#drake walker x olivia nevrakis

[alj4890]

Silence

(Drake Walker x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance drabble

Thirty Days of Thirty Kisses Challenge with the prompt: kissing your enemy while holding them at knife point

@krsnlove @sirbeepsalot @lodberg ​ @mynameiskaylabella @museofbooks @elbenmond @gibbles82 @twinkleallnight @thehonorarybeaumont @tessa-liam @kingliam2019

Thanks so much @twinkleallnight for the suggestion of this couple with this particular prompt. 😂 My Pinterest recommendations now are filled with different disguised knives after my search for the perfect one for Olivia to use 🤣

Masterlist

The palace was silent, save for the faint chime of a nearby clock alerting the lone, female figure prowling the royal library. The number of chimes let her know it was three in the morning. She paused in her search through file cabinets just long enough to make certain no footsteps were coming her way.

Olivia grimaced at yet another dead end. There had to be something about her parents amongst the historical documents. The anonymous letter she'd received at Liam's coronation had to be false. It simply wasn't feasible that her parents would turn traitor and take a chance on losing everything they had.

Surely they wouldn't have risked leaving her alone.

Olivia readjusted her pen light as she flipped through another file folder. Frustrated tears began to sting her eyes as she caught her parents' names as being in attendance for the mundane things at Court such as balls and council meetings.

Nothing was here. Not one shred of information to either prove or disprove that horrid, threatening letter had been found after a week of searching.

She'd already combed her duchy for anything that her parents might have inadvertently left behind. Yet, nothing was there.

She knew she should check the family vault. Yet, she couldn't make herself do it. Something about that part of her home scared her. It wasn't her ancestors' violent history she feared. She was terrified of finding something about her parents that would ruin the few precious memories she had of them.

She detested she'd been thrust into this situation. She was the Duchess of Lythikos! No man or woman had ever been able to make her do anything. She was the one to make the rules. Make the decisions. Make her own way.

Not some coward hiding behind an anonymous letter!

As she closed another dead end of a file folder, she heard a slight shuffle coming her way.

She cursed herself for not having a knife in her pocket. The few she had on her body were difficult to get to without alerting the person behind her.

Her lips curved as she thought of the one she always kept close at hand. It was a knife unlike any other she possessed. Disguised as a tube of lipstick, the blade was sharp enough to pierce the skin and do some wicked damage to whoever crossed her.

Pulling the black tube out, she whipped off the top and spun around in her chair. With a quick flick of her leg, she had the mystery person's legs swept out from under them.

A grunt echoed in the chambers as she pinned what was clearly a man to the floor.

Olivia pressed her knife against his jugular then flashed her pen light at his face.

Drake blinked, squinting up at her.

"Olivia?" He gasped once he could make out who it was. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What the hell are you doing here?!" She demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I couldn't sleep." He glared at her. "I came down here for something to read and saw your flashlight."

His eyes narrowed even more when he noticed she hadn't removed the knife from his neck. In fact, it felt like she was pressing it even harder against his skin.

"I thought you went back to Lythikos."

"I did." She hissed.

"You should have stayed there." He snapped, getting angrier by the moment. "Liam chose Madeleine. There's nothing for you here."

Olivia hid how much his words hurt. She hated that she wasn't Liam's choice, but there was little she could do about it now. She had to discover the truth about her parents before she contemplated marriage to anyone, much less Liam.

The soft thud of footsteps echoed outside of the library, drawing both their attention.

Drake knew it had to be one of the guards doing his rounds. He wasn't certain what Olivia was up to in here, but he doubted Liam or anyone else for that matter would be pleased with it.

He sucked in a breath to yell out for help.

His eyes widened when Olivia slammed her mouth over his.

She'd dropped the flashlight so she could keep his wrists pinned above his head. Her other hand kept her lipstick knife steadily pressed to his tender vein as she forced Drake to remain silent with the pressure of her mouth.

What she hadn't anticipated though, was his response.

He stiffened underneath her. Then as if against his will and better judgement, his lips softened and opened beneath hers. His tongue dipped into her mouth, startling her as it tentatively caressed hers.

Olivia closed her eyes as the kiss continued. She could feel her will falter for a couple of seconds with the stray thought of how good of a kisser Drake was.

That was all the time he needed to switch their positions.

He flipped her over onto her back and pinned her hands over her head.

Their breaths were loud in the darkness from more than struggling against one another for domination.

Olivia softly cursed when she felt his fingers tighten around her thin wrists.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"If you must know," she bit out, "I'm investigating my parents."

Of all the answers that was the one that left him speechless.

"You're what? Why?" He finally managed to say.

"It's none of your business." She spat.

"It's Liam's business." Drake spat back. "He's king now in case you forgot. This is his library and--"

Olivia lifted her hips in an attempt to escape, rendering him silent once more. He just barely managed to keep her pinned to the floor as she struggled to break his hold on her.

He was also struck speechless from the flash of desire her hips rising up to meet his flared within him.

Drake swallowed and tried once more to get some answers out of her.

"Liv," he said in an even tone.

Olivia stilled at hearing him use one of her childhood nicknames again after all these years.

"What happened?" He whispered.

"I..." She blinked at the stray tears that began to slip out. "I received a letter at the coronation ball."

The whole story eventually came out. She could have remained silent, her will was certainly strong enough to do so. But Olivia was tired of facing this alone. As much as she hated his guts, he was better than having no one to discuss this with.

She was exhausted from having to do everything on her own.

Drake listened quietly as she explained the proof she needed.

"Will you wait on telling Liam?" She asked. "Once I discover what really happened to them, I plan on explaining it to him."

"I'll wait." Drake promised. "You want me to help you go through the files?"

Olivia blinked in surprise. She would have bet a large fortune that of all the people in Cordonia, Drake Walker would be the last person to ever willingly volunteer to help her.

"Thank you," she couldn't believe she thanked him! "But I don't think the information I need is here."

Drake eased off of her then held his hand out to help her stand.

She eyed it warily before grasping it.

Once they were upright, they avoided making eye contact.

"I'm," Olivia cleared her throat, "I'm going to return home."

"Okay." Drake rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, if um..."

Olivia waited on him to finish his sentence.

"If you need some help with this," he continued, "I'll do what I can."

"You will?" She asked in complete surprise.

"I just said I would, didn't I?" He grumbled.

"Then I'll let you know if I do." She mumbled, gathering her things.

"Okay." Drake coughed. "I'll uh, I'll see you later, Liv."

Her eyebrows drew together over him using her nickname again.

"See you later, Drake."

He nodded then quickly made his escape out of the library.

Once he was back in his bedroom, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby mirror as he poured a second glass.

His eyes widened first on the trickle of blood on his neck from where her knife cut him. They then focused upon his lips coated in her red lipstick.

He quickly downed his second glass before wiping away the evidence of how she so effectively silenced him.

Drake was not about to try and figure out what happened in that moment when he felt her lips on his.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

I Am Thankful For...

Book: TRR AU

Pairing: Drake x Olivia.

Word count: 1,177

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: teen

Warning: fluff

By: @twinkleallnight

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page

Chapter 15 

_Bridge of Dreams_ 

Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist 

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will have crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors.

Bridge of Dreams

Chapter 15 

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley revisit the Pont des Arts, ‘Lovelock Bridge” in Paris, France. Olivia begins a relationship with Damien Nazario. William enjoys his first camping trip with Uncles Drake and Maxwell & Bartie

Music Inspiration: I Won’t Give Up, Jason Mraz 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

Santorini, Greece 

Rubbing away the fog off the bathroom mirror after his hot shower, Damien Nazario could now see his reflection to shave. After waking from a rejuvenating sleep, his plans included enjoying the white sand beaches that were here in Santorini and maybe some sightseeing on the island. He was afforded a couple of free days of relaxation to enjoy the beaches of Santorini by King Liam before he was to return to his duties of guarding the young crown prince in Cordonia. 

...and he was determined to enjoy this free time. Damien finished shaving and splashed water on his face. He felt refreshed and energized, ready to take on the day. 

He grabbed a towel and dried his face. Then, he headed into the bedroom to get dressed. 

 Damien padded slowly into the bedroom of her hotel suite and grinned. 

He had every intention of enjoying his time with his fiery red-haired companion, whom he shared a bed with after the wedding festivities ended. 

After Olivia invited him to extend the celebration in her hotel room -- which he accepted without hesitation -- they spent the night in each other's arms, exploring their desires. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and even longer since he had been with a woman like Duchess Olivia. She was confident, intelligent, and beautiful. And she knew how to please a man. 

Ever since the first day they were introduced, he found himself drawn to her and intrigued by her personality. 

Damien had to admit, the redhead was very sexy, and it wasn't just her appearance. It was also the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. Her confidence of knowing exactly what she wanted and was not afraid to go after it. 

The way she spoke so eloquently and with such passion was very arousing. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was interested in; her intellect apparent. 

He was intrigued by her confidence and her ability to be assertive. Most women would shy away from taking charge, but not Olivia. She was bold and unafraid to express her feelings. He found that to be incredibly attractive and erotic. 

Damien smiled, biting his top lip as he thought about the previous night and all the things they did. They had made love until the early hours of the morning leaving them both exhausted but satisfied. 

Olivia was already up and dressed, sitting on the bed. She was wearing a pale coral sundress that complimented her skin tone, and her red hair was pulled back into a loose chignon. 

"Good morning," Damien said as he approached her. 

"Good morning," Olivia replied coyly, a smile playing on her lips. 

Damien leaned down and kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek. He couldn't resist pulling her close, inhaling her sweet scent. 

"I was wondering if you would like to join me on the beach today," Damien suggested, his fingers brushing a stray hair away from her face. 

"Actually, I was planning on returning to Cordonia today." 

"Why so soon?" Damien asked, slightly disappointed. 

"I have important business to attend to." 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Everything's fine," Olivia reassured him, placing her hand on his chest. "I just need to get back to work." 

"Of course," Damien nodded. "But you still have the day free before your flight". 

"True," Olivia agreed. "I suppose we could spend a few more hours together." 

"Excellent," Damien smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. "Would you like to have breakfast first?" 

"Actually, I have a better idea," Olivia said, her voice low and seductive. 

"What do you have in mind?" 

Olivia smirked, her green eyes darkening with desire. "Why don't you come back to bed?" 

"Now that sounds like a perfect plan." 

Damien's mouth curved into a grin as he gently pushed her back and joined her back in bed. 

As she looked out the 18th floor window, Riley could see the Seine River winding its way through the city. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

The Suite Impériale at the Ritz, Paris, France 

This is it. 

Riley knew that she would have to relive the bittersweet memories from the engagement tour. It would be hard, but she knew that it would also be cathartic. She needed this. 

She needed to let go of the past. 

She turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a flowing, white sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was falling softly onto her shoulders, and her makeup was simple and elegant. 

She was ready. 

She slipped on a pair of white sandals and made her way down to the lobby. Liam was meeting her at their spot once he finished his meeting with the French president and he should be there momentarily. 

When Riley stepped outside, the sun was shining, and the sky was a brilliant blue. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, trying to calm her jitters. 

As Riley made her way along the Seine, she could not help but think about the last time she was here. 

It was a day she would never forget. 

The day she and Liam placed that small gold lock on the bridge. 

It was the day they declared their love for each other and sealed it with a kiss. 

Riley sighed, remembering how happy she was that day. How hopeful. 

She had been so naïve. 

Tariq was never found and the scandal lived on. Liam would abide by his duty and marry Madeleine, making her his queen. 

As Riley rounded the corner, she could see the bridge coming into view. 

Her heart started to race, and her palms became sweaty. She felt her tears travel down her cheeks. 

She was nervous. 

She didn't know what to expect or why Liam was so insistent on revisiting this exact spot. 

Riley reached the bridge and stopped. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

She was ready. 

The memories came flooding back. 

'You spot Liam leaning against a stone railing overlooking the Seine. His expression is clouded, but when he hears you approach, he breaks into a smile. 

"Riley!"' 

"Liam. You are a sight for sore eyes." 

Liam chuckles. "That's my line." 

He pushes himself off the railing and takes a few steps forward, closing the distance. 

'"I wasn't sure you'd come."'

He wraps you in a tight embrace, resting his head against your shoulder. You feel his chest heave with a sigh.  

"After the bachelor party, I found Maxwell and he filled me in on your ... mission earlier." 

To think that Bastien helped set you up ..." 

Liam nods. "It's ... shocking, yes, but ... I think it might have been a blessing in disguise." 

"How so?" 

Liam pulls away and smiles. "If we hadn't been interrupted, I may not have had the opportunity to spend the evening with you. And as much as I love spending time with my friends, being with you was ... a much-needed escape." 

"I wasn't sure if we should risk coming here. If the person behind this is so powerful that Bastien is afraid of them ..., are we really safe? I don't know how deeply this goes or who we can trust. All I know is that I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. The only way to keep you safe might be for us to leave. Permanently." 

Liam smiled sadly, I remember asking you, saying, 

"We could ... we could go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Where do you want to go?" 

"You're joking, right? We can't leave Cordonia." 

"No, we can. We'll just go somewhere no one will ever find us. We can live in peace and happiness together." 

"We could have a family. We could be happy." 

"Liam ... no. No matter how tempting that sounds ...  

"You can't abandon Cordonia." 

His shoulders slump. "I know that. But if you asked me to, I would. In an instant." 

"I could never ask you that. Your people need an honest King now more than ever. And the Liam I know would never leave them behind. 

Liam tenderly takes your hands in his. 

"We will get through this, Riley. We have to. I refuse to believe otherwise." 

He lifts one of your hands and kisses the back of it, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"We'll find a way. Together." 

Liam pulls you close and kisses you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. 

After a moment, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. 

"I promise." 

"I won't give up on you, or us." 

"Nor will I." 

"Thank you, Riley for not letting my fears get the better of me." 

Liam steps back and holds out his arm to you. 

"Now, shall we continue our walk? 

"I'd love that, Liam." 

The two of you start walking down the bridge, hand-in-hand. 

"You know, Riley, there's one good thing about this whole Tariq situation." 

"And what's that?" 

"It's made me realize how lucky I am to have someone like you by my side. You're strong, kind, compassionate, and so much more. I love you, and I'm so grateful that you're a part of my life." 

Liam gives you a small smile. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

"For what?" 

"For always knowing the right thing to say." 

"Well, I try," Liam says with a smirk. 

"I know it's hard. But no matter what happens, at least we'll face it together." 

At this, Riley gets very emotional, thinking that by leaving him when she found out she was pregnant, she betrayed him. 

Riley was lost in thought as she walked, the sun beating down on her shoulders. It had been a long journey, and she was still processing everything that had happened. 

She thought about her decision to leave, and how it had affected Liam. 

She thought about William, and how she faced the challenge of being a single parent. 

The guilt was overwhelming. 

She knew she had made the right decision at the time, but she couldn't help but regret the pain she had caused Liam. 

She had left without a word, without a trace. 

And while she was certain that the time away had been necessary, she couldn't help but feel like she had let him down. 

Joining Liam at the railing they both gaze across the river. The streets around them are practically empty, though many lights still glitter on the water. 

It's so quiet. It feels almost like a dream. Like they're the only ones in the city. 

Liam puts his arm around Riley's shoulders and pulls her close. 

"Love, you look ... you look like you are miles away from here.

Penny tor your thoughts?"

"Liam. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course ... anything, Riley."

Taking a shaky breath, speaking in a very small voice,

"After you married Madeleine, did ... did you ever grow feelings for her? When I left?"

Liam took a deep breath and sighed. He knew Riley wanted him to; needed him to be truthful.

"Madeleine and I, well, we grew fond of one another. As friends; but, nothing more."

A tear slipped down Riley's cheek, but Liam quickly rubbed it away.

"Our arrangement was that we would marry, have children, and rule Cordonia together. However, as time went on, I ... we both realized that we were never going to love each other. We would be nothing more than friends." 

Nodding her head, her eyes were locked onto the floor. She was trying to hold herself together.

"Madeleine did try, at first, to seduce me. She was quite insistent on producing an heir, but I couldn't bring myself to bed her. Cordonia be damned." 

Liam placed his hands on Riley's cheeks, cradling her head as she cried.

"I knew that, as long as you were out there, somewhere, I would always be yours. I couldn't move on." 

"I'm so, so sorry," she said. "I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty for what happened." 

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't your fault. It was my choice. I had a responsibility to Cordonia, and I had a duty to the Crown. I knew what I was getting into when I married Madeleine." 

"You didn't have a choice," she whispered. 

"Neither did you," he replied. 

Riley sighed, her eyes filled with tears, looking up to the sky. 

"The night when William was born ... I was so happy. But you weren't mine. you belonged to someone else. It killed me ... that I ran and took your son away."

"Riley," Liam said softly, taking her hand. 

Riley pursed her lips, and began...

"Riley," he said tenderly, cupping her cheek. 

"Liam, when William was born, I was ecstatic. But then, when I held him for the first time, and he looked up at me ... I couldn't help but think that you should have been there, too. That he should have had his father with him, on the day he was born. And I just couldn't stop thinking about how I had left you behind, and that it was all my fault." 

"Riley," he said again, pulling her into his arms. "You were the one who was abandoned, Riley. Not me. I understand why you did what you did. It wasn't your fault." 

"Liam ..." 

"Riley, I know how difficult it was for you. How painful. But I am so glad that you found the strength to return to me, and with our son. You are a wonderful mother, and I can't imagine my life without you and William in it."

"I love you, Liam,"her lip quivering. 

"And I love you, Riley," he replied. "More Than you will ever know."

"Always," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"Always, my love." 

The two of them stood there, watching the sun set over the water, holding each other close. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"  Liam turned to kiss Riley's forehead.

"Yes. It is." 

Liam looks down and smiled. "I have a surprise for you." 

Leading Riley further along the bridge she sees a wicker basket sitting on the paving stones. Liam pulls a small blanket from the basket and spreads it out. As she settled down on the blanket, Liam pulled a bottle of champagne from the basket, followed by two flutes, a loaf of crisp bread, and several rounds of cheese. 

Riley smiled. "Wow, Liam. This is quite the spread. And very familiar." 

Liam deftly pops the cork and pours two glasses of champagne. He hands one to Riley, and then raises his own. 

"To you, Riley. The most unforgettable woman I've ever met." 

"To you, Liam. Meeting you changed my life. But out of all the places I've been and the things I've done since then, the best part has been getting to know you." 

"That's more of a toast than I deserve, Riley, but, thank you." 

Clinking glasss they each take a sip. There is a faint hint of mint and lemon to the cool, bubbly drink. 

"Liam, how long have you been planning this?"

"A few days." 

Riley sips her champagne. The sweet and bubbly alcohol is warming. 

"How did you manage to sneak a whole picnic out here without anyone seeing you?" 

Liam chuckles. "A king can do many things." 

"Like bribe the French palace staff?" 

Liam laughs. "Perhaps. But no, I was simply able to utilize my authority. And I can assure you, no one will disturb us. This bridge is closed to traffic." 

Riley looked up at him, incredulous. "How did you manage that?" 

"With great difficulty." Liam winks mischievously. 

She raised her eyebrows. 

"I have connections," Liam says with a smirk. 

"So, you pulled some strings, and now we have a private bridge all to ourselves?" 

"Indeed." Liam responds sheepishly.

Riley took another sip of champagne. "I must say, this is quite impressive." 

"I thought it would be nice to have a moment alone together, away from prying eyes and listening ears."

"I'm glad you did."  Riley giggled.

"Good," Liam says, pouring more champagne into her glass. 

"So, what do we have here?" 

"Well, we have champagne, of course," Liam says, motioning to the bottle. "And then we have some delicious cheese, courtesy of France. And a fresh baguette, still warm from the bakery." 

"This is amazing, Liam. Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure, Riley." 

Once the food is gone and the blanket and glasses are put away, Liam takes the basket under one arm and offers you the other.  

"I believe tradition requires that we continue our evening with a stroll, my lady." 

As Liam and Riley walked along the Seine, more and more locks could be seen hooked through the railing.

As she looked down at the locks, Riley couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in her heart. 

They were symbols of love and hope and somewhere in the sea of locks, Riley knew their lock was still locked in place. She bent down to take a closer look.

A reminder her of a time she had tried so hard to forget. 

...Remember When... 

"Thank you, Riley. With so little permanence in this world, there will always be this little lock on this bridge just for the two of us. I want to believe it will be here forever, no matter what else happens to us." 

Riley's eyes filled with tears with this memory from years ago.   

"Riley, my love..." 

Wiping her tears she stood and turned ...and gasped --as she watched Liam drop down onto one knee before her. 

"Liam?" 

"Riley, you are my heart and soul. You're the reason I wake up every morning. You're the reason I smile. I cannot imagine a life without you by my side. You've stood beside me through the hardest moments of my life, and you've never once wavered. You've given me the strength to face my fears, and you've shown me that true love can conquer anything. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you." 

He opened his hand, and she saw a small, black velvet box sitting on his palm. 

"Liam ..." 

With steady hands, he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond engagement ring. 

"Riley Louise, will you marry me?" 

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Yes! ... A thousand times, yes!" 

"Really?" 

"Of course," she tearfully replied. 

Liam beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger. 

"I love you, Riley." 

"I love you too, Liam." 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she leaned forward, kissing him passionately. 

She was his. 

Forever. 

As they kissed, her heart was bursting with joy. 

This was the happiest moment of her life. 

They stood on the bridge for what felt like hours, locked in each other's arms. 

"So, we're really going to do this, huh?"  Liam looked intentedly at Riley, trying to stop his smile.

"What, get married?"  Riley giggled.

"Yeah," he said. "It seems crazy, but I've never been surer of anything."  Liam started to kiss down the side of her neck, pausing to gently nip her skin.

"Ohhhhh .... me neither."  Riley moaned as he squeezed her ass pulling her flush against him.

"Let's get out of here," he growled, leading Riley back to the hotel.

Fontainebleau cliff (outside Paris)

At Maxwell’s request, William, along with his nephew Bartie was joining Drake for a camping trip outside of the city...on the condition that Bastien would be included...at Liam's insistence.

"This is going to be great," Maxwell said. "I can't wait for a boys' night." 

After a few hours of driving, and a long hike later ... Maxwell, Drake, William, Bartie and Bastien arrive at a cliff overlooking the lake. 

Maxwell sets his backpack down. "All right, guys. Let's make camp." 

"I thought you said we were going camping," Bartie says. 

"This is camping," Maxwell replies. 

"No, this is a cliff. There are no trees or tents or anything." 

"We're in the middle of nature. What more do you need?" 

"Um, a place to sleep?"  Bartie replies dryly.

"I got that covered," Drake says, pulling a bundle of canvas from his backpack. He unfolds the fabric, revealing a large tent. 

"You brought a tent?" Maxwell asks. 

"Of course. What did you think we were going to do, sleep under the stars?" 

"Well, yeah."  Maxwell answered.

Drake shook his head, thinking it was a good idea to teach these nobles a thing of two about camping.

"No way. That's how you get eaten by bears." 

William looked up at Bastien, questioningly. 

"Don't worry, William," Bastien says. "I have an excellent track record for keeping the royal family safe from bears." 

"Okay, everyone. Let's get this tent set up," Drake rolled his eyes knowing he had to take the lead. 

With the tent secured, the group thrn gathered wood to start a fire. 

"Now, we can finally start having fun," Maxwell says. 

"First things, first... who is hungry?" 

William and Bartie look up at Drake.

"We are," they reply in unison. 

"Who wants s'mores?" Drake grins. 

"Yum," William exclaims. 

"I don't know what that is, but I'm in," Bartie adds. 

"S'mores are a camping classic. They're made with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. I guess your father hasn't taken you camping yet?" Drake shakes his head at Bartie.

"Ha, too funny!" Maxwell laughs. "Drake is an expert on s'mores." 

"What do you mean?" William asks. 

"Well," Maxwell begins. "S'mores are the only food that your uncle Drake can make. So, when we go camping, we have a lot of them." 

"That's not true," Drake scoffs. "I can cook other things, too. Like, hot dogs. And hamburgers." 

"You heat those things up. That doesn't count," Maxwell argues. 

"Okay, fine. But I can make a mean cup of coffee over the fire." 

"That's true," Maxwell admits. "But you still can't cook anything else." 

"Whatever," Drake says, rolling his eyes. 

The group laughs as they begin to roast their marshmallows over the crackling fire. 

Thank you for reading, tags are in the comments. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from tags.

@choicesficwriterscreations

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

At the bridal boutique:

Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Out and About

Par ici - This way

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Por mi amore?* - For my love?

*This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Replaying TRR but romancing Drake this time around. I am here for the cynical, sarcastic guy with a fluffy marshmallow heart 🥰 but also, what does he do all day at court?!

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - The Apple Banquet (Chapter 7)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry

The Apple Banquet was set to begin inside the ballroom of the Applewood Estate momentarily. The entire country was excited, as it was the first one to take place since Constantine wed Regina. All of the nobility gathered to witness the bride and groom share an apple from the year’s first harvest before the wedding.

The wedding, Liam scoffed at the thought. After they found all of Riley’s things a few days ago, he completely changed his view point on the scandal and her disappearance. He spent all this time believing she left to be with someone else, but he began to see the situation from a different light.

It seems the more he learns about Riley’s last night here, the more he believes she was forced away.

Liam learned of Riley retiring early from Maxwell, so they had a solid timeframe where someone could have gotten her out of the estate undetected and the maid to pack and move her things. He felt a sense of relief when the maid reiterated that she was not seen leaving with Tariq, but another man. Of course, he wished she would have been able to identify the unknown person, but in a way, his heart swelled knowing she didn’t leave with Tariq, although it opened a world of other unanswered questions.

Bastien had been searching for Tariq and Riley but had no luck in locating either thus far. The last trace of Riley was landing from her flight in New York, the morning after the Country Jamboree. From there, her trail runs cold. There was no trace of Tariq after his arrival to Applewood whatsoever; there wasn’t even a record of a car coming to pick him up from the estate that night. They had both simply vanished into thin air, like a ghost.

Without either of them, Liam was clueless as to how to proceed further. The few clues they had were just that, clues. There was nothing prominent enough to place blame anywhere. Riley's room had been cleared, not a trace to be found. Nothing was spotted outside, no predominant leads were found in the shed, aside from the dress and the piece of mail. Much to everyone's dismay, Bastien confirmed that he disposed of Riley's phone and the letter left in the room, so no comparison could be done. Liam took blame for everything and felt helpless, there was nothing more he could do; but he felt he had to put on his Kingly facade and continue as if nothing was amiss, at least for the time being.

However, Liam felt the time constricting on him. He was set to marry Madeleine in just a few short weeks, and he didn’t have a clue as to what he was going to do about that. Although he knew it was his duty to marry and produce heirs, he didn’t know if he could marry Madeleine just to appease the nobility, especially now that he knew someone potentially plotted to put her on the throne.

More than that, after they found Riley’s bloodied dress, Liam felt a renewed sense of urgency about locating her; he needed to see that she was unharmed. Of course he wanted nothing more than to hopefully bring her back and ultimately make her his Queen, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself. Just seeing with his own two eyes that she is okay would suffice him, although it would break his heart all over again.

As Liam stood on the dias next to Madeleine greeting all of the court’s nobles, he couldn’t help but look at everyone as if they were a suspect. Although the maid said she saw Riley with a man in a suit, every single person there could have benefitted from getting rid of her; he was aware of the fact that Riley was a commoner and not everyone would be okay with having her as a Queen. Furthermore, Liam was sure it was a hired person who escorted Riley away; he knew his nobles were not stupid, but conniving and malicious. They wouldn’t risk getting their hands dirty, especially with something of that magnitude considering she would have been his selection. That meant the suspect list was open to all of the nobility at this point.

“Liam? Are you even listening to me?!” Madeleine snapped.

“No, I’m not.” Liam retorted. He realized the other nobles were lining up behind the double doors, a sure signal that they were about to be announced into the ballroom with his Father and Regina at the head. He turned away from Madeleine and headed toward the line of people. He took his position in the back of the procession, as tradition dictated. He squared his shoulders, stood to his full height, and waited.

“Penelope!” Madeleine snapped her fingers. “My train!”

Liam silently scoffed as he watched Penelope scurry over and take position behind Madeleine. He saw her struggling to keep up with Madeleine’s pace, but she never once let that train touch the ground.

As they reached Liam’s position, Madeleine shooed Penelope away before she turned to Liam. “Cute. I don’t know what your deal is but you need to knock it off.”

“Or what?” Liam snapped as he turned to face her.

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Madeleine indignantly laughed. “No, darling, whatever would make you think that?” She feigned innocence.

Liam stepped closer to her and lowered his voice to where only she could hear. “I told you, I'm not playing whatever game it is that you are trying to play. You'd do well to remember that you are not the Queen, not yet… I hold that power, so I would advise you to tread carefully, Countess.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Liam found himself on edge; he was not in the mood to deal with Madeleine, or anyone else for that matter. This is the last place he wanted to be, and he was not about to let Madeleine try and boss him around or assert whatever dominance she thought she held over him.

Liam stood back up and adjusted his lapels. Madeleine’s face turned a hundred shades of crimson, but she returned her attention to the line in front of her. She attempted to thread her arm through Liam’s, but he pulled away. At a nod from the herald, the doors swung open and Liam strode inside with Madeleine walking closely beside him.

They were led by a servant to a banquet table adorned with a white lace tablecloth. A wooden stand sat in the middle of the table with a bright red cordonian ruby sitting atop it, beside the apple was a knife with a black handle and gold trim.

Liam took his position behind the table next to Madeleine and directed his attention to his father, who had taken place in front of the table with a champagne flute of cider in hand.

"The sharing of a Cordonian ruby dates back to the times of King Fabian. At that time, the King and Queen would not share cake when they wed, but instead a Cordonian ruby. The monarchy has since modernized, but this tradition is to honor those who have paved the way before us.

We gather here today to celebrate not only another year's bountiful harvest, but the matrimony that these two will share. Although no vows will be exchanged here today, the symbolism remains the same."

Constantine stopped his speech as applause filled the air. He waited for a few moments before he raised his hand to quiet the crowd and continued. "We have a bright future ahead of us as a country. I have no doubt in my mind that these two will lead us with distinction and grace, just as the Kings and Queens before them. We will not only thrive under their rule, but prosper." He lifted his glass in the air. "To King Liam and our soon to be Queen, Countess Madeleine."

The crowd all raised their glasses and echoed the former King's sentiments. Liam and Madeleine then each cut a slice from the apple and ate it to complete the needless ceremony. Liam grew up loving the Cordonian ruby and was incredibly proud of his heritage, but that particular apple tasted incredibly tart and bitter. It took all of his willpower not to scrunch his face as the tangy, sour flavor overcame his taste buds.

Liam was forced to stand for photographs with Madeleine before he could take a moment for himself. He didn't smile, but instead just started blankly into space past the camera. Madeleine was positioned at a slight angle in front of him and he made it a point to put as much space between them as he could and still get a 'natural’ looking portrait.

Once pictures were finished, Liam made a beeline for the bar and ordered himself a scotch on the rocks; he needed something to calm his dangerously high stress levels. As his drink was delivered to him, he felt a hand on his back. He turned around to find Drake. “How you holding up?”

“I’m not, Drake. I haven’t slept, I don’t want to be here. I need to be looking for them, for her; I have to find her.” Liam said before he downed his drink in one gulp and motioned to the bartender for another.

Drake stepped forward and signaled for a whiskey as the bartender refilled Liam’s glass. As he waited he addressed Liam. “I know this is hard on you especially. But, for now, you gotta just play along. Make ‘em think you’re really gonna go through with the wedding.”

“It's just around the corner. There's not a lot of time…”

“Don’t think about that. Right now, our focus is this investigation. We just need a little bit more to go off of, and we’re going to find it, Li. However, that means you gotta pretened to be a pretentious stick in the mud to appease all these ass wipes for a little bit…” Drake smirked as he took a sip from his drink and looked around the room.

Liam half-laughed. “I know you’re right. This is the best option, at least for now.” He shook his head and looked into his drink. “I’m just having a hard time being diplomatic when I know that someone very likely in this room is responsible for hurting the woman I love.”

Drake patted Liam on the back. “I know. But, just think, when all this is said and done and we figure out who did this, you’re gonna get to go full blown King on that mutherfucker! Goddamn I can’t wait for that!” Drake exclaimed with a huge smile on his face.

Liam laughed, for real this time. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy, even when I got you that international whiskey subscription for your birthday.”

“Man, I should order another one of those, that Hakushu Single Malt was to die for.” Drake responded as he took a drink of the whiskey in his hand, imagining it was the japanese liquor.

“Maybe when this is all said and done I can get you a whole case of that.” Liam chuckled when Drake’s eyes widened, but he soon sighed and looked out at the crowd in front of them. “I suppose I should circulate the room, pretend I want to be here. But thank you for lifting my spirits.”

“What I’m here for.” Drake replied as he lifted his glass to Liam, who returned the gesture and downed a large drink after. Liam shook his hand before he turned and made his way through the crowded room.

As he turned away, Liam saw some lesser nobles and the suitors he hadn’t chosen, minus Olivia, who was not yet joining the tour officially. At first glance, he noticed Lady Hana was not present. He was unsure if an invitation had been extended or not, but made a mental note to find out. He shook his head and looked away as he observed Penelope dabbing Madeleine’s mouth with a napkin. She trailed behind holding her drink, even going as far as bringing the glass to Madeleine's lips.

Liam continued through the room, stopping on occasion to shake a hand and exchange pleasantries. He spotted his Father and Regina as they glided throughout the ballroom together. Even though Constantine hadn’t been given much time to live, he insisted on being present throughout the tour. Liam told him he didn’t need to accompany them on the entire route, but Constantine was stubborn and was outside with everyone else when it was time for the motorcade to leave the capitol.

As Liam made his way to the other side of the room, he noticed Bertrand and Maxwell in a secluded alcove. Bertrand waved his finger in Maxwell’s face and Maxwell had his gaze trained to the floor in front of him. Bertrand’s body was turned slightly away from Liam, but he could still see his reddened face and it appeared he spoke so fast he hadn't even stopped for a breath.

Liam decided he needed to intervene and walked toward the pair. He cleared his throat as he approached them. Bertrand turned with wide eyes and bowed to Liam.

“Is everything alright?” Liam asked.

“Oh, yes, of course Your Majesty. We were just discussing House business.” Bertrand replied as he slid his eyes over to Maxwell with an irritated expression.

“That’s not what appeared to be happening. It looks as though you were once again berating Maxwell when I specifically told you to lay off of him.”

“I understand that. However, I learned today from a potential business partner that Maxwell left the estate when he should have been awaiting their call! We didn't secure that deal because he decided he had something more important to do!” Bertrand exasperated as he kept his steely gaze trained on Maxwell.

Maxwell finally looked up to meet eyes with Liam. Liam knew that Maxwell snuck away from the estate to meet Drake and Olivia before the tour started; he also knew that Maxwell had not told Bertrand about their investigation, per Liam's request. Instead, he continued to let Bertrand berate him and place blame on him for their houses' tanked reputation and financial crisis.

What Liam saw in Maxwell’s gaze was complete devastation, he knew judging from his defeated expression he was starting to break. And Liam couldn’t blame him, he had put up with Bertrand's rants daily for months.

Although Liam wasn’t entirely sure if he should, he couldn’t bear to watch his friend be torn down to nothing and let it happen; it was time to set Bertrand straight.

Bertrand began again. “He’s continuously shown his irresponsibility! You can’t pick a suitor, you can’t answer a phone, what can you do, then?! I am this close to–”

“Enough.” Liam said in a quiet but stern tone as he held up his hand to stop Bertrand from his tirade.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I forget myself–”

“No. You are not going to berate Maxwell any longer as if this is his fault: it is not. As far as him missing your 'important' phone call, I happen to know where he was and who he was with, and that meeting was far more important, I assure you.” Liam bit out.

Bertrand grew confused. “What? I don’t understand, what meeting? Why didn’t you tell me about this meeting?” He asked Maxwell.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone…” Maxwell quietly answered, avoiding eye contact.

“What does that even mean?!”

Liam quickly looked behind him to the crowded ballroom and decided it was too risky to talk there. He motioned for Maxwell and Bertrand to follow him and led them down a hallway close by. He stopped at a nondescript door and ushered them inside.

As he faced them, Liam addressed Bertrand, specifically. “Duke Beaumont, I’d first off like to say that you should be ashamed of how you’ve treated Maxwell as of recent. Let's not forget, you didn’t even select a suitor to begin with.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty–”

Liam held up his hand to stop him. “I’m not interested in your excuses, nor your apologies. Those are not meant for me, anyway.” Liam looked to Maxwell with a sad expression, then back to Bertrand. “I just wanted you to understand that your King is incredibly disappointed in your horrific behavior, which you had no reason for.”

“No reason?! Sir, I have every reason to be upset! Maxwell brought that… that… harlot here and she–”

“You are two seconds away from finding yourself in the cells. I know you don’t know the truth, but I’d advise you to watch your tone.” Liam hissed through clenched teeth.

“The truth? What truth is there to know? We all know what happened–”

“I have officially opened an investigation into Lady Riley’s disappearance.”

Bertrand’s eyes bulged from the sockets. “D-Disapperance?!”

Liam told Bertrand about what they had learned so far and where they were at with the investigation, as well as his suspicions of Riley being forced to leave. He told him about the shed they found, as well as the bloodied dress and letter inside.

When Liam was finished, he and Maxwell watched as Bertrand slowly walked over to a chair and sunk himself down into it. He clasped his hands together and stared in front of him for a long while. Liam and Maxwell didn’t say a word, just observed as a plethora of emotions crossed Bertrand’s features.

Finally, Bertrand spoke. He kept his gaze to the floor in front of him, “So… she was set up?” he whispered.

“We believe so, yes.” Liam answered.

Bertrand broke into sobs. Maxwell quickly crossed the room and crouched in front of Bertrand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we’re going to figure this out! We’re going to fix this!” Maxwell promised him as tears of his own streamed down his face.

Bertrand shook his head and looked away from Maxwell. “While I’m upset she was set up, I’m mostly ashamed of how I’ve treated you since... I’ve blamed you and berated you this whole time, and you were never at fault. You never once challenged me in all the atrocious things I said about you, you just… allowed me to do it…” He tried to swallow the overwhelming lump in his throat and quietly asked, “Did you know about Lady Riley? This whole time?”

Maxwell shook his head and quietly responded, “I only found out before the tour, although I will admit I didn’t know when I snuck out.” He looked away. “I had my doubts about it though… But you were so mad at me and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Maxwell… I-I’m so sorry...” Bertrand shook his head as more tears flowed down his cheeks. “You didn’t deserve any of that treatment. I can’t believe I’ve acted this way…”

Maxwell inched closer. “It’s okay, Bertrand!”

“No, it’s not okay. I treated you so… maliciously, as if you weren’t my own flesh and blood.” Bertrand wiped at his cheeks and looked Maxwell directly in the eye. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

Maxwell leaned forward and embraced Bertrand; he squeezed him as tight as he could. Even though Maxwell was still indeed hurt from Bertrand’s harsh words, he didn’t want to see him beat himself up over it. All he wanted to do was to move forward and put this entire mess behind them. Ultimately, all Maxwell wanted was to clear his best friend’s name and bring her home to make the family complete again.

“I love you Bertrand, and if I forgive you, you have to forgive yourself. You’ve been under so much pressure since Dad got sick, and I know I’ve always added to your problems. And then to lose our suitor at the very end of the season…” Maxwell took a deep breath to steady himself and continued. “You were under a lot of stress, and it was technically my fault for bringing her here to begin with, so…”

“No.” Bertrand firmly said as he pulled himself from Maxwell’s embrace, “You are not to blame here whatsoever Maxwell… In fact, I may be more at fault here than you..." He took a deep breath and quietly said, "I – I'm afraid I may need to come clean about something…"

Maxwell immediately moved and stood next to Liam with a furrowed brow. Liam felt his heart rate increase and stepped forward instantly. "What do you mean?"

"I – I worry you may find out anyway during your investigation, and I feel after my other atrocious actions I may as well come clean and take my punishment."

Bertrand was suddenly yanked up from his seat by Liam's strong hands. Liam held Bertrand by the collar of his sweater and pulled his face to eye level, nearly lifting him off his feet. "What did you do?"

Maxwell stepped forward to intervene, but Bertrand held a hand out to stop him. As he spoke, his eyes never left Liam's steely gaze. "Don't. I deserve whatever may come." He took a deep breath and told them about going through Maxwell’s phone and selling the photos from Liam's bachelor party. Bertrand realized if Liam found out on his own, his fate would be ten times worse than whatever he would be facing now. To hopefully spare himself, he was willing to come clean.

The longer Bertrand spoke, the more Maxwell's shock intensified; he couldn't believe Bertrand stooped so low. Liam saw red; he yanked Bertrand closer and growled, "You fucking snake."

"I understand your anger, sir–"

"Did you do it? Did you set her up?" Liam slightly shook Bertrand. "Did you force her to leave?!"

Bertrand's eyes widened once more. "No! My indiscretions were toward the beginning of the social season, and I changed my view on her! I believed in her until–"

"Why? Why do it then?!" Liam shook Bertrand harder, audibly tearing his vest in the process, but Liam was quick to bunch up more fabric to keep his hold intact.

"I assumed she wouldn't last and I was desperate for the money." Bertrand quickly spat out.

"So you not only sold your suitor out, but you sold me out as well? For profit?" Bertrand didn't respond, only nodded his head with shame etched in his features.

At that moment, every single thing that happened over the past couple of days combined with this newly added betrayal sent Liam overboard. He tightened his grip on Bertrand’s vest and pulled, ripping it down the middle with ease and leaving it dangling like the jacket over it. Bertrand stumbled backwards but was given no time to react before a fist connected with his jaw, the popping sound echoing throughout the room. Bertrand dropped to the floor with a yelp cradling his face as he frantically prepared himself for the next blow. Maxwell wanted to help, but he was frozen in fear at seeing the look of pure rage in Liam's features.

Liam stared down at Bertrand through narrowed eyes with heavy breaths. "Your actions are making me question whether or not you are truly fit for the title of Duke. To not only exploit your suitor, but your future King?" He stalked toward Bertrand, who was scooting backward across the floor.

The moment was interrupted by a stern knock. Without notice the door swung open and Bastien rushed inside. He quickly approached Liam and said, “Sir, we need to get you to the safe room, now.” and placed his hand on him to begin leading him away.

“What, why?!” Liam questioned as he attempted to evade Bastien’s grip.

“There’s been a body found.”

Liam forcefully stomped his feet on the ground. “What?! Do you know who it was? What happened?”

“Sir, I don’t know a lot of information right now, but I have to get you to safety before I can go secure the area.”

“Where was it?”

Bastien remained silent for a long moment. He looked as if he didn’t want to answer, but once he saw Liam’s budding impatience he finally spoke. “The west grounds, sir.”

While Liam was locked away in the guarded safe room with Madeleine, her parents, Constantine and Regina, Olivia and Drake were on their way to examine the crime scene with Bastien. The royal family had a secured area inside all the major estates for this purpose, although houses were available nearby. However, those were only used in drastic scenarios such as terrorist threats or assassination attempts. Since there was no signs someone was attempting to target the nobility, Bastien assured them they would be safe there while he and the guard did an initial investigation.

Olivia was not yet ready to join the tour on an official standpoint. She knew the time would come when she would have to, but right now she was only stalking in the shadows looking for any kind of information. Only a select few knew of her presence and she intended to keep it that way until absolutely necessary.

Olivia went back and searched Riley’s room again to ensure nothing was missed and returned to the shed to retrieve the contaminated dress. As her initial shock faded, she realized that was a prominent clue laying right in front of their faces. She went back and grabbed the article at the start of the Apple Banquet while everyone was distracted. She intended to give the item to Bastien, but when he found her and informed her of the crime committed she sprung into action and followed along, the dress momentarily forgotten.

As they walked along the path she immediately realized where they were headed; the shed she had visited just a few hours prior where Riley's things were hidden. From the front, everything appeared as it was when Olivia visited the area. Her anxiety increased as Bastien approached the structure, but he veered to the left and led them to the back, which she was nowhere near during her earlier venture.

Guards scoured all around, some people in lab coats were taking pictures, multiple evidence markers lay on the ground near the area. As her eyes searched over the vicinity, she couldn’t help but feel like it seemed incredibly – tame, for what she was guessing had happened.

Propped against the back wall of the shed was a lifeless body. Upon first glance, the cause of death was undoubtedly clear; the victim's throat had been slashed nearly from ear to ear. Olivia grew up around weapons and knew exactly what kind of damage her skills could do. As she gazed upon the gruesome gash, she immediately knew that wound was deep and absolutely intentional; whoever did this did not hesitate whatsoever. Furthermore, the face was severely battered; both eyes were swollen shut and painted every shade of black, as well as a severely broken nose. She stared at the battered face for only a moment before a small gasp escaped Olivia as recognition swept over her; it was the maid they had spoken with only a few days prior.

Olivia’s widened eyes traveled down the body and she was unable to tell if there could be more wounds on the maid’s chest and abdomen, or if the coat of blood was due to her fatal injury. However, that’s where Olivia’s suspicions sky rocketed; the body was covered in a heavy layer of blood, but the ground around her had nothing.

“Walker, come here.�� Olivia beckoned. Drake walked over to her with furrowed brows as Olivia stood. “Tell me I’m crazy, but there’s absolutely no blood around that body.”

“Huh…” Drake answered as he looked around. “You’re right. Hey Bas!” He hollered over his shoulder. Bastien appeared within an instant with a pen and pad in hand. “Have you noticed how there’s no blood here?”

“Hmm…” Bastien glanced down at the area with an unreadable expression before he nodded and wrote something down. “I’ve added it to my notes. Do be sure to let me know if you notice anything else. The more information we have, the sooner we can find an answer.”

“Are we just going to ignore the gigantic elephant in the room?" Olivia motioned to the shed. “This is no coincidence. Who this is, where she’s at, the fact that I'm certain this body was placed here specifically…”

Drake’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit–”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m going to start charging if I have to keep spelling everything out for you.”

Bastien spoke before Drake could retort, “I hadn’t made that connection; excellent work Duchess.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow and watched Bastien jot something yet again on his pad. “Okay, him I understand needing a preschool explanation, you on the other hand should’ve made that connection instantly.” She snapped as she continued to eye him critically.

Bastien was slightly taken back, but quickly recovered himself. “I understand your frustration. However, I’m becoming aware of developments at the same rate as you. I’m grateful for your assistance.” He bowed to her. As he stood he addressed the pair, “I’m going to secure the perimeter.”

Olivia watched him leave with narrowed eyes. He went over to a guard and spoke quietly then aimlessly walked around the area. Every now and again he would write something down, but otherwise he only made laps. She knew Bastien was senseless at times, but he almost seemed more so than normal.

For the first time, she took a good look around and again couldn’t help but notice how everything seemed conveniently placed. The yellow evidence markers were almost in a straight line in clustered areas. She approached one and bent down to observe and saw it was a wad of hair; not one single hair, a bunched up ball of long, dark hair. Another was simply a piece of gum; she was no criminal mastermind, but who in their right mind would spit their gum out in the middle of a vicious murder? Of course, it’s possible to be unrelated, but this area was practically of no use; that is until Riley’s things were shoved here. Regardless, Bastien still continued to search the area as if this was a normal crime scene and nothing was amiss.

As she scanned the area, the sudden realization of what was going on on a broader spectrum hit her; whoever orchestrated getting Madeleine on the throne was surely onto the fact that they were now asking questions. It was a silent agreement that whoever managed to remove the top two suitors from the social season was a powerful force, but it suddenly seemed much stronger and deadlier than before. This entire scene was pieced together to send a message; someone knew, and whoever it was was not happy about their venture for answers.

Olivia pulled Drake aside and spoke in a low, cautious tone. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Look around, Drake! Even you have to notice something does not add up! This was fucking staged – someone is trying to send us a message.”

“We gotta tell Bas–”

“Why? So he can write it down?” Olivia rolled her eyes. “We need to plan our next steps… our next move has to be calculated.” She looked around with a nervous expression. As she did, her eyes landed on Bastien who simply nodded and returned to his grazing.

Tags (please let me know if you'd like added or removed): @choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @txemrn @imashybish @queenrileyrose @kingliam2019 @riseandshinelittleblossom @dcbbw @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @amandablink @cordonia-gothqueen @sfb123 @jared2612 @harleybeaumont @bebepac @charlotteg234 @busywoman @malblk21 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @mysticalfangirl @umccall71 @fuckitweball0000 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @lovingchoices14 @emersyn-in-cordonia @aussiegurl1234 @karahalloway @the0afnan

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 4)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count:

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

After quickly unpacking a few of her belongings, Riley made her way out of her assigned room on a mission to explore the palace boutique’s options. Luckily for her, Maxwell had told her that the store was located on the ground floor near the front entrance.

A few minutes later, Riley pushed past the doors into the boutique. The soft pink walls contrasted nicely with the brown mahogany floors and the light gray floor rug covering the entire ground. A silver chandelier with bell-shaped glass shades hung directly in the middle of the room. Several mannequins dressed in various formal attire for men and women were scattered across the rooms.

Absentmindedly, Riley brushed her hand against the silk and satin dresses placed on one of many racks on display. The closest she had ever gotten to seeing such beautiful formal dresses was outside display windows of luxury stores on her way to school and work.

“Oh!” A girl yelped out, stepping out of a changing room and holding a dress.

Startled with the sudden voice, Riley looked over her shoulder to see who it was. However, when she noticed that the girl was only dressed in her underwear, Riley quickly turned back around. While she felt a hint of excitement to meet new people up close and personal, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Riley apologized, feeling embarrassed at seeing a stranger looking so vulnerable. “I didn’t realize someone was already here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have just barged in.”

With Riley’s back turned, the girl quickly draped the curtain of the changing room over her body to cover herself. Only her head poked out, a sign she was eager to invite Riley into a conversation.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. To be honest, I didn’t have an appointment. I forgot to book one before my flight landed a few hours ago but thought I would peruse down here before it became too crowded,” the girl sheepishly replied, making Riley turn around to see her friendly smile. “I’m Hana. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Pleasantly surprised with the girl’s bright kindness to a stranger like her, Riley gave a smile in return. “You too. My name’s Riley.”

“I suppose you’re also here to prepare for the Masquerade tonight,” Hana replied, before disappearing behind the curtain to pull on the dress she was holding. “Since you’re here and not already dressed, I must assume that you’re just like me… searching desperately for something to wear.”

“More or less,” Riley replied, with a relaxed laugh. Her neck craned around to catch short glimpses of the dresses in the boutique, wondering how on earth she would be able to narrow it down with the surprising variety.

“The seamstress seems to be running late, but I can show you around! The boutique has the most exquisite gowns. Quite a few of them were shipped just this morning,” Hana answered, pulling the curtain to the side. “Let me just zip this dress up and we can look for one for you!”

Walking to a floor-length mirror, Hana faced her reflection to note her appearance. There was an immense amount of pressure on her from her parents to make a good first impression on the nobility during the court’s social season. She took a deep breath, examining the rose gold laced bodice with rhinestones and a matching floor-length satin skirt.

Her hands arched around her back, trying to get a firm grasp on the tiny zipper. Replaying her parents’ never-ending lectures in her mind about securing the hand of the prince, she felt a slight tremble in her grip and found herself unable to zip herself in the dress. What was she going to do if she failed to secure his attention?

“Need a hand?” Riley offered, admiring how confident and poised Hana looked in front of the mirror with her masquerade outfit.

With a relieved laugh, Hana answered, “That would be amazing.”

Making her way behind Hana, Riley grasped hold of the zipper and slid it all the way up. On a nearby side table, Hana picked up a salmon pink mask with gold accents that matched her dress perfectly. She carefully settled it on her face, making her happily sigh with a satisfied smile.

Turning to face Riley with a grin, Hana complimented, “Thank you. It’s a pity that not many girls here are like you.”

“Helpful?” Riley asked, a smile on her face at Hana’s comment.

“Genuinely nice,” Hana explained, with a simple knowing nod. “It would make the social season much less intimidating if we were here to converse as ladies instead of constantly viewing each other as competition.”

If Drake was right about the ruthlessness of noble ladies, it seemed Riley had found a rare ally in her. Unbeknownst to her, Hana held the same sentiments. Most ladies would secretly turn their noses up at her out of jealousy, let alone help her—something Hana was used to growing up as a noble.

Hana spun for Riley, her full skirts twirling as she giggled. “Ah, this dress is perfect! Now, what about you? One must have a mask for the Masquerade!”The two girls perused through racks of dresses, holding up possible options to the other for a second opinion. Ten minutes later, Hana’s eyes widened in excitement as she pulled two garment bags from a rack. “Have you seen the angel costume? You’d look amazing in white,” Hana suggested, eagerly holding up the white dress in her right hand and the other dress in her left hand. “Or there’s also a red one, if you’re feeling more devilish.”

“I’ll take a look.” Riley giggled, as Hana handed her both garment bags.

Inside a dressing room, Riley eyed the first costume meant to resemble a sultry devil. The crimson red colour of the strapless dress was striking along with sections made of mesh lace fabric highlighting embroidered patterns. Along with the dress were two devil horn accessories and a bold black mask with sparkling rhinestones.

Ultimately, Riley decided on the angel costume that Hana first suggested. It was much simpler with its draped off shoulder straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a shimmery sparkle that brightened the pure white colour. After stepping out of the changing room, Riley fixed the matching halo accessory on top of her head and plucked a detailed silver mask off of the table.

“How do I look?” Riley asked with a smile, giving a little twirl similar to the one Hana had done moments ago.

Hana’s face brightened up, as she grinned and the two made their way out of the boutique. “Heavenly! A costume as angelic as the girl wearing it.”

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973

[txemrn]

Pour Two Glasses

Chapter 6: "...Everything's Turned Upside Down"

Need to catch up? Masterlist

✨ Have you checked out this teaser video yet? Pour Two Glasses Teaser✨

Word Count: 6150 (+/-)

Series Synopsis: In the midst of a violent political war, Queen Riley Rys’s life is dismantled overnight, forcing her to flee Cordonia to live in hiding as a commoner with a loyal, best friend

Series Song Inspo: “Pour Two Glasses” by the Movielife

Chapter Song Inspo: "Broken Pieces Shine" by Evanescence

Series Warnings: 🔞 For Mature Audiences Only 🔞 angst; profanity; major character death; grief and mental health discussion; discussion of violence & war; alcohol use; NSFW material

A/N: I don't say this enough, so I hope it's okay I start this A/N with this message... to my beautiful readers: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I loved dreaming up this story, and knowing that y'all want more warms my heart! Thank you for all the messages, all the questions, and all of the encouragement! Please know I see each and every one of y'all, and I love y'all so dearly! Y'all are a huge part of P2G, and I can't thank you enough for being so kind! Sending out major hugs to each of y'all! 🖤

A/N 2: Characters and some plot references belong to our friends at Pixelberry. To my village, as always THANK YOU SO MUCH helping me bring this story to life! This was not beta'd, so please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Riley spends most of her recovery time alone, secluded from the outside world. The stillness of the lonely mornings melt into the mundane hustle of the afternoons, and although time seems to pass before her eyes in a whirlwind blur, to the fallen queen, it trudges along slowly, creeping into her least favorite part of the day: the dark, listless nights.  

Due to the multiple terrorist threats made against the monarchy, not to mention the two bombs found during a routine sweep of the palace, the royal guard, the local police along with Interpol agreed the safest place for the queen of Cordonia was inside her hospital room despite being discharged days ago. 

Her physical therapist would visit on Mondays and Wednesdays while her doctors would visit Tuesdays and Fridays to ensure her recovery was on track. Healthcare workers were available upon request, but they would be accompanied by armed guards.

Drake, Olivia and Maxwell were given special clearance, and they kept to a round-the-clock schedule to ensure Riley was never alone.

That is, until she sent them away after the first week. Watching them grow ill with concern over her well-being added to her grief, and she hated being the reason for their stolen joy. Riley knew they meant well, and they never, ever complained for sitting by her side in complete silence.  Even Maxwell toned down his enthusiasm in his attempts to make her happy.  But Riley could see them slipping away into different versions of themselves, and the guilt festered in her heart.

Rarely sleeping and barely eating, Riley stopped taking her pain medications. She never would admit to her masochistic reasoning, but the physical discomfort served as a welcomed distraction from the agony she felt internally. She felt like she had little to no control over her life, but this, in a very sick, twisted way, this was hers.

It’s the following Friday, the small hours of the morning. Riley tosses and turns for another restless night of sleep as memories of only two weeks ago flash through her mind. Her husband’s funeral. The assassination attempt. Her own life unknowingly in the balances during a critical surgery.

With a subtle rumble in the distance, she opens an eye, and quickly notices the gathered rainclouds outside her lone, two-paned hospital window. Sitting up, she pulls on Liam’s sweatshirt before scooting the reclining chair in her room closer to the view of the angry sky.

The pelting raindrops and the howling wind put on quite the show, calming Riley's anxious heart. She used to love quiet moments with her late husband where they could share in the wonder of nature. As the storm continues to brew outside her room, her eyes grow heavy, the soothing sounds of the storm lulling her to sleep.

A sudden clap of lightning rips across the gray Cordonian sky, startling Riley awake.  She quickly sits up, her chest heaving as her eyes adjust to the darkness of her master bedroom. Feeling her pulse rapidly thrum in her ears, she reaches for her husband; but she is met with cold, barren sheets, tossed against her side.

“Liam?”  She sits on the side of the bed, slipping her house shoes on before standing to grab her robe. “Liam?” She cries out once more before the storm outside ignites the angry clouds with another crash of thunder. Gripping the fabric of her lapels in terror, she watches hypnotically as the countryside dims back into the darkness of night.

“Riley, my love.”  

Riley turns with a gasp.  Liam stands at the open French doors that lead to their balcony. The powerful winds flounce the curtains, billowing around his tall stature.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, darling." He takes Riley into his arms, laying her head intimately against his chest. "Did the storm wake you?"

At that moment, another crackle of thunder resounds, Riley instantly turning her attention to the open doors. Puddles gather around the terrace as sheets of rain pummel against the stone walls. Feeling her tremble in his arms, Liam tightens his embrace nuzzling his nose into his wife's dark locks.

"Mom used to point out how powerful the weather can be. Devastating homes. Sinking ships… and yet–" he takes a deep breath, "we're still here."

Riley loosens her grip. The cascades of heavenly water pour in a synchronized dance with the rumbles of thunder. The zephyr symphony lulls her into a trance as she marvels at the strength of the storm. Fierce. Intense.

And yet, we're still here.

"You'll survive this, too, my love–"

"Survive what–?" Riley looks up to her husband.

But he's gone; his arms no longer around her as his scent dissipates from the air they once shared.  But something strange is left hanging in her hands: a small, worn receiving blanket, the name 'William' embroidered in the corner. 

Huh?

Riley swivels anxiously around the room, her eyes wide as saucers. "Liam?" She cries out. "Please, baby," she looks in the other direction, but her husband is no where to be found. "Liam… I… I don't know…" her breath hitches, growing ragged as she finally slumps onto the ground. She looks at the blanket, her fingers tracing over the delicate stitching. "How, my love–?" She whispers under her sobs of helplessness. "How am I supposed to survive… without you?"

Suddenly, a bright light pours over her, the warmth of the sun shining on her porcelain skin.

“We’re not doing this anymore.”

Riley's eyes peek open, being met with beams of sunlight pouring through the window. She sees someone moving about the room, but her exhaustion refuses to allow her eyes to focus, and she quickly slumps back over.

"You need to get up, Riley."

Without warning, Riley’s blankets are abruptly pulled from her body. She sits up in her chair, rubbing her eyes. "Huh?"

"C'mon. Up, up!"

Finally coming to her senses, Riley zeroes in on the redhead bossing her around. And she scowls, relaxing back into her chair. "Olivia, I… come back later."

"No, ma'am." Olivia taps a lever on the recliner, shoving Riley into an upright position. "You are going to shower. I laid out some clothes for you," the duchess crosses her arms, "and you are going to rejoin the living."

"But–"

"Now," she claps her hands. "Scoot!"

Riley jumps up, grumbling under her breath as she moseys to the shower. Hearing the water turn on, Olivia smirks, playfully dusting off her hands. Satisfied with herself, she grabs a magazine and takes a seat, crossing her legs in victory.

After about twenty minutes, Riley emerges with a towel wrapped around her head along with a pair of jeans and a cotton tee.

"There. Happy, bossy britches?"

"Almost," Olivia offers a crooked smile. "Now that we've–eh–hosed you down, we need to work on getting that odor out of here. It smells like someone died in here–"

"Didn't they?" Refusing to make eye-contact, Riley remains stoic, down-trodden.  She moves the linens around on her bed before curling up with a pillow.

"No." Olivia stands up, sauntering to her friend's bed. "They didn't." She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, Riley's back facing her. "You, my dear, are very much alive. And it's time you start living as such."

"Liv, I…" Riley sighs. "I just don't feel like going out and rejoining society right now."

"Who said anything about rejoining society?" She takes Riley's hand. "I said that it's time to start living like you're alive." Riley turns around, arching a curious brow at Olivia. "I'm not saying you need to stop grieving; but I am going to make you shower. And eat. And not waste away."

A stale stillness falls between the old friends as Riley pulls the covers over her body.  "I'm not in the mood," she mutters, sinking into her pillow.

Olivia lets out a heavy breath, standing up. She refuses to give up, unwilling to leave the queen's room. She leisurely paces around the space, folding and refolding her hands.  The resounding click-clack of her steps are hypnotic, almost soothing as she twists her crimson pout in deep thought. 

She understands that Riley is in mourning, and even though Olivia loved him, too, nothing would compare to the great loss of true love. But, still, she hates seeing Riley like this; they all do. But truth be told on matters of the heart, there is only one person that can get through to her.

"What would Liam say?"

Riley slowly turns, looking over her shoulder. "Excuse me?"

"Your husband," Olivia steps forward confidently, clasping her hands together.  "He died a hero, protecting our country, protecting me… and you. What would he say now if he saw you like this?"

Riley furrows her eyebrows, her hands balling into fists. How dare she. Was Olivia seriously trying to make Riley feel guilty for grieving her late husband? For grieving the life she was starting with him? For grieving the life she was supposed to have with him?

"Olivia, I–"

"You'll survive this, too," Olivia interrupts.

The irritated expression on Riley's face abruptly melts into pure shock.  Her eyes as Liam's words replay in her mind.

You'll survive this, too.

"I… I'm sorry, I …" she shakes her head in disbelief, "what did you say?"

"Ri," Olivia bounds to her side, grabbing Riley's hand endearingly in her hold. "You are one tough broad. You have proven that time and time again." Her lip begins to tremble, but she quickly stiffens her jaw. "Liam knew that. Hell, that's one of the reasons he fell in love with you." She sighs, her gaze bouncing back and forth in Riley's deep ocean eyes. "Losing Liam will be one of the most awful challenges you will ever have to face… but somehow wherever he is, I have to believe he is taking comfort that you are strong enough for this." She squeezes tightly on Riley’s fingers. "You'll survive this, too."

Riley stares at Olivia, processing what she was saying–especially the words that seemed to mirror Liam's. 

And they're right.  It feels like hell right now, and Riley can't even begin to fathom a life without her beloved… but he would want better for her.  He lived a life so that she could have better.

It was time to start living.

------

"You're cheating!" Maxwell hisses, pointing an accusing finger at Olivia.

"I am not, Beaumont," the Scarlet Duchess shuffles through the cards in her hands. "You're just not good at counting to twenty-one."

"You've won each time you've been the dealer." He throws down his cards. "Shenanigans!"

Hugging her stomach tightly, Riley can’t help but laugh uncontrollably, her sides already in stitches. “Stop!” She gasps for air as she continues to titter. “I–I can’t!”  She falls forward on her bed, her head hitting a pillow as her giggles fill the room.  Maxwell and Olivia join in on the laughter, giving each other a subtle nod of relief. She’s coming back to life.

The three friends have spent most of the morning together at the hospital, catching up and playing games. To her visitor’s surprise, Riley decided she wanted to take a walk around the hospital–to areas that had been cleared by the royal guard, of course.

Together, they meandered to the hospital’s private prayer garden on a terrace just outside the pediatric floor. The warmth of the sun on her skin and the fresh scent of the potted greenery exhilarated her senses.  The natural pink tone of her skin quickly returned to her cheeks, highlighting her genuinely bright smile as she scrunched her nose at the floral smells.

On the way back to her room, Riley walked by the newborn nursery.  Stopping at the large window that showcased several cooing babies, wrapped in pink and blue receiving blankets, she pressed her fingertips gently against the glass, admiring each one silently. Although tears gather in her eyes, she begins to quietly talk to each chubby face, fussing over how adorable they are.

“Oh, you’re going to be trouble, mister, with those dimples…”

“Look at those beautiful black curls!”

“I know your mommy and daddy must love you so much…”  

If only…

Finally making it back to her assigned floor, the friends were greeted by Riley’s primary physician and his assistant along with the best news ever: the palace passed its final security check.  All Riley needed now was clearance through Interpol and one more physical–per the request of the Royal Council to ensure her health–and she would soon be on her way back home.  

As the healthcare team exits, a sudden wave of surreality washes over the room. Going home. Riley hasn’t been home in almost three weeks, and even before that, she hasn’t slept in her own bed since the start of the Royal Wake. What would be waiting for her when she walked into her quarters?  Is everything waiting for her to come home exactly how she left it?  Exactly how he left it?

Biting her lip, she takes a moment of silence, her hand finding Liam’s rings on her necklace. She fiddles with his wedding band, the jewelry easily gliding onto her pointer finger.  And that’s when she feels it: the inscription inside the gold band. And her eyes flutter close. Pour Two Glasses. Everything would be expecting her return.

Except him.

Riley shakes her head, glancing back up at Maxwell and Olivia. Giving them an appreciative grin, she grabs the deck of cards on her bedside table, blinking away her tears. “Best two out of three?”

------

The three friends have been playing for a little over an hour when there’s an abrupt knock at the door.  A large smile grows across Riley’s face as the familiar smirk of her royal guard saunters into the room.

“There’s my hero,” Riley singsongs. From her bed, she extends her arms in the air, inviting Drake into a hug.  A blush swirls across his cheeks as he leans in, tucking her petite body under his chin.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers before gently letting her go.

“I’m okay,” Riley nods. “I’m gonna be okay.”  She pats the mattress next to her. “C’mon, partner,” she mimics a Texan accent. “Let’s teach these two how to play Texas Hold ‘Em.”  Olivia rolls her eyes as Maxwell titters, pretending to throw a lasso around Drake.

Drake chuckles, pushing a fist into his pocket as he stares at the ground. “I wish I could, but–”  he combs his fingers through his thick, chestnut hair as he gazes back up at his friends. “I got lucky and found a plane out of Munich at 5AM, so… I’m taking a train there. Tonight.”

“Oh my gosh,” Riley’s face etches with shock. “So soon?”

“When does the train leave?” Olivia’s eyebrows pinch together.

“In about–” he looks at his watch before snickering to himself. “About two hours.”  A stillness falls across the friends, sharing sad, concerned looks. “C’mon, you guys,” Drake attempts to lighten the mood. “We knew this day was coming… and I’m coming back.”

“When?” Maxwell questions softly.

“I guess… when Mom…” he gnaws on the inside of his mouth, searching for the right words. “When… everything is taken care of, I guess.”

Riley climbs out of bed, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. “Don’t forget where your home is, Walker,” she sniffles.

“Like you’d let me forget?” He chuckles. His large arms envelope her against his chest as he nuzzles his nose into her curls, breathing her in deeply. His voice grows husky as he rests his lips against her head. “I’m going to miss you, Brooks.”

Riley pulls back, resting her hand on his upper arm. “I’m going to miss you, too.” A coy smile teases on his lips as a twinkle of hope illuminates his cognac eyes–that is, until Riley continues. “You’ve always been such a great friend.  Liam sure hit the jackpot with you–” she turns to Maxwell and Olivia, “--with all of you.”

Drake nods agreeably, looking away from his best friend’s widow, chastising himself for having such fleeting thoughts of hope. He turns to Maxwell to give him a firm handshake before turning to Olivia. “Can I… talk to you? For a second?”  He whispers to the redhead before looking back at Riley and Maxwell. He holds his hand up, waving goodbye before exiting the room with Olivia right behind him.

Riley glances towards Maxwell, offering a sympathetic grin and shrugging her shoulders. Their group of friends is shrinking, but at least they have each other.

“He’s so obvious,” Maxwell giggles, winking at the queen as he takes a sip of a glass of water.

Riley scrunches her eyebrows. “Obvious? About what?”

Maxwell freezes, staring at Riley as an awkward silence floods between them. “Uh… Nevermind, honey–”

They both startle as Olivia bounds back into the room, slipping back into her seat. Without making eye-contact, she crosses her legs before grabbing her playing cards, mindlessly rearranging them in her hand. She's unusually quiet and pensive, her eyebrows slightly wrinkled as she appears to be deep in thought about something.

"Is… everything okay?" Riley asks.

She peers up to Riley nervously, but within moments, a crooked smile forms on her cherry red pout. "Yes… of course."  She glances back at her cards, but it's useless; there's too much she needs to say. "Ri, do you know what a black box is?"

"Like on a plane?" Maxwell clarifies with curiosity, folding his cards and resting them on the table.  Olivia nods slowly as her attention shifts back to Riley.

"It records sounds, right?" Riley starts, her tone cautiously meek. "Sounds from inside the plane? So in the event it… it… well, you know…"  Olivia softly bounces her head affirmatively, rolling her lips. "Did something happen?" Riley nervously titters, glancing at a confused Maxwell. "Was there something… something terrible on Liam’s recording?"

Olivia folds her cards, tapping the stack on the table. "No, it's just…" her words trail off as she remains lost in thought.

"Liv," Riley crosses her arms. "What are you trying to hide?" 

Olivia sighs. "My apologies. I guess I'm trying to process it myself. Apparently the guard had their weekly briefing last night with Interpol. Drake had to turn in some last minute paperwork for his leave, so he was in attendance." 

"What does this have to do with the black box?" Maxwell interjects.

"It's gone," Olivia blurts out. "It was never recovered from Liam's plane. So, there's a strong possibility that–"

"It was stolen," Riley interrupts.

"Precisely, meaning this was orchestrated by the coup somehow."

"Wait," Maxwell holds up his hands, "how did anyone know that was Liam's plane though? How would they know to specifically steal from that plane? Wasn't he supposed to be traveling incognito?"

Olivia nods, exhaling heavily. "They're launching an investigation… for possible espionage." 

"An inside job?" Riley croaks, a lump forming in her throat. "From Cordonia?"

"We don't know just yet," Olivia reassures, "that's why they're looking into it.  But I'm thinking they need some help… and I know just the person to ask."

Riley's room door suddenly slides open, surprising the group of friends.  The doctor slowly steps in with the queen's medical chart, a solemn, almost grim expression etched on his face.

"I'm not sure I like the worried look in your eyes, sir," Riley anxiously giggles. "Don't tell me I'm staying here longer."

"Oh," he cordially forces a grin. "Your security, as well as the international police have cleared everything–"

"So she gets to go home?" Maxwell's breath baits with hope and excitement.

"Yes, yes. You get to go home. The guard will be in touch with you soon."

"Oh, thank God," Olivia smirks.

"Finally!" Maxwell exclaims, standing to his feet and ready to pack.

But Riley stays silent, her attention fixed on her physician. She can tell he has more to say. She can sense a sadness in his demeanor, putting her on edge, not ready to celebrate her homecoming just yet.

"What aren't you telling me, doctor?" She asks softly. "Is it my physical? Am… am I okay?"

The older man sets down Riley's chart, resting his hand on top of it as his endearing eyes find hers. "We need to talk."

"Is it serious?" Olivia interjects.

With a heavy sigh, the physician turns towards Maxwell and Olivia. "How about you two give us just a minute alone–?"

"No," Riley stops him. "I need… Can I have someone…?" Riley looks between Olivia and Maxwell, having a silent conversation of who should stay.

"I'll step out," Maxwell grabs his phone. "Let me make sure the guard is bringing an SUV and not a sedan," he winks.

As the door closes, the older man cautiously sits down next to Riley, taking her hand. She squeezes it tightly, preparing herself for the news he was about to share with her. Was something wrong? Was she dying?

"Never in a million years did I think you and I would be having this conversation," he exhales, pinching the bridge between his eyes. "This… this is completely out of my scope of practice, so I will be referring you to a specialist, but–"

"Sir," Riley stops him. "Please… just… tell me the truth."

------

Riley paces back and forth, ringing her hands in between biting her nails.

“Will you sit down–?”

“And what, Olivia?” She tosses her hands in the air, allowing her arms to slap carelessly against her sides.  “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Well,” Olivia scoffs, “for starters, you are going to calm down–”

“Calm down?” Riley twirls around, a wave of fury crashing over her features. Her blood-shot eyes stare daggers into her red-headed friend.   “You heard the damn doctor. This… this can’t be happening.  And… you…”  she presses a hand to her chest, her breathing labors as a sob rips through her chest. “You actually expect me to be okay? With this?”

“Riley,” Olivia calls her name sternly, “take a moment. Things could–”

“--could be worse?” She finishes her words.  “How, Livvy?”  She covers her face with her hands as she wanders aimlessly in the room. “Oh God,” she whispers hoarsely, her voice hidden by her tears. “When this gets out–”

“It won’t.”

Riley tisks, mocking Olivia. “This won’t stay a secret for long. And when it gets out, an even bigger bullseye will be painted on my back. They hate the Rys name. They will attack again–”

“Other monarchs have gone through similar situations, and their health concerns have been kept under wraps.  The council will be sure of it–”

“The council?” Riley looks off, shaking her head. “They already want to get rid of me. You know the law. I can no longer serve as the reigning queen. I’m not Cordonian–-”

“You will always be a queen, Riley.  The council will support you–”

“--they’ll expedite getting rid of me.”  Riley collapses into the recliner in her room. She hangs her head in her arms as her elbows rest on her knees. “The council is looking out for what’s best for Cordonia, especially now that the throne has been attacked–not once, but twice. They’re searching for stability; they’re looking to rebuild their leadership, and that starts with the throne. I fear that… I fear that as long as there's still a Rys, Cordonia will never see peace.”

Olivia pulls her chair closer, laying a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “The war won't last forever. And this? This could be your ticket. The throne is the only thing left to protect you–”

 “These traitors want every part of the Rys name destroyed, and without Liam, my days on the throne are already numbered. When they find out…” she exhales a pained breath.  “Even If I could hide behind the council, the Combattants will return to finish the job. They know I’m still here. I’m on every goddamn news report!”

“Riley, you–”

“I can’t do this.” She abruptly stands up, rushing past Olivia as she grabs her suitcase.  She begins piling her belongings into the dividers. “I need to go–”

“Home,” Olivia interjects, placing her hands on Riley’s trembling hands. "Let's take you home where you're safe."

Riley shakes her head. “N–no, I need to go. I need to leave.” She grabs her phone. “I need a ticket back to the States–”

“Riley Rys. Slow. The fuck. Down. You’re not thinking–”

“I can’t be here another moment. I have to go. I need to hide–”

“Where? Where are you going to hide?” Olivia scoffs, folding her arms. “Even if you could, all air travel has been suspended to and from Cordonia until further notice.  That’s why poor Walker had to take a train.”

Riley stills. She glances over at her friend as an abrupt realization washes over her expression.

Drake.

“You.”

Olivia raises an eyebrow. “Me?”

“According to Cordonian law, you’re next in line if something were to happen to me–”

“Hold up,” Olivia raises her hands in surrender. “If, and that’s a big if, something were to happen to you, yes, I would be crowned. But, that’s not how this works. You’re still alive, therefore the council–”

“What if I was incapacitated?” 

Olivia lets out a condescending laugh. “You are being ridiculous, you know that?”

“No, I’m being serious.” Riley grips tightly to Olivia’s shoulders, forcing her to listen. “The council hasn’t stripped me of my title as reigning queen yet, and as long as I’m the reigning monarch, I can claim a medical leave-of-absence… which means–”

“You appoint the replacement during the hiatus," Olivia smirks sarcastically, pulling away from Riley's. "Not gonna happen."

"Olivia, please."

"And what are you going to do? Huh? You still need medical care. Hiding isn't exactly easy when you're the queen of an entire country–"

"But–"

"--that is grieving their king–"

"But–"

"--and their queen has been all over international news for surviving an assassination attempt." Riley huffs, rolling her eyes as Olivia continues. "You'll leave fingerprints everywhere you go. And I'm not saying they're going to try and track you down… but those bastards were able to find Liam. Running and hiding? It… it's pointless. Stay. Trust the council. We can protect you."

Riley chews on her lip, her attention locked on her friend. "No. That's not good enough. Not anymore." Her eyelids flutter as she takes a deep breath. "I think I've got an idea."

------

The rhythmic pulse of the train car lulls Drake into a hypnotic relaxed state, and before long, he succumbs to the exhaustion of the past six weeks. Resting his head against the window, he watches as the Cordonian countryside flashes before his vision until finally his eyes close. 

Furrowing his brows, however, he hears loud, indiscernible voices outside of his state room.  When the conversation finally ends, he readjusts himself in his chair, using his discarded denim shirt as a make-shift pillow.

His door abruptly slides open.

Fuck.

He grimaces, quickly turning to address his unwanted interruption.

But his face falls in shock.

"Brooks?"

"Hi," she smiles meekly, removing her oversized sunglasses and hat. "Can I… come in?"

"Yeah," Drake jumps up, removing his carry-on bags from the second seat. He gestures to the spot next to him. "Please."

Riley gingerly sits down, her eyes transfixed to the gorgeous scenery flashing by outside the large train window.  Drake slowly lowers himself into his chair, his disbelief frozen on his face as he stares at his good friend.

Feeling his gaze on her, Riley tears away from her reverie. She chuckles nervously, coyly shrugging her shoulders. "Surprised?"

The corner of Drake's mouth turns up. "That's one way to put it." He runs a hand through his thick, tousled hair as he notices her bandages peeking through her shirt. "I'm guessing you were given the 'all clear'? They discharged you?" 

Riley's attention averts back to the window, staring at the whirls of the evergreen hills melting with the watercolor sky. Her eyes begin to glaze over, forgetting to even blink as she mindlessly chews on her bottom lip.  She holds her hands in her lap, ringing them incessantly as she fidgets with her fingers. 

"Riley?"

She blinks quickly, her attention returning to Drake, his hand gripping onto her arm to steady her. “Hrmm?”

"I've been calling your name for a few minutes." His eyebrows knit with worry. "Are you… are you okay?"

Riley opens her mouth, but is unable to form words. She picks at her chipped manicure as she presses her tongue to her cheek.

"I, um… I need your help." She glances back up to Drake, her eyes wide in fear.

"O…Kay. Sure," he leans closer to her, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ri, what's going on?"

------

The clatter of heels reverberates through the main corridor of the ultra-modern, ultra-sleek estate of Monterisso.  Though she has not come across another soul, she knows plenty of eyes are hidden in nooks and crannies, watching her every move in the form of motion detectors and cameras. Coming to the pristine royal office, she gives a firm knock on the oversized, cherry wood door before inviting herself in.

"Olivia Nevrakis." A sultry voice calls from the large, tufted leather chair on the opposite side of the room.

The red head sardonically snickers before crossing her arms, popping her hip to the side. "Alright, Amalas," she sasses, "how did you know it was me?"

A beautiful woman with long espresso tresses and darkened, exotic features slowly turns her chair around to face her visitor.  She smirks at her long-time friend, extending her arm to show off her impressive display of monitors with live-feed surveillance to every entrance into the palace.

The Scarlet Duchess wriggles up her nose, rolling her eyes. "Of course."

"You know?" Amalas stands up, sauntering her curves slowly to her icy guest. "Most people address me as 'your majesty'--"

"Not today," Olivia bites, raising an eyebrow. 

Amalas sighs, leaning against the front-side of her desk. “What do you want, Livvy?”

"I have an important proposal for you."

“We don’t have an appointment.”

“I need your help.”

The Spy Queen steps forward, crossing her arms. "You? You are in need of some help?" She lets out a boisterous laugh as she sneaks closer to her unexpected guest. She motions with her pointer finger for Olivia to come closer to listen. "You know," she whispers, "you were supposed to call me the next morning."

With a deep rouge blossoming across her cheeks, Olivia steps back, scoffing into a chuckle. Amalas furrows her eyebrows with a mischievous smirk.

Checkmate.

Four months ago, after years of stolen glances and secret trysts, Amalas invited Olivia to her estate for a low-key, intimate weekend to discuss the possibilities of taking their relationship to the next level. And public. After one last night of passion, Amalas woke up to an empty bed with a note that said, 'I'll call. -Liv"

She never did.

Now with Olivia seeking a favor, Amalas is tickled. As far as good deeds, alliances and negotiations, she just made it abundantly clear that she has the upper-hand. And Olivia just realized she fucked up.

Satisfied with her visitor’s reaction, Amalas turns on her heel and walks back to her desk. "You can see yourself out."

The red head sneers into a sarcastic snicker, stepping forward. "Oh c'mon, Amalas–"

"If you didn't need me then," Amalas spins around, irritated. "You don't need me now, Nevrakis." She takes a seat before shuffling through some folders and papers. "Oh,” she looks up, void of emotion, “please shut the door when you leave. Thanks."

Olivia storms forward. "Amalas, this isn't about me–about us. This is for Cordonia and finding who was responsible for Liam's death–"

Amalas stops abruptly, a stack of papers held motionless in her hand. Swallowing thickly, she glances up at Olivia. "Liam's death… was an unfortunate result of this damn war."

"Yes, but he was a mediator."

Amalas raises an eyebrow. "Your point?"

Olivia puts her palms flat on the large, ornate wooden desk. "My point is that they always protect political mediators. Liam's location was always highly confidential. No one, and I mean no one knew his whereabouts."

Amalas stacks her document on her desk. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she leans back in her chair, resting her chin on her palm. "So?"

"That plane was obliterated, Ams. Someone hunted it down and destroyed every last piece of it.”

The queen smirks. “And did you know that Les Combattants de la Liberté are military-trained?”

“But–”

“Military-trained,” Amalas holds up a hand, her words louder.  “Taking out Liam’s aircraft like that?” She shakes her head slowly. “It’s not a huge feat for them. They are literally trained to take out any enemy in the blink of an eye.”

“Ams,” Olivia subtly wipes away a tear before clenching her jaw. “You’re not listening to me.”

Amalas sighs. "Look." She lowers her voice, her eyes finding Olivia’s piercing jades. “Liam was a friend of mine, too, babe.” She bites her lip, turning to a gold picture frame on the corner of her desk.  The photograph hosts a pair of young, bright smiles, she in her lacy white and him looking dapper than ever. A lump forms in Amalas’s throat as she begins to fidget with the gold band that remains on her left finger. “I know when something tragic happens to the ones we love, we want someone to pay for it, as if revenge will somehow heal our loneliness because the grief alone is too heavy–much too heavy for one person to bear–”

“The black box is missing,” Olivia interjects.

Amalas's face slowly falls into a suspicious confusion, her forehead wrinkling. “What?”

“The black box. You know? It’s supposed to record–”

Amalas holds up her hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know. What do you mean it’s missing?”

“I mean it’s never been recovered.”

Amalas’s jaw ticks as she stares at Olivia. Silence consumes the room, save for the ticking of the queen's watch, growing painfully louder by the second. But without warning, intrigue finally blooms across Amalas’s face, and her heart softens to hear Olivia’s request. Justice for Liam. Justice for Cordonia.

The black box is designed to withstand the blistering temperatures of a fire and the crushing impact of the engulfing pressures of the deep. The thought of such precious equipment, of actual recordings of the last moments of that cockpit, of King Liam… if they were actually removed with malicious intent, then Olivia is right. Classified information was leaked, Liam was specifically targeted, and this coup is a lot more dangerous and a lot more in control of this war than projected.

“Well, Ms. Nevrakis, I believe you have my attention.”  

Olivia smirks as she pulls up a chair.  

“Oh!” Amalas stands up from her desk, “I’m sorry. Just… not right now.” She looks at her watch.  “I actually have a very important meeting right now.”

Olivia scoffs. “With who?”

“Oddly enough, I have an important meeting with the Queen of Cordonia.”

A Cheshire grin crawls across Olivia’s face as she opens up her arms as if to present herself as a gift. “Well, oddly enough, the Queen of Cordonia is already in your presence.”  Shock consumes Amalas as her jaw drops open, Olivia snickering under her breath. “You can address me as ‘your majesty,’ Queen Amalas.”

------

"I–I don't know… how to say this," Riley stammers, anxiously pulling at her necklace that held her late husband's rings. 

Drake keeps his gaze locked on her, a pit growing in his stomach. They had said their goodbyes less than three hours ago; what could possibly have changed?

Was it a threat? Was her life being threatened again by the Combattants? No way. This wouldn't warrant the queen of Cordonia herself to board a train in hopes to catch her former royal guard to deliver such a message. Drake would probably get a phone call about it, but as of yesterday, he was relieved from his duties until further notice.

So… what was it?

“Riley?” His voice is gruff, but sincere. Their gazes meet, a vacant sadness in her eyes as she searches his for… something. Strength? Hope? Understanding?

Drake stops her from fidgeting with her jewelry, taking her petite hand into his own large, calloused palm. "It's… it's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now if you don't want to, but I–"

"Drake, I–" Her eyelashes flutter closed as tears course down her pink stained skin. "--I'm so sorry, I–"

"Hey," he hums softly, "shhhh, it's okay." He pulls her closer to his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He gently rubs a thumb over her skin to gently dry her cheeks. "Listen," his voice remains low, soothing. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It's been," he sighs, "a rough couple of months, and… well, no matter what, Brooks, you know I'm here for–"

“I’m pregnant.”

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you wish to be added/removed)

PERMA

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POUR TWO GLASSES

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[choiceswithmika]

The Freshman x The Royal Romance CrossOver Series

Rated: Mature

Word count: 1159

Summary: Will and his friends in Cordonia are being prepared to meet Mikaylyn and her friends.

@choicesficwriterscreations

Chapter 2: The Royal Romance Crew's Point of View

 In Cordonia, having King Will Williams with King Liam Rys along with Hana Lee, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont and everyone else are doing their usual duties and routine. It was a usual day in the kingdom. It was around in the evening time now as things were calming down after a busy day. Will was about to get ready for bed when he got a call from his friend Mikaylyn, Mikaylyn who lives in the states close to New York, not so far from Will's city. Will go ahead answers his call on his phone. 

"Hey Mikaylyn! Is it like 8 pm right now?" Will greeted on call. 

"Yeah! But hey I was wondering.. Is it okay if I could come visit to Cordonia with my husband and friends..? Sumi is there too." Mikaylyn says on the call.

Will was a bit quiet for a second and as hearing the certain news, it took Will a long minute before responding, "Wait wait when did you get married?!" Will says in a shock tone.

On the line, Mikaylyn was a bit surprised before she spoke in a response, "Wait.. You didn't know? Hell.. I even invited you to the wedding.." Mikaylyn says in her soft tone.

There was a pause for a minute as Will checked his emails on his phone then Will spoke, "Uh... I never seem that email.. But I didn't think you would have a wedding without no invitation.." Will says.

"That's funny because I didn't know you were getting married to the king of Cordonia!!" Mikaylyn says dramatically in her voice.

Will was taken a back by Mikaylyn's words and spoke, "Well... I was too busy to tell you!" 

Mikaylyn sounded a bit down but shakes it off, then spoke to change the topic from the wedding instead of clapping back like how she would when she feel disrespected on the line. 

"Will.. I literally texted you 2 hours ago about asking to visit you.." Mikaylyn says softly. 

"Ugh.. whatever I'll check it out, just.. I'll let my husband and friends know that you and your own crew want to come." Will says before ending the call. 

Will shrugs his head as he goes into the bathroom to get ready to call it a night. Will was overthinking about Mikaylyn's words towards him. He is starting to think that maybe this royal thing has taken over his mind that sometimes he forgets that he is still human. Everything was so fast and challenging when he first came into Cordonia. Some nights he even missed being able to enjoy being a normal person like going out with friends, having deep conversations and all the normal human activities. Though Will does not regret being with the love of his life, he's starting to see how it could of affected his friendships with his old friends, Mikaylyn and Sumi has been his friends since high school. They used to be close and talk to them about everything until when getting into the adulthood that it changes. 

_______________________________

A little while later, after Will cools down from the luxery bathroom, Will goes look for Liam around in the castle. It took a short while but he finds Liam writing down papers in the dining room. Will walks towards him and immediately starts speaking from behind. 

"My king.. Can I ask you something?" Will greeted. 

Liam immediately turns his head to focus on Will so he can hear what Will has to ask.

"Of course my love what it is?" Liam ask.

"I was wondering if my.. dear friend Mikaylyn and her friends can come visit us?.." Will ask a bit nervously. 

Liam showed a small smile on his face and answers, "Ah I think that is a lovely idea but uhm my love any reason though?" Liam says.

Will shrugs his shoulders, "She told me that her and her friends want to come.. But.. don't you think this is a good idea that they want to come over and let them get around Cordonia and maybe even.. meet our friends?.." Will suggested. 

"Sounds good to me, can you tell the others while I finish this up?" Liam says.

Will nods his head in response, then as walking back to the bedroom he immediately pull out his phone back from his pocket then immediately started texting the group chat. 

The Group Chat

W: Guys I have some news to share, you all might want to sit down.

M: OOOOHHH NEWSSS

H: What Maxwell meant was- what's this news that you want to share <3

D: I was about to have to my 3rd round of whiskey what do you want. 

M: Three?? oof Man is having a high life crisis

D: You squid fool am not!

O: Anyways. Make the quick Will. I have to finish this training. 

W: ... Anyways.. My friend Mikaylyn just contacted me and she said her and her friends want to come visit us.

D: Finally!! Normal citizens!

H: How excited! I heard about Mikaylyn before but.. who is she?..

M: She sounds great!!!

O: ... You had other friends besides us? And is Liam even aware of this!?

W: Yes Olivia, he's on it. I told him before you guys. And to answer Hana's question Mikaylyn is my old friend from high school and my other friend Sumi too. They don't live that far from New York. 

H: Sounds great ^^ We can even make new friends too. 

M: YAYYYY NEW FRIENDS!!

D: Maxwell shut upp!!

O: Okay. I am cool with that. just let me train now

W: How long do we need to prepare for the visit?

D: Just give us like a week and we should be fine. 

W: Okay, I'll meet up with you guys tomorrow for our set up plan for the visit welcome. 

______________________________________

After a while longer of the text group chat messages, Will turned off his phone and continued to focus on his night routine before heading to bed. 

A week later on a Wednesday Morning, it was a hectic moment where everyone was being prepared for Mikaylyn and her friends go visit. Will is a bit nervous since he has not seen Mikaylyn and Sumi in a long time. Will also did not believe that Mikaylyn was married now, he knew about Zig but didn't think this was happening to see Mikaylyn as a Ortega. Hana was decorating the ball room as Maxwell was gathering the food and drinks. Drake and Liam were talking to each other as preparing doing the greet welcome as Olivia then was organizing her weapons before deciding to help the crew with the area. All morning the whole crew was busy with the preparation, it was a lot of work but in the ballroom, it was filled with fancy streamers, fun balloons and bunch of American's food with usual drinks that happens in the states. Everyone decided for Will and Liam to meet Mikaylyn and her friends by the front. Will takes a deep breath holding Liam's hand as watching the plane landed.

"Here we go.." Will mumbled. 

[ownworldresident]

Side by Side Masterlist (Updated)

Book: The Royal Romance.Premise: With new additions to their family, King Liam and Rayne are forced to re-evaluate their relationship dynamic. Themes: Found family, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, family. Word Count: 3.2k (ish) per chapter, 18 chapters. 57k. Note: This story started just after TRR3 ended, and has no association with TRH. Master Masterlist Link

Heads up: For those who read the original Side by Side (hi!) many moons ago, in order to write myself out of a corner I have revamped it and altered a lot of things. The older chapters still exist in the Void but the links are no longer on my fic masterlist.

Releasing weekly on Fridays/Saturdays.

Not A Fairy Tale

The Agreement

Legitimate

Resolve

Influence

Parent or Guardian

Challenger - 7.1. Interlude.

Custody

Renewal

Pressure

Last Chance

The Plan

Everything

Instinct

The Calm Before

Loyalties

Family

Side by Side

Current tag list: @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @kingliam2019 @angelasscribbles @mainstreetreader @malblk21 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tinkie1973 @lovingchoices14

Past tag list: @leelee10898 @indiacater @speedyoperarascalparty @brightpinkpeppercorn @riseandshinelittleblossom @bella-ca @custaroonie @thequeenofcronuts @lodberg @kuladekiwi @mfackenthal @carabeth @romanticatheart-posts @blackcoffee85 @whenyourheartskipsabeat @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

[choicesficwriterscreations]

It's Fall Y'all

Book: TRR AU Characters: Drake x Olivia and their daughter Lilith, Riley and her daughter Eleanor, Bianca. Mentioned: Liam, Maxwell. Word count: 1,547 Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry except Lilith Rating: teens Warning: fluff By @twinkleallnight

[twinkleallnight]

False truth

Book: TRR AU

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Drake x Olivia, Liam x Riley .

Word count:1020

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: mental health

A/N: Thanks a ton @lizzybeth1986 for holding my hand and bringing this to reality. This is a mini series of 6 chapters loosely weaved around themes for the days of drake-walker-appreciation week.

Prompt: Day 1: Appreciation for @drake-walker-appreciation week

"Good morning!" Her soft whisper and sweet kisses were the things Drake cherished the most.

He stretched his arms up in the air and then turned to her, taking her in his embrace. She giggled as he peppered kisses all over her face.

"I love you." She said with a kiss.

"I love you too." He replied and asked, "What are we planning today?"

" I am going to treat you to some of your favourite foods."

"And what's so special to recieve this treat?"

"Just cause I want to celebrate, us." She waved her finger between both of them. "You know what, being with you every moment is a celebration." She added.

"You flatter me. What did I do to get all of this?" He spread out his arms and threw himself back in the softness of the plush mattress.

She placed her hand on his chest and rested her chin on it. Looking into his eyes, she started, " You Drake Walker, you are the most wonderful person on this earth. You have been a loving son, a caring brother, the most loyal friend anyone could ask for."

He raised his brows. "Well, thank you but all these things don't relate to you and me. Tell me something exclusive about us."

She chuckled, "That list will be never-ending. You know how much I love you. You are the warm hearted person I always dreamed of."

Drake smiled listening to the praises. She cupped his face and continued, "You can read me so well. I don't have to utter a single word and you know what I want. You know it all. You are so devoted that I feel blessed. You never leave my side come hell or high water. You give courage, you give hope, you make living possible. With you around I am so carefree. You are always watching my back. I can be myself and I am who I am, because of you."

Drake covered her mouth with his fingers, "Enough! Do you want me to drown in the sea of these praises?"

She shook her head and moved his hand away to speak, "No, I want you to shine like a star in the nightsky."

"A star? I am not beautiful like a star."

She got up to kiss his head. "Sadly, you don't even know."

"Know what?"

"That you are beautiful inside and outside. . Your chestnut hair that falls over your forehead." She ruffled his hair and he chuckled. "Your twinkling brown eyes, this smile of yours that only I get to see. When you say my name in your rough and heavy tenor, my legs go jelly."

"Riley." He called out her name to tease her.

"Oh, please don't start it again."

"Riley! Riley! Riley!" He repeated with a kiss each time.

She started laughing. He responded with a hearty laugh. He didn't realise his voice was loud enough to cross the barriers of the wooden doors.

There was a knock on the door. "Drake? Are you awake, Drake?" The sharp female voice from the other side of the door sounded concerned.

Drake lost his grin but Riley kept smiling. He got up to open the door. He didn't want his rendezvous with Riley to end. If only…

The moment he unlocked the door, Olivia rushed in.

"Good morning, Drake. How are you today? Did you sleep well?" She asked in a single breath, scanning the room.

"Yes, whatever." He muttered and walked in behind her. He looked at his bed and frowned. Riley was gone. Again. As always.

"Were you talking to someone?"

" None of your business!" He snarled at her and stomped out of the door. Riley was gone, so there was no point to stay there.

Olivia's shoulders slumped in defeat. She looked at the tiny study table in the corner of the room. The letter she left last night was still there. It was out of the envelope. That means he read it. Then why would he not respond well? She walked down to it with heavy steps. She picked it up to check if she had made a mistake. She started reading her handwritten ode.

'Dear Drake,

I love you. And I have some plans for tomorrow. I am going to treat you to some of your favourite foods. Nothing special. I just want to celebrate, us, although being with you every moment is a celebration. Because, you Drake Walker, you are the most wonderful person on this earth. You have been a loving son, a caring brother, the most loyal friend anyone could ask for.' Her eyes welled up. She tried to peer through her watery eyes.

'And if i start talking about us, the list will be never-ending.'

A stray streak of water spilled out of her eye to land on the letter and blotted the ink. She turned away with a sigh. Her head hung low. She crumpled the paper in her hand.

She looked up at the mantle. Photos of them together in happier times looked like they were mocking her. She picked up one she had clicked of him, standing alone in the lythikos snow with the eggnog she had made for him. He was beaming at the lens. He looked so happy. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks, reminiscing about that moment. She touched his lips in the photograph and moved her fingers over his brown eyes. "I did as I was told. I poured out my heart to you Drake Walker in a hope that you will remember what we had. But you are still dreaming of a woman who doesn't exist. I wonder how long I will have to fight this lonely battle to get you out of your hallucinations.This struggle seems like never-ending. I miss you Drake. I miss you!"

She cradled the photo frame in her bosom and let the welled up emotions loose till she could do it no more. She won't give up though. She had decided she wouldn't. With a fresh resolution in her mind,she got up to go after him.

"Drake? Drake!..."

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Chapter 2 here

[tessa-liam]

Smoke and Mirrors

We're Ready For Anything

Chapter 7

Smoke and Mirrors

-7- We're Ready for Anything

Book: The Royal Romance Finale +, Alternate Universe

Series Premise: Hidden in the shadows, poised to challenge the status quo are enemies of the state. The loyalties and honesty of family and friends will be tested. ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.’

Catch Up: Smoke and Mirrors Masterlist

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP ‘Liri’

2nd Pairings: Leo Rys x Amalas, Drake Walker x F!OC Delaney Leigh, Olivia Nevrakis x M!OC Alex Cossoy

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Delaney Leigh, Officer Alex Cossoy, Geoffrey Bessler (Amalas’ head guard.)

Rating: M🔞*Series Warnings: NSFW material, sexual innuendo, adult innuendo, adult language/swearing/drinking, gun violence.

Not Beta'd, please excuse all errors.

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff

Words: 2274, Read: 10 minutes

Chapter 7: We’re Ready for Anything

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley find out more about their twins and Lena is captured by Interpol.

Music and Title Inspiration: Ready for Anything, Landon Austin

A/N1: My submission for @choicesflashfics Week #32, Prompt #2 - “Sometimes memories can be the worst form of torture.”

A/N2: My submission for May Choices Monthly Challenge @choiceschallenge-may2023 @jerzwriter @maychallenge prompts - Mother’s Day, holding hands/ crying /caress

King’s Study, Cordonian Palace

It was late into the evening as Liam opened the financial report for Portavira on his computer. Taking note that Duke Ebrim was requesting a sizeable amount of emergency funds for the coastal region in the form of stipends.

Opening his e-mail to respond, a knock on his study door got his attention.

“Come.” Liam called out and continued typing, not taking his focus off the screen.

“Hey, Li. Am I interrupting?” Drake asked hesitantly.

Without looking up, Liam answered, “Drake, hey...what brings you here tonight?”

“Well, I need your advice on something.”

Closing his laptop, Liam stood up and walked to his bar cart, picking up two glasses and a bottle of Macallan.

Liam chuckled, “Why do I think this has something to do with a certain blond in your life?”

“Yeah, well...”

Pouring two glasses of scotch, Liam slid one to Drake and sat back down, taking a sip.

“Delaney wants to visit her parents in Austin....and she wants me to go with her.”

Drake exhaled a breath and Liam grinned.

“So, what’s the problem, Drake? Nervous about meeting your future in-laws?”

Drake shot his friend a look, and Liam roared in laughter.

“Seriously, Drake? This is not a problem, buddy!”

“Yeah, well...the thing is, her parents are pressuring her to move back home to the States. Laney is seriously considering it.”

Shaking his head, “Laney wants me to move back with her.”

Liam looked at his friend, noting the conflict in his expression.

“I don’t want to lose her, Li. I also don’t want to leave Cordonia.”

Queen’s Study, Monterissian Palace

“Geoffrey, do you have the video footage of the arrest from last night taken outside the palace?”

Amalas spoke to her guard through the speakerphone on her desk.

“Not at this time, your majesty. Interpol has not uploaded the file yet to our systems.”

“Wait a second. Pause and rewind...what did you just say?” Leo asked incredulously.

“Your majesty?” Geoffrey asked questionably.

“Leo, its protocol that the Interpol inspectors have access to all palace systems ahead of my Royal guard.” Amalas answered.

“Access, yes, but to commandeer all viewing?” Leo challenged.

“Thank you, Geoffrey, that will be all at this time.” Amalas tapped the app closed and spun around her chair, glaring at Leo.

“What the hell, Ams? You are taking orders from some ‘suit’ in Lyon, France? ….Why?”

“First of all, I don’t care for your tone. Do. Not. Speak. To. Me. Like I don’t run this country! Especially in front of my people.” Amalas countered angrily.

Leo sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was a challenge for the former Crown Prince to remember not to interject his personal opinions into conversations with the Monterissian Royal guard.

Amalas is the Queen, and he was overstepping.

“Secondly, I appreciate the expertise and assistance of Interpol.”

Leo sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I am surprised, to say the least. The ‘Spy Queen’ needing help in her own country.”

“And thirdly,” Amalas stood and frowned at Leo. “I am respecting the King of Cordonia’s request for a united front to uncover the truth behind the duplicity of the Royal guard in our countries.”

“Leo, we need to ‘cut the head off’ of this faction. There is someone or something controlling and directing operatives, like Bastien in Cordonia, that has infiltrated our highest security levels in the Royal guard of our countries.”

“Case in point: how a known fugitive can gain access to my private chambers, can pass through my security protocols. Allowed access to the Crown Princess of visiting monarchs, no less.”

“I get it Ams, I really do. ….and I am truly sorry.” Leo sighed and shook his head.

Amalas stood and walked over to Leo. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed his lips sweetly and touched her forehead to his.

Clearing his throat, Geoffrey stood outside the open door and waited to make his presence known.

“Your majesty.”

Amalas turned to look at her head guard. “Yes, Geoffrey?”

“Interpol has successfully captured and detained the security breach.”

Cordonian Palace

It was shortly after 1 am when Liam returned to the south wing of the palace. Loosening his tie, he nodded at Mara as she stood guard outside of Eleanor’s chambers and continued to walk to his personal chamber he shared with Riley.

After preparing for bed, he opened the veranda door and stepped out into the cool night air. Looking out over the gardens, he took a deep breath and smiled. Tomorrow, he and Riley would find out the sex of their twin babies. He grinned thinking about all the possibilities, but if he was being truly honest with himself, he favored having a son. Or...he chuckled, maybe another Ellie.

Shaking his head, he decided to turn in for the night to get some sleep considering the day would bring much excitement for him and his family.

Approaching his side of the king-sized bed, he noticed that Riley’s side of the bed was slept in, but Riley was not in bed.

Liam went to his closet and slid on a pair of sweatpants. After stepping into the hallway, he returned down the hall towards Ellie’s chambers. He quietly opened her bedroom door and entered the darkened room. Beside her canopy bed, the single night light glowed, and he saw his daughter's outline. Wrapped snugly and securely in her mother’s arms, she was fast asleep along with Riley.

As he placed a soft kiss on Ellie’s forehead, Riley awoke and smiled. “Hi”, Riley whispered and touched his hand. After carefully detaching her arms from her daughter, she rose from bed to join her husband in their bedroom.

Liam closed the door behind him, after following Riley.

Joining his wife under the silk sheets, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.

“That’s better,” nuzzling her neck.

Smiling, Riley ran her fingers through his soft hair. “Working late tonight?”

“Yes, and no... Drake came to see me tonight.”

“Oh really, and here I thought you were avoiding me,” Riley smirked.

“Never!” Liam playfully teased.

“So, what was so important for Drake to pay such a late visit?"

“AHHHH, well...he wanted my advice. Drake is debating whether he should a, stay in Cordonia; or b, move to Delaney's home in Texas. And c, where he should go with his relationship with Delaney.”

Riley looked at her husband, “I know what you said.”

“I know you do, love,” kissing Riley’s nose.

“Home is where your love of your life is. I asked him what his true feelings were for Delaney. Once he can honestly answer that question, he will have his answer.”

Monterrisian Palace

The temperature in the Monterrisian palace holding cell area was at least 10 degrees cooler in the lower-level security offices. Amalas and Leo followed the Interpol officers and were shown to the viewing privacy window. Amalas was accustomed to the temperature change, but Leo had shivers go down his spine; from the temperature change, or nerves, or both.

On the other side of that window, Lena Rys was sitting in a chair alongside a female Royal guard. On the other side of the table sat Alex Cossoy and Olivia Nevrakis.

Amalas listened intently to the questioning, while Leo stared at the blond woman. Shock, mixed with disbelief left him speechless.

“What is your end game?” Olivia asked impatiently

“My end game is to take my place in the Rys family,” Lena coolly answered.

Olivia eyed Lena in disdain.

“My mother told me that my father wanted to hide me from my half-brother. That the ‘Cordonian royal family can’t find out who I really am... for my sake’.”

“’That’s horrible’,” Olivia sighed.

“’I didn’t want to believe those things about my family, but my mother had never lied to me’.”

"Your mother?"

"Yes, Sigrid took care of me in place of my true mother."

“You were brainwashed, she was obviously lying to you!” Olivia seethed.

“’I saw what Cordonia’s royal family really thinks of me when King Constantine came to Vallenheim for a diplomatic visit’.”

“’King Constantine told my mother that he wanted no part in foreign influences on Cordonia. He said that Queen Eleanor is gone. Which is why he wanted nothing to do with me. That Eleanor was her friend, but that association ended when Eleanor died. He does not owe us anything’.”

“My mother wanted me to meet my brothers, but Constantine said ‘he won’t be guilted with a child.’

I remember that my mother begged Constantine to meet me, and Constantine said no. 'My sons and I want nothing to do with me, my mother, Vallenheim, or any of our people!’”

My mother told me, 'This is exactly why Queen Eleanor wanted me kept away from Cordonia.’"

Lena’s eyes 'welled with tears that are equal parts anger and sadness.'

“In that moment, I knew everything my mother had said about my father and brothers was true.”

“Sometimes memories can be the worst form of torture.”

Olivia stood up and paced the floor. Stopping directly in front of Lena,

“’Liam didn’t even know about you. Your brother is a better man than your father was.’”

“’I always resented Leo and Liam for having the life I could’ve had in Cordonia. I’ll even admit to envying Liam’s throne.’”

“’He’s a lot more than you were told. You might even like him if you gave him half a chance.’”

Lena’s features hardened, “’I think that ship sailed a while ago.’”

Dr Rameriz’s office, Cordonia

Looking at her reflection in the changing room, Riley placed her hands on her tummy. Her belly had grown so quickly this time around. Her morning sickness was now gone, and she felt more energized.

Slipping on the hospital gowni and robe, she opened the door to be greeted by the nurse.

“Your majesty”, the nurse curtsied and opened the door to the examination room.

Liam quickly stood offering his wife his hand.

“Are you ready for this, my love?”

“Oh Yes, Liam! Let’s do this!

Chuckling, he helped Riley get comfortable on the exam table, as the nurse placed a heated thermal blanket over top. Grasping his hand, she laid back and relaxed against the pillow.

Dr. Ramirez greeted the monarchs with a warm smile.

“Okay, today we are going to find out which sexes these little ones are.”

“Most definitely,” Liam smiled, squeezing Riley’s hand as she also smiled.

The doctor placed the doppler wand and the sound of heartbeats immediately could be heard.

“I will never tire from hearing those sounds.” Liam watched the monitor as the babies appeared.

Riley let out a breath and started to tear, squeezing Liam’s hand even more.

“So, what do you think, love?” Liam asked.

Riley grinned, “It’s a boy.”

The doctor nodded, “incredibly good instincts. Your majesties, you have a son.”

Liam beamed with joy and kissed his wife.

“...and baby number two?”

“A boy,” Riley answered.

The doctor shook her head smiling.

‘Your wife’s instincts are quite correct. Your children are both boys.”

Liam let out a breath.

Riley, now crying, was overcome with emotion.

“Riley, love,” Liam whispered, raising her hand, and softly kissed her palm.

“Yeah?”

“You did it again.”

Riley looked up at Liam with a question in her eyes.

Caressing her swollen tummy, “You made another dream come true for me. I love you so, so much.”

Riley, full of emotion, answered back, “as do I.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her lips and said, “let’s go home.”

Liam and Riley walked slowly out of the hospital, holding hands, both smiling as they approached the waiting SUV.

“We should spend the weekend in Valtoria.’ Liam smiled.

“I would love that, and I know that Ellie will be ecstatic to go to the festival in town.”

Liam grinned as he followed Riley into the SUV.

Not mentioning that he and Ellie have a special Mother’s Day celebration planned at the estate already for her.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🤎🤎🤎🤎

Thank you for reading!

⚜️Please DM me if you would like to be added or removed from the tags⚜️

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[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Fandom: TRR

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

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

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper, Olivia and the Beaumonts arrive in Rome... but not everyone is happy to see them

Word Count: 5,300

Rating/Warnings: None (for once 🤣)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Lots of Italian and random cultural/historical tidbits in this... but, then again, we are in Italy, so the foreign language aspect will be a bit of a running theme through the next few chapters (sorry...not sorry - I actually learnt some Italian in the process!)

A/N2: @aussiegurl1234, before you ask, yes, I HC that Vito bears a striking resemblance to Michele Morrone 😆

Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

"How is it hotter here than in Cordonia?" I gasp as I step out onto the jet's airstairs.

"Italy is a peninsula," Olivia says from behind me, slotting on a pair of Versace cat-eye shades. "It is more exposed to the anti-cyclones that blow up from the Sahara."

My mouth drops as I make my way down onto the steaming tarmac. "This heatwave... is coming from Africa?"

No wonder it feels like the inside of a furnace!

"It certainly isn't coming from the Arctic!" bemoans Bertrand as he shields his face from the intensity of the rays with an upraised hand. "Though what a welcome change that would be!"

"Brr...!" objects Maxwell with a shiver. "No thank you! I've had my yearly fill of sub-zero temps at Olivia's!"

"You're welcome," comes the snippy response as the Duchess of Lythikos strides past us.

"That said, turning the mercury down a few notches wouldn't hurt..." I remark, squinting accusatorily up at the beating sun.

"The summer heatwaves have been growing longer and more intense over recent years," Olivia advises from up front, "leading to consequent effects on food and water security, power generation, infrastructure, not to mention the added burden on the healthcare system across Europe. It is one of the items on the agenda for Christian's roundtable with the Italian Prime Minister tomorrow."

I frown as I arrive at the passenger-side door of the first in a trio of waiting Porsche Macan GTS's. "I thought this was supposed to be an engagement tour..."

"It is," she confirms as a black-suited Italian sporting close-cropped hair and aviators opens the door for her. "But any foreign visit involving a high-ranking head of state is — by its nature — a diplomatic event as well."

"I guess that makes sense," I concede, sliding into the relative reprieve offered by the SUV's A/C system. "Though you said Christian is meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow... I thought that was supposed to be today. Did something change?"

"No," derides Bertrand as he settles in next to me. "Today, the King is partaking in a meet-and-greet with the Italian President, followed by a private audience with the Pope while the future Queen is fitted for her wedding trousseau, capped off by dinner and a performance of Tosca at the Teatro dell'Opera in the evening. While tomorrow we have been invited to brunch at the Cordonian Consulate, after which the King has a round-table discussion with the Prime Minister, and day will be closed out by a state gala."

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly. "So, the Prime Minister isn't the same as the President...?"

"The Prime Minister is the head of government, while the President is the head of state," the elder Beaumont instructs as Maxwell squishes himself into the backseat on the other side of me. "The roles are quite distinct."

"Of course they are..." I huff under my breath.

Seems like in addition to Olivia's list of influential Cordonian nobles, I will also need to memorise a textbook on European constitutional history...

Though, now I am doubly glad of the business-like, but nevertheless stylish pale pink, high-necked pencil dress that Bertrand foisted on me this morning — it definitely would not have been great to show up underdressed to such a high-level meeting!

"But we must hurry!" the elder Beaumont proclaims. "We are due at the Presidential Palace in just under an hour, and we still need to fight our way through the notoriously infernal Roman traffic!"

"Not to worry," Olivia assures us with a sly smirk from the front passenger seat. "Vito here knows all the shortcuts."

"That sounds ominous..." I mutter, reaching for the seatbelt on instinct.

"I prefer 'expeditious'," she counters, turning to Vito, who has now taken up position behind the wheel. "Andiamo."

"Certamente, Duchessa," he nods, throwing the car forward with a violent depression of the gas pedal.

The sudden acceleration yanks an inadvertent gasp from my lips as I'm thrown back in my seat... just like on that afternoon in Ramsford when Drake pulled the same stunt on the Beaumonts' driveway.

I feel my throat tighten as I glance inadvertently out the window. God, I hope he's okay...

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably making myself anxious for no reason. Drake is an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself... including in close-quarters situations. He's demonstrated that to me plenty of times.

Yet, I still can't help but worry about him. Especially when he's off in a foreign country (all by himself for all I know...), having left with basically no good-bye, and with definitely no assurance of when he expects to get back.

And while I know that he is doing this for me — so we can collar Tariq and extract whatever information he has in relation to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season... and to answer for what he did to me in Applewood — the wait is killing me. I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, and whether he even has his phone turned on, given the high-stakes nature of his self-appointed task.

Which is why I have held off trying to reach out to him (...even though the baser, needier part of me is itching to do exactly that), as I don't want to be the one to interrupt a crucial moment by setting his phone off with an ill-timed call or text, especially considering the three-hour time difference...

I heave a breath.

I just have to trust him. Like he asked me to at every turn of this increasingly bumpy road that we've been travelling since I left New York. And hope that we are finally on our way out of the woods.

Exiting the boundaries of the airport, Vito navigates the Porsche onto a highway where we are able to pick up some speed. Olivia uses the opportunity to open up her phone, throwing some questions in Italian to her associate every so often as we cruise along. Bertrand is similarly occupied, while Maxwell has slipped on some Bose headphones and is bobbing away to the beat.

Which leaves me to stare somewhat aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery roll by in a bid to keep myself distracted.

But the reprieve ends up being somewhat of a welcome one. The various warehouses and road-side auto lots surrounding the airport quickly give way to a tree-lined thoroughfare, and I find myself basking in the calming effects of the greenery, not having expected to encounter such a bucolic sight on the road to a major urban centre.

Eventually, though, the vegetation gives way to the crumbling walls of some kind of expansive estate that we end up following for a good few miles until the asphalt road changes over to cobblestones and we pass in front the gates of a red-bricked stone fortress that looks like it's been plucked straight from the set of Game of Thrones.

"Wow..." I can't help but breathe as I take in the sight of the towering structure simmering under the light of the mid-morning sun.

"Le mura aureliane," advises Vito from up front, catching my awed expression through the rear-view mirror. "Costruita dall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari."

I nod distractedly, craning my neck as we turn a corner to follow the path of the ancient structure that is somehow still standing despite the clear ravages of time and weather.

Nothing lasts like this anymore...

Making another turn, we pass beneath an arched portion of the wall, and the road before us opens up into a leafy boulevard that takes us into the city proper. And from there, it's one jaw-dropping piece of architecture after another jostling for space between more modern buildings and seemingly never-ending rows of trees.

"I didn't expect Rome to be so green..." I admit to no one in particular as I eye up the unusual-looking shrubs.

"You can thank the Ancient Romans," supplies Bertrand without glancing up from his phone. "They planted the now-iconic stone pines in scores along the major roadways in part to serve as ornamentation, and in part to provide a steady supply of pine nuts, which are an essential ingredient in many dishes, including pesto and various pies and tarts."

"It certainly was worth the effort," I agree, watching the evergreens drift past on either side of us.

Though, as Bertrand predicted, the closer we get to the centre of the ancient capital, the increasingly chaotic the traffic becomes, with cars, buses and mopeds all vying for space on the roads, requiring Vito to make recourse to his own horn as well as various offensive gestures in order to narrowly avoid a slew of accidents... and I suddenly have a slightly better appreciation for why Drake drives the way he does. Because based on my experiences first in France and now in Italy, it appears that on the Mediterranean, might equals right when it comes to priority on the road, and unless you're forceful, you ain't getting nowhere.

Managing to finally extricate ourselves from the constraints of a complicated intersection, we end up on a quieter road running parallel to a long patch of bunkered-looking grass on our left.

"What's that?" I ask, tapping Vito on his shoulder.

"Il Circo Massimo," he advises.

My eyes widen. "That's the Circus Maximus?"

"Sì," he nods. "L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corse dei carri."

"Unbelievable..." I murmur, slumping back into my seat in awe.

There is nothing comparable back home — even the oldest still-extant pre-Columbian structures date to only the first millennia A.D. Whereas here we are, casually cruising past a seminal piece of history that is still embedded into the fabric of the city nearly three thousand years after its construction. And we haven't even seen the Colosseum, or the Forum yet!

Rome really is the Eternal City...

Leaving the green fields of the Circus behind us, we enter a more urban-looking environment as we start to climb a hill. The white- and sand-coloured buildings cluster closer together, and the general architecture becomes more uniformly Baroque, until we arrive in a large plaza dominated by a massive, Neo-Classical structure that towers over everything else.

"Il Vittoriano," Vito offers without prompting.

"Is that where we're having brunch with the President?" I ask, slack-mouthed as I stare up at the imposing building.

It certainly looks impressive enough to house the head of a country!

"Of course not!" admonishes Bertrand. "The Vittoriano is a symbolic collection of monuments built to commemorate the rule of King Victor Emmanuel II and the unification of Italy. The President resides at the Quirinal Palace, which is located on a wholly different Roman hill!"

"Oh," I mutter sheepishly.

"Like she is going to know the difference," scoffs Oliva from the front. "They don't even teach The Art of War in her schools... How can you expect her to know anything about Italian history?"

"Italian history is foundational history!" insists Bertrand. "The Romans were instrumental in shaping not just the course of European, but Northern African and Middle Eastern events for millennia! How can they neglect to teach American children about this?"

"Because the focus is on US history," I tell them wearily as Vito navigates us to the other side of the square.

"Surely that is an afternoon's worth of lessons at most?" the elder Beaumont queries sceptically. "Your country was only founded in the conventional sense of the word in the mid-1600s..."

"Most Americans haven't been to Europe," I remind him, watching the rows of buildings flick past on either side of us as we begin the ascent up another hill. "They don't necessarily have a basis of comparison."

"Sounds like your curriculum is somewhat lacking in scope, then..." he surmises with pursed lips.

"Yeah, well..." I retort dryly, "I don't write the textbooks. Though, speaking of education, is there any chance for some sightseeing? It would be a shame to spend two days here and not actually see anything..."

"While I wholeheartedly approve of the sentiment," Bertrand replies, "I am afraid that you will have to make do with the cultural experiences offered by the various host venues on the official itinerary. Which — I admit — are no Pantheon, or Sistine Chapel, but are impressive and important cultural artefacts, nevertheless. The Quirinal Palace, for instance, so named for the Quirinal Hill on which it sits, is actually the sixth largest palace in the world and has served as the primary residence of such notable figures as—"

I let out a low exhale as Bertrand launches into a full-blown historical recital. And while the details are definitely interesting, I didn't come all this way to listen to a one-man rendition of a Roman guidebook.

Which makes me all the more determined to find some kind of opportunity to slip away from the official tour — even if it's just for an hour to toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain — so that I can experience something of the magic that this breathtaking city has to offer.

When, I have no idea, given the busyness of our schedule, but I managed to orchestrate an escape plan to see the capital back in Cordonia, so I'm confident I'll be able to pull something similar... albeit without Drake's help this time. But despite the set-backs, I'm not about to miss out on this kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience...

With my intention firmly set, the car rounds an uphill corner, and we are suddenly on the edge of yet another expansive plaza secured by a rim of strategically placed concrete planters and a pair of police cars.

Vito pulls to a stop and slides the window down to exchange a few quick words with the officer who has come to greet us.

"Passports," instructs Olivia, reaching into her purse.

Opening up the white, Medusa emblazoned Versace clutch sitting on my lap — which I am sure cost more than what I would've ever made in a month working as a waitress back home, but which Bertrand had insisted on as a 'necessary' Italian-themed accessory — I pull out my shiny, new Cordonian passport and pass it to the front.

Maxwell and Bertrand do the same, and there is a couple of minutes of tense silence while the stern-looking officer inspects each document to verify our identities, while another policeman does a circuit 'round the car with a convex safety mirror.

Finally, the policeman hands the passports back with a curt nod, and waves us through.

"Were they not expecting us?" I query as I slot my credentials away again.

"They were," Olivia advises. "But we are arriving separately from the royal delegation, so the State Police are obligated to run a security check."

"Why?"

The Duchess of Lythikos scoffs back at me. "To ensure that we are not terrorists trying to kill the President with a car bomb... Or did that part go over your head?"

"No..." I hit back sarcastically. "I meant why are we arriving separately?"

She looks back at me with an arched brow. "Would you have preferred to deal with the press?"

"I... No," I admit.

She turns back to the front with a smirk. "Didn't think so."

Vito pulls the car to a stop in front of a small courtyard decked out with a red carpet and intertwined streamers made out in the colours of Cordonia's and Italy's flags. Allard and Schweitzer — who had been travelling in the car behind us — appear to open the doors for us.

Bertrand scoots out of the backseat first, before turning back to offer me his hand.

"Thanks," I say with a sincere smile, grasping his fingers to help pull myself up.

"Always my pleasure," he replies with a genuine smile.

Smoothing my skirt, I gaze up at the somewhat understated-looking entranceway, suddenly nervous about the prospect of acting as a newly-minted ambassador of Cordonia. I mean... three months ago, I was bussing tables at a dive bar for less than minimum wage, and now here I am, decked out in clothes that cost more than the rent I was paying for a fifth-storey walk-up, about to have an official meeting with a foreign country's head of state.

To say that I feel like a fraud is a massive understatement.

"What are you waiting for?" asks Olivia, breezing past me with all the confidence of a woman who's done this a hundred times before... probably because she has. "For the grass to grow?"

"I—"

"I heard the President loves chocolate bomboloni," offers Maxwell enthusiastically, linking his arm through mine to tug me down the length of the red carpet.

"What's...that?" I ask, forcing myself to swallow down the sudden dryness in my throat.

Maxwell's face collapses into an aghast look of shock. "Only the best pastry-based dessert! Second only to cronuts, of course!"

"That's definitely a high bar to hit," I admit.

"Think mini doughnuts with gooey chocolate filling, dusted with powdered sugar," he explains. "They literally melt in your mouth!"

"Except we are not here to indulge infantile cravings for sugary treats," reprimands Bertrand as we pass through the arched doorway. "We are here to partake in important discussions relating to matters of state, and t—"

"Pfft," scoffs Olivia. "Speak for yourself, Beaumont. These meetings are dull as shite. I'm here for the sweets."

I can't help but snort at the unexpected riposte... as well as the resultant sight of Bertrand's jaw hitting the parquet flooring. And I unexpectedly find myself feeling better about the whole experience. Because despite whatever nerves I may be feeling, the fact that Olivia and the Beaumonts are with me means that I am not alone in this.

Passing into the coolness of the building, we are greeted by a middle-aged woman who proceeds to lead us through a veritable rabbit warren of ante-rooms and corridors before we finally arrive in an expansive room dominated by a pair of jaw-dropping crystal chandeliers suspended from a vaulted, hand-painted ceiling.

"La Salle Bronzino," informs our guide, indicating that we should step through.

"Wow..." I breathe, trying to take in the opulence with as much composure as I can.

A slew of camera shutters click to life upon our arrival.

Jerking my gaze down from the delicate, celestial fresco above me, I spot the handful of photographers aiming their lenses at me.

I stifle a groan as I plaster a demure smile onto my face. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any reporters."

"This is an official state visit," Bertrand hisses out of the corner of his mouth. "Of course, there will be reporters!

"Just not as many as there would have been outside earlier," Olivia assures me.

My shoulders slump in acquiescence. "Take the wins you can get, I guess..."

"Ah, you made it!" exclaims Christian, striding up to us with a jovial grin. "Traffic wasn't too terrible, I hope?"

"Nothing Vito couldn't handle," Olivia assures him, dipping into a chaste curtesy as the photographers snap eagerly away.

Christian turns to me with a good-natured chuckle. "And Lady Harper... First impressions haven't put you off, have they?"

"No," I assure him, bobbing down politely as well, knowing that everyone in the room now has their eyes on us. "The exact opposite, actually."

"Excellent," he beams, holding my gaze for a second longer than he did with Olivia. "I have to admit that I have a bit of a soft spot for Rome, myself."

"It really is a—"

"Darling," interjects Madeleine with a steely smile, appearing at her fiancé's shoulder. "You really should focus your attentions on the President. He has been gracious enough to open up his home for us, after all..."

Christian's nostrils flare with the briefest flash of irritation as he pulls back slightly. "Quite. Let us go make the necessary introductions."

Madeleine bristles. "That is not what I—"

Deftly ignoring her, Christian extends his arm decisively towards an elderly man wearing a sombre suit and gold-rimmed glasses. "Shall we?"

"I guess so?" I concede, already feeling myself being steered past the silently fuming countess.

"Now remember," Bertrand mutters next to me as Christian leads us down the length of the room. "In the context of a formal conversation, it is always lei — never tu — when addressing your counterpart, so for the love of all that is holy, please do not—"

"Singor Presidente," proclaims Christian as he pulls to a stop. "Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione."

The President raises his head dutifully. "Certamente."

"Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell."

The Beaumonts bow their heads dutifully.

"Beaumont..." the President frowns. "Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso?"

"Sì," Bertrand confirms. "Egli è nostro padre."

The President is nodding in recollection. "Sì... sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui."

"Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte," Bertrand acknowledges.

"E questa è Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos, un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys."

Olivia holds out her hand. "E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente."

The President drops a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Il piacere è tutto mio."

"E finalmente," concludes Christian, "questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria."

The President's brows arc inquisitively. "Singorina Harper... You are... American? No?"

"Sì," I affirm as I offer my hand out. "Ma ho praticato mio Italiano..."

The President's mouth cracks into a genuine smile. "And you are doing very well, Singorina! Tell me, have you visited la città eterna before?"

"No, this is my first time," I admit, also switching to English, now that the formalities are over and done with. "But even the ride from the airport was utterly magical! It's like stepping into history!"

"Sì," the President affirms with a grin. "Us Romans are unspeakably lucky to be able to call such a beautiful city our home. It is a place of many treasures."

"What is your favourite part of the city?" I ask.

The President blinks in surprise at the unexpected intimacy of the request. "That is a difficult question... But if I am forced to choose... it would have to be this little forno next to la Fontana di Trevi which makes a very unique — and very delicious — pistachio croissant. It is not for every person, but if you have a spirit of adventure, then I suggest you try it."

"Thank you," I say with a sincere smile, filing the suggestion away. "I definitely will!"

"I cannot say that I have had the pleasure of sampling this treat, either," Christian admits, with a knowing glance down at me. "But Lady Harper has excellent taste in pastries — she was actually kind enough to introduce us to an American delicacy called a cronut. It was a big hit all around."

"A cronut?" queries the President. "I cannot say I am familiar..."

"Don't worry," Maxwell assures him with a conspiratorial grin. "We'll bring you one. If you'll trade us some bomboloni in exchange?"

Bertrand's already sunburnt face reddens further. "Maxwell! You cannot entreat the President t—"

"You like bomboloni, also?" interjects the President with keen interest.

"Of course!" Maxwell affirms enthusiastically. "Anyone who doesn't like them clearly has something wrong with them!"

"Sounds like you have excellent taste in pastries as well, Signore Maxwell!" chuckles the President.

The conversation continues to revolve around our shared food interests for a few more minutes, until an aide clears his throat from behind the President.

"Accettare le mie scuse," he apologises. "But I am being advised that it is time for the photographs and the speeches."

"Of course," nods Christian graciously, indicating that the President should lead the way to the front of the room where a small podium has been set up.

As the two men peel away from the group, I cast my eyes 'round the space and spot Hana standing by one of the large windows. Giving her a wave, I use the brief break in the proceedings to make my way over to her.

"So, what's the view like from this side of the room?" I ask by way of greeting.

"Quieter than your side," she admits wryly. "You certainly seemed to be having an engaging conversation with the President!"

"We discovered a shared love for sugary treats," I admit. "You should've joined us — you could've bragged about that baking championship that you won."

"It's alright," she demurs with a blush. "It's actually been nice to take a moment to step away from the crowd."

"Oh?" I ask, laying a concerned hand on her arm. "Is something wrong?"

She heaves a breath, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she says, "I have been fending off suitors."

My brow shoots skywards. "How many proposals have you had?"

"Since I arrived...? Probably twelve..."

My eyes bulge. "Twelve! That's like two a day!"

"Yes," she concedes with a weary exhale. "Lady Madeleine has been extremely gracious in personally introducing me to numerous eligible bachelors—"

"—but none of them are Maxwell," I surmise.

Her eyes flick up to mine before dropping back down sorrowfully. "No. But for the sake of my parents, I must entertain every available option in an honest manner."

"That definitely sounds exhausting..." I concede. "But hopefully now that we're out of the country, you can catch a bit of a break."

"I am not so sure..." she admits. "I have been advised that a number of well-connected Italians will be in attendance at the opera tonight..."

"Pfft...!" I scoff. "Just take the night off... Pretend to be sick... Run off with Maxwell to get some gelato... Actually enjoy being in Italy!"

Hana blushes. "I—"

The chime of a bell rings out across the room, interrupting our conversation.

Looking up, I see that all heads have turned dutifully towards the twin forms standing on the dais as they prepare to address the congregation.

"Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori," greets the President, "È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazione reale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. È passato troppo tempo da—"

As the speech winds on, I find myself tuning out, given that I am only able to understand every third or fourth word. But, not wanting to come across as rude by continuing my catch-up with Hana, I instead try to occupy myself by examining the two large tapestries suspended on the walls.

A round of applause draws me out of my reverie, and I join in on auto-pilot as the President hands off to Christian. Several more minutes of lilting Italian fills the room, during which time I move my attentions to the Roman-looking busts, wondering which emperors they depict.

Finally, the speeches come to a close, and I heave a sigh of relief.

"Did you understand any of that?" I ask Hana as the President presents Christian with some kind of medal, and the two men pose for photos.

"Of course," she nods. "My parents—"

"—have been giving you Italian lessons since before you could talk?" I finish dryly.

Hana's cheeks dimple. "Not quite that young, but yes. I am what they consider 'proficient'."

"Meaning, you speak it better than I speak English," I joke.

She snorts in response. "I wouldn't say that..."

"But it's true," I say with a smirk, happy to see that Hana's time back at court has not completely crushed her sense of humour.

"Ah, I've missed talking to you, Harper," she says with genuine feeling. "The last few days have felt so busy that I feel like we haven't spoken in months!"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." I agree with a huff. "In the space of a week, I've become a Cordonian citizen, been granted a duchy, gone from number five to number one on Madeleine's shit list, and—"

Hana's eyes widen. "It's not that bad, surely...!"

"It's probably worse," I admit. "And being on the front page of the Cordonian Sun — again — is probably not helping matters either..."

"Yes, I saw that article..." she commiserates with feeling. "I'm sorry that the press are treating you in that manner again."

"Hey, it's not your fault," I assure her. "But the press aren't all bad — I managed to convince Ana de Luca to help us track down the photographer who took those pictures of me and Tariq, and she actually came through yesterday."

"That's great!" she enthuses. "I have to admit that I have not had much success on my side... Madeleine does not permit her ladies-in-waiting to handle any of her private correspondence, including her mobile phones and laptop. And she has only talked to us about the upcoming events on the tour..."

"Well, it was a bit of a long-shot, anyway," I concede with a shrug. "But who knows? We might get—"

"Pardon," interrupts Kiara with a pointed cough. "But the Queen requests your presence."

I roll my eyes with a scoff. "She's not married to Christian yet..."

"But she will be soon," she reminds me pointedly. "So, it is actuellement in your interest to remain on her good side, given that you are now a duchess."

I feel the corner of my mouth scrunch into a mou of dissent, but I force myself not to pick apart the many things that are wrong with her statement. "Fine. Where is Her Majesty?"

"Bidding adieu to the President," she advises. "She has asked that in the meantime I gather the ladies who are to accompany her to the wedding boutique."

"Does she really need an entourage to go shopping?" I ask as we start making our way back to the double doors at the far end of the room.

"It is tradition for the suitors who were not picked at the end of the social season to assist the queen-to-be in the preparations for the wedding, including selecting her bridal gown and trousseau."

"Wonder how many times that's gone wrong before..." I mutter under my breath.

"It is a ritual de beaucoup d'importance," Kiara insists seriously. "The former suitors — and their families — demonstrate their public support for the union via the personal assistance they provide the bride and groom in the lead-up to the big day, as well as in the act of taking on key roles during the ceremony itself."

"Let me guess..." I grumble. "We're all going to be maids of honour, too..."

"In Cordonia, the correct term is 'witness'," she corrects. "They are the ones chosen by the couple to countersign the marriage certificate. Mais oui — it is likely that one or two of us will be called upon in such a manner."

"Great..." I sigh, arriving at the entranceway where Penelope and Olivia are already waiting. "All the things we get to look forward to..."

"Oh, Lady Harper!" squeals Penelope in excitement. "I love your dress! How do you always manage to find such super chic pieces?"

"Uhh..." I say, genuinely taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Bertrand picked this, actually..."

Olivia snorts derisively. "You mean Lord Tweedle-Dee? Please... That man has worse fashion sense than Jared Leto."

"Actually, he—"

"If you lot are quite finished with your asinine chit-chit," snaps Madeline as she strides imperiously past us, "you can pick up your feet. We are already running late for my appointment... Which took months to schedule, so don't you dare make me miss it!"

I meet Hana's gaze with a fish-eyed look. "Ever heard the term 'bridezilla' before?"

"No," she admits with a frown. "But it sounds scary..."

"Oh, trust me!" I assure her as we bring up the rear. "It is! Especially since it sounds like Madeleine is planning to take the concept to a whole 'nother level..."

The story continues in Chapter 19: Field Day

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

At the airport: Andiamo - Let's go

Certamente, Duchessa - Certainly, Duchess

En route Lemura aureliane. Costruitadall'imperatore Aureliano per difendere Roma dai barbari. - The Aurelian Wall. It was constructed by the Emperor Aurelian to defend Rome against barbarians.

Il Circo Massimo - The Circus Maximus

Sì. L'antico stadio romano costruito per le corsedei carri. - Yes. The ancient Roman stadium constructed for chariot racing.

Il Vittoriano - This is a colloquial nickname for the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II

At the Presidential Palace Singor Presidente. Permettetemi di presentarvi altri membri della nostra delegazione. - Mr President. Allow me to introduce some additional members of our delegation.

Certamente - Certainly

Questo è Singor Bertrand Beaumont, duca di Ramsford, e suo fratello, Maxwell. - This is Lord Bertrand Beaumont, Duke of Ramsford, and his brother, Maxwell.

Beaumont... Sai, mi suona familiare. Sei parente di Signor Bartholemy, per caso? - Beaumont... You know, that sounds familiar. Are you related to Lord Bartholemy, by chance?

Sì. Egli è nostro padre. - Yes. He is our father.

Sì...sì... Ha accompagnato il re precedente in molte occasioni. Sei molto simile a lui. - Yes... Yes... He accompanied the former king on many occasions. You look a lot like him.

Sì, la somiglianza di famiglia è forte. - Yes, there is a notable family resemblance.

E questaè Singorina Olivia Nevrakis, duchessa di Lythikos,un mio carissimo amico, e fedele sostenitrice del famiglia Rys. - And this is Lady Olivia Nevrakis, Duchess of Lythikos, a dear friend of mine, and loyal supporter of the Rys family.

E' un piacere conoscerla, Signore Presidente. - My sincere pleasure, Mr President.

Il piacere è tutto mio. - The pleasure is all mine.

E finalmente, questa è Singorina Harper, la nuova duchessa di Valtoria. - And finally, this is Lady Harper, the new Duchess of Valtoria.

Sì. Ma hopraticato mio Italiano.* - Yes. But I am practising my Italian. *Italian speakers will note that there is a grammatical mistake here (the correct phrasing is 'Ho praticato il mio italiano'). However, the mistake is deliberate because Harper learnt Italian literally an hour ago, so she's not going to be perfect at it!

La città eterna - the Eternal City (nickname for Rome)

Accettare le mie scuse - [Please] Accept my apologies.

Vostra Altezza Reale, colleghi delegati, Signore e Signori. È un onore, per me, ospitare la delegazionereale di Cordonia, nostro vicino e stretto alleato per centinaia di anni. Èpassato troppo tempo da— Your Royal Highness, fellow delegates, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honour to host the royal delegation of Cordonia, our neighbour and ally for many centuries. It has been far too long since—

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[msjr0119]

This life

PART ONE

The majority of characters belong to Pixelberry from The Royal Romance/Heir. This is an A/U - with only parts being linked to canon.

Series warnings ⚠️: Adult language, sexual, adultery, loss of a baby.

Based on the Netflix series- Sex/life. A few parts of dialogue are from the tv series.

Please do not read unless you are over 18 🔞

Tags: Because I’ve been gone MIA in like forever I don’t know who’s here anymore 🙈… so only tagging people who have asked previously.

@ao719 @kingliam2019 @txemrn

Previously: Introduction

****

School psychologists aren't supposed to write books or diaries about sex. Doing so would be considered 'unethical' and 'a fireable offense'. Lucky for you, ethics was never my strong suit.

****

“It’s good to see you, Brooks.”

“It’s Cooper-“ Due to the shock, this was the only thing that Riley could mutter. Finally making eye contact, he gave her the refined look of innocence. “My surname is now, Cooper.”

They say that New York City is one of the worlds best places to take a run. Running was never my forte- I impersonated Phoebe in that one episode of Friends. The emotional pain that I felt in this moment, I’m not sure how many miles my body could suffer before shutting down…

“Riley! Wait!”

****

Olivia Nevrakis was never one to leave the house without looking presentable. Her attire generally consisted of stiletto’s which matched anything that contained sequins. She always used to say that she wore these type of shoes for self defence. In the frantic attempt to catch up with Riley, this one time she accepted that sneakers would have to do.

“Where’s, Riley?” Liam questioned as he scrutinised the unusual appearance from their friend.

“I’m glad I’ve found you- I don’t know. I assumed that she came back here, to you both?”

“What do you mean, Olivia?” There was no need for an explanation- the figure that ambled towards them confirmed the reason behind Riley’s disappearance.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“It’s a free country, Linz…. Liam, looking good bro!”

“Listen to what I’m about to say, Drake.. I am not your ‘bro’…” Exaggerating the word ‘bro’, Drake took a big gulp as Liam squared up towards him. “If anything happens to Riley- I will kill you this time!”

“You haven’t got it in you, Li-“ The tension between the two old friends, could have exploded due to the overload of built up anger that had been formed over the years. Olivia ‘sacrificed’ herself, separating them both- as they continued providing death stares. Neither wanted to throw the first fist or insult any further- in that moment there was the realisation that they both wanted the same thing. For Riley to be found- safe. Drake stepped back, and to everybody’s surprise expressed a slight bit of remorse.

“I fucked up, Li. I know that. I regret it each and every day. At least she has Preston to look after her, he’s a lucky guy.”

“Preston is an intelligent and caring….” This slight description stabbed Drake in the heart- if given an opportunity Lindsey would continue to dig the ‘knife’ as revenge for the pain that he had caused her sister. “Preston… he’s… The most an amazing three year old.”

“Excuse me?”

“Preston is my nephew- Riley’s son.” Awareness had finally hit, Drake- he had his wires crossed. Wishing that he hadn’t mentioned Preston, the confirmation of his identity now pulled on his heartstrings. Concealing his true feelings, he nodded to the trio- before leaving without another word.

“Lindsey, Liam- myself and Drake… it’s not what you are both assuming. I would never do that to, Ri. I can explain. It was just bad timing.” Olivia pleaded her innocence- she now knew that the jetlag would have to be put on hold whilst she explained the unexpected return of Drake Walker.

****

January 3rd

Let’s try this again. Drama. Life is always full of it in my case. The life of Riley Brooks. It probably would make more entertainment than the Kardashian’s.

Alcohol acts in crazy ways. It affects people differently. It can make you feel invisible- or at least it did for me tonight. I still can’t remember how I had the energy or knowledge on how to get home safely. Walking up the drive, I noticed my snobby and nosey neighbours- Hannah and Neville peering out the window. My brain was informing me to provide them with the middle finger gesture. Instead I gave a friendly neighbour wave along with the biggest fake smile that I could provide. The curtain soon shut as the pair probably scurried away like the rats that they are. What dickheads. If I know Hannah well, I can predict that she will visit tomorrow with a basket full of freshly baked muffins waiting for the tea to be spilled. The women here believe that they are the real life ‘Desperate Housewives’. Riverside may appear to be a seemingly perfect neighbourhood but like Wisteria Lane - here it more than likely also hides; many secrets, crimes, forbidden romances and domestic struggles.

Betrayal. It can occur in different ways. But you never expect it to happen with people whom you loved. The same two people who you trusted with all your heart once upon a time.

My husband is as gorgeous inside as out. I’ve never once caught him looking at another woman. To be honest, I’ve never caught him in a lie- or had proof to prove any potential deceit. So what’s the problem?

“Honey, where are you?”

“I’m upstairs, Nate.”

“Ri, things have been super crazy at work. You have no idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re talking post-merger madness. Everyone is just angling for a position. They are all trying to show off for the new boss, you know.” Katrina- fantastic, little miss perfect Katrina. You can say her name, Nate. “She’s great, she wants to do all the things that I want to do- but on a much larger scale.”

“Wow.” Attempting to show a slight bit of interest, Riley didn’t realise how sarcastic that she may have sounded.

“Yeah, people are swarming- but she sees me. She loves me.” Nate noticed that Riley was in a daze, as she didn’t respond to him immediately. Laying next to her, he planted an attentive kiss on her forehead. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just miss you.”

“Excuse me. It’s her.” Acting dumb, Riley knew exactly who was on the other line. It’s a bit late for a work business call. “It’s her, my boss…. I won’t be long, Ri…’Katrina, hey! How are you?’” Laughing during his conversation, Riley couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that towards her.

The problem for Katrina, Nate Cooper is married to me. Before I met him, I had been contorted into a high percentage of the positions in the Kama sutra. Shouldn’t we all? There was rich guys, poor guys, tattooed guys, the one night stand guys. Any kind of man. Do I sound like a whore?

“We’ll sit down tomorrow just you and I, to discuss it Kat. See you then, bye.” Kat? Pet names now. The old boss was known as Mr Wilson- not by first name terms.

“Told ya, Ri. She loves me.”

“Who doesn’t?” Riley replied again in a sarcastic type of way.

I bet people often wonder why I married some man who was so straight-laced as to say. Honestly, it’s because of all the past encounters- especially, Walker. My nerves were so shot by the time that I had met Nate. As I’ve said previously I was vulnerable. My heart was riding on fumes- the stability that he offered was a soothing balm. At the time, I wanted us to live for a hundred years and die at the exact same moment to avoid any pain. I hoped that our souls would find each other on the other side- if that truly exists. We could fall in love all over again….I just also want to fuck Nate’s brains out, mainly as a distraction from the impromptu night that I have just had. Is that too much to ask?

****

January 4th

Last night or rather this morning was a complete disaster… When you have the urge to fuck your partner- you need to do it there and then, right? Why is it so hard to both be in the mood at the same time once you are married with kids? The way things are at the moment, I feel I’m like a reborn virgin.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Ioana mentioned that Liam and Lindsey came over. You should have gone out.”

That supportive look that he provided, was the complete opposite of what he would have really expressed. If he knew the truth, the calmness of his voice would be a different matter. Is he a controlling husband? Maybe. Protective- yes. What he doesn’t understand, is that I need to let my hair down once in a blue moon.

“I wasn’t up to it.”

To prevent my lie from being exposed I turned my phone into ‘Do not disturb’ mode.

“Besides, you’re back now….”

I reach down, making the first move. Faking orgasms- does anyone else do this?

“It’s so good.”

“Sorry, Ri- I can’t…. I’m too tired.”

Drake would never do that. He would see to all my needs. Why am I comparing them?

“Pass me the vibrator.”

It’s been nearly two years since Nate went down on me for example. I grew an entire human being in my body in half of that time.

“For fuck sake!”

I feel like screaming, due to the frustration of not only Nate ‘dying’ on me but now B.O.B does it too.

“Fuck it.”

After a slight yawn followed by a stretch, Nate snuggled into Riley-completely oblivious to his wife’s dissatisfaction. “Night baby.”

It wasn’t always like this. As much as children are a blessing- is this the reason that explains the loss of Nate’s libido or is it truly down to his work load? The passion we had has now declined, faded into something that is now virtually non existent. This must be the definition of growing up; getting married and living the family routine with a waning passion. Now I’m starving. Internally screaming at him from inside my mind trying to make us feel - something. Love is a drug, that’s what they say- right? Adrenaline. I can get that feeling again, every time I close my eyes - going back to any one of those nights in the past- I feel it. It’s not some allusive high that I’m chasing- it is - or was, real. That was the other Riley Brooks- the true, me. A wild-child. How can a girl fuck up with every relationship? I don’t know how I manage to do it? Maybe I should have worked on my brief relationship with Liam- my now brother in law. But, that’s a different story which included a poor teenage waitress in a dive bar and Lady Liberty.

****

January 5th

For this entry, I cannot allow for it to be discovered by Nate.

Deceit- the act or practice of deceiving; concealment or distortion of the truth for the purpose of misleading; duplicity; fraud; cheating. For me, today is just not informing my husband about the full truth. It’s in my past and something that I don’t like to ponder about. I’m still living through this nightmare behind closed doors. If he was ever to ask the reasoning behind this date- I have Lindsey as ‘my excuse’. We have previously had a discussion - to get our stories straight if Nate was ever to discover the true events about this day. The fifth of January always creeps up, then it’s gone in an instant- until it reappears each year.

****

Slowly walking up the path, there was the sense of tranquility. Silent neighbours. The slight wind enabled the tree branches to sway in sync.

“Hey, Linz”

“About fucking time, Riley! I’ve been worried sick about you! Are you okay? I’ve tried ringing you-“

“I’ve had no missed-“ Riley soon remembered that she hadn’t deactivated the ‘Do Not Disurb’ mode on her phone.

“I’m fine- I just… every year, we always meet here at the same time. Where are you? Why have you put flowers down without me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain, I’m stuck in traffic. I’ve rang you a few times mainly about the delay but also to discuss about you leaving the other night without telling us.”

“Linz, if you didn’t put these flowers here- who did?”

“Riley-“

“Linz, I’ll ring you back.” Sensing company, Riley focused on the shadow hovering over her.

“There’s a bunch of New York’s finest flowers from, Olivia. She wasn’t sure if you wanted to see her or not as you haven’t returned any of her calls. So I offered to bring them…. It’s been too long since I’ve been here, myself.”

The callused hand gently removed the crinkly yet rusty coloured leaves that floated effortlessly in-front of them.

“The teddy is a gift from me. I hope that you don’t mind?”

Reaching out to the bear, Riley pulled it close to her chest- holding it tightly, it felt to her as if the world had just crashed. Again. The defence mechanisms that she would usually excel in, were now paper thin. Before she could have reacted, his hands gently drew her closer towards him as he knelt down to her level.

“Please…. Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

The heat from this touch rapidly creeps into my consciousness - needing to pull away, I couldn’t. It’s like a magnet, drawing us closer- unable to separate this unexpected bond. Pulling his head back, he ran his hand through my hair before gently wiping away the tears that were now everlasting.

“You clearly aren’t fine, which is understandable. If you want me to go, I will.”

As I sink further into his torso attempting to hide my emotions, I inhale his aftershave- which has now sent me into a coma. My heart and brain have different scenarios imaged in my mind. What am I doing?

“You have a right to be here as much anyone- Drake.”

- - -

Jackson

Our sleeping angel

01/05/2014

Sweet little flower

Of heavenly birth

You were too precious

To bloom on earth

Love you always, Mommy and Daddy xxx

[kristinamae093]

Ghosted

Ghosted - I Finally See (Chapter Six)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

A/N2 - Huuuuuuugest of shout outs to @ao719, who helped me tweak this mood board a little bit (twice 🤣🥹😘)

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Rhonda led the three of them along the path to the west grounds. At one point, that is where all major events were held in Applewood. However, over the years, the Royal family decided it was best to move all festivities to the front of the estate, as it was bigger in acres and much closer to the main building.  

The area was then practically forgotten about. There was housing for some of the staff, a couple of sheds, and a few stray apple trees, but nothing else. Liam hadn't been on the west grounds specifically since he was a child and would play hide and seek with Leo out there. He always found the best spots to hide, Leo practically never found him. 

They followed until Rhonda stopped at an older, weathered shed toward the edge of the estate property. It appeared to be practically abandoned; the paint was chipping off the sides and the roof missed several shingles. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, and Liam felt his skin turn cold and raise with goosebumps as they approached the structure. 

Rhonda turned to face them. "This is the one..."

"Don't you dare go anywhere? Do you understand me?" Liam growled. 

Rhonda didn't say a word but nodded her head rapidly. She took a few steps away but stood where they could see her even after they entered the structure. 

Olivia glanced down and saw a padlock securing the doors closed. She reached out and grabbed it. "A lock? Seems like someone doesn't want us to find what's in there." 

"How are we gonna get it open?" Drake asked. 

Olivia laughed before she responded, "Oh, don’t you worry about that, you simpleton." and pulled a small dagger out of her sleeve. She leaned forward and started working the blade into the keyhole.

After a couple of minutes, Drake grew restless. "I know this may come as a surprise to you, but not everything is solved with knives." He huffed. 

Just as the words left his mouth, Olivia stood and turned to face him with a smirk on her face, lock in hand. "You were saying?" Drake shook his head and muttered a few obscenities under his breath. 

The trio stood and stared at the doors for what felt like an eternity; nobody wanted to make that first move. After so long with so many unanswered questions, the anxiety of what could lie ahead was felt heavily by all three. 

Finally, Olivia reached for the door and swung it open. They were indeed looking at all of Riley's stuff; all her clothes, hygiene products, knick-knacks, everything was piled directly in front of them. Olivia entered first and started searching for anything of relevance. Drake followed close behind, but Liam remained cemented in place with his mouth agape. 

Liam convinced himself that Riley intentionally left because she took all of her belongings with her. To him, that meant her departure was premeditated; she had to have thought enough in advance to have her things packed so she could make her escape. 

But as Liam stood in front of the open shed, he confirmed the gut feeling he had been ignoring all along was validated. Any and every bit of resolve he had left crumpled as he took those first steps into the structure before him. 

Liam entered slowly and looked around. He stopped when he saw Riley’s ceramic cardinal and picked it up. She said it reminded her of her grandfather who had passed away, so having it meant he was exploring new horizons with her. She had the trinket in her pocket during the Regatta, Liam recalled her telling him her grandfather had a love of boats, so she had to bring it with her for the day. He held it in his hands for a moment before he gently squeezed it, and placed it back where he found it. 

Liam continued his search and stumbled upon her tortilla blanket; he smiled as he picked it up and held it to his nose to inhale a deep breath. He hadn’t understood why Riley had such a random item, but he didn’t dare question her. The one time he saw her wrapped up in it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

Liam went to her door early one morning to escort her to breakfast, however, Riley wasn't expecting him. He knew it wasn't proper, but he couldn't help himself; he wanted to spend any and every spare second he had with her. 

When Riley answered the door, she was wrapped in her blanket with her glasses sliding down her nose; her hair sat piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, although it appeared to have shifted more to the side during her slumber. The smile she gave as her cheeks flushed completely stunned Liam where he stood. She looked immaculate in all the ball gowns with her makeup and hair perfectly done, but she had never been more beautiful to him than at that moment.

Liam shook his head in an attempt to steady himself but could feel his eyes burn with unshed tears. He quickly put the blanket down where he found it and continued. 

As Liam resumed his trek, he stumbled upon a book or binder of some sort. The front and back surfaces were completely covered in different multicolored stickers. He opened it and realized it was not a binder, but a photo album. 

Liam looked through the pictures with trembling hands. He saw photos of Riley as a baby with her parents, holidays, birthdays, sports, prom; practically her entire life in images. Toward the end, he found laminated funeral programs for family members Riley had lost. 

Liam closed the album and wiped the tears from his cheeks that had unwillingly fallen. He knew Riley was a very sentimental person and would not have left this stuff behind purposefully. These things meant the world to Riley; her most cherished possessions, the things she was most proud of. It was one of the things that made Liam fall in love with her; in his world, all everyone cared about was power and prestige, but she cared about moments and making memories. He knew without a shadow of a doubt, she would not have left these things behind of her own volition. 

Liam began to feel insurmountable rage, but couldn't ignore the all-consuming guilt that engulfed his conscience for turning a blind eye; especially knowing she could have been hurt before she left, or, that could have been why she left. More than that, he hadn't believed in Riley the way his friends did. He needed to be convinced to believe in her. 

Drake had been observing Liam look through the photo album. In their many years together, he thought he had seen Liam at his lowest, but the man Drake was looking at now was unrecognizable; the defeat and guilt he felt were clear as day. When Drake saw him wipe his cheeks, his heart broke even more for his friend than it had been the past two months. 

Drake approached Liam and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Liam…" He softly spoke. 

Liam sniffed. "What for? I should be thanking you. Without your persistence, I never would have opened my eyes…" He trailed off and shook his head as more tears unwillingly fell. 

"Don't do that, Liam." Liam looked at Drake with a confused expression. "I can see it written all over your face. You're feeling guilty. You can't do that to yourself, man. I know it's hard, but you have to look forward. Don't dwell on what's already happened."

Liam scoffed. "That's easy for you to say. You didn't need to be convinced to believe in her. You didn't turn your back on her like I did..."

"If I was in your shoes I probably would have reacted the same way. You thought she abandoned you! I'd be devastated too! Then to see her in the tabloids two days later, I'd've been fucking livid! You might be a King, but first and foremost you're a man. You are allowed to make mistakes!" Drake emphasized. 

"But this isn't just any mistake! This is the love of my life, and I didn't see through this sooner?"

Drake sighed. "When me and Olivia told Max, she had to bring us back because we were doing the same shit you're doing right now." He shook his head. "I know it's hard, but you can't dwell on what you did or didn't do back then. We won't get anything solved that way. We gotta focus on what we do now."

Liam shook his head. "I just can't believe this is happening…"

"I know. It's a lot to take in. But I'm glad you're with us now." Drake smiled. 

"I swear to you, I will not rest until I find the truth. Someone is going to answer for this," Liam responded with a determined expression. 

Drake embraced Liam, "I know." and patted him on the back. 

"Thank you for being a great friend, Drake. I’d like to apologize for losing my temper with you earlier." Liam said as he returned the embrace. 

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'm just so fuckin' happy you're finally listening to yourself." Drake spoke as he stepped away. 

“Guys?” Olivia’s voice rang out from the other side of the shed, where they had not ventured to yet. 

Drake and Liam approached her and noticed her troubled expression. She was crouched on the ground as she searched through a tote that was filled with Riley's things. Olivia stood and held a black trash bag in her hands. She reached in and pulled out a balled-up piece of fabric, carefully unfolded it, and spread it open wide for Liam and Drake to see. 

Liam took the fabric from her hands. He realized he was holding a dress, but it was ripped and torn in multiple places. Some portions dangled, others completely detached. He knew he recognized it, but couldn't precisely place where he had seen it. 

The dress was white with a pink flower pattern, about mid-thigh length. It had ruffles at the bottom and a silky heart neckline at the top, which is where the tears appeared to be more prominent as well as the fabric being noticeably stretched out. The midsection had a brown leather belt sewn into its design, but portions of that had been shredded as well. 

Olivia noticed a specific area of the dress that was stuck together. She tentatively reached her hand out and grabbed the fabric and pulled, which separated the garment and revealed a large reddish-brown stain. It covered a portion of the back just above the ribs, and small spots on other areas of the dress. She reached out and lightly ran her finger over the large spot and felt that the surface was dry and hardened.

She grabbed the dress from Liam’s hands and spun it around to show him and Drake, both of their eyes widening within seconds. 

As Liam stood and stared at the back of what was left of the dress, his heart suddenly plummeted to the depths of his stomach as he realized where he recognized it from. “That’s…” He swallowed thickly. “that’s the dress she was wearing… at the jamboree…” He whispered. 

Drake bent down and picked up the bag. He opened it and saw other small pieces of the dress and even the stockings she had worn with it that night. He closed the bag and handed it to Liam with a heartbroken expression. 

Liam took the bag from Drake’s hands and peeked inside. He already knew what was in there, but looking confirmed it. Although they were unsure as to whose blood was on the dress, they could only conclude it was Riley's. 

Liam suddenly realized the maid who led them there, Rhonda, was still outside. He snatched the dress from Olivia’s hands and threw it into the bag. He turned and strode with deadly intent to where she stood outside the shed. 

Liam practically threw the bag at Rhonda, “Have you ever seen this?” He growled. 

She looked into the bag with wide eyes, “I– I– ” she stammered.

“ANSWER ME!" Liam yelled as he once again stood over the much smaller woman. 

"I– I found it on the floor. I don't know where it came from! All I did was throw it into the bag!" 

"So you find a bloodied dress, and instead of immediately reporting it to someone, anyone, you just throw it into a bag like it's nothing?!" 

Rhonda frantically shook her head. "I didn't know-" 

"BULLSHIT! It's blood! Do you really need a fucking technical course to tell you to use your brain?!" Liam yelled. 

Bastien heard Liam from his position a little ways away, and quickly rounded the corner and approached him with a curious expression. "Is there a problem here, sir?" 

"YES, there's a problem here! Look inside there, do you see that?!" Liam hollered without once breaking his attention away from the woman in front of him.  

Bastien glanced past Drake to the shed behind him. He briefly met eyes with Olivia, who remained inside searching. She arched her brow as she met his gaze, but he quickly turned back to Liam.  "What would you like me to do, sir?"

"She knows something…" Liam growled as he stalked toward the woman little by little. 

Liam stood to his entire height and squared his shoulders. He looked down at Rhonda over his nose; he puffed his chest out, only slightly, but enough to project his dominance over her. “I am giving you one last opportunity to tell me the truth. Failure to do so will result in you being placed in the custody of the Cordonian Royal Guard until you feel it’s acceptable to tell your King the truth.” He demanded in an authoritative voice.

Rhonda audibly inhaled a sharp breath, almost as if she had been hit in the gut. Her eyes welled with tears as she held her trembling hands together. “Your Majesty I swear to you on my children’s lives I know nothing else!” She dropped to her knees in front of him. “Please don’t take me from my kids! Please! I’ve told you everything I know! I'm so sorry I never said anything! P–please!” She cried as she lost herself in a fit of hysterics. 

Liam stood over Rhonda while she sobbed, his mind reeling. He wanted to believe she knew more, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized whoever did this didn't let this lowly maid in on their master scheme; she was only a pawn. The likelihood of her knowing more than she had already told them was low, and she had given them the biggest lead yet in showing them where all of Riley's things were. 

Even though he remained enraged, Liam crouched down in front of the woman and spoke in the softest tone he could force. "I will not take you from your children. I apologize for making barbaric threats to you. However, I need to make sure there's nothing else that you could tell us about that night."

Rhonda sniffed. "N–no, sir. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner but I was worried about getting in trouble for snooping because I need this job to support my kids and–"

Liam held up his hand to stop her rambling. "For future reference, if you believe a guest could have been injured you are to call my office immediately and report it to me. Am I clear?"

"Y–yes sir." 

"This is a delicate situation, and your utmost discretion is required. You can not tell anyone we were here, or searching Lady Riley's things. Do you understand?" Rhonda quickly nodded her head. Liam stood from his crouched position and reached down and extended a hand to help her stand. "You are free to go, but please, if you remember anything else or see something suspicious, call my office."

"Shall I escort her back to the estate, sir? I'd like to ask her a few questions as well." Bastien asked, his eyes never once leaving the maid.

"Of course, Bastien. Thank you."

As Bastien led Rhonda away, Olivia reemerged from the shed. She found something that piqued her interest; it was a long shot, but she hoped perhaps her sudden hunch could poke yet another hole in the ordeal. 

Olivia approached Liam, who stood beside Drake with his hands balled at his sides watching Bastien and the maid fade away. She cleared her throat and the two turned to face her; she handed Liam a blank envelope and said nothing. 

He opened it and quickly scammed its contents; it was a letter from Riley to her grandma. She had told Liam about her letters home because her grandma wasn't smart with technology and didn't have a cell phone, but Riley wanted to stay in contact. There was no date, although it had been signed at the end. The text held no relevant information, aside from Riley retelling certain portions of her time in Cordonia, the last being their trip to the ancient ruins. 

As he reached the bottom paragraph, he felt like his already dismembered heart was ripped from the confines of his chest and tossed onto the ground in front of him, leaving it for anyone and everyone to openly stomp on.

I really don't know if I would make a good Queen, but I know I can do anything with Liam by my side. He’s the most amazing person I've ever met and makes me feel like I could do anything, and I would do anything to be with him. It might seem fast, but I can feel it in the depths of my soul; he is my forever. 

Liam took a deep, shaky breath to keep himself calm. The guilt was piling up, but he refused to let that dam open, not now. Their next move had to be calculated and precise, and he was more determined than ever to find her and ensure her safety. "Why are you showing me this?" He quietly asked Olivia.  

"I can't confirm, because I didn't see the note that was left in her room, but I know both of you did. So I just wanted to ask, does the handwriting match?" 

Liam took another good look at the paper; the one left in her room was short, so there was hardly anything to compare. Looking at this script in his hands, a few things did stand out. 

"The s's are different, and the r's as well." Liam pointed to the paper. "On this, every single one has some kind of a swirl on it, not to mention its continuous cursive. The one left in her room was just plain print writing."

"And this one is signed Riley instead of R," Drake added.

"Do you still have that original letter?" Olivia asked. 

"I… don't." Liam looked away from them and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh… I couldn't stand to have it anymore. I told Bastien to dispose of it…."

Olivia arched her brow. "I take it you did the same with her phone?" Once again, Liam avoided eye contact but subtly nodded his head. She felt her irritation rise at Liam's stupid decisions while in his state of denial, but opted to keep her comments within; even though he was fighting to keep it hidden, Olivia could tell he was already feeling the effects of his refusal to see the truth. "Well, we should at least check with him and see if he still has them; we can compare the letters and see if there's a chance they match." She sighed.  "Other than that, what's our plan?" 

Liam was quiet for a long moment. His mind raced as he tried desperately to figure out where to go from here. They didn't have a lead as to who could have been responsible or any information regarding the scandal. The most evident thing to be found was the chilling revelation that someone hurt Riley in some way and a potentially falsified letter, otherwise, they had no solid leads. 

Liam ran his hand down his face before he responded, "To start, I'll ask Bastien if he happened to keep those things. Otherwise, we need to begin a search for Tariq and Riley. Since the person in that photo you showed me can't be identified, they're the only two who know what actually happened. I'll have Bastien begin at once."

"The time I spent investigating by myself I tried to locate Tariq to question him, but he's gone." 

"I'll have Bastien double-check, just to make sure he hasn't gotten sloppy and left a trace somewhere."

"Are you thinking Tariq did all this?" Drake asked. 

"At this moment, no. We've known Tariq most of our lives and we all know he's not smart enough to do this." Drake and Olivia nodded their heads in agreement. “I have a feeling he could have been used in achieving someone else’s agenda, but as to who could be responsible, I don’t have a clue.” 

"What do you think their ultimate plan was?"

Olivia snickered. "I shouldn’t be surprised you can't figure it out, considering your brain is the size of a walnut." 

"Oh yeah? Enlighten us."

"Gladly," Olivia smirked. "Liam clearly wanted to pick Riley, that was no secret. Since Liam and I have been friends since we were children, I was obviously the second choice." She rolled her eyes but continued. "So whoever this person is formulated a plan to eliminate the two of us, leaving only Madeleine."

"There were other suitors." Drake retorted. 

"Oh, please." Olivia scoffed.  "Madeleine was technically the most prepared beforehand, the others weren't even in the contest." 

"But why go through all this, though?" Drake motioned to the shed. 

"I don't actually have any idea why her things are stored here, yet. Otherwise, I can only assume they wanted to push the idea that Riley left to be with Tariq. First, remove her from the situation. Next, let Liam sit and stew for a few days contemplating why she left. Lastly, release a scandal; let everyone assume she was a harlot being swept away by another."

"And I played right into it, just like they knew I would," Liam growled as he shook his head. "It was important they cemented the theory because whoever did this knew I would continue looking for her without the scandal. They needed to give me a reason to abandon that search, despite all the signs, and I did…"  Liam looked away and forcefully tensed his jaw. 

"I could be wrong, Liam… We really don't know much, yet." Olivia said in a surprisingly tender voice. 

Liam sighed. "For now perhaps it's best if we lock this back up and reconvene after the Apple Banquet. That will give Bastien a day or so to start the search; we can see where we stand then?" 

Drake and Olivia nodded, but Drake needed to ask Liam a question that had popped into his mind whilst they searched the shed and wouldn't leave. "Hey, Li?" 

"Hm?" 

"...What about the tour?" 

Liam remained silent for a moment before he quietly answered. "I know it may not make sense to either of you, but the tour has to continue. First, I feel it will make investigating this easier. Clearly, something happened that night, but everything must go on as planned to avoid raising suspicion. Second…" He trailed off and looked away from Drake's curious gaze. "If we can't prove someone plotted to get Madeleine on the throne, I will have to go through with the wedding. There is nothing I can do about that, aside from abdicating." 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Olivia howled with laughter, which earned her a steely glare from Liam and a curious one from Drake. "Liam, you're the fucking King. You act as if you answer to all these people, but they answer to you. You're the one calling the shots, not them! If you don't want to marry her, then don't."

"I wish it were that simple, Olivia, but it's not. I have to take a Queen! Stability, above all–"

"Oh, my God!" Olivia exclaimed. "Am I talking to fucking Constantine or Liam?" 

Liam could only stare at her with a stunned expression. Drake, however, had to hide his laugh with a cough; he had thought that same exact thing every time he heard Liam utter that statement.

Olivia continued. "I'm not trying to be insensitive, because I understand you want to do what's best for the country. But marrying Madeleine is not what's best for you or Cordonia." 

Liam remained silent. Drake stepped forward after a moment and placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. "You don't have to decide right now, just think about it, okay?" 

Liam could only nod his head, as his mind refused to form a coherent sentence. After everything that had revealed itself that day, nothing made sense. He quickly dipped back inside the shed and grabbed Riley's blanket, cardinal, and photo album. Drake and Olivia gave him a curious glance as he emerged from the shed with the items, but he didn't care; he wanted to take these things with him so he could feel close to her again, and hopefully return them if he could ever find her. 

Olivia placed the bag with the dress back inside the tote where she found it and secured the lock back in place; she slipped Riley's letter into her pocket for safekeeping, hoping and praying Bastien kept the one left in her room to compare.

The trio made their way back to the main estate as the sun was setting on the horizon. All three's minds were overflowing with questions, assumptions, accusations, and a wide variety of scenarios, all of which revolved around one thing: what happened to Riley Brooks? 

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