heart pounded as she opened the door and got inside. Immediately his hand was holding hers, and she leaned her head against his chest, feeling his heart beat against her cheek. “Hi,” she said softly, the relief of being back together washing over her in crashing ocean waves. .

“Hey, Berkley, you did great. We're done! It's over,” he soothed her, his arm coming around her in a quick embrace. “Now, I have an idea,” he took the arm from around her, his hand going up the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face.

Claire picked her head up and gave him a warm smile. This man was amazing, the way he gave her exactly what she needed, the way he cared deeply about her, the way he wanted to keep her from ever feeling threatened or lost or scared. “Let's hear it,” she said, feeling better already.

“Well, the night we met you took me to your secret beach and I was thinking that I should return the favor.”

She grinned. “Just us?”

He returned her grin, eyes growing hungry as he looked her over. “Just us, Berkley.” Just us and the sand and the sun and the waves, just us and our lips and our hands and our bodies, just me and you, Berkley, just the way it's supposed to be, just you, my lighthouse, and me, your anchor.