#i just imagine he’s like nooo there’s something salvageable here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashcha · 2 years ago

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Woo, came here from the ao3 fic, happy to see… Azul. Oh god I pray for him.

Watching as he just… searches around, makes note of the odd disappearance, and now… fuck. Nooooooooo no, noooooooo goddamnit I don’t want to accept it…

NOOOO NOT THE BLOOD GODDAMNITT. GGRJAJJ

Okay so taking a moment to just distract myself from the horror Azul is currently witnessing, this is so amazingly written, the way dread sets in as he sees the scarlet pooling from underneath the door, wills himself to open the place that likely served as MC’s last horrifyingly bloody, hopeless moments, and just… knowing he had to go inside. I love it, as dreadful and tense as it makes me feel.

Nononononoooooo goddamnit is that Floyd or Jade, grhahahaghhh either just breaks my heart.

NOOOOOOOO FUCK NOOOO GODDAMNIT NOO. FLOYD. JADE. MC. AZUL. FUCKKKKK. GRHENHJHHHH

I’m fucking sobbing no goddamnit no no no no no no noooooo

FLOYD. FHCKCKCK. JADE. FGGAGGHHH. Floyd, just. AUGH. the way he grabs onto MC’s hand even in death, grhnn. AHHHHHGH SHES FUCKING DEAD. HE WAS RIGHT SHE DEAD IN A DITCH JUST. JUST MAYBE SAID IT A LITTLE TOO EARLY. BUT FUCK. NOOO GRHHHAHH

The way Jade’s repeated repents of sorts just continue as you read along, god it adds so much. I feel so bad for him,

FUCK. FUCK FUCK. FLIYD WHY. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SQUEEZE MCS HAND, WHY. HGRHHAH GODDAMNIT. NONF MNM MMMMM

Azul I’m so sorry I am so, so sorry. Augh god I am. I’m sobbing. Azul. Azul. Azul. I am so sorry man. Goddamnit. God fucking damnit. I love this so much, just the turmoil it gives me, the window into their anguish, their loss, and their horrifying reality. It’s so beautifully written.

Oh. Oh. Oh no. Azul. Azul, why? Why try? Why, Azul? They’re not going to be able to make it out of that. They’re just too far gone, man. It’s too much. It’s too far.

FUCK. FUCKKKK. NOOO YOU CANT. AZULLL. FLOYYDD. JADEEE! GRHAHHHH. ITS NOT GONNA HAPPEN. ITS TOO FAR GONE. YOURE NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS. NOOOOOOOOOOOO

TLDR: mental anguish. I read and give comments, you can probably guess where I am. God I love this though, drowns me in a dreadful pity and honestly I am all for it. I really wanted. I really wanted some cook to come along after Jade went down, but… he locked up.

Ending notes: Yeah. I wasn’t expecting that, but I don’t know what I was. Azullll why… what are you going to dooo??? Also just. Jesus how hot was it in there?? I don’t know if I got some artificial ass meat but normally if the temperature is good you got some chance of salvaging the meat but christ MC rotted fasttt. An off handed comment here, if I may. They both need muzzles. Personally I have an affinity for muzzles but like… they NEED(ed) them around MC 😭

Also just imagine you’re a ghost just watching over your body as the tweels go insane in a dark room. Azul comes in and you just. You don’t know what to expect, but you just hope he would do something, just for him to close and lock the door behind him, trapping your already desecrated, rotting body with the very things that caused such destruction. Personally, I’d go follow Azul and just be. Very angry over the fact that he thought of my ROTTING BODY as another problem to get over, even though it’d make perfect sense for him to be in denial and desperately try to claw at any way to repair and shed some of the blame.

Probably, hopefully final note: I love this writing so much. It inspires and motivates me to just jump straight into writing something along this tone, or just surfing through all of your work, it’s amazing! It made me well up with some tears of frustration, pity, and dread, but it only served to bring more to it. The pain they felt, for the time I read, felt recognizable and, just amazing. I loved every second of this, titles, tags, and summaries. ❤️

BLOODLUST SECRET BONUS CHAPTER: The World’s Worst Hangover

Art by @ma10ba (correct me if I'm wrong)

***This chapter takes place the morning after the events of my smut horror story on AO3, Bloodlust, so if you haven't read that in it's entirety, CLICK HERE TO READ IT FIRST.

I mean… I can't force y'all to do anything. Read this first if you want, it just sorta spoils the story's ending.

WARNING: This chapter contains no smut, but lots of gore. Reader discretion is advised.

***Also, I just want to make clear that I intentionally left the ending of Bloodlust ambiguous because I want the reader to come up with their own ideas of what happens next on their own (a reader's mind conjures up horrors worse than the written word can ever hope to achieve yadda yadda yadda), so this special end scene isn't necessarily "canon" to my story, it's just a fun little extra bit of psychological horror for those who wanted to know how I imagined things would happen next.

Without further ado, I present to you...

The World's Worst Hangover

In hindsight, drinking that much celebratory champagne was probably a bad move, because when Azul’s alarm rang the next morning, it felt like a raging beast was screaming inside his head and jamming razor blades into his skull.

Azul desperately jabbed at the button on his phone to turn the agonizing beeping off. “Fucking dammit...” Azul tossed the phone onto his side table, rubbing at his face with a prolonged groan. Early morning sunlight rippled through the ocean outside his window and Azul covered his head with a pillow to escape it.

The housewarden contemplated sleeping in longer, but all the work he needed to get done before the Mostro Lounge’s official re-opening piled up in his mind and he knew there was no time to allow himself to properly recover from this hangover. So Azul begrudgingly tossed his pillow aside and got up to prepare himself for the torturous day ahead of him.

After popping some pain killers and getting dressed, the housewarden made his way through the dorm over to the Mostro Lounge to make final inspections before the staff came in to get ready for the lunch time opening. He expected Jade to be waiting for him in the dining room, but the vice housewarden was nowhere to be found.

“Hmmm...” Azul looked down at his phone to double check the time, and it was ten minutes past when they had agreed to meet. He had no new messages from the Leech brother, and Jade was not the type to accidentally sleep in or forget a meeting, so Azul was starting to feel nervous, albeit he wasn’t entirely sure why. The silver haired man looked around the room once more, “Where are you...?”

An unsettling feeling bubbled inside of Azul, and it wasn’t the nausea from his unyielding hangover. Azul found himself walking over to the dark, silent kitchen, his excuse being that maybe Jade would be in there checking ingredients like the teal haired man tended to do, but a part of him wondered if Jade was down below in the blocked off basement that only the two of them knew about.

Azul got his answer when he saw that the secret shelving unit door was cracked open slightly, and his already sick stomach twisted into a heavy knot. “Fuck.”

He ran to the shelving unit and pulled it open, the containers of ingredients on the shelves tumbling onto the floor as the housewarden rushed inside the closed off space and shut the door. Azul and Jade always made sure to lock the secret door regardless of whether they were inside or outside of the hidden space. Always. Jade wouldn’t have just left the door cracked open like he did. Unless...

“Floyd... Oh no...” The door to the basement was already wide open and the light was on. Azul slammed the door behind him as he rushed down the stairs in a panic, “FLOYD!” He screamed, making his way through the basement towards the uncovered door to the secret room. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck...”

Azul stopped just short of the door, spying something on the ground that made his whole body run cold. Just barely seeping out from under the door was a small pool of dark red, and for a moment Azul couldn’t bring himself to step any closer. He turned and stumbled against the dusty, empty shelves of the basement, shaking and heaving heavy breaths to keep down the bile that tried to escape his stomach. He just leaned there and focused on his breathing until the nausea subsided, knowing he needed to open that door no matter what was on the other side. So he pushed aside his panic and any other thoughts or feelings that conflicted with the task at hand. The housewarden straightened up and turned towards the door, taking in a quick breath as he gripped the handle and pushed it open.

Immediately Azul was hit by the overwhelming metallic stench of something putrid and rotten from inside the room, and it was all the already nauseous man needed to instantly turn around and vomit onto the floor. His body shook violently as he turned up the last of the contents within his stomach, tears flowing from his gray eyes as he just stared at the ground, dry heaving and hyperventilating uncontrollably.

He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see what was inside that room. He already had an idea and he’d give anything to not have to see it. But Azul knew he had no other choice, so he pulled out his handkerchief and took a moment to wipe up his mouth before turning the cloth over and pressing it firmly over his nose and mouth. He pulled out his pen, preparing for the worst when he forced his trembling body to turn and face whatever was waiting for him inside of that dark room.

There was a voice muttering from inside. It was quiet and uneven, and Azul only just now noticed it as he looked vacantly towards the inside of the room, not quite having the strength to look down just yet. His shaking hand gripped his pen as he felt around on the wall for the light switch. With a soft ‘click’, the room was illuminated by the two lights strung up on the ceiling. Azul stared up at those lights, struggling against every survival instinct in his body telling him not to look down as he forced his eyes towards the ground.

It was red. All he could see was red.

It completely covered the once grey cement floor in various sickening shades, splattered up along the walls and the furniture, dripping back down into dark crimson pools on the ground. And it covered a small, pathetic man tucked into the corner of the room between the outer plexiglass partition of makeshift bathroom and the cement wall, rocking back and forth and gripping his vaguely teal blood soaked hair as he muttered to himself on repeat, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it...”

Azul thought there was nothing left in his stomach to vomit, but his body proved him wrong as he looked towards his feet and saw that he, himself, was standing in a puddle of rotten blood. He suddenly keeled over against the doorframe and dry heaved the last little bit of acid that was inside of his cramping gut, pulling his handkerchief up slightly so he could let it drip onto the ground before quickly covering up his mouth again.

“Hey Azul.” A voice spoke in a calm, monotone whisper from somewhere else in the room to Azul’s right.

Still gripping onto the doorframe, the housewarden slowly panned his eyes over in the direction of the voice. He found Floyd, sitting on the ground and leaning up against the wall, blood soaked clothes clinging to his skin, crimson covering most of his pale face and causing strands of his hair to stick to his skin. He just stared at the opposing wall, unblinking eyes dark and sunken as he just sat there, unmoving as though he, himself, were a corpse.

It was at this point that Azul realized that the pathetic creature rocking back and forth against the plexiglass wall at the opposite end of the room was Jade. The vice housewarden was nearly unrecognizable in this dazed, traumatized state, trapped in a constant loop of tugging at his hair with crimson stained hands and whispering, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it...”

There was no need to ask what had happened. It was well past the point where it would have mattered. The housewarden slowly glanced back towards Floyd, who rolled his head over to look Azul in the eyes as he spoke again with that eerily calm, monotone voice, “What’s up?” Azul trembled as he saw now that Floyd was gripping your hand in his, the twin refusing to let go even when there was no longer any trace of life in your cold palm.

The one thing Azul couldn’t do was look at the rest of whatever that hand was connected to. Azul knew that whatever it was, it had been hours since it was a living, breathing person, and he didn’t need to know any more than that.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it...”

His eyes caught a glimpse of something shiny on top of the bed at the far end of the room, and after taking a moment to organize the chaos in his head, Azul realized that these were the keys to the secret room. Needing a direction forward, the silver haired man carefully stepped through the room towards the keys. He’d have tried to avoid stepping in the blood, if it were possible to do so, but it was already too late for that. Jade continued rocking and whispering, and Floyd just rolled his head back to stare at the wall across from him, squeezing your hand in his as if to reassure you.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it...”

Azul stared up at the ceiling, holding his breath and gritting his teeth to still his quivering jaw as he carefully stepped over the corpse in the center of the room. He reached over and quickly grabbed the keys on the bed, turning to repeat the process of keeping his eyes on the ceiling as he slowly made his way back towards the door.

He stopped at the threshold, taking a moment to clear his mind before carefully slipping out of his blood soaked shoes, making sure not to get a drop of blood anywhere else on him as he stepped his purple sock covered foot onto the clean cement ground outside in the main room of the basement. Having successfully made it out of the room with the keys and without the shoes, Azul reached his hand back in to turn off the light, making sure not to step into the crimson that had pooled around the doorway.

He turned and fell against the basement shelves, desperately wanting to allow himself to fall apart, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Goodbye Azul.” Floyd’s calm whisper spoke from the darkness of the room. Azul shook as he reached for the door handle and slowly closed the door to the room, shutting the twins inside. The trembling silver haired man struggled to hold the keys still enough to lock the entrance to the room, just barely managing to twist the key in the lock to ensure that, for now, the horrors inside that room would stay there.

The housewarden forced himself up the stairs and out of the basement, carefully locking the basement door before turning to hesitantly push open the secret door leading to the kitchen. He cracked it open just a bit at first, checking to see if the lights were still off outside to make sure no one else was around. He stood there for a bit, and when he didn’t hear any noises outside, he carefully pushed the door open the rest of the way, stepping out of the secret space into the kitchen. He swung the shelving unit door closed and quickly locked it, dropping the keys into his coat pocket as he lowered his head into the front corner of the unit, heaving heavy breaths as he was just about to drop to the ground and start sobbing.

The light in the kitchen flickered on, and a voice spoke from behind him, “Mr. Ashengrotto...?” Azul turned to find the head chef standing in the doorway, head cocked as he stared at the housewarden with a look of concern and confusion. “Are you okay, sir?”

Azul looked from the employee over to the shelving unit he was leaning against, various containers of spices and other dry ingredients knocked over on the shelves and on the ground around his feet. “Sorry... I guess I tripped and knocked everything over...”

The chef glanced down at the housewarden’s feet, “Where are your shoes...?”

The head chef raised his eyebrows, unsure of how to respond, “Oh... I’m so sorry to hear about that sir.” He scratched his head, “Should we hold off the Mostro’s opening then...?”

Azul took a deep breath in. “You know what... I don’t think I am okay.” He forced out a small chuckle, “I admit I had too much to drink last night... And I am having the world’s worst hangover.” He looked down and lifted his sock covered foot up slightly, “As a testament to my lack of cohesive brain power, I seem to have completely forgotten to put on my shoes as I was getting ready today...” Azul rubbed his head and nodded to himself, “Floyd and Jade are also worse for wear at the moment, we partied a bit too hard last night after the event... I regret to report that I don’t think any of us will be able to help out with the Mostro Lounge today.”

Azul shook his head and walked towards his employee, “Oh heavens no!” He pat the man’s arm, “This just means you’re going to have to spearhead the opening on your own! Don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for your efforts...” He gripped the chef ’s shoulder and looked into his eyes, the silver haired man’s expression turning serious, “...As well as your discretion. I admit I’m a bit embarrassed by my self-inflicted poor bill of health, and would rather no one else know about my bad drinking habits.”

The man swallowed slightly and nodded, “O-of course sir! I’ll take care of things here. I won’t tell anyone what they don’t need to know!”

Azul smiled and pat the man’s shoulder, “Excellent. Thank you...” He stepped towards the door out of the kitchen, “I’ll let the rest of the staff know that the twins and I came down with a bug and won’t be able to attend the opening...”

The head chef turned and watched as Azul stumbled slightly into the dining room, “Are you going to be okay, Mr. Ashengrotto?”

Azul stood there for a moment and took a long, deep breath out, staring down at his purple patterned socks as he briefly lost himself to his thoughts. Eventually he nodded, “Yeah... We’re going to be okay.” He stepped forward through the lounge, away from the nervous employee standing in the kitchen. “We’ll figure this out. Just like we always do... We’ll be okay.”

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histrionic-dragon · 5 years ago

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Family Business (”You don’t write, you don’t call....”)

You know That Scene in Civil War, the one after the highway chase, where everyone with guns shows up (SWAT team? UN forces? not sure) and they push Bucky to the ground, and he looks so resigned about it?

I hate that scene.

So I made it better.

____________________________________

Steve watched, helpless and furious, as they pushed Bucky to the ground. It had been going alright. He was more sure than ever that Bucky hadn’t done the bombing. If only they’d had more time back at the apartment--if Bucky hadn’t been pushed into running--if Steve could have gotten him to open up faster--

Or if Steve hadn’t been there. Bucky had been trying to run. Steve had slowed him down. This was his fault. He caught Bucky’s eye, expecting anger or resentment, but saw only bitter, weary resignation. That was worse.

He tried to think how he could salvage this. He’d have to wait until they got back to the UN, make his arguments there, and just try not to lose his temper in the meantime. The only thing keeping him quiet right now was the churning in his gut, sick with fear as well as rage now. This is the UN, he reminded himself. It’s not SHIELD, it’s not Hydra--Bucky won’t disappear. They won’t do that. I won’t let them. But right now, it was hard to hang onto that among the swarm of anonymous, efficient soldiers pulling Bucky’s arms behind his back, hard and rough even though he could tell Bucky was offering no resistance--

And then a dark-haired young woman came dashing through the stalled traffic, hurtled right into the middle of the loose cluster of armed men, and skidded to a stop right in front of Bucky.

“Are you Bucky Barnes?” she demanded, clutching a stitch in her side.

Bucky’s head came up. It seemed to take a second before he focused on her, eyes narrowed. His hair was in his face. Steve itched to go over and brush it away--to brush away the men holding him back, too. “. . . What?” he asked.

“Are you Bucky Barnes,” the woman repeated. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, and wore some kind of lightweight pants, a short-sleeved button-up shirt of the kind that looked like it wouldn’t wrinkle (but was currently stained with sweat), and shoes that looked stylish as well as sturdy: things that would wear well and pack small. A tourist, then.

A tourist completely focused on the man before her, to the extent that the two dozen armed people surrounding them might as well not exist.

For a second Steve wondered . . . . But no. Even Natasha couldn’t change the shape of her nose like that, and the voice was wrong. Besides, Natasha was staying out of this. --Probably.

“Why,” Bucky said after an even longer pause, voicing what probably everyone there was thinking. “Why do you care?”

She sighed and collapsed into a crouch, bracing herself on one hand, still breathing hard. Coincidentally or not, it brought them eye-to-eye. “Because Grandma Becca always said her brother got in the weirdest kinds of trouble, and--” She waved a hand around them: the closed-down road, the SWAT teams, T’Challa, Sam, Steve--“this is pretty weird.”

Bucky sucked in a gasp, and Steve’s heart jumped. A murmur went through the people surrounding them. Bucky shook his head, probably trying to get the hair out of his face. Then he wrenched his metal arm free. Steve lunged to stop the soldiers who made a move to stop them, but Bucky didn’t even seem to notice; he tucked the offending strands behind his ear in a practiced, irritated, absent-minded gesture and stared at the woman before him. Steve could see what he saw: something vaguely familiar, maybe, in the hair, the line of the nose, the chin--but not enough, nothing concrete, so . . . .

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Steve heard himself say. He hadn’t met all the not-Barneses, Bucky’s sisters’ children and grandchildren and a few great-somethings, but he knew most of them by now.

“Actually, we did,” she said, glancing up at him--the first time she’d spared attention for anyone but Bucky. “Aunt Sal’s barbecue last summer. I was the one with food poisoning from the restaurant the night before, so I was mostly . . . away.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh,” Steve said, vaguely remembering. “Anna, right?”

“Yup.”

“--Oh, did Jenna ever--”

“Jenna did not go to that restaurant to propose to Chris,” Anna said firmly. “She said hearing me try to puke up an intestine kind of changed her mind. She did propose to Chris, though, and they said yes.”

“That’s good,” Steve said. He became distantly aware of Sam’s incredulous expression: you’re making small talk in the middle of an armed standoff? He cleared his throat and looked down and realized with a start that Bucky was looking at him, one eyebrow ever so slightly raised in a silent question. Steve gave an infinitesimal nod in reply. Yeah, she’s real.

“So,” Anna said, looking at Bucky again. She licked her lips. “Are you--”

“Yes.” He said it fast, easy, without any hesitation, any of the wariness he’d had with Steve. “I am.”

“Okay,” Anna said softly. “Okay.” A bit louder: “All right then.” She dusted her hands off, wiped them on her thighs. “In that case, I know what Grandma would’ve . . .” She pushed herself to her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and her voice was much, much louder when she spoke again. “What exactly is your problem?”

Oh yes. Steve knew that tone from way back. It wasn’t even Becca, it was Mrs. Barnes.

“You don’t write, you don’t call, you can’t even be bothered to text anyone to-- Well, okay, I guess you don’t know anybody’s phone number but I’m sure you can find out, I think Auntie Grace is still in the phone book because she still has a land line and Sal’s contact info is all up on her webpage, even her freaking Twitter, or you could show up to Will’s office hours because that’s all up there! It’s not difficult, it’s like you have to hack some top-secret database or anything, you can just freaking Google. It’s not that hard to find some way to get in touch with someone and go ‘Hey, by the way, I’m not actually dead anymore.’ Did you not think anyone cared? Or were you just too busy 'finding yourself’ or whatever”--Steve didn’t think he’d seen anyone use air quotes quite so sarcastically--“to think that maybe other people would like to know if you’re okay? You just go and hide so I have to go running through stopped traffic when I see you on TV when I’m on vacation? Like what is your deal? Auntie Grace would have made you cookies, hell Auntie Grace would have mailed you cookies if she’d known where to send them, but nooo, you can’t leave a forwarding address, you just disappear and that is not--”

She broke off and the grin she’d clearly been fighting since she started scolding took over her face. “What’re you laughing at?” She shook her finger at Bucky. “I’m yelling at you here. I’m yelling at you on behalf of generations of--D’you know how many of us there are? ‘Cause there’s lots. I’m yelling at you for at least twenty-five people’s worth of yell. You are in big trouble.”

Steve heard Sam snicker off to one side, but he only had eyes for Bucky, whose shoulders were shaking. From his position at Bucky’s side, he couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine it when Bucky spoke, knew the shapes of laughter that went with that voice.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve always been bad at keeping in touch.”

_________________________

(at some point one of the SWAT/UN/whoevers tries to interfere and Anna just swivels and says “Back off, Jack--family has jurisdiction first” and for a second they’re a little more intimidated by her than by the Winter Soldier. Or maybe she does this with T’Challa and adds “Cool outfit, by the way. It looks like someone took one of those cat-ear headphones things and made a whole futuristic space-suit thing. BUT AUNTIE GRACE GETS TO REAM HIM OUT BEFORE YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT STARTING ON HIM, I don’t care how cool you look.”)

#my writing #Bucky Barnes #Civil War #MCU #Civil War fix-it #of a kind #Bucky's relatives #crack fic

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the-everlasting-dream · 6 years ago

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Xin Teng - Liam x MC [x Drake], TRR AU

Part 2 of Unfathomable

Summary: The day they were supposed to have the funeral

A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HEED THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!! We will be going into explicit confronting material about sensitive topics that can be triggering.

Word Count: 4426

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, miscarriage, description of injury, angst, grief.

Permanent tags: @choicessa, @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss , @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo TRR only: @speedyoperarascalparty , @carabeth ,

Unfathomable AU tags: @akrenich , @hopefulmoonobject , @wannabemc2 , @romanticheart-posts , @bobasheebaby , @sstee1 , @mrsdrakewalkerblog @furiousherringoperatortoad , @indicater , @h3llostrang3r , @innerpostmentality , @queencatherynerhys , @innerpostmentality , @drakewalkerisreal ,

Xinteng

noun 心疼 Chinese

The Literal translation of heartache. The particular kind of sadness and pain that comes from witnessing and sharing the pain of people you love.

Liam stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar. Today wasn’t going to be easy.

Today he had to farewell his best friend of more years than he could count. There was nothing that could have prepared him for it. In his mind, Drake would have always been a part of his future, his best friend, trusted advisor and maybe even a member of the royal council, if he managed to talk him into it. Drake had been such a permanent fixture in his life, it was a core fact that he just knew. They would have been brothers for life, supporting each other until well after they were old and grey, there was no question about it and he had no reason to think otherwise until… now..

The reality of it finally seemed to hit him hard as he donned his outfit for the funeral — a suit, all black — doing up each button seemed to take a colossal effort. His own blue eyes, hollow and stared back at him as he relived the thoughts and feelings of the last few days. The day they switched off the life support would haunt him forever, he knew that. It had been almost a week and he still felt everything so viscerally, almost like he was living it all again. Everything… Holding Elizabeth’s sobbing body as she tried to claw at the doctors... feeling frustration so intense he wanted to scream and never stop... begging and pleading with Drake to come back... feeling his pulse ebb away when he didn’t….

The emptiness was the worst… emptiness that ate at him, slowly crawling its way under his skin to hollow out everything that could make him feel okay again… He marvelled at the immense impact that one person had, it was almost like Drake’s presence had left a huge hole in his soul that he had no idea how to begin to fill. Sadness, pain and anger reared their ugly heads again inside him, tussling for which one would gain control over what was left of him.

God Drake why did you have to-

The door opened abruptly and Liam brushed at the hot tears that has escaped him as his father's reflection appeared in the mirror. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to regain his composure, taking a deep breath before turning to face the other man.

‘Father.’ His tone was cool.

‘Son,’ Constantine replied in kind, eyes travelling over Liam’s figure ‘I see you’re ready for today… I can only imagine how tough this must be for you.'

He was dancing around the subject — a subtle shift in his figure was enough to betray his ruse. Liam had to bite his cheek to prevent his face from morphing into disgust at his father’s gall to hide his ulterior motive for their conversation under the false pretence of affection.

‘You’ve obviously come here to say something, Father,’ he replied, his tone measured as the tension between them thickened. ‘Just when I thought you’d come to comfort me on the day of my best friend’s funeral… I suppose I shouldn’t have been so generous with my assumptions.’

‘I suppose there’s not point beating around the bush..’ the old man replied, easing himself into the armchair. ‘Have you spoken to Duchess Elizabeth?’

Liam scoffed, adjusting his cufflinks. ‘What do you think?'

‘Don’t take that smart tone with me, boy,’ Constantine replied, voice restrained with fury. ‘The future of our country is at stake. We do not have the luxury of time. And I will not stand to see it be ruined by your indecision.'

A deep rage flared up in Liam. 'For Pete’s sake, he was my best friend!’ He roared, not caring if he was heard throughout the palace. 'She’s his lover and today is his funeral. How can you possibly want me to bring up the subject of marriage?'

'Liam I know its not ideal but we have to think of the future of our country,’ Constantine told him firmly, unperturbed by the outburst. 'Waiting is not a luxury one has as a monarch. The people look to the crown for stability. Duchess Elizabeth is the best insurance of that.’

He shut his eyes, swallowing hard, trying to keep his conflicting emotions at bay, like he’d done for all his life. ‘Why does it have to be her Father? Why are you so adamant that I marry her? Olivia, Madeleine, Hana Lee, hell even Kiara Castelsareillan or Penelope Portavira would be perfectly suitable for the role. Why do you insist on Elizabeth?’

His father was already shaking his head. ‘You really want me to list it out for you? Fine. I’m sure I don’t need to reiterate how brash Olivia Nevrakis is, the people will never accept a Nevrakis on the throne, particularly after her parents’ betrayal. As for Lady Hana, there’s no denying she’s talented but the poor girl has no control over her feelings, anyone with eyes could see that she’s incapable of being with a man.’

Liam noted the bitterness on his father’s face after voicing that as Constantine continued. ‘If you hadn't made such a public spectacle of ending your engagement with Madeleine, perhaps we could have salvaged something of this mess, but nooo you had to announce it publicly.. Let's face it the other two are addled idiots anyway. Do I need to go on?’

He ignored the withering look his father gave him, turning away stubbornly. ‘Why can’t we just call for another season? Surely I-‘

‘Think Liam,’ his father hissed venomously. ‘Our royal court was just attacked in the palace, supposedly the most secure place in the country. The people are shaken, its only a matter of time before they come stampeding to the gates with torches and pitchforks, calling for our heads. We need a solution to this and now. Cordonia needs stability not the king spending their precious funds to pander to his indecision when the perfect candidate seems to exist already. As much as I hate to admit it, your precious duchess holds the people's favour something we desperately need right now after her performance during the social season. To them she represents stability and hope, two things even you have to recognise we are running short on.'

Though he could understand his underlying reasoning, Liam couldn’t believe the words coming from the man he called his father. Did he seriously expect him to ask the love of his life to marry him on today of all days? How was he to even think of proposing to Elizabeth when Drake was barely in his coffin?

'Am I not allowed one day to grieve? To cry? To be a man first then a king?'

‘Liam, like it or not you are the crown now. Everything you do is reflection of the crown’s intentions.’ Constantine was on his feet now, glaring back at him. 'You took a vow to protect this country and I will not stand by and watch you run it to ruin. If I have to take it into my own hands, so be it.’

Liam narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that a threat?'

‘I am not afraid to defend my country. By any means necessary.'

Tension crackled in the air around them. Both men stood toe to toe, locked in a standoff pulled to full height, Liam over his father by a few inches who glared back defiantly. His mouth was already opening to reprimand him when —

‘Your Majest-'

‘What?!’ He bellowed at the young footman that opened the door, not taking his eyes off Constantine. ‘Can’t you see I’m occupied!?’

‘A-a-apologised Y-your M-majesty, it-its-its-,' The poor boy sputtered in terror unable to speak clearly.

‘Well?’ Liam demanded impatiently, turning his head to zero in on him.

‘I-Its the Duchess!’ The boy finally burst out. ‘She’s locked herself in her room and she won’t come out!’

‘This is preposterous! The stupid girl is having a temper tantrum,’ Constantine scoffed Liam spun on his heel, grabbing his father by the collar, rage in every word. ‘Speak one more word about Elizabeth and I’ll have you hanged for treason.’

Ignoring his father’s protest, Liam ran.

His feet traced the steps to Elizabeth’s room of their own accord, shoving past staff members, barely acknowledging their grunts of annoyance and cries of surprise at their king dashing through the hallways like the devil himself was on his heels. No, he only had one objective in mind.

Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Why the hell was her room so far away?

Rounding the corner, he found himself standing at the locked door to her suite, Mara and the other servants pounding on the barrier. ‘Your Majesty we tried everything. We sent for a lock smith but she’s got something over the door on the inside,’ Mara reported, her hands red raw. ‘We’ve got security ready to scale the outside of the building, to come through the window.’

’Tell them to stand down,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll handle this.’

The bodyguard did not look pleased but nodded once, raising a hand to her earpiece.

‘Elizabeth?’ Liam called out, placing a hand on the door. ‘Its me… Its.. Liam. Are you okay?’

There was no response. Liam frowned in confusion. This was highly uncharacteristic of the Elizabeth Richmond he knew. Or maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought...

‘Elizabeth, open up,’ his voice was more urgent now, unable to keep his mind from conjuring up the worst images.

He raked over memories of the past days, trying to find something, anything that would clue him into why she was acting like this. He immediately cursed himself. How could she not be herself given all that had happened? But still he needed to know, he needed to see her with his own two eyes to make sure she was okay. And with every second that ticked by, the conclusions he was jumping to seemed to be worse and worse.

‘Please. Elizabeth. Its Liam.’ Still nothing.

‘Leave me alone with her,’ Liam ordered before turning back to the door. 'Liz… please… Open up. I just… need to know that you’re okay…’

He rested his head against the door and a faint sob could be heard through the wood. Alarm came flooding back into his face, galvanising him.

‘Elizabeth open up or I’ll break the door down if I have to.’

Liam’s senses tingled, strained to detect some sign, any thing to dissuade him. Receiving none, he sighed in resignation, before aimed a powerful kick at the door to the suite. His blow held so much force it struck the the offending — a chair — that had been holding the door shut and stepping over it, his eyes moved frantically over the unmade bed and seemly empty room.

The sound of another sob turned his head towards the closed door of the bathroom and springing it open, found Elizabeth lying in foetal position on the bathroom floor. He immediately moved to drop to his knees beside her before he slipped suddenly. He reflexively flung a hand out to support himself against the toilet bowl. After sufficiently steadying himself, he drew his hand back only to find it covered in… crimson.

The dart of relief that was forming in his chest immediately vanished as Liam’s blue eyes took in the entire scene where the floor was covered in blood all originating from… Elizabeth's voice was softer than a whisper and coarse than sandpaper as she turned her fractured gaze to his, tears welling in her eyes.

‘I… I-I… He.. Drake...’ She choked on his name, fresh sobs erupting from her body. Her hand clutched the toilet, leaving a smear of blood in its place before her arm gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, lacking the strength to even hold herself upright. ‘There’s so much blood…’ She croaked brokenly, eyes unfocused as she scanned the scene around her. 'W-why is there so much blood?'

Her words broke Liam out of his frozen stupor. ‘Elizabeth,’ His voice was hoarse as his mind slowly pieced together what had happened. Unable to tears his eyes away from the pool of red seeping out from under her legs, he swallowed hard, staring at his bloodstained hand. ‘You… you were…’

Pregnant...

She shut her eyes, hissing slightly as the word hung in their air between them. ‘He didn’t know Liam. He… I-He died without knowing I…’ She wouldn’t finish without breaking into tears again and lost for words, Liam gathered her up into his arms as she wept, unable to stop big tears rolling down his face, knowing he only knew a sliver of what she was going through right now.

On the day of the funeral too…

His heart went out to her and the unfathomable suffering she was experiencing. He felt so infinitely useless, unable to provide any other comfort so he clutched her closer, as if the tighter he held on the more likely her pain would go away. He was painfully aware that there was nothing he could say or do that would ever be able to rectify what had just happened. So he held her on that bathroom, he held her close as she cried into his new black suit, blood staining both their outfits. Liam’s own emotions had worked up a storm inside him but he pushed them down for her sake. He couldn’t lose it too. Suddenly Elizabeth cried out as if in pain as more fluid began to leak onto the floor and when her skin touched his, the contact burned his skin. She felt scorching hot to the touch despite the shivers that wracked her body.

Liam cursed himself for not realising this sooner and shouted for a maid.

‘Prepare the motorcade and have them ready to transport the duchess and I to the hospital. And bring Lady Hana here immediately,’ he commanded the girl who’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates at the sight. ‘Breathe a word of this to anyone and I will personally ensure that you live to regret it.’

She bobbed once in compliance and rushed off.

‘C’mon Elizabeth,’ he encouraged softly after god knows how much time had passed. ‘It’s going to be okay.. Its going to be okay.’

He had no way of knowing if it was going to be okay, he had no idea what would happen next but he couldn’t let her know the panic he was feeling. He shifted her hot body in his arms, worry seeping deeper into him. How long had she been like this? Surely it couldn’t have been good to lie on the bathroom floor - as clean as it may be - in this state. Liam had little medical knowledge but what if she’d caught some bacterial infection or something? She could be at risk for something serious and he had no idea.

‘Someone get the doctor immediately,’ he bellowed, shifting Elizabeth again, her temperature soaring as she attempted to curl closer into herself.

Through the panic he was feeling, Liam remembered vaguely that his mother had put him under a cold shower when he’d had a fever as a child to lower his temperature. He had no way of knowing if that was medically but he had to try.

��C’mon Elizabeth,’ he repeated. ‘I’m going to put you into the shower. We- we… I don’t know what I’m doing..’ Liam ran a bloodstained hand through his hair, not caring for his personal wellbeing, attention solely focused on getting her up and into the shower. 'Let’s get you cleaned up.’

Elizabeth made a noise of reluctance but eventually allowed him to lift her to her feet. He had just managed to coax her into the shower when Hana’s voice called out for him.

‘In here,’ he yelled back from under the cold shower where he was holding Elizabeth, still fully clothed as he tried to keep his eyes off the blood that was draining off both of them. Hana appeared in the doorway instantaneously, a gasp escaping her at the sight before her eyes, scanning the mess in the bathroom. For a moment her lower lip wavered and Liam was doubting his decision to have her here before she straightened her posture and stepped into the bathroom, avoiding the puddles of blood and fluid on the ground.

‘Here let me,’ she reached for Elizabeth and Liam was only too glad to ease her into her arms. ‘The doctor is on the way.'

As Liam was exiting the bathroom to let Hana rinse her, his eyes caught sight of the toilet, where something bobbed in the bloodstained water..

This time Liam was unable to control his initial reaction, his stomach turning itself inside out, heaving its contents into the nearest rubbish bin. Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he stumbled out of the bathroom, surely leaving red footprints in his wake but in his stupor, he was barely able to think straight.

‘Your Majesty-‘ Bastein and Mara were at the suite door, wide eyed at the blood on his clothes but he waved them off. ‘Where’s that fucking doctor?’

‘Right here Your Majesty, apologies for the delay,’ a woman stepped up and Liam couldn’t speak, merely pointing to Elizabeth's room.

‘Your Majesty you don’t look-'

‘Madeleine!’ Liam bellowed, ignoring all attempts at his own wellbeing.

The blonde woman materialised at the threshold with her ever enigmatic expression. ‘You called Your Majesty?’

‘Postpone the funeral. And clear my schedule for today and tomorrow.’

‘What am I your personal assistant?’ She scoffed, clearly unified by his stormy expression.

‘I am your king,’ Liam growled, authority clear in his tone. ‘You will do as I say.’ The blonde woman nodded once and disappeared and he glanced at the crowd of servants gathered there watching the scene.

'Breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll make sure you all pay for it,’ he snarled, registering the fear in their eyes before they scattered.

He sank down into a nearby chaise, his head dropping into his hands and Liam wept...

He cried for Elizabeth, for the inexplicable pain she was feeling at losing not one but two people in such a short space of time. He wept for the child who would have been, who would have grown up to be a tiny copy of their father, a strength to their mother and comfort that the man she loved was still with her in some way. He wept for Drake who would never get to have the family he wanted and surely deserved, a life cut short by the sharp and unforgiving knife of fate. Feeling a synonymous sense of shame, Liam wept for himself too, for what he was expected to do for his country at the price of one woman’s happiness and stability.

He did not know how long he sat there, eyes staring blankly at the tiles, brushing off any and all attempt to comfort him until the servants bustled by barely taking notice of their king sitting so still he could have been a statue. His father’s word echoed back to him, about the need for stability and harmony through his marriage to Elizabeth but Liam knew now that he would never be able to ask that of her. The opinions of the people be damned, he thought angrily. They could change and they would. He’d marry someone else Olivia or even Kiara maybe, both who would be fine queens and —

The door creaked open to reveal the doctor stepping out and Liam immediately stood up, giving her an expectant look. Her expression turned apologetic.

‘As you are aware, Your Majesty Duchess Elizabeth has had a miscarriage. It is difficult to say how far along she was but my best guess would be less than three months.’

The words shook him to his core.. Three months ago would have been around the time of the homecoming ball, after he had broken off his engagement to Madeleine, he reasoned. Liam felt his stomach drop, he had no idea Elizabeth and Drake were so involved together at that point, in fact he had no idea of it until he’d seen her at his bedside before what he had suspected finally clicked into place. His stomach twisted into a tighter knot at the next words.

‘You found her when she was mid way through passing the pregnancy tissue. Fever, chills, severe abdominal and uterine pain are common with a miscarriage like this one. It is hard to say whether she has contracted some kind of infection from sitting unprotected on the floor but I have briefed Lady Hana on the symptoms and she knows to contact a doctor should Her Grace be experiencing this.’

‘How is she now?’ Liam’s tongue felt thick in his mouth as he fought to swallow the doctor’s words.

‘The rest of the pregnancy tissue should pass out in the next few days and there’s nothing I can do to make that process any faster. It is a matter of time. But for now she needs to rest Your Majesty. I would recommend bedrest for the next day or two and no strenuous activity while her body recovers. I have given her painkillers to help with the pain. She will require an ultrasound to ensure all the pregnancy tissue has been expelled and another checkup in about 4-6 weeks time.'

He hadn’t realised how tense he was until the doctor placed a hand on his arm in comfort.

‘It’s a tough thing to recover from but Her Grace has a good support system. She just needs people to be with her to remind her that she doesn’t have to do this alone. None of you do.’

Liam nodded, hearing the doctor’s message. ‘I understand. Can I-can I see her?’ ‘Her Grace is resting but a few minutes wouldn’t hurt,’ the doctor — Dr Jaya Da Silva as her name badge read — smiled sadly, pausing for a moment before speaking again. ‘Go be with her. In times like these, you need hope. You need to give her that hope Your Majesty because in the end that’s all we have. Everyone knows Duchess Elizabeth has a way of pulling through in the end, you just need to remind her of it.’

He nodded once and turned to the room door where two maids with cleaning supplies were exiting. Unbidden his eyes flew to a small black plastic bag one of them was holding and his stomach turned violently, threatening to hurl at the sight of it.

That was…

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his blazer — a gesture his stepmother would have surely chastised him for — and took a deep breath, willing the calmness people associated his kingly persona to return. Elizabeth lay on the bed, curled into ball, dark hair tangled across the pillows as Hana tucked her in. She barely acknowledged his presence, her eyes glassy and vacant, fixated loosely on the wall. He winced at the sight, taking in her bloodshot gaze and how her hands hadn’t quite stopped shaking.

‘Elizabeth…’ Her name slipped from his lips, as if it was never really meant for him. His mouth opened and shut a few times, at a loss for words. "How are you feeling?” wouldn’t really cut it in this situation; he could not even begin to understand the pain she must be in.

‘You postponed the funeral,’ she said finally, almost in an accusatory tone. ‘Why?’

Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘Elizabeth... you can’t. You’re in no condition to..’

‘I can,’ she retorted, struggling to push herself up on one hand. ‘I can and I will.’

‘The doctor ordered bedrest, she said it would take a while for-‘

‘I don’t care! Stop. Stop it okay!’ She was in a sitting position now, glaring at him with a venom that he’d never seen before. ‘It needs to go on, I have to… I have to… I want to see him laid to rest.. I wanna see him one more time before-‘ Her voice gave way to sobs.

‘Elizabeth…You’ve already gone through so much today. You need to rest.’

‘I need to see him Liam,’ she was crying again, loud, messy sobs as huge globs of snot flowed out of her nose but she swiped it away with her hand before holding up a menacing finger towards him. ‘Fuck you and your entitled ass for not letting me.’

He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. ‘Tell them the funeral is back on Liam. Tell them or I’ll never speak to you again.’

'If it comes to that, so be it.’

She yelled at him, screamed, cursed him with every profanity under the sun, swearing on all she knew to be sacred that she would never forgive him but Liam stood his ground. He dragged his blue eyes to her dark ones, knowing she was in extreme pain and it was just the grief talking. She was already unstable, if he did as she said… who knew if she would ever recover.

‘Hate me all you want,’ Liam continued in a voice he did not recognise as his own. ‘I’m only doing this for you own good.’

‘You fucking bastard!’ she yelled back as she struggled to get to her feet, before giving way to a sharp cry of pain, her hand flying to her abdomen. Hana immediately rushed to her side but Elizabeth swatted her away. ‘Get off me, let me go Hana!'

The other woman turned her pleading eyes on Liam, begging him to relent so that Elizabeth would be calmed but he stood his ground.

‘So help me Elizabeth if I need to lock you in this room I will.’

What was happening to him? He sounded just like his father, placing this innocent woman in even more pain. But Liam had no choice, he had to do what he felt was right.

‘I’m doing this for your own good,’ he replied forlornly as she collapsed back on the bed in exhaustion. Shutting the door behind him, Liam leaned against the wood, closing his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks, hating himself for what he just did. The sound of her protests filtered to him as the echo of his father’s words sprang to his mind, both battling on his conscience. Elizabeth was already in so much pain.

How could he burden her with the crown too?

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