#kings have their portraits painted so why not give lief a portrait

[theoakleafpancake]

17. Name

“Then he was a fool and a weakling!” Crian snapped back. “As no doubt his son is also! Endon will be as useless to us as his father.”

~~~

“And is this all you ask of us, King Lief?” cried a man from the back of the crowd. “Our thoughts? Why, we would give you our lives!”

Endon’s name was cursed throughout the kingdom. Little did the people know that his son’s name would be spoken with respect.

[europeanguy]

Gotta Gogh [Part 2: Apple Water Is Not A Real Drink]

Pairing: Nadia x Maxwell

Words: 3,138

Tags: Canon Divergence, Crossovers, Curse words probably, The Riot Club!AU sort of, Loss

Neville pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a sigh. It was dark outside, Leo left three hours ago, and they have emptied a bottle of 18-year old Macallan whiskey (it was 70% Leo’s – he drank straight from the bottle). Maxwell didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just simply recruit their friends. Every member of the club had to be handpicked by Neville, approved by Leo, be a noble, or at least be as rich.

“Max, I’m asking you – not as president of the club, but as your friend. Are you sure you can’t do anything about Liam?”

“I told you, several times Neville. He doesn’t like clubs – especially ours. You know how he is –“

Maxwell did ask Liam, but nothing could sway this person’s principles. Not even an offer to get him a life-time supply of baklava. Or buying him a peacock (which he definitely did NOT like. Said peacock now resides at the Ramsford Estate’s menagerie. No returns or refunds.)

“But Leo was president!” Neville looked like he was ready to tear his hair out of his scalp.

Although, it wasn’t just the general debauchery that they got up to that “bothered” Liam – it was Neville himself. And to be completely honest, Maxwell started seeing it too. But he’s not about to tell him that.

“And that’s exactly why he doesn’t want it.” Maxwell stands up and gathers his coat. He slings his UofC scarf around his neck. “Now, until you actually want to talk to me about club stuff, and not His Royal Highness, I’m leaving.”

 As he goes down the winding staircase to the main museum wing, Maxwell passes a portrait of Prince Leo Rys, King of Hedonists, probably the worst ex-president in the hall of fame. Maxwell was only familiar of the “dinners” he threw for the club through stories by past members – it made Neville’s parties look stale. His own older brother, Bertrand, was Leo’s right hand during their time. But after their parents died it was hard to imagine Bertrand doing any sort of activity that a normal person would consider fun.

Maxwell doesn’t see where he’s going as he turns a corner to the archway, and he runs into someone. “Otis! shit, sorry,”

 Oh. It’s not Otis.

 The girl hurriedly straightens up, backing away a few steps. She looks worried, and Maxwell cuts her off before she could apologize. It would’ve been the second time today. “Wait, you’re not Otis. What are you doing here?”

He notices her fidgeting, absent-mindedly picking at her nails. However, she notices it too and immediately stops, and hides both hands behind her back instead. “I’m Nadia,” she smiles. It’s small, but even that he notices. “I work here part-time… uh… sir..?”

“Sir? No, just Maxwell.” Maxwell could feel the corners of his mouth turning up. Technically it was Lord but he was already douche-y enough during their first ‘encounter’. “So, what do you do…for the rest of the time?” Witty, Max. Fucking cool it.

“I’m an exchange student actually, Fine Arts.” Nadia says proudly. “Um, Otis actually left early, if you’re looking for him?”

Maxwell shakes his head. “No, no – I was just leaving. So, Otis left early? What happened to him?” Some nights club meetings go until eleven, and the old man would still be at the museum. Sometimes Maxwell wonders if Otis was actually a real person – not just some grumpy museum spirit who likes to clean and give tourists dirty looks if they get a little too close to the art.

“I may have convinced him to go home,” Nadia smiles and starts walking, Maxwell catches up to walk beside her. “I found out that he collects sketches, doodles, stuff like that – so I promised him one if he went home before dinner today.”

“He talked to you??” Maxwell asks in disbelief. He tried befriending the guy, but he was as cold as ice. The one time Otis did sort of interact with him was three years ago.

Maxwell has stayed over in the museum before – in their club’s office in the upstairs left wing. The office had been there since this very building was built. The whole construction paid for, of course, by one of the esteemed members in 1645. He was nineteen and drunk out of his wits – the night of his parents’ funeral. He collapsed onto one of the leather chesterfield sofas and yet he didn’t sleep a blink. The next morning Bertrand came running in with Otis, his brother looking gaunt and haggard – like he aged ten years. He hugged Maxwell and for once Maxwell had openly sobbed onto his brother’s jacket until there was no more.

Otis left to give them privacy, and when he returned he had coffee for them both. Bertrand thanked the old man, and patted him on the back as they left for home – to Ramsford – forced to face a home without their mother’s infectious laughter.

 “Hey, you okay? I didn’t know you wanted to befriend Otis that much.” Nadia jokes, quickly glancing at him to gauge his reaction. Maxwell gives her a reassuring smile. How could he not, when looking at a face like that?

“He likes drawings huh? I’m not very good,” Maxwell confesses. “I think I’ll need lessons.” It was his turn to check her reaction. He has had painting lessons (among others) as a child – his father knew all the tricks to make him and Bertrand look effortlessly accomplished. To keep up appearances. But Maxwell was always the one who would ditch those lessons to go play somewhere else. Sometimes Bertrand would join, and their mother would find them both muddy, their leather shoes and the hems of their shorts soaked with water from the estate’s lake. But she only shook her head, smiling, as she led them back to the house to clean up.

“Well… this is a once in a lifetime offer but, if you’re here tomorrow I can give you one.” Nadia shrugs like it was no big deal.

“Hm,” Maxwell was almost jumping at the thought, but he had to retain some semblance of a cool image. “We’ll see.”

  The next day after his last class, Maxwell finds his feet taking him to the museum, walking a little faster than normal. He knew he must’ve looked like a manic high on caffeine, but he didn’t care. He ran into Tariq, spilling coffee into his jacket.

“This is new!” Tariq yelled after him but Maxwell escaped with excuses of promising to pay for it as he backs away. He doesn’t hear Neville whispering to Tariq about “some American on a scholarship”, he can only see Nadia’s face. His fast walking pace turns to a jog – to a full-on sprint – when he sees the museum.

Nadia looks up from the front desk when Maxwell awkwardly (and quite dramatically) bursts through the doors.

“….Hi,” He breathes, taking in Nadia’s appearance. She smiles, but its tight, forced. Only does Maxwell notice the smooth classical music filling the room. “Bach?”

Her smile widens, more genuine this time. “Jon Liefs. How did you even mix that up?”

“Yeah, I-I don’t know anything about classical music. Believe it or not.” Maxwell only paid attention to music he could dance to. Slow dancing doesn’t count.

Nadia nods, humoring Maxwell. “Hey, so I promised you drawing lessons?” She clears her throat, then fruitlessly arranges papers on her messy desk.

This was his chance. “Actually… I was thinking we could go on an adventure?” He sounded more like he was asking a question than asking her out. Like a normal person.

Nadia sighs. “I don’t know. I’m kind of in trouble right now.”

Maxwell’s heart sinks to his stomach. “Trouble? What happened?”

“A professor yelled at me earlier because I couldn’t answer his question,” Nadia frowns. “I spent so much time studying up on paintings that I actually don’t know anything about Cordonia itself!”

Oh.

“My offer still stands...” Maxwell shrugs. “Let’s turn that trip into an educational one! Consider it a tutoring session, courtesy of a true local.”

Nadia narrows her eyes at him. “Where are we going? How should I know you’re not gonna kill me out of school premises?”

Maxwell’s jaw drops. “…did you just ask me that? Me? Look at this innocent face.” He pauses for effect. “See? I won’t hurt you.”

“Make sure of it.” Nadia meets his eyes as she quickly scribbles a number on a piece of paper. “I get off at five.”

Maxwell takes her number – it feels electric inside his fist. Or maybe his nerves are just going off. He shoves it inside his pocket as to not smudge the ink. “Right. I’ll see you later.” Two hours.

When Maxwell turns to walk away, he notices Otis standing to the side, giving the two of them a weird look.

“Hey, Otis.” He waves as he exits the museum.

 “…hey.”

  “Where are you even taking me?” Nadia walked beside him. It strangely felt natural, walking with Nadia along Cordonia’s capital city – cobblestone roads, traditional architecture, greenery growing wherever it allowed – and yet Maxwell wanted to shoot out of his shoes and into the sky. Calm down. A man was playing his guitar in a familiar tune, well, familiar to him. Nadia looked like she belonged in this beautiful place. He couldn’t help but smile at her and the sunshine she radiated – even when the sun has set.

“I was going to take you horseback riding but you’re wearing a dress… and I’m a gentleman.” Maxwell grins down at her, and Nadia scoffs at him.

“Horses?! You could’ve told me and I would’ve worn pants!” Nadia slaps him on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Oh, you baby. It wasn’t that hard… was it?” Nadia looks at him. “I took self-defense classes before, and I’ve been told to practice controlling my strength.”

Maxwell shrugs. “Dunno, I might need a kiss to make it better?”

Nadia stops walking and Maxwell looks back at her. “You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?” She shakes her head.

“Is it working though?” Maxwell flashes her a hopeful look.

“….no.” And with a smile, Nadia walks past him. She’s taking large steps, dodging a few people – some looking at Maxwell and then back at Nadia with that look on their faces.

“Wait up! You don’t even know where we’re going!” Maxwell weaves through the small crowd.

Nadia yells back, “I’m just following the smell of food!”

 They end up inside a hole-in-the-wall café, a place that he has never entered in 21 years. The space was narrow, the brick walls were lined with old photographs, and the smell of freshly baked pastries. It was… as Bertrand would describe it… cozy ­– not without that judgmental look in his eyes.

“Why is it that you look like a lost puppy in your own country?” Nadia is sitting across from him.

“What? I’m just taking it all in…” Maxwell looks around, his eyes landing on her. “It’s um… very pretty.”

Maxwell clears his throat. “Anyway, how do you feel about breakfast for dinner? It’s not a Cordonian thing, it’s just a Maxwell thing.” Nadia’s eyes light up.

“I’m all for it. Just no apples.”

“Wow, offended Cordonian citizen here. I can only drink apple water to survive.”

“That’s not a real drink.” Nadia laughs.

“We’ll talk about drinks later,” Maxwell narrows his eyes at Nadia. “This apple argument isn’t over.”

 He stands up, unsure. Right. So, no waiter. I just order in the counter – wait, do they accept credit cards?

“Do you need help, sir?” The guy behind the counter crosses his arms.

“Ah- yes, I’d like to order please.” The guy nods, finger poised to type in his cash register. Maxwell reads the menu, and looks back at Nadia. She gives him a thumbs up. “Two err- madame cristos-”

He manages to order without blundering and asking for apple water or “your most expensive champagne, preferably from the vineyards of Ramsford – a bottle of the L’ Dame Gold 1995 is best.”

“That will be 16 euros.” He finishes punching the order in, and his assistant, a girl no more than twelve (his daughter, probably) starts to fry up some eggs expertly in a griddle.

Maxwell hands him his credit card. He looks down on it, and hands it back. “Um, we only accept cash…”

Maxwell looks up at a sign above the counter. Cash only painted in big bold letters. Shit shit shit.

He sheepishly hands the man a 500 Cordonian-Euro note.

“Do you have a smaller amount, sir?” The guy looks confused now. “Or I could just run over to the next store to get you some change-“

“No, no! Please just keep it.” Maxwell could feel his embarrassment creeping up like the blood rushing to his ears. Note to self: keep smaller bills in wallet for next time.

The man argues, but Maxwell wouldn’t have it. Even he knows it’s ridiculous. Their hushed back and forth leads to an agreement on him coming back and getting “free” food until his balance runs out. Damn, all that arguing in his philosophy classes really came through.

 Maxwell comes back to their table now with a tray of food plus a complementary dessert – their house special apple tarts.

“He gave it for free, couldn’t resist my charms.” Maxwell explains as he sits down, feeling more exhausted than after a jousting game with Leo. “What were we talking about?”

“Fancy apple infused water… drinks?” Nadia muses as she slices the egg on top of her madame cristo, breaking the perfect yolk.

“Right, you told me apple water isn’t a real drink, so we’ll have to agree to disagree on that.” Maxwell starts on his own sandwich. “However, I do have a non-apple drink that I invented and it’s amazing.”

“No apples? Tell me more.” Nadia takes a bite, her eyes widening. “Wow, this is… wow.”

“I know right?!” Maxwell grins proudly at her. “And I was getting to that, I actually need some name suggestions. It’s pineapple flavored, and it’s so good but super deadly.”

“Poisonous?” Nadia cocks an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued.”

“You could say that. My friend Tariq loved it so much – he failed an important test the next day and had to retake that class.” They all failed except for Liam, but he decided to leave that part out.

“Pineapple Paradise Punch.” Nadia says with a flourish of her fork. “It’s pineapple, you drink it and feel like you’re in paradise, and then it punches you in the gut the next day.”

“I don’t have to credit you every time I tell people about it, right?”

“You do! Every single time. Even if I’m not there. Nadia Park, famous painter and expert drink… namer. That could be a thing.”

Even if I’m not there.

Right.

“How about I make it for you whenever you want instead?”

Oh, god. No. No. Too forward. She’s not gonna stay in Cordonia forever.

Nadia simply smiles. “You’ll make it for me sometime this week. That’s a deal.”

 It always got a little cold at night in Cordonia. After the cafe, Maxwell leads Nadia through streets that he doesn’t have memorized, but they were familiar enough. The crowd outside is starting to thin, a handful of tourists watching a saxophone solo being played. He doesn’t mind that he’s holding Nadia’s hand now as he practically drags the both of them toward the sound.

“Have I told you I’m a dancing king?” Maxwell grins at Nadia before tossing whatever bill he got first from his wallet inside the saxophone case laid out (he stupidly doesn’t carry change). The saxophonist’s eyes widen at the amount, but continues playing.

Maxwell holds his hand out to Nadia in the middle of the street, no cars, just warmly lit windows and some tourists – they don’t even matter. He half-expects Nadia to hesitate, but she immediately takes his hand and stands before him, matching his position.

“Dancing king? Let’s see then.” Nadia looks up at him, and rests one hand on his shoulder – the other in his hand.

He doesn’t see people looking in either adoration or judgement, he sees Nadia, and he hears the saxophone – like the music was being injected into his nerves. Maxwell easily leads her, surprisingly very light on her feet. He keeps his movement fluid and to the rhythm, raising the hand holding Nadia’s to cue her to do a spin. She does, laughing as she turns away from him and then their eyes meet again. Only for a second, because Maxwell surprises her by doing a spin of his own – quite the struggle considering his height but it only earns a laugh from the both of them. They stopped dancing, but the world is still spinning.

Maxwell wanted to kiss her as much as he needed to breathe.

 Instead he drops his eyes and looks away.

“I think I need to see more dancing. Verdict’s still out.” Why did Nadia always know what to say? Maxwell plucks the courage to meet her eyes again but Nadia is simply watching the musician now, looking peaceful.

He sighs. “I don’t think you’re ready for b-boy Maxwell. It’s a lot to handle.”

She looks up at him. “You’ll find that I’m very…strong-willed? Prepared?” Nadia shrugs. “I can handle anything.” True, Maxwell thought. He wouldn’t know what to do if Bertrand had shipped him off to Oxford for one semester.

“I want you to meet my friends.” Maxwell blurts out.

Nadia laughs easily. “Wow, way to change the subject. Okay, why?”

“…Because you can tell a lot about a person by their friends. And we’re trying to get to know one another right?”

“I thought I was here to get to know Cordonia but… okay.” Nadia jokes. “So, are you saying that you carry hair gel and a comb wherever you go too?”

Maxwell snorts. Oh, Bertrand would have an aneurysm if he heard. “Are you talking about Neville?”

“Yeah…? That other friend you were with yesterday?”

Maxwell laughs. “No, I meant my real friends. Liam and Drake.”

“Just those two?”

“Only the ones who really matter.” He looks at her. “Liam is the most responsible and kind person I know. Got tons of girls after him, but he insists that his heart is only for Cordonia – so yes, he’s a dork. Drake, well, a little cold at first – but he’s a simple guy. Talk to him about fishing or camping and you guys will be automatic friends.”

“They sound like lovely guys.” But he could hear the slight hesitation in her voice. “Okay, let’s all hang out. Soon.” Maxwell releases a breath that he didn’t realize he’s been holding.

“How about this weekend? A few of us are planning on a little gathering…” Maxwell cocks an eyebrow at her. “It involves horses…”

“I’M IN.”

to be continued

FUN FACTS these facts are the best part only fools don’t read these

Lord and Lady Beaumont:

- In canon I’m pretty sure they died when Max and Bertrand were pretty young. But in this one, they died in 2008 (story takes place in 2011) so basically three years ago. Maxwell would have been 19 and Bertrand 24-25. It’s still pretty fresh.

- The orphaned Beaumonts don’t go broke in my universe. That’s just sad.

The Club:

- Leo and Bertrand ruled the club six years before Neville and Max. There was a group in between generations, but we don’t talk about them lmao.

- Leo still likes to keep tabs on the club even after he and Bertrand graduated from UofC.

- Members are mostly the nobility, rarely royalty, special cases of new money, and absolutely no commoners.

Just Noble Things:

- Leo had the idea to bring jousting into club activities. Neville loves them because he can take out his aggression – and hate for poor people. While watching, Liam convinced Drake to try it out once, and that was the last time Neville played. (He wasn’t severely injured physically, but his ego was thanks to a certain pants-ripping incident as he was sent flying off his horse.)

Cuisine:

- I HC that Cordonian cuisine is like a fusion of many others – with their own twist of course. Based from pictures, it seems that the geography and climate vary a lot, but the capital is near the sea. It has a Mediterranean vibe so that’s it, short answer: Cordonia has Mediterranean cuisine. Long answer: each duchy would specialize in different dishes. Portavira is near the sea, so seafood. Castelsarreillan is famous for their vineyards, but I’m imagining that they use olive oil, yoghurt marinades, complex spices, veggies, stuff like that – for entrees (simply because it looks like they have a lot of farmland). Olivia has mentioned before that she only likes her animals on a plate, so idk that just gave me a vibe that Lythikos is all about meat, deep and rich flavors that kind of contrast the cold all around. And of course, there are apple-themed dishes everywhere. Bottomline: I think about food a lot.

- Madame Cristos are a THING and yes, they are fucking delicious. It’s a cross between Croque Madame and a Monte Cristo. Here’s the recipe.

Currency:

- I wasn’t sure which currency Cordonia uses in canon. I read a “Krona” before but I’m pretty sure that’s a duchy (Madeleine’s fam). So, I just used “CDE” – meaning Cordonian Euros. It makes sense to me.

Dance, dance, dance:

- For the dancing scene with the sax solo, I was thinking more slow, sweet, “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” instrumental cover vibes rather than sexy “Careless Whisper” lmao

- This dancing scene is a nod to Miss Saigon’s “Last Night of the World” because I just fucking love Lea Salonga okay LISTEN TO IT FOR THE FEELS