#like yes let me date their heir to the throne and then complain about the monarchy

[because-they-were-bastards]

should have known this from the beginning since hes one of those characters on tv we're forced to listen to sing (dominic fike) but ive finally realized the problem. simon.....is fucking annoying

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

A tense poker game was ongoing in the former Sedona Palace, now officially fully in service to Pleasantview's monarch. Claudia preferred to stay in her own palace or her newest property in Crystal Cove, so she'd granted her little brother, Oliver, full use of the property. He and some college friends lived there, as none of them had any romantic partners or ambitions of their own. It was good to have respectable tennents living on the property to ensure its upkeep and security, and truthfully, Claudia often worried about her brother. He didn't apply himself at university, and he didn't seem to have any interest in dating anyone.

Normally, she'd stay out of her brother's love life, but Claudia was unmarried with only one heir. If anything happened to her before marrying Miruna, Oliver could be asked to make an heir of his own to keep the throne in their bloodline. She would die before she let anything happen to Victoriana, but considering her cousin's recent loss, Claudia couldn't afford to take chances.

She found her brother attempting to play the antique piano that had been left on the property, absolutely ruining what could have been a beautiful melody.

"Oh my god, did you actually try to learn piano when Mom and Dad paid for all those lessons? You're terrible."

"Hello to you too, Your Majesty."

Oliver stood up from the piano and wrapped his arms around his sister with a surprised hug.

"I trust that the property is suitable for you and your friends. We have more renovations coming next month, but they shouldn't be too invasive."

Even if the renovations were extensive, Oliver was still living rent free in a historic castle instead of a dorm, so he really couldn't complain to her. His friends Mark Mishra, Cain Rivales, Melvin Jr Hydes, and Ben Goss were well behaved and responsible tenants. Claudia would much rather house her brother than have the castle sit empty.

"So what brings you by? Making sure none of us have broken the expensive looking busts in the hallway? You never drop by unless you need something."

Claudia frowned.

"I don't visit you just to ask for your help," she protested. "Can't I just spend time with my little brother without a secret motive?"

"So you're here to ask for help on behalf of Mom and Dad," Oliver decided, shooting his sister an irritating grin. "Probably Mom, since she's the one who always worries about me. You're Dad's favourite, and I'm Mom's constant worry. 'When are you going to find a nice man or woman to settle down with, Oliver?', 'When are you going to apply yourself in school, Oliver?', 'You never call your parents, Oliver'. Thank god she seems to be obsessed with worrying about Travis these days. If he weren't so anti-social, I might have to avoid family dinners just to escape Mom."

"You're just a brat, Ollie. You don't apply yourself in school or call Mom and Dad. Try running a country as large and as old as Pleasantview for just an hour. You'd come running back to me in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, poor Claudia. However does she manage her luxurious life without keeling over? It must be so terrible to be queen. Mom and Dad never pester you."

Claudia burst out laughing before she could stop herself. She punched her little brother's arm playfully, just as they did when they were kids.

"Yeah, right! You know how badly Mom bothers you? She grills my secretary about all of my plans when I don't answer her calls. She has to make sure that I'm not 'following the dark path of our ancestors'. Like, she honestly believes I might just start executing people for fun because my breakfast was late. At least she's not accusing you of being a step away from mass murder."

Oliver grinned a wicked grin.

"Well, that settles it then. You let me be king for a week, and I'll show Mom that I can apply myself by committing as many war crimes as I can. No, I'll conquer Crystal Cove, and you can sit in the islands drinking and being as non evil as you can. Then we'll switch back and Mom can't say that she was right about either one of us. It's perfect."

"Don't forget Travis," Claudia laughed. "If he helps you, maybe Mom will let him read quietly in the corner without bothering him in the future."

The siblings exchanged playful punches as their ideas grew wilder.

"Let's use a spirit board and ask Grandma why Mom's the way she is."

"No, we contact the Grim Reaper and ask that she gets transferred to somewhere far away. You're the queen, I'm sure he'd listen to you."

"We contact Grandpa Vrai and tell him she needs emotional support from her father because she feels inferior to the living child he raised. That man will spend the rest of his life bothering her like she does to us."

"Devious. You may actually be evil after all, sis."

"This place has a pool table, right? And a fully stocked bar? I could use a drink before we accidently summon Mom here to nag at us."

Claudia surveyed the pool table carefully. She wasn't the best at pool, and it seemed to be one of the few things that Oliver cared about. She was losing badly, though she refused to acknowledge it.

"So why are you really here? Besides wanting to bitch about Mom? I'm sure the queen of Pleasantview has better things to do than daydrink with her little brother."

Claudia sighed.

"Look, I need a favour from you," she admitted. Two glasses of wine had finally loosened her tongue enough to reveal why she'd visited Oliver. "I need you to date someone."

Oliver scoffed in disbelief.

"So you complain about Mom controlling our lives and then come here to try to control mine too? I'm not having an arranged marriage so that you can get some land or military out of it. I didn't realize that you were such a hypocrite."

"I'm not!" Claudia replied defensively. "I don't need you to marry anyone. Just to date someone. Maybe make an heir for the line of succession."

"How is that better than an arranged marriage? Do you even hear yourself? I'm not ready to be a father, and even if I was, I wouldn't have a kid just to make you an heir. You're about to get married, make your own. Any kid of mine would be knocked out of the succession anyway when you and Miruna have kids."

"Look, don't think about it as an arranged marriage," Claudia said quickly. "Think of it as a blind date, one that it's okay if you accidentally knock up. Or don't knock him up, it doesn't matter as long as he's not single."

Oliver paused from lining up his next shot to stare incredulously at his sister. Claudia realized that she'd slipped up the instant the words left her mouth, but there was no taking them back. Put her up against a god or a rival monarch and she wouldn't even break a sweat. Give her several glasses of wine and the playful brother she'd always let her guard down for, and apparently, she'd be a mess.

"Claudia, what aren't you telling me? What trouble have you gotten yourself into? You're not back with Victoriana's father again, are you? The man's married! I'm not seducing his husband so that you can break up their relationship."

"I would never break up someone's marriage to get Roman Bellamy back," Claudia hissed, looking around for eavesdroppers. "He's in the past and that's where he'll stay. Besides, he's demon married now. There's no way I'd get involved with that mess. Can you imagine how miserable it would be to sleep next to a man who's feeling his ex-husband's emotions when he's kissing you? I'll pass."

"Then who are you wanting me to seduce for you?" Oliver asked with a heavy sigh. "This is why the rest of us don't get involved with the royal games like you and Dad. It all ends up in a giant mess."

"Look, I promise that this isn't a big deal," Claudia insisted. "I just need you to keep Arterius distracted so that Miruna isn't tempted by him. At least until our wedding, but preferably for as long as possible."

The look Oilver gave his sister was a mix of disbelief, frustration, and pity. It made Claudia want to sink into the floor and never be seen again.

"Damn, Claudia, that's insane even for you. Why are you marrying Miruna if you feel like you need to order me to sleep with her ex just to make you feel better? Just talk with her or break up. It's not that hard."

"I made a deal with the Pleasantview coven to give them an heir from Casper Goss' bloodline and Ewan Maricourt's. I can't back out of a deal like that. I need the loyalty of the coven to rule."

Oliver stared at his sister in shock.

"And you're marrying her because you love her, right?"

"Of course! Don't look at me like that! This is a reasonable request from your monarch."

Claudia's face burned red as she tried to formulate a response. No, she hadn't felt love for Roman, but she had always thought that what she had with Miruna was love. If it wasn't, then it was close enough. They made each other laugh after a hard day, and Miruna was a constant support. They enjoyed each other's company and their union would bring legitimacy to the Pleasantview coven's leadership. It worked for her, but it had stung to see just how passionate Miruna had been when arguing with Arterius' parent. Claudia doubted that Miruna would fight a god for their relationship and that truth had slowly been eating away at her confidence.

"What is with you, Clo? You grew up with the same sickeningly in love parents that I did, and yet you can't seem to understand basic relationships. You ghost the father of your child for years, and now you want me to seduce your fiancée's ex so that she won't leave you for him? What kind of example are you setting for your kid? If you don't love Miruna, you can't trick her into staying with you. You can see that, right? This is insane."

"Look, just forget I said anything," Claudia snapped, twisting her pool cue in her hands irritably. "It was a stupid idea; let's just move on. Do I need to order you a suit for the Harvest Moon Ball? Your outfit for the Goldman Memorial Ball arrived the other day."

Oliver gave his sister another pitying look that Claudia absolutely hated.

"Look, I'll hit on him for you. Arterius, that is. I can't promise to run off and marry him, but I'll make a move. If he says no, then I can't do anything about that, but for you, I'll try."

"Thanks. That means a lot to me. It's a stupid idea, I know, but I have to know if he's a threat."

Claudia avoided meeting Oliver's eyes, but he could hear the relief in her voice. They'd grown up hearing all about their royal grandparents and honestly, Oliver couldn't understand why Claudia chose to live that life. It sounded exhausting.

"Remember that story Great-uncle Charley used to tell us when we'd visit? The one about Holy Queen Jasone? She had the power of a demigod and a throne in Strangetown, and because of those, she couldn't trust anyone who wanted to date her."

Claudia nodded slowly.

"And the coven leader disguised her at a costume ball," Claudia said. "She met her future consort there while she was disguised."

"If it wasn't for that plan, we wouldn't exist," Oliver replied. "If it worked for our ancestor, then it will work for you too. Pretend to be sick next week when I invite some people over to 'tour the renovations and grounds' and we'll see if I'm Arterius' type. Wear a disguise and see if someone talks to you or what Miruna does if she thinks you're at home."

"That...that sounds like a terrible idea," Claudia replied. "It's worth a shot, though. I need to know how Miruna feels without marriage contracts and expensive castles clouding her judgment. Just...invite a lot of people so it's not just the four of us making awkward conversation around the snack table."

Oliver smiled warily, unsure if he was actually doing the right thing for his sister. Truthfully, he might be doing the right thing simply because Claudia would probably think of a plan on her own that was twice as terrible.

"It's a date then."

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- Chapter 32- An Obitine Story

They were fabulous, and everyone in the ballroom knew it. The family was graceful when gliding down the main stairs and across the dance floor. They were elegant and poised when they clustered around the throne, and the Duchess' smile was so warm and kind that many politicians smiled back at her.

Satine took a breath, “Friends, fellow Mandalorians, and guests. I am overjoyed to host you tonight alongside my family. It is my great pleasure to introduce them to you, and it’s my honor to welcome everyone I hold dear to my happy home. Thank you.”

Polite clapping echoed through the hall, and the musicians began to play. Satine nodded at her children and they walked up to their chosen partners, who were also making their way towards the throne. There was much excitement in the ballroom, it was bold to open with a waltz, but the Duchess was pleased. Everyone was talking about the children and who they were dancing with.

“You’ve put on quite the show.” Obi-Wan whispered, taking Jynn.

“I certainly have,” Satine agreed, cradling Lyra, “and here come the first parliamentarians.”

They bowed to the Duchess and gave a polite nod to Obi-Wan.

“Your Grace, Master Jedi.”

“Thank you for coming, Your Excellencies,” Satine smiled, “may I introduce Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, the father of my children.”

The men bowed, but didn’t grace the Jedi with a title.

“We were wondering, Your Grace,” one man spoke up, “if we might introduce the committee on updating the line of succession.”

“Of course,” Satine stood, “We’d love to be introduced.”

The Committee on Updating the Line of Succession was twenty people, and Obi-Wan handled them all with proper formality. Satine was quite proud.

“And if I may, Your Excellencies,” the Jedi gestured, “I know Master Yoda has stated he’d like to meet you.”

It was clear from the beginning of the conversation that Master Yoda wished the children to be heirs, and he all but told the committee this.

Jynn reached out to Master Yoda, “Ye ye-”

With a smile, the old Jedi watched with pride as Jynn walked over to him, holding Obi-Wan’s hand of course.

“You’re quite the favorite aren’t you, Master.” Anakin teased, approaching with Padme on his arm.

“Very cute, the child is,” Master Yoda grinned, “named after a former Padawan of mine, as well, she is.”

“We’ll take Lyra if you’d like to dance,” Padme suggested, “we don’t mind little ones.”

Satine grinned and shot a look at Obi-Wan.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, thank you.”

They spun around for three dances and Satine had a wonderful time.

“Everyone is watching us.” Obi-Wan grinned.

Satine winked, “Get used to it, Ben.” 

After their dances they went back to schmoozing politicians, it was much less fun. They talked to every party of parliament. Red, orange, yellow, and white. It was quite late when Lyra walked for the first time.

“Ah ah-” the little ejuculated.

She was reaching out her little fist towards her mother and scrambled out of Padme’s arms. Waddling over, she cried again.

“Ah ah!”

Everyone cooed as Satine picked up her youngest, kissing her on the forehead.

“I’m here, Lyra, I’m here.”

By the end of the night, Jynn and Lyra were asleep in their parents’ arms as the guests bid their Duchess goodnight.

“Lovely evening,” Anakin smiled, “we really should do this again.”

Obi-Wan clasped his friend’s hand, “We’ll see you for the welcoming ceremony.”

Finally, when the night was over, Satine took her daughters to the jewel room.

“Pierre?”

The Royal Jewelmaster bowed.

“A success, Your Grace?” 

“Most certainly,” Satine took off her tiara, “thank you for your help.”

It was nearly four in the morning when Satine and Obi-Wan were changing the twins back into their pajamas.

“They’re smiling.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Yes,” Satine agreed, “happy to be in bed.”

Finally, when the Duchess and her Jedi got to bed, they practically collapsed. 

“So much talking.” Obi-Wan complained, hand on his head.

“I know,” Satine sighed, “but I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Parna and Khaami were kind enough to give Satine and Obi-Wan two extra hours of sleep before waking them up.

“Satine, Master Jedi?”

Obi-Wan groaned, his Duchess swatted him in the face and woke him up.

Khaami snorted, “Parliament has sent a statement to us early, it says the children will join the line of succession once you marry.”

The Duchess froze. Really? Was it that easy?

“Satine,” Obi-Wan drawled out the syllables of her name, clearly smiling, “will you marry me.”

The Duchess sighed, “Why don’t you propose when you’re awake and you’ve eaten.”

Obi-Wan groaned and Satine kissed his head.

“Ladies,” she turned, “what shall I wear for my engagement day?”

Khaami snorted.

Your favorite ensemble,” Parna suggested, “maybe the salmon pink one?”

“You’re right,” Satine agreed, sitting up, “I’ll save the extravagance for the wedding.”

The Duchess and her ladies went into the closet to investigate, and when they came out, Obi-Wan was gone.

“Likey to prepare.” Khaami remarked.

Satine giggled, “I’m excited.”

“You should be,” Parna grinned, picking up a hair brush, “you’re going to be proposed to today.”

It happened that night, and Satine was anxious all during the day. Towards the afternoon she thought her Jedi wasn’t going to propose at all, but then Korkie came to get her.

“Lady Mother,” he was trying not to smile, “please come with me.”

All of a sudden Satine was nervous.

“Let me fix my hair.”

“Lady Mother,” Korkie grinned, “you’re fine.”

They walked out to the garden and into the maze.

“Korkie, what-”

The secret center of the maze looked lovely. There were pale blue silks tied between the trees and bunches of lilies stuffed into the hedges. There was a small picnic blanket on the ground with a bunch of food. The Duchess was so distracted she didn’t even notice Korkie leave.

“Dex’s diner,” Satine laughed, “Ben, you really know how to create a romantic evening.”

“Don’t I?” Obi-Wan asked, coming out from behind a tree.

“Hiding, were you?” the Duchess teased.

Obi-Wan winked, “I wanted to know what my lady thought.”

Satine walked up to her Jedi and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love it.”

“Come,” Obi-Wan took Satine’s hand, “sit.”

It was nice to have a romantic evening with her Jedi, they hadn’t really had a dedicated time to themselves since the battle was over, and now that the Separatists had lost their biggest leaders, the end of the war was in sight.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan looked up suddenly, “dance with me.”

The Duchess smiled and held out her hand, she didn’t need to be told twice. They twirled around the garden a couple of times before Obi-Wan stopped, kissed the Duchess’ hand, and got down on one knee.

“Satine Kryze,” the Jedi’s eyes softened, “you’ve made my life a joy to live. You’ve brought me six wonderful children, with three more to come, and I couldn’t imagine a better end to my days than spending them with you and our family.”

Obi-Wan reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. Satine gasped, it was a simple silver band with two gems next to each other. One, a purple tourmaline and the other a lapis lazuli stone. The Duchess of Mandalore choked up.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan’s voice pronounced her name like an enchantment, “will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan Ben Kenobi,” Satine sighed, “I’ll marry you.”

The Jedi kissed his Duchess and it felt like the stars were raining glitter down on them. When the couple separated, the noticed cheering from the balcony. They turned, all six children were waving.

“Are those binoculars?” Satine asked, horrified.

“I told them they could watch our performance.” Obi-Wan admitted.

“Ben,” the Duchess huffed, “you must be very proud of yourself.”

“I am,” the Jedi straightened, “I have a fiancee.”

The press went wild when the engagement was announced, of course, it was just after the update to the line of succession had been publicly known. A wedding date was set for three months later, which definitely shocked the press, but excitement overruled surprise and all was well.

Satine was telling Hera all about it during her sonogram.

“Really,” the nurse asked, “cheering in the press room?”

“Yes,” the Duchess giggled, “this wedding has all the gossip columns excited.”

“Naturally,” Hera agreed, “how are you feeling?”

“A little big for fourteen weeks.” Satine confessed.

“Triplets,”the nurse reminded, “how’s your sleep?”

Satine laughed, “Once I find a good position I sleep like the dead.”

“Good,” Hera smiled, “I don’t see any problems, but we’ll do another one in a month, then you’ll get to see them.”

Obi-Wan came with Satine that time to see the triplets, and Hera was thrilled.

“Finally,” she huffed, “responsibility will be taken.”

The Jedi looked uncomfortable, the Duchess snorted. Hera seemed unbothered.

“This will be cold.” she warned.

It was all worth it when the triplets appeared on screen however, Obi-Wan burst into tears.

“Ben-”

“This is the first time I’ve been with them since before birth.” he choked.

“Oh, Obi,” Satine kissed his knuckles, “it’s alright, look at them some more.”

“Two boys and a girl.” Hera confirmed.

Satine smiled, her Jedi wiped his eyes.

“I still don’t see any issues,” the nurse added, “all healthy.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Names,” the Duchess told her fiance, “names are what we should be thinking about.”

That night as the parents shared the happy news with their children, Khaami ushered the Duchess away with an important call.

“Hera’s dead.”

Satine was aghast, “What?”

“They found her at home,” Khaami’s eyes moistened, “with the death watch symbol carved into her head.”

The Duchess choked out a sob and her lady wrapped her arms around her.

“Why?” Satine asked, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t know,” Khaami answered, “but the police are looking into it.”

“Satine-”

“They killed her, Obi,” the Duchess turned, “they killed Hera.”

The Jedi’s eyes went wide.

“No, oh, Satine, I’m so sorry.”

It was at the vigil they held at the palace that Korkie suggested they name the baby after her.

“I like that,” the Duchess smiled sadly, a hand on her stomach, “I like that.”

The next couple of months went by as Satine planned the biggest event of her life. She had many dress fittings, menu meetings, guest list organizing, and so much more. As the day approached, Satine found herself slightly nervous.

“Can you believe it,” Obi-Wan asked, “tomorrow?”

“I know,” the Duchess smiled, “we’re getting married.”

“Darling,” the Jedi rolled over, “is that apprehension I sense?”

“No,” Satine sighed, “just nerves.”

“Aw,” Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his fiancee, “you’ll be great.”

The Duchess turned to look at her Jedi.

“Promise you won’t leave me at the altar?” she asked, half kidding.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan kissed her, “tomorrow is the most exciting day of my life.”

“Sleep well, then,” Satine grinned, “because tomorrow we’ll actually be married.”

The morning of the wedding could only be described as chaotic. Everyone was running all over, servants and the royal family, with news, outfits, jewels, and more news.

“The guests are arriving,” Parna huffed, “and your children have gone out to greet them.”

“All of them?” Satine asked.

“Not me, Lady Mother,” Korkie smiled, poking his head in, “we’re going to make an entrance.”

“We certainly are.” the Duchess agreed.

Satine was wearing yellow, the traditional color for Mandalorian weddings, and she looked fabulous. Wearing a crown of lilies to match the embroidered flowers on her loose bodice, Satine fluffed out her skirts and took Korkie’s arm.

Obi-Wan was standing at the altar, grinning at Satine as she approached. Anakin was behind him, clearly happy for his master. As they walked down the aisle, Satine’s smile grew. She was finally marrying her Jedi Knight. After all these years.

Korkie placed his mother’s hand in his father’s, then stood off to the side with the rest of his siblings. A Mandalorian Archbishop officiated the wedding, and both Satine and Obi-Wan repeated after him, vowing to protect and shield each other from harm in sickness and health.

“And now, the rings.”

Ahsoka was very pleased to be the ring bearer at the wedding, and she performed her job beautifully, with a little flourish at the end.

Obi-Wan took Satine’s ring.

“Satine, I’m overjoyed to be marrying you,” he began, “you and the children are the lights of my life, and I’m honored to be doing right by you and spending the rest of my life by your side.”

Satine smiled down at the ring as it slipped on her finger.

“Obi-Wan,” the Duchess grinned, “this is what I’ve always wanted, so I want to thank you for making my dreams come true-”

“Aw.”

The crowd giggled at Ahoska’s reaction.

“I love you, Obi.”

“You may kiss the bride.”

The Jedi did, then he picked her up bridal style and spun her around. Everyone cheered, and after a second kiss on the Jaru Cathedral steps, the roar got even louder.

“This is magical,” Satine giggled as they climbed into their carriage.

“It certainly is.” Obi-Wan agreed.

The children followed behind in a carriage of their own, waving at the public just like their parents.

“Is this what it’s like,” Obi-Wan asked, “your entire life?”

“Not really,” Satine put her head on the Jedi’s shoulder, “public occasions are rare.”

Obi-Wan kissed Satine’s head, “Now at least we’re together.”

There was a celebratory feast back at the castle aftwards.

“Oh my God, Satine,” Quinlan embraced her, “I can finally call you Mrs. Kenobi.”

“Kryze-Kenobi,” the Duchess corrected, “we decided to hyphenate.”

“How fancy,” Anakin smiled, hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “but speaking of fancy, let’s celebrate!”

Obi-Wan sighed, “Anakin-”

“Master Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka huffed, appearing on his other side, “you’re married now, to Momdalore!”

“I know,” the Jedi gave Satine the side eye, “I’m very lucky.”

The Duchess sat with her friend Padme for the celebration.

“Ten weeks left for me,” she told her friend, “what about you?”

“Eight,” Padme practically squealed, “I made Anakin build the cribs himself.”

Satine laughed.

“Do you wanna see the video?”

“Of course.”

It was hilarious and a very typical Anakin scene. He started without reading the directions and Padme had to help him.

“That’s certainly something.” Satine snorted.

“It is,” Padme agreed, “have you picked out a girl’s name yet?”

The Duchess smiled sadly, “We might name her after Hera.”

“Aw.”

“Although,” Satine grinned, “we’re currently discussing my husband’s title ceremony.”

“Ooh,” Padme clutched her chest, “Duke Consort?”

“Duke Consort.”

“He and Anakin are leaving the order officially, what,” Padme paused, “tomorrow?”

“I know,” Satine wiped her eyes, “I feel so fortunate.”

“So do I.”

Master Yoda let both the Jedi go with honorable distinction, happy that people he cared about had found happiness and their place in the world. It was a quick goodbye party, and then it was back to business.

“A title,” Obi-Wan whined, “I suppose it’s necessary.”

“It is.”

The former Jedi sighed, “Alright, what is it?”

“Duke Consort of Mandalore.”

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed his wife, “Sounds perfect.”

The ceremony was held a week later, and Satine confessed to her husband that walking was getting annoying.

“But don’t worry,” she told him, “Korkie, Tyra, Tristan, and Mara will be holding the heaviest things.”

It was done in the fashion of an ancient monarchy. Satine knighted her husband, which he confessed later was ironic, then crowned him, gave him a robe, and a scepter. Then Satine sat down on her throne with her husband next to her.

“The Duchess and Duke Consort of Mandalore!”

The crowd of nobles clapped politely before bowing or curtsying to their monarch’s husband.

“This is quite official now,” Obi-Wan smiled in relief when the ceremony was over, “and all that’s left are the triplets.”

“And of course their welcoming ceremony,” Satine grinned, “I’m excited to raise these ones with you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes melted, “So am I.”

Things settled as the weeks went by, and a month later, Satine was in the hospital wing with her new nurse.

“You will likely deliver soon,” she told the Duchess, “and you stated you wanted an operation beforehand, correct?”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “one with medicine this time.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the nurse nodded, “let’s plan for a week from now, as triplets generally come early, we want to be ready when they come out.”

One night while Satine was welcoming Korkie’s old nurse and the apprentice nannies, Obi-Wan got a call from Anakin.

“It’s happening,” he told his wife, “and Anakin is so anxious.”

“I bet,” Satine nodded, “tell him not to worry, Coruscant is known for its doctors.”

Once the nannies were adjusted and the older children were in their own personal rooms, the new ones that had been built, Satine went to bed, thinking of Padme.

“Obi-Wan?”

The former Jedi rolled over towards Satine’s voice, but he was still dead asleep.

“Obi-Wan.”

He grunted, clearly having heard her.

“Obi-Wan, it’s happening.”

“I know.”

“No, Ben,” Satine shook her husband, “I’m supposed to have an operation, but they’re coming earlier than anyone expected.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes popped open.

“Babies?”

“Yes!” the Duchess screeched, tired of repeating herself.

“It’s probably their connection to the Skywalker twins,” Obi-Wan calmly got up, “let’s get you to the med ward.”

They began operating on Satine within the hour, and it was a very quick procedure, faster than what the Duchess had expected. Soon, she was holding the two boys, while Obi-Wan held Hera.

“They’re quite small,” the doctor informed Satine, “they will need to gain weight at their checkups.”

“How often are these checkups?” Obi-Wan asked.

“For the first week, every other day,” the doctor explained, “and then every other month if they get stronger.”

Satine nodded, “We ordered a lot of formula.”

“Good,” the doctor smiled, “and now I suggest rest for Your Grace, and the triplets.”

The nurses rolled in three bassinets decorated with ribbons and little initials.

“Aw,” Satine grinned, “Ben look.”

“They’re adorable,” Obi-Wan agreed, “and I’ll make the phone calls to those who need to be informed.”

“Thank you, darling,” Satine smiled, handing Jacen to a nurse, “we’ll rest.”

A second nurse and the doctor put the remaining twins to bed and the Duchess kissed her husband.

“Sleep well.” Obi-Wan grinned.

Heavily drugged, Satine slept until the morning, waking up in the hospital wing to her nurses.

“Where are the triplets?” were her first words of the day.

“In the nursery with their nannies,” the nurse answered, “no complications. For you or the babies.”

The Duchess was relieved, “That’s good to hear.”

The doors opened and Obi-Wan brought the children in. Jynn and Lyra, who had begun speaking about four months ago, both were struck with a fit of giggles upon seeing the babies, who were being wheeled in by the nannies.

“Baby!” Lyra pointed.

“Babies!” Jynn corrected.

Everyone laughed.

“This is Jacen,” Satine gestured to the littlest redhead, “the blonde is Sylvian-”

“Ooh.”

“And your youngest sister is Hera.”

“Aw.”

“She looks like me.” Mara clapped.

“And Sylvian is my mini body double.” Tristan added.

“But Jacen though,” Tyra grinned, “he looks like you and Dad, Korkie.”

“He does,” Obi-Wan shook his head, “so many children.”

The babies were passed around before they got fussy, and then it was eating time. Korkie was very happy to see his old nurse as well, and Satine thanked her, for everything she’d done for the family.

“I’m pleased to, Your Grace,” the old woman smiled, “and I’m pleased at your happy ending.”

“So are we,” Obi-Wan smiled, “and once Satine’s ready, the Prime Minister will be coming.”

“Ah, yes,” Satine sighed, “and have you heard from Anakin?”

Obi-Wan nodded, but Tyra beat him to it.

“Luke and Leia,” she clapped, “they were also born yesterday.”

“Wow,” Satine sighed, “would you call that the force, Ben?”

“Most definitely.” Obi-Wan answered.

Later that day, after Satine’s nap, Prime Minister Djarin came with a bouquet of lilies.

“Thank you, Jaru,” the Duchess smiled, “I assume the public knows?”

“They're ecstatic,” the Prime Minister responded, “and how are you?”

“Well,” Satine sighed, “the children are healthy and the drugs are wearing off.”

“That’s good,”Jaru smiled, setting down the flowers, “I will inform the Ruling Council that you are resting today.”

“Thank you, Prime Minister,” the Duchess smiled, “that is something I really appreciate.”

Satine rested for the next day and a half, then, she went back to the business of governing.

“The criminals responsible for Nurse Hera’s death have pleaded guilty.”

“Good,” the Duchess nodded, “her family will have closure.”

“And the welcoming ceremony? When should that be?”

“A little longer than the traditional two weeks,” Satine decided, “the triplets need to grow a little more.”

Pencils scratched notepads.

“I’ll schedule it, Your Grace.”

“Now the ceremony’s menu.”

Then came the guest list, what the royal family would wear, and how to pay the Mandalorian Archbishops.

“Satine?”

It was Waldie who called, catching up with the Duchess in the hallway.

“Congratulations on the safe delivery.”

“Thank you,” Satine smiled, “I don’t remember much of it.”

“I hope it’s not too much to ask,” Waldie fiddled, “but now that there are more royal daughters, I think we should hire more seamstresses.”

“Ah,” Satine nodded, “perhaps one or two of the ones formerly in our service for the ball gowns, it’s a helpful suggestion, thank you Waldie.”

In the next two weeks, two more seamstresses were hired and welcoming outfits for the triplets were made. Everyone else in the family wore what they had to the ball presentation, and they made quite the spectacle all in white.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 9: The Hands that Guide Me

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 3823

Warnings: None

A/N: Comments and feedback are appreciated! This fic has been a little harder for me to write, not gonna lie, so I hope you guys are still enjoying it!

Prev

Next

“What?”

Asmo’s voice came out as a shriek. It hurt Solomon’s ears a bit if he was being honest.

The two of them stood before Lucifer, Diavolo, and Azazel. It had been easy to push the idea of assassination attempt to the side until this point, but after an arrow had been shot in their direction… well… He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Of course the crowds had gone scattering and word quickly got back to the main palace. This is when he also learned that the princes weren’t supposed to leave the palace.

Lucifer shook his head, “You heard me Asmodeus. I shouldn’t have allowed you to go out to the sector. I thought it might be safe for you during the day, but I was wrong. So no more. You must stay here.”

“But it’s my sector,” Asmo continued. Even if Solomon wasn’t looking at him, it was easy to tell he was upset. His voice was strained and cracked. He was on the edge of begging and pleading with his eldest brother. Solomon wanted to tell him to stop, but as soon as he went to touch him, he was shrugged off. “I should be allowed to visit it whenever I see fit!”

"That was before an arrow almost took your head off," Azazel chimed in, shaking his head, "Not to mention, you put civilians at risk with your presence."

The way Asmo flinched at those words… He didn’t seem to care about himself in that moment, and Solomon couldn’t help but think back to the small children flocking around his legs and how Asmo genuinely seemed to adore every one of the individuals in his sector. Yes he seemed a little thoughtless, but his intentions were innocent.

“Not to mention, you put a king in danger,” Azazel continued, gesturing to Solomon himself, “Could you imagine the commotion you would have caused if your fiance, royalty from another kingdom, had been struck? He’s an only child, their only heir, and you almost cost them that. His death would have been on your hands.”

That was hardly fair, Solomon had gone there on his own free will. Asmo had asked him, yes, but Solomon hadn’t felt forced. Yet, Azazel’s words had him questioning himself. The entire situation was extremely uncomfortable.

“Azazel, don’t you think-”

The glare Azazel shot Diavolo as his neck snapped towards him was dangerous, “Don’t coddle him. He should have known better.”

“Uncle,” Lucifer’s voice was steady, drawing Azazel’s attention back to him, “I am more than capable of handling my brothers. Please refrain from making any more unnecessary comments.”

The two men stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity before Azazel reluctantly backed down. That was when Lucifer turned his attention back towards the fifth prince. “Asmodeus,” Asmo didn’t look up towards his brother, but Solomon swore he saw him twitch, “No more outings. None. Am I understood?”

Asmo nodded curtly and then that was that. They were dismissed.

The silence was uncomfortable, even for Solomon. Yes he had complained about Asmo being high energy, but now that it was gone… It was unnerving. Solomon had had his guard so high around his fiance, and for what?

“You’re quiet,” he said. An inch stood between them. They hadn’t really walked together like this in the halls before.

Solomon was also a bit disturbed. From what he knew of Asmodeus, he knew that he didn’t give up on what he wanted to easily. But the moment Azazel started speaking, it seemed that all of the fight had left him.

You have a role to fill Lilith.

What exactly had been going on in Arcadia prior to them approaching him?

What exactly had becoming Lilith entailed for Asmodeus?

“I was under the impression you didn’t like me talking.”

Solomon couldn’t blame him for being snippy. He just got chewed out by his older brother and his uncle for something that Solomon didn’t really blame him for. Asmo was agitated, a free spirit locked away in a cage.

"Well, I don't like being distracted by anyone when I'm doing research, and you're a rather distracting presence," he tried to joke, but Asmo didn't seem too amused, "But I don't have my nose in a book right now."

"You will soon."

Just when he was trying to make an effort, Asmo didn't seem to want anything to do with him. At least not right now he didn't, but he could fix that. "I've heard you've gotten into a bit of reading yourself."

"I guess."

"Perhaps we could have a little library date sometime."

He was almost surprised about the smile that crossed his own face when he saw Asmo's ears twitch at the mention of a date. That's what he wanted. He wondered if Asmo didn’t quite believe what he had heard. After all, Solomon knew he’d been a little aloof. A library date was also a little more up his alley. He allowed himself to move ever so slightly closer. "Would you like that Asmodeus?" he asked softly.

"It's not going out-"

"But it's still a date."

He was going to do better.

He was going to start putting a little more effort into Asmodeus.

That also meant that he was resisting the urge to grab at his pendant. He had to open himself up to talk to Asmo more, and that meant also forming a more organic way to figure out how he was feeling. He needed to ask him questions, he needed to know a little more about him.

"You would like a date? Wouldn't you Asmodeus?"

Slowly, Asmo nodded and then his motions became more rapid, "Oh! Oh yes! Yes I would like that!" He caught Solomon in a tight grip and held him close. Solomon felt himself go stiff and was unsure what to do with his hands. Although, it was nice to see Asmo smiling. Eventually he settled on patting the prince's back. Asmodeus looked up at him, eyes sparkling, "Oh you'll be the luckiest man in any kingdom! Well, maybe next to me of course. But you'll love being with me! We can talk about it more if you'd like to walk me back to my room?"

"Well, you see, I would, but someone still has to teach me how to navigate the caverns."

It was a little embarrassing. He'd been living here for a while now and still had little to no idea as of how he was supposed to get around. It was especially inconvenient when he was hungry or wanted to visit the library. Asmo tilted his head and backed up, taking Solomon's hand in his own and squeezed. His hands were a bit bigger than Asmo's, but he also couldn't help but notice how warm and soft they were. They reminded him of soft silk. His nails were also well cared for especially compared to his own which were bitten. Had anyone ever held his hands like this before? It was such a small thing to think about, something that didn't matter in the long run, but he thought about it nonetheless.

Asmo's skin felt nice against his own.

Asmo's hands felt nice against his own.

"Well, I guess that gives me an excuse to spend more time with my husband!"

"Fiance."

"Same thing," Asmo let go of his hands and waved him off, "The point is I can get some time with you all to myself."

The very idea of spending time with him seemed to have Asmo excited, a little life was coming back into his eyes.

He was cute, and Solomon could feel an appreciation for his spark start to creep over him.

"In any case, I think walking back to my room would be a fantastic first lesson."

***

It was easy to forget how dizzying the tunnels were. Was the Heart always this aggressive or did it just have a special spot for him in it's cold unfeeling grasp?

"You think too much," Asmo's voice cut through the disorienting feeling. He was leaning against one of the walls, completely unbothered by the magic surrounding them. Pushing off the wall, Asmo walked closer to him and put his hands on either side of his face. "Let yourself relax."

Funny. He thought he was relaxed. There was nothing for him to be stressed about, he was as calm and collected as he could be.

Asmo pressed into his face and frowned, "You're so incredibly tense. I told you to relax." Pretty fingers pressed into his jaw and trailed their way down, "Unclench. Stress causes wrinkles you know."

"I am relaxed," he said as Asmo squished his cheeks. Yet, he felt his jaw relax.

"Clearly you're not. I've seen how you sit, slouching over those books of yours is terrible for your posture. When's the last time you've just cleared your mind and relaxed?"

Solomon scoffed, "Never, clearing the mind isn't really something a king can do." Not if he wanted to be a good ruler he couldn't. He needed to be on his toes, to strategize, to think. Not to mention, he was also a scholar.

"Ugh," Asmo rolled his eyes, "You sound just like Lucifer. Stubborn." His fingers ran down his face, neck, and to his shoulders. His touch was nice, gentle and a little curious, "If you think too much down here it's going to be harder to navigate. Pick one thing to think about if you have to. Something that won't lead you to thinking too much."

That seemed like a bit of an impossible task. What thought could possibly keep him from slipping down a rabbit hole?

The glint from the scorpion on Asmo's chest caught his eye. Then his thoughts drifted back to the hands on his person. There were only so many thoughts a single person could spark. Just like that a little bit of the haze cleared. He took each of the hands from his shoulders and held them in his own. Subconsciously, his thumbs ran over the soft moisturized skin. He couldn’t help but think once more about how warm he was. His body was very much a contrast to his own.

Asmo shuddered but didn’t bother to move. “Got something?” he asked, a hopeful edge lining his voice. His weight shifted towards the balls of his feet as he leaned closer to Solomon.

Solomon looked into his eyes. They were just as hopeful as his voice and they seemed to hold every star usually confined in the night sky. “Perhaps, but that’s for me to know,” he smirked, letting go of his hands to touch his nose.

His smile quickly turned into a pout and he placed his hands on his hips, “Boo. Really? You won’t tell me?”

“I don’t think I will, not yet anyways.”

“You stubborn man! I should just leave you down here.”

“Not if you’d like me to walk you to your room you won’t.”

Asmodeus pulled away from him and Solomon followed, walking a little closer behind him to the point where they were almost touching. He still smelled like the flowers of his sector. Solomon was still lucky to be here. Lucky to be paired with an attractive partner. Lucky that he was finally making progress.

“Anything else I should know? I doubt Diavolo just automatically knew where to go,” he leaned over Asmo’s shoulder.

Those soft slender hands reached out to run against the wall, “There are marks in the brick work. Some of them have the Mark of the Heart. You can feel them in the brickwork if you know what you’re looking for.”

Solomon placed his hand over Asmo's, stopping him in his tracks, “Show me.”

He swore he could hear Asmo swallow as he guided his hands along the subtle etchings in the brick work. They went slow along the clean cut lines, and the more Solomon moved over them the more familiar they became. They became etched in his memory as their hands cast shadows in the soft light from the torches. They stayed there in silence continuing their pattern until Solomon glanced towards him.

“You blush quite a bit,” he was so easy to read, “What is the cause this time?”

“The flames cast a wonderful shadow against your jaw line,” his voice was was soft, for once Solomon had to strain to look at him, “You’re a very handsome man, and I like touching your hands.”

Was he a mind reader? Voicing his own thoughts in such a way, Solomon swore he must know exactly what he was thinking in the moment. He didn’t look up at Solomon, but remained focused on guiding his hands along the wall.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“Well yes, I can see.”

Solomon stopped tracing his hand against the wall and pulled back only to close in to his fiance, “Then don’t avoid looking at me.”

Asmo’s breath hitched as they came closer together. Solomon threaded their hands together and squeezed. “I realize I haven’t been the kindest to you, and I apologize. I’d like to fix that if you’d allow me,” he allowed his voice to drop. His eyes swept over Asmo’s face, he was incredibly attractive and his features only enhanced his beauty. Long lashes, full lips, bright eyes. He was gorgeous.

“You’re very pretty Asmodeus.”

“Thank you.” Both of their voices were soft, despite being alone in the tunnels. Asmodeus continued, bringing his free hand back up to his face as a spark of hope returned to his eyes, “I want you, I do. I’m happy to hear that you… you want…”

He was quiet, but Solomon found it hard to pull away. There was something inside of him that felt… conflicted. It was a new feeling, one that was set into motion since he went to Asmo’s sector. He wasn’t sure what to make of the feeling yet. All he knew was that he could have stayed down here with him for hours, just like this, with their fingers intertwined together. Solomon’s other hand went to his hip and followed along the curve.

Beautiful.

“Oh! It’s wonderful to see you two spending time and getting closer together,” the booming voice made Solomon jump and move away from Asmodeus. Now it was his turn to become red. Diavolo stood not too far away from them, his butler not too far behind. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything if I did.”

Solomon coughed as Asmo moved away from the wall and huffed, “You kind of did. What are you doing down here?”

“I wanted to check on you! I know you loved travelling to your sector and that someone telling you you could no longer go was upsetting. But I see that Solomon had you in mind! Doesn’t he Barbatos?”

“That he does young lord.”

Solomon couldn’t bring himself to look the butler in the eye. It felt like Barbatos was bearing into his soul, that he knew what he was going to do before Solomon even knew himself. What he did see of the butler was all knowing eyes and an incredibly sly smile. Suddenly he became all too aware of himself. Hopefully the light was dim enough that his features were obscured.

“We could have gotten closer if we weren’t interrupted,” Asmo growled under his breath. It almost made Solomon sputter. Getting closer? Down here? Solomon wasn’t about to go a lot further than what he did. Well maybe he would have, he wasn’t too sure what was going on inside of his mind at the moment.

“Why don’t we walk with you the rest of the way?” Diavolo asked, “It could be nice for all of us to get a little closer together.”

Asmo held up his hands, “Diavolo, normally I would love to but-”

“It’ll be fun for us!”

And that was how the four of them walked back to Asmo’s room together. Diavolo spent a lot of time chatting with the fifth prince as Solomon walked stiffly next to Barbatos. He was a private man, he preferred things to stay that way.

“Getting used to being here your majesty?” Barbatos hummed, glancing towards him, “I know the young prince has been eager for you to be here with him, even if he was nervous about seeing you here.” The two of them started to lag behind Diavolo and Asmodeus.

“Keep an eye on him, he’s not always transparent, none of them are.”

Solomon furrowed his brow, "That's a bit ominous don't you think?

"Ominous pr a gentle hint towards well intent? I'll leave that for you to decide," Barbatos then continued onward and placed a hand on Diavolo’s shoulder, “Perhaps we should head back. I can make tea for you and Lucifer.”

“But Barbatos!”

“We should leave them be,you can talk to them later, but for now we’ll leave them be,” Barbatos turned to face them again, “I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ll be able to see you again soon.”

“Alright! Buh bye! We’ll see you later then!” Asmo chirped, grabbing Solomon’s arm and continuing on down the hall. It was a bit faster than Solomon was expecting, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Asmo wanted to spend time with him.

“Come in with me?” he asked, trying to tug Solomon into his room.

“Not tonight, but we’ll meet in the library to spend some time together. I promise.”

Solomon watched him before squeezing his hands one more time before backing away, “I’ll stop by in the morning, we can eat together, just the two of us, and then we’ll read together.”

“And you promise?” Asmo asked once more.

He's not always transparent.

“I do.”

It took him a while to return to his room. He wanted to make sure he was taking the right path back. But the longer it went on, the more confident he became. Thoughts of soft skin and golden scorpions inhabited his mind, keeping his path straight and narrow.

***

A few non royal magic users live within the fifth district. It leads me to genuinely believe that magic truly does run through the land. They aren’t strong users, but they can use a bit. The flora and fauna in Arcadia also don’t cease to amaze me. There’s a change in variety from the entrance to the fifth district, it’s very easy to forget how large the empire is when staying in the center. People also seem rather attached to their individual leaders, so maintaining good relationships with them will be incredibly important. I have to wonder if magic users outside the royal line have always been here or if they slowly integrated into the city. I also have to wonder if they have access to the Heart.

The underground caverns simultaneously require focus and no thought at all. Thinking too much causes what is akin to interference and it is easy to become disoriented. There are also small markings along the walls that are easier to find once you have your bearings. They lead along correct paths in each of the corridors. I can only assume the path to the Heart would also be the same, only more hidden.

Asmodeus is beloved by the people in his sector. He also seems to have a natural talent with young children. They adore him and he cares for them deeply. He seems to care for every person in his sector. He’s very warm, and it’s clear that he uses products from his sector daily. His hands are soft and his nails are well cared for. There may be a little more to him than I initially thought.

***

Asmodeus was more focused on Solomon than on the book in his hands. He sat close to him on the couch, eyes fixed and shoulders touching. It was a little hard to focus on the words in front of him the longer he stared, and yet it was also a little nice.

“Asmodeus, nothing unsavory in my library please, and try not to drool on my books,” Satan glided behind the couch only to disappear behind one of the many bookshelves. Solomon could only dream about reading half as fast as he did, it was a mystery.

“I’m not! Hush up and let me enjoy my date!”

“Quiet, it’s a library,” Satan’s voice echoed through the room. Solomon could picture the smile on his face as he spoke. He could only imagine what Asmo had confided with him in private.

Asmodeus rolled his eyes and resumed his work.

“You haven’t made a dent in your book,” Solomon said, closing his own and picking another up from the pile, “Does it not interest you?”

Asmo looked panicked before holding the book closer up to his face, “No! It’s incredibly interesting! I just like to take my time when I’m reading about advanced stuff. But I’m sure you completely understand! After all, you read scholarly stuff like this all the time.”

Hooking his finger over the spine, Solomon slowly brought the book down so he could see the page. He wasn’t really met with any resistance. “Oh yes, I do enjoy taking my time on the table of contents,” he smiled, “Asmo, it’s okay if this isn’t really your thing.”

“No I-”

“It’s okay. It is. You don’t have to read every single book you think I’d might pick up,” he gently took the book from Asmo’s hand and placed it at his side, “We can still spend time together if you’d like, just like this.”

He could see the hesitance in Asmo’s eyes. What had him so worried? Solomon certainly wasn’t angry that they didn’t enjoy the same literature. He wanted to know him better. If Asmo didn’t find what he researched fascinating like he did, that was alright. There was still so much about his fiance that he didn’t know and so much he wanted to learn. Maybe one day he’d understand him. Just maybe.

What he did know is that physical affection seemed important. So he slung one arm around the back of the couch and motioned for him to come closer, “You can lay your head on me if you’d like.”

Asmodeus didn’t say a word, instead he jumped at the opportunity to snuggle closer to Solomon, placing his head on his chest and letting out a content little sigh once he was comfortable. He was warm. So very warm.

"Let me know if you'd like me to start reading out loud."

Asmo nodded against his chest.

His weight was somewhat calming, and he found that he didn't mind spending his reading like this. This was what made Asmodeus happy. It was so simple, Solomon felt like a fool for depriving him. He’d become paranoid due to ambition. As he read, the fingers on his other hand gently started rolling over his fiance in one fluid motion.

He was going to be better for Asmodeus, for his happiness.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 20. Courage

‘Her courage was her crown and she wore it like a Queen.' Atticus

When I walked inside after waving goodbye to Adrien, Harry and Lourdes were still in the kitchen. They looked at me, as if waiting for an idea of what came next.

“Well, I, for one, need a drink.” I said, trying my best to give them a smile.

Harry got to his feet and poured us some wine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lourdes asked.

“I don’t think we can.” I told her. “I don’t know what happens next. All we can do is wait.”

She avoided my eyes, and mumbled, “I know how much you love that.”

“Shut up.” I said, grabbing the glass Harry offered and drinking most of it in one sip. “Distractions, right? That’s what I need.” I said, looking at him.

“Oh, Harry! Do you have Amazon or iTunes or something?” Lourdes asked, excitedly.

“I think I have both. Why?”

“I know what we should watch!” She smiled, jumping up and going to his TV. “It’ll get your mind off things!”

Half an hour and half a bottle of wine later, we were watching Frozen.

“How do I know this song?!” I asked, confused and entertained at once, as Elsa let go of her fears on the screen.

“Some songs are so popular they are just downloaded into our subconscious without us noticing.” Lourdes said, but I wasn’t hearing her.

I was singing Let it Go.

Harry laughed. “I think you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.” I complained, more than contested. “Sadly. I’m just… slightly buzzed.” I said, going right back into singing the words I somehow knew.

“I wish I knew what being drunk feels like.” Lourdes said. “It looks fun.”

“…Let it go–I’m not drunk.” I corrected, mid song.

“It’s not all it's cracked up to be.” Harry sighed.

I scoffed. “Says the guy who–”

“You don’t need to finish that sentence.” He said, making me laugh.

To Lourdes, I explained, deflated. “He’s right, though. Really, it just makes you make dumb mistakes.”

She looked at Harry, “Like dressing up as a nazi?”

“Lourdes!” I admonished, completely sober now.

“No, no…” Harry said, soothing. “It’s fine. She’s not wrong. But, sadly, no. That wasn’t a drunk mistake. It was just… a mistake.”

She looked away from him. “Do you regret it?”

“Of course.” He answered, without a second beat. “Every day. But I was… dumb. Young. Privileged. Completely unaware of what it truly meant. I just… I thought it would be funny. I was an idiot.”

On the screen, Elsa wasn’t bothered by the cold. I drank more wine.

“How about this, Lou?” I proposed. “When you’re… seventeen I’ll let you try wine.”

“Seventeen?!” She asked, surprised.

“…and eleven months.”

“Eleven–are you serious?!” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I’ll get you drunk before your birthday, in a responsible way, in a safe and controlled environment.”

“Ugh.” She complained, and then talked to me in French. “Like you waited until you were eighteen.”

“Excuse me? Yes, I did.” I replied, also in French.

“Really? What about the time when you came home from–?”

“Okay, but that was an accident!”

“Okay, my French is not that good!” Harry complained. “What did you say?”

Lourdes gave me a smug look.

“Nothing.” I said.

“Really?” She chuckled.

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

She sighed, “Okay, what’s up your butt?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

As I sat in the middle, I saw from the corners of my eyes as she exchanged a look with Harry.

“Truth or dare?” He asked.

I sighed. “Truth.”

“What’s up your butt?”

I gave him an annoyed look, but he just grinned at my sister. I looked away.

“Adrien just gave me a lot to think about, I guess.”

“I think he was right.” Lourdes said, sitting up, pausing the movie. “Not about everything, like going to America. That’s dumb. But about you.”

“You think I have power, too?” I asked, half hope, half skepticism.

“I know you do.” She shrugged. “But that’s not new, you’ve always had.”

I scoffed. “Excuse me?!”

“Mags, I don’t know what family you’ve been living with, but the rest of us know you as the perfect one we need to live up to.”

“That’s-” I started, but gave up with a sigh.

After all, in one of the last times I had spoken to Louis, he had told me I let our parents do whatever they wanted with me and my life. So, of course my parents saw me as the one who always said yes. Who never questioned. No wonder they thought it was okay to not tell me anything. No wonder they were so upset I had ‘ran away’. And, if that is who I was, it made sense that that’s how my siblings and cousins saw me.

“I don’t want that to be true.” I told them.

“Why not?” She asked. “It’s a compliment. Sort of.”

Harry reached over to the bottle of wine, and refilled my glass. I took a long sip.

“Even if it is true,” I started, “doesn’t that mean they can do what they want, and therefore they hold the power? And not me?”

“Not really.” Harry said. “Because they’ve grown dependent on you always being there. Especially now.”

“Now I’m the heir?” I asked, whispery. Almost afraid if I said it too loudly he would leave, as if he didn’t already know that.

“Yes.” He said, avoiding my eyes. “A death that alters the line of succession is a big deal. It’s a big change. People grow used to a royal family, they see us as newborns, they watch us grow up. For someone they expected to watch grow old and become king to die so young, I imagine it shakes up the entire collective mindspace of the whole country… Not to mention the ways it can affect politics and all the people who may try to take advantage of it. They may not have told you much yet, but they’ll need to start showing you off soon, to reassure the public that the family is still there, and that the throne is secure. Just because we’re ceremonial doesn’t mean they don’t need us. Unfortunately.”

The silence that followed wasn’t bad or uncomfortable. The twinkly lights and wine helped.

“Truth or dare?” Lourdes asked.

I looked at her, surprised.

“What? Apparently that’s the only way you answer questions now.”

I exchanged an amused look with Harry, who looked down, grinning.

“Dare.” I chose, defiantly.

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine.” She said. “I dare you to let me try your wine.”

“Fuck off.” I said. Harry laughed. “Don’t think I forgot about the smoking and cutting class bullshit. I’m not rewarding your behavior.”

“Just a sip!” She justified. “You just said that it’s healthy to let kids try these things at home, in a controlled environment!”

“Oh, so now you’re a kid again.” I grinned, sarcastic. “I thought you were a teenager.”

“I’m just saying,” she argued, “you want me to go after it myself? Who’s to say what I might get into?”

“Oh, my God.”

Harry laughed harder. 

“You know, to be fair,” he tried, “I wasn’t allowed to drink and I still did it way earlier than I probably should. Maybe if I had been allowed to taste it at home the whole mystique of it wouldn’t have wheeled me in.”

“Who’s side are you on?!” I asked, as Lourdes nodded enthusiastically. I sighed. “Fine. One sip!” I told her, pointing a threatening finger. “And with one condition.”

“Maman and Papa never find out.” She guessed.

“We take this to our graves.” I told her, serious. Then, I looked at Harry, who tried to suppress his grin and made the motion of locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

I sighed, grabbed my wine glass and passed it to her. “Slowly!” I warned.

She sat up, excitedly, and changed positions so she was facing the both of us, sitting on her knees and closing her eyes as she held the cup with both hands.

“I need to enjoy it the most, so... Okay, I’m going to pretend I’m a fancy adult who just came home from... practice--” Harry and I tried to suppress a laugh. “I’ve been practicing for my… third Olympics where I will, once again, win gold, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry nodded, amused.

“…and my hot, live-in boyfriend, who happens to be a… what’s a hot sport?” She opened her eyes, staring off into the distance.

I laughed.

“Does he have to be an athlete, as well?” Harry asked.

“I’m not going to just date anybody.” She replied, all seriousness. “I need to respect a boy to make him my boyfriend.”

“Hear, hear.” I agreed.

Harry smiled. “That’s fair. How about gymnastics?”

She pouted. “Male gymnasts are all… tiny.”

“Swimmer!” I chimed in, excitedly. “All swimmers are hot!”

“That’s good.” She agreed, before her smile fell. “Oh, but that's the summer Olympics.”

“So, that just means your schedules don’t conflict with each other!” I argued. “He’ll be free to go to your competitions, and vice, versa.”

She smiled. “Okay! That’s good. Awesome, okay, so!”

I smiled, and leaned back into Harry, mindlessly. He seemed to take in a sharp breath as my head laid on his shoulder, before he slowly moved his arm up and passed it around me. I leaned into his embrace, feeling his skin and clothes warm up parts of me I hadn’t realized were cold. We watched Lourdes daydream.

“So, I come home from practice and my hot, live-in, swimmer boyfriend is cooking us dinner, and–”

“Oh, boy, you really need to lower your expectations.” I mumbled.

Harry sighed. “I forget what a rare breed I am.”

I scoffed, as Lourdes giggled. “You can’t cook!”

He looked mock-outraged. “Yes, I can!”

“Harry, you couldn’t even flip a pancake without burning yourself.” I argued. “You didn’t even have oregano!”

“Okay, I may not be a great Chef, but–!”

“Chef?! It’s just oregano!”

“…I know enough not to starve!”

“Okay, I’ll lower my expectations!” Lourdes interrupted. “Hot swimmer has ordered us delivery. I thank him, and he hands me a glass of wine…”

She dreamily closed her eyes and brought the glass to her lips. Almost immediately after she drank, she spit it back into the glass, making us break into laughter as we watched.

“Disgusting!” I accused.

“This is awful!” She complained. “Why is it so bitter?!”

“Oh, my God!” Harry said in between laughter, his head back, a hand to his ribs.

“That’s really expensive wine!” I added.

“How do you drink this?!” She asked, smelling the cup, before trying it again, making the same face.

“Ew, Lourdes, no!” I complained, taking the glass from her. “Disgusting!”

“Yikes.” She complained.

“Yeah, remember this next time someone offers you alcohol.”

--- ---- ---

    We fell asleep right there – with the end credits of the movie rolling up, in the living room blanket covered stone floors. Lourdes curled up to the side, her blonde hair sprawling out around her, hugging a couch pillow. Behind her, I still had Harry’s arm around me.

His eyes were closed, peace all over his face. I pulled the duvet over us, snuggling into him and ready to embrace sleep. I let my arm rest across his stomach, on the side of his waist. As his shirt was wrinkled up, I could feel his skin under my fingertips, so I stretched my hand under it.

He was so warm, and his stomach moved up and down slowly as he breathed. Slowly, I brought my hand up across his stomach, feeling his pecs on my palm.

It now felt too warm for the duvet, but I remained completely still, hidden underneath it, with nothing but the screen and the twinkly lights illuminating us in the darkness.

I felt a chill over all of my skin; it felt too personal, too risky, but I couldn’t bring myself to get away. Resting in his embrace, his shoulder under my head, his face right above mine, his breath lightly breezing over my hair, and his warm skin on my palms… it was exactly where I felt I needed to be.

So I raised my hand higher, slowly, just a little more, to hover over his heart. His breath grew heavier, and his arm tightened around me. I felt his lips on my forehead and his heart under my hand beat so fast it was almost worrying.

On my forehead, his lips whispered so low I wasn’t sure I had imagined it. “It’s yours.” He said.

I moved my head only slightly to his direction, so he knew I was listening.

“What is?” I asked, matching his tone.

Instead of replying, he just moved his other hand – the one not around me – to touch my arm under his shirt, slowly making its way up until his hand was above mine, above his heart. His finger tapped my hand, twice. I didn’t need words, the gesture said enough.

His heart, it said. His heart was mine.

“But you know that, already.” He whispered.

I could barely breathe, and the duvet felt almost unbearable now as my skin grew hotter.

But I couldn’t answer. All I could do was stretch my fingers up to intertwine my fingers with his.

I thought it was the end of it. I thought we would just sleep now, and I would wake up tomorrow struggling to understand if it had been a dream or not. Then he spoke again, just as quietly as before, but slower, so I could make out every word.

“Don’t marry him.”

“…What?” I looked up higher; it felt like if I couldn’t see his eyes, it might not be real.

He looked down at me, under his lashes; the twinkly lights made his hair look golden.

“Don’t marry him.” He repeated.

Again, I couldn’t answer. So he rested his lips on my forehead again, and we let the hours tick by.

Both of us took a long time to fall asleep.

--- ---- ---

When I woke up, we were still on the floor under the twinkly lights of the blanket fort. Lourdes was facing away from me, her knees almost to her chest. In the middle, I still had my head on Harry’s chest, and his arm around my shoulders felt warm, but the noise echoing around the house was anything but.

He moved his arm delicately from under me, and I grunted a complaint, mindlessly.

“Sorry.” He whispered. “The phone.”

He stumbled to his feet, crawling out of the fort slowly, and walking, crooked, to the phone mounted on the wall in the hallway, in front of the stairs.

“Hello?” He said, on a low tone; his voice guttural from sleep. “Who? What do you–? Are you sure? Yes, I know who– I just–” He sighed. “How soon…? Okay, okay. Thanks.”

He returned the phone to the wall and soon he was kneeling in front of the fort again.

“Hey.” He touched my arm, gently. “Mary, wake up.”

“Good morning.” I tried to smile. “What’s going on?”

His face was serious. “We have another visitor.”

Behind me, Lourdes grunted. “Tell them I’m not going home, Harry, especially if they insist on waking me up.”

Harry’s eyes were on mine. “It’s your father.”

I sat up, “What?”

“We’ve been through this with your mom, already.” He started. “I’m not joking, he had to be signed on at the gates. He’ll be here in a minute.”

I recalled Adrien saying he would send someone ‘with power’. Surely, he couldn’t have meant–

“What do I do?!” Harry asked. “Send him away?!”

“When you say our father,” Lourdes asked, crawling up from behind me, “surely you don’t mean–?”

“Forgive me, do you have another one?! Because I’ve only met the King one.”

“Oh, God.” She mumbled, just as I forced myself to get up. “Oh, God, Maggie–”

“Okay,” I started, “Okay.”

“Should I send him away?” Harry asked.

“Maggie, the fort!” Lourdes aggressively whispered, hurriedly pulling the blankets and twinkly lights down.

“I can just send him away, like with the others!” Harry repeated, whispery still. Behind him, the pole holding the fort up hit the floor with a dull thud.

“One of you, help me!” Lourdes whispered at us, pulling the chord of the twinkly lights out of the outlet and trying to ball up all of the blankets and pillows.

There was a knock on the door. We all froze in place.

“Oh, God.” I shuddered.

“Maggie.” Harry said, holding on to my arms gently. It was the first time he used the nickname only my family used for me. “Do you want me to send him away?”

“You can’t send him away!” Lourdes whispered, now so low I could barely hear her. “He’s the king and you barely know him!”

“It’s my house, I can do what I want.” Harry replied, awfully calm. “Margueritte?”

I took in a deep breath in and one deep breath out, and then there was another knock on the door.

“I have to speak to him.”

His hands traveled down my bare arms until my hands, which he held firmly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

I smiled, sadly, down at our hands. His touch was so soft.

“That’s not true.” I said, shaking my head.

He stepped closer to me. “Yes, it is.”

My eyes felt heavy, my throat felt tight. I wanted nothing but to lay down inside our blanket fort into his arms and stay there forever.

“I’m the Crown Princess of Savoy.” I looked at him, allowing the words to break us apart as I knew they would the moment my brother died. “There’s a lot I have to do that I don’t want.”

He looked like he was going to protest, and I wasn’t sure how much of it I could take. So I pulled my hands from his and walked to the door.

My father was wearing a high neck wool shirt, black, and a khaki blazer over it. He was clean shaven, as always, and his receding hair was now so gray it was almost impossible to tell it had once been blond.

He seemed surprised I opened the door, or that was just the smile he gave me; a tentative, surprised small smile. He let out an almost imperceptive sigh before saying, softly,

“Bonjour, Margueritte.”

“Papa.” I replied, feeling breathless. “Bonjour.”

His eyes then examined every piece of me and I was, at once, fully conscious that I was still wearing Harry’s sweatpants and shirt. As we had just woken up from sleeping on the floor after a late night, my face was probably still swollen, my hair a mess, my eyes dirty.

“Tu as l'air bien.” He decided, diplomatic. “Confortable.”

‘You look well. Comfortable.’

“Nous venons de nous réveiller.” I justified, embarrassed, feeling my cheeks redden. ‘We just woke up.’

He nodded. “May I come in?”

I started to open the door, but closed it again.

“It’s not my house.” I explained. “I–”

“Of course!” Harry shouted from inside. “Entrez, s'il-vous-plaît!”

I looked down at the floor as I opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

It felt so weird. Like intruding and being intruded on at the same time. I felt an urge to apologize, but I couldn’t decide to whom. To Harry for bringing him all of this? To my father for not being dressed?

As he walked inside, taking the house in slowly, I hurriedly let my hair down and brushed it with my fingers, putting it back up with all its loose strands on a ponytail.

The sofa was still facing the back wall, and the coffee table was pushed against the bookshelf. The TV was back to its place of origin, but the chord was clearly hanging to the side. Surprisingly, the blankets, pillows and twinkly lights were gone.

“Your Royal Highness.” My father shook Harry’s hand, with almost no accent. “How do you do?”

“Your Majesty, sir.” Harry bowed his head. “I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“Good. The flight was good.” He nodded.

The small talk was killing me. Harry, however, stood tall and confident, one hand firmly shaking my father’s, the other casually in his sweatpants’ pocket. He also had sleep all over his face.

“Is my other daughter around?” My father asked, casually. “Or is she still asleep?”

“I’m here!” Lourdes called from the stairs. Two seconds later, she jumped as if having leapt over the last two steps. “Papa, bienvenue!”

She was in jeans and my sweater, slightly too big for her, but in a stylish way. Her hair was brushed down and, though her face still looked a little swollen as well, she overall looked as though she had been up for a while.

She kissed his cheeks and he held her in place, hands in her shoulders. He spoke in French,

“I am very angry with you.”

Her face fell. “I wasn’t smoking!”

“I know that, and we will talk about it at home.” He replied. “But running away? Not answering your phone? We were worried!”

“It’s hardly running away when you sent me here.” She justified. “And I was with Maggie! In a palace! I couldn’t be safer!”

They went on like this, in French, as he berated her and she tried to justify herself. I caught Harry’s eyes behind them, and tried to give him an apologetic, humorous, if awkward look. But he looked away.

“Papa?” I called after a while of this, trying to be brave, remembering Harry’s French wasn’t so good. “Maybe we should speak in English? As we are in England. And in Harry’s house.”

They all looked at me, all somewhat surprised.

“Of course.” He said, smiling at him. “Sir, I am sorry to trespass even more on your hospitality. Is there a place where I would be able to speak to my daughter with some privacy?”

Harry thought on it for a second, looking around the living room. Lourdes gave me a silent, desperate look.

“Why don’t you talk here?” Harry proposed. “I have been meaning to show Lourdes to the gallery in Kensington, anyway. It’s closed to the public today, so it should be safe. What do you say, Lou?”

Dad’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname, perceptible only to those who knew him enough.

Lourdes looked at each of us and sighed.

“Sure.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Why not?”

Harry followed her to the door.

“Thank you.” I told him as he passed by me.

He smiled in acknowledgement, but didn’t look at me.

They left.

I could hear each of my heartbeats as I looked back at my father. He walked over to the armchair and looked at me, smiling sadly.

“I can wait until you get changed.” He said.

I nodded and had to stop myself from running out of the room. At the stairs, I realized Harry and my sister had just shoved all of the blankets and pillows out of sight. They were crammed in the small space precariously, only a tiny passage through in the corner where Lourdes probably made her way up and down to change.

I schooled my face to not react to it and attempted to climb up as quietly as possible, hoping my father wouldn’t make his way to this end of the room and see it.

In the guest room, Lourdes’ pajamas were on the floor. I picked them up and put them on the bed, as well as my bag, quickly emptying its contents to find clothes that felt appropriate. My dress for the wedding was wrinkled, so I would have to make do with jeans and the simple blouse I had on in the train.

As I got dressed, I was overcome with shame again. Why did I feel so embarrassed at wearing pajamas or not having formal day clothes? How was I to know he was coming? And why were my clothes not good enough if they were mine? If I liked them?

I was reminded of Louis, lecturing me about dressing up the way mom wanted me to. I stopped myself just before pulling out the shirt; Harry’s shirt. I had told my brother I would stand up for myself and my own fashion choices, but now I had to stand up for a lot more. For being heard and for being told the truth. For being allowed to do something with my life other than look pretty in pictures. I had to.

I took in a deep breath and kept Harry’s shirt on. Then, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went back downstairs.

Dad was standing in front of the bookcase holding a picture frame in his hand, the same one Lourdes had noticed when she arrived.

He made no comments of the clothes I was wearing; instead, he returned the photo to the shelf and said, as he walked back to the armchair.

“I knew her, you know?” He started in French. “The late Princess of Wales.”

“Yes, I remember.” I said. “I was there when she visited Savoy with Prince Charles.”

He seemed confused. “Right. That must have soon before she passed.”

“It was.”

“You won’t remember this, Maggie, but we were actually in Britain when it happened.” He sat down, crossing his legs and sitting back, leisurely. “We went to–”

“I do remember it, Papa.” I interrupted. “That was the first time I met Harry.”

He suppressed his surprise better this time, nodding.

“He was a good kid. Bright, charming, smart… It was a terribly traumatizing event to happen to such a young child.”

I grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and placed it across the room from him, in front of the still turned sofa.

“Which is what I imagine made him into such a problematic young fellow.”

“Should we talk about us now?” I asked.

As anxious as I was to have this conversation with my father, I was more impatient at his tone regarding Harry.

“We are.” He replied, gravely. “I can’t pinpoint anything else that might have brought you to this, Margueritte.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Henry. What is it? What did he say to you to get you here? To get you to do this?”

My mouth dropped open, and I, for one second, was almost amused.

“Are–? Are you serious?!”

“I understand he is charming and fun, Margueritte, a lot of men are, particularly to pretty girls like you–”

“Wow, Papa–”

“But he is older than you, and he has a reputation, which has not been manufactured with no cause.” He insisted. “He’s wrong for you even before we focus on the fact that he is a foreign royal.”

“Do you hear yourself?!” I asked, choked. “Harry is not the problem, Papa! He has nothing to do with this!”

“My daughter,” he started, enunciating the word loudly, “my firstborn, the little girl I raised, would never have done something this outrageous! Goodness, Margueritte, you’re a good girl! You’re kind and respectful, and you have always put others before yourself! You were always a good student, you went to Harvard, for goodness’ sake!” He took in a heavy breath, “To just disappear like this with no effort to alleviate our minds! Do you have any idea how worried we were?! What went through my head when they came into my office to tell me they had no idea where you were?!”

He uncrossed his legs, sitting up now, restless, fidgeting with his hands.

“I have sat through so many security meetings discussing the risk assessments for each of you, having to hear from expert after expert what are the most likely horrible things to happen to you, and having to decide what the best way to protect you is! And to suddenly be told that the two security officers who were meant to keep you safe simply lost track of you in a foreign country!”

His voice was raising with each word, until the last one, which he shouted, finally getting to his feet, restless.

“Did you even spare a single thought to your mother and me?! We could barely sleep for three days, we were in and out of meetings with the staff trying to decide what was the best way to go about the situation,” he went on, now walking up and down the living room, “Should we contact the police? Interpol? Ask the Scotland Yard to intervene?! So many people trying to show us what the best resolution would be, to then be told you were just… sleeping over at Kensington, walking right in of your own free will as if it’s a holiday!”

He ran a hand through his hair, nervously; a far cry from the composet monarch he was in public.

“And not one call… Not one call going through…” he mumbled. “It’s alright, I tried to tell them. She probably had an issue with her phone. It must be a misunderstanding… Marie-Margueritte would never be this dismissive and disrespectful!” he shouted, again. “And to then have Auguste’s account of how he was treated when he was merely trying to make sure of your wellbeing. Do you think that is an appropriate way to treat your private secretary?! You’re a Crown Princess, Margueritte! You have a responsibility to the people whose job revolves around making you the best future monarch you can be! Do you understand that?!”

My palms were aching, burning, as I scratched them with my nails, tightly holding my hands in fists as I took in deep breath after deep breath.

“Not to even speak of the disrespect towards your mother! To not even see her, after she made the whole trip here?! To allow your… Harry,” he said, with contempt, “to treat her as… as–!”

“He was nothing but polite and kind to maman.” I interrupted, speaking for the first time, my voice barely a shaky whisper. “She was the one who changed the tone of the conversation, Harry did nothing but be honest about why she wasn’t allowed to go upstairs, and he was still polite at that.”

“And why didn’t you see her, Margueritte?! If you had a problem, why didn’t you come home and speak to us about it?! Is this fun for you? Is this what the plan was the whole time?! Because I’ll tell you this, I have never yelled at any of you kids like this, never since you were born!” He sighed. “What is the point? Tell me?!”

He removed his blazer, methodically, slowly, breathing heavily still.

“And Christopher!” he added, shouting. “What are we to tell him?! As far as I understand he left for Canada thinking his girlfriend was going home and all was normal, how are we to explain to him this little holiday you took at another men’s house?! You think he’ll enjoy this information?! Or did you just assume your mother and I would lie for you?!”

“Christopher is my problem, not yours.” I said, shaky. Hands hurting, still. “And I’ll tell him what–”

“I don’t think you understand, Margueritte!” He interrupted, walking over, and sitting again, leaning into his knees to look me in the eyes. “Whatever is your problem, is our problem, too! You’ll be Queen to Savoy one day, you don’t get the privilege of privacy, anymore! Or you think it’s not a big deal that Christopher will be the country’s consort one day?! You think that’s something we can just worry about later?!”

I tried taking another calming, deep breath, but I couldn’t anymore. It was as if my throat was also tighter from the anxiety and anger.

“Do you even know how many threats we’ve received since you became Crown Princess?!” He asked, whispery now. “Do you even realize the amount of detail and accurate information that has to be in a threat for it to be deemed credible?! Do you even know how close you could have come to coming to serious harm in the way here when you were completely alone?!”

“No!” I interrupted, using all of the strength left in me to raise my voice enough so he would hear. “I don’t! I don’t know any of it! Do you know why?!”

I waited, looking at him, but, confused, he seemed to have no response.

“Because you don’t tell me anything!” I told him. “None of you! And that was fine, Papa, when I was a child, or when I was just someone who would never be needed to work for the Crown, but from the moment Louis died I knew my life had changed completely, and I kept waiting for someone to tell me how and what to do, but no one did! Even when I asked! And I asked, and asked! Almost every day I asked, and I was dismissed and condescended to, by almost every single person in the Palace, including you and Auguste, who is supposed to work for me, somehow!”

I ran my hands down my jeans, trying to assuage the burn of the scratches there.

“You talked to me when it was about quitting my job to give the press something to talk about,” I started, “and to make sure I knew I had no choice in what my own staff was, but that was it. I was never given any… choice, any direction.”

“Alright.” He nodded, sitting back again. “Alright, then what do you want, Margueritte? What is it about your life that is so upsetting now?!”

“You do not get to say it like that anymore!” I shook my head. “You don’t get to make me feel like my feelings don’t matter, Papa. If you do, this conversation is over right now.”

“When have I ever–?!”

“You always do that!” I interrupted. “At first it was about me being too young to have any real issues, it was about being too pushy or demanding, when all I wanted was some power over my own life!”

“Margueritte, if sometimes I am harsh, it’s because I don’t think you understand what your life really is.”

“I know I am privileged!” I assured. “I am very aware of that, but that was never the problem. No, the problem is that you, and maman as well, got used to me always being accommodating of whatever it is you needed! We need a child for a photo opportunity, well, Margueritte can catch up with school later, by herself, let’s pull her from class to bring her to an event, then! Well, we need to improve female registration for military service, Margueirtte would attract a lot of girls, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind postponing university a year!”

“Are you saying we made you do those things?” He asked, sounding truly concerned. “You were always given a choice, Margueritte. That was always important to us!”

“But is it a choice when the people asking are the most important people in my life?!” I asked, eyes watering. “When the people asking are the two people I love the most in the world? The two people I could see working so hard to do a good job for the entire country and to be as good to us as they could be?! How could I say no when saying no was upsetting to you? How could I say no to anything when I knew there was so little I could actually do to help!”

He looked down, hands fidgeting again. But I powered through, thinking of Louis; thinking of the promise I had made to stand up to myself.

“The truth is I think you got used to me being the easiest answer to whatever problem you had. Always.” I said, trying to sound calmer. “Even when I was in America! If there was a scandal, like with uncle’s divorce, and you needed someone to put in front of a camera to draw attention to it, you never had an issue asking me to come home, and I never said no, because I felt too guilty.”

I felt a single tear fall from my eye.

“I used to feel guilty that I didn’t want this life, when you had no choice, when Louis had no choice.” I confessed. “And then, when he died, I felt so guilty about inheriting his title that I couldn’t say no to anything. Even if I didn’t want to quit my job in such a public way. Even if I didn’t want to fire Cadie. Or Joyce.”

I dried my cheek with one hand, taking a deep breath. Dad hadn’t moved, yet.

“You got used to me being easy, dad. To not fighting. To not trying too hard to stand out, to accepting anything you needed. Even if it was about my life. My choices. My staff. My clothes?!”

“When have I ever policed your clothes, Margueritte?!” He asked, hoarse.

“You may not have done it, but you didn’t try to stop it, either.” I replied. “And I can’t go on like that, Papa. I can’t go on letting you, and Maman, and Montennon or Auguste or whoever, make me into a paper doll Crown Princess, to be dressed up and sent away to look nice for a picture, that’s not who I am. I can’t do that anymore.”

He nodded, slowly, seeming alarmingly calm.

“I’m the Crown Princess now, and I accept that.” I told him. “Mostly because I don’t have a choice, but I accept it regardless. But if I am to do this, then things can’t be the way they’ve always been… I can’t just say yes, and you can’t just dismiss me when I say no. I need to be allowed to ask questions, and I need actual answers. If I’m to learn what I need to learn, then I need the staff to see me as the heir, as their future monarch, not as good, obedient Princess Margueritte, and they won’t as long as you still treat me as the good daughter you’re trying to protect, or the one you pull out when you need help because you know I won’t complain!”

He took in a deep breath, biting his lip; his hand scratched his chin, and he looked at the center table behind me, thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry I disappeared.” I told him. “I honestly am, but I would do it again. Because I didn’t know what else to do… and let’s be honest, why should I be home? It’s not like I have been doing a lot of work. I don’t have a job anymore, and the work I wanted to do was quickly shut down by Auguste.”

He sighed, exhausted. “There’s a lot going on that you don’t know, Margueritte.”

“Then tell me!” I said, louder than intended. “That is my point!”

“There are things you’re not ready for.” He shook his head. “This job isn’t as simple as you seem to think it is. You can’t be ready one day after someone dies unexpectedly.”

“I didn’t expect to be ready in one day!” I assured him. “I wanted to learn. I just wanted to know there was some sort of plan that didn’t include telling me to avoid the news and just go enjoy my day.”

“That is not what happened–”

“That is exactly what happened!” I contradicted.

“Do you think maybe we just wanted to give you time to grieve for your brother?” He asked.

“I did.” I nodded, enthusiastically. “More than that, I assumed you needed time for that. I assumed it just felt too hurtful to see me in his place when he had just died.”

I looked away, tears falling from my eyes again when my voice broke.

“But months passed, Papa.” I went on. “Months. Then the year was done. And nothing. And fine, if I’m to do nothing, then I’ll do nothing. But why should I quit my job, then?! If I can’t have an active part in this role, then why should I be home, doing nothing, every day?! Should I spend every day just waiting for the moment you’ll need me for another photo opportunity?!”

“It’s much more than that, Margueritte.”

“Good.” I nodded. “That’s good, then tell me what it is!”

We sat in silence, looking away from each other as I tried to dry my tears as soon as they fell.

“I realize that it’s hard…” I started. “I miss him every day. I cry every day. I think about all the things he won’t be here for, every day… And I can only imagine what it’s like for you, having raised him for this job his whole life and now to not only be unable to see him do it, but to have to accept me into it. But, Papa, you need to understand that I did not want this.”

“…You don’t think I know that?!”

“I honestly don’t know!” I shrugged, crying. “But I can understand that it can feel like… like a betrayal to Lou. For me to have his title now. I feel it, too. But I think he would know, surely he would know that I did not wish for this!” 

I tried to dry my tears again, as they fell more freely now.

“For the rest of my life, every time I wear that crown, every time I am addressed as Crown Princess, or Queen, I will be reminded of the fact that my brother should be here.”

I stood up, and walked over to the bathroom near the stairs. I washed my face with cold water, trying to take in deep breaths, trying to think of the promise I made to Louis. Trying to fight the desire to tell my father I would just do whatever he wanted as long as this ended.

When I came back, he was using a handkerchief to dry his own cheeks.

“Do you remember…?” He started, sniffling slightly. “On the train ride to London last year, for the tour, when you asked me to promise you that would be allowed the space and time you needed to focus on your own life?”

The memory was like a dream from a lifetime ago; I nodded, as I sat back down on my chair.

“When your brother died,” he started, so calm and in such a low tone now that I could barely hear him. “My first thought, after him, was you. It was the heartbreaking realization that I would not be able to keep my promise.”

He definitely stifled a sniff, now.

“I have spent so much time feeling guilty over bringing you and your brother and sister into this family, Margueritte.” He admitted. “I have loved you every single day of your lives, but there hasn’t been one day that I don’t fear you’ll resent me for bringing you into a world where you have no real free will. No expectation of privacy… So, when I knew how much I would have to ask of you… All I wanted to do was try and keep your life from changing too much. I figured, if I can keep you out of the conversations that need to happen, if I can keep you just informed enough, then you can go about your life, and those changes won’t feel so disruptive. I just… I didn’t want you to have to give up anything.”

“But that is not your choice.” I told him. “It’s not your choice, either, Papa… You don’t think I know that?”

“I was afraid, chèrie.” He told me, apologetic. “I was afraid you’d blame me. And you’d be right to do it.”

“This is not your fault.” I said, louder. “Keeping me out of the loop on conversations about my life, that was your choice. And it was a bad one. But the changes that need to happen, those are not your choice. I know that.”

He nodded, almost reluctantly. 

“We can’t bring him back.” I said. “And we can’t stop my life from changing, it already has. But you can help me. You can help me be… good at this. Good enough that Louis would be proud of me.”

He nodded, took in a deep breath and ran his hand down his face, staring into the floor. He had never looked more tired. I sat back on my chair, hands in my lap, no longer closed in fists. I tried to calm my breathing, and to allow him time to decide where we should go next.

“Okay.” He said, after a while, nodding. “So, you want to be included.”

I sat up. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He nodded again. “I’ll make sure you’re more included going forward.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what that means, Margueritte.”

“I want a meeting.” I said, bracing myself, trying to ignore the painful anxiety ache in my stomach. “With the whole staff, mine and whomever from yours needs to be there. I want… to be told, item by item, everything that needs to be different now. I want to understand why it needs to be different. I want to choose a new security team, to be headed by Joyce.”

“Joyce has been transferred, Margueritte.”

“Then transfer her back.” I insisted. “And Cadie, too.”

“Margueritte.” He sighed. “If you’re serious about understanding what your new role is, and I think you are, you’ll have to be prepared to accept that there are things that are out of your control. Sometimes, staff issues are one of them.”

“Then you can explain that to me… at the meeting. With our staff there, including Cadie.”

He sighed again. “You can’t fire Auguste.”

“We can discuss it in the meeting.” I repeated. “It’s more professional.”

He grinned, scratching his nose. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“The staff will need time to prepare material for a meeting this… itemized.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “It’s pretty early now, how about tomorrow night? That should give them time to prepare.”

He looked at his watch. “…I suppose.”

“Good.” I nodded. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow. Six?”

He let out a long sigh, and nodded as he got to his feet. “You will have to be home. Will you be home?”

I gulped, looking around the room, already missing it. Realizing I would have to leave Harry’s clothes behind, pack up my bag, and travel back to being five hours away from him. Realizing I would have to sleep alone again. 

But I had been right before. I had to do a lot that I didn’t want to.

“I will.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Extra long, meaty chapter! WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT ‘DONT MARRY HIM’ MOMENT???? And MM finally standing up for herself??? But now she has to leaaaaaaave??????????? Let me know what you think??? Thank you SO MUCH for reading, I cant thank you enough! What do you want to see next? <3 ]

[neshatriumphs]

V. The Venom

“I can’t see through his eyes again!” Amelia complained. “You must’ve known that we would have this issue when I sent him on this quest,” she fussed at The Cat.

“Perhaps, if I knew what your intentions were, I might have known what information you needed,” Samantha said, smoothly.

“Withholding information could result in Simon’s death. Do you WANT that on your head?”

“Simon isn’t going to die,” Samantha said, but she did worry. A blood oath… That was a risk that Simon never should have taken and had he consulted with her, she would have been vehemently against it. She had confidence, though… Simon would either do what needed to be done to survive, or he would at the very least die for something he believed in. She didn’t like that option nearly as much. “What is it that you think we could do to help him?”

Amelia pulled a necklace from the liquid in her basin. “Find him and deliver this to him. Tell him never to take it off.”

“What does it do?” Samantha wondered.

“Do you want him to live, or not?” Amelia asked, shaking the necklace angrily in The Cat’s face. Samantha took it and slid it onto her own neck, then hopped onto the ledge and out of the window.

It would take her no time to find Simon. A familiar always knew where their spirit human was, but on those little cat feet, it would take her far too long to run. She twinkled a moment, with green smoke coming up around her, and was carried away by it, and replaced outside of a cottage. She approached and bumped into a barrier. “Hmmm…” She pulled the necklace off, buried it in the dirt and attempted again. This time, she walked straight through.

Samantha was not expecting to hear what she heard whenever she entered the cottage, undetected, but it was a welcome sound - Simon laughing. It wasn’t hard, but it was real. She could tell. She looked to see what he was laughing at… who was more like it. It was her. The Princess.

“Shut up!” She squealed. Samantha hid to take a look. The Princess had her feet in a soaking bowl, while Simon rested on a nearby cushioned seat with the widest smile on his face that Samantha could ever remember seeing.

“Your feet look like the consequences and repercussions,” Simon said.

“Of what?”

“NAME SOMETHING!” He said and laughed again.

“You know what… I am a dancer and I’m a free spirit. My feet look like this because they’ve worked hard my entire life!”

“You have MAGIC! There's no acceptable reason that your feet should be like that!” He was laughing harder now, until he noticed Samantha and he stopped.

She approached and sat on his lap. The Princess stared at her, she looked back at the woman. Simon collected Samantha and said, “I’m going to put her outside…” Grace nodded. She heard him outside ask, in his lowest whisper, “What are you doing here?”

“You left something important behind,” Samantha said and uncovered the necklace. Simon picked it up. He had never seen the thing before in his life. It must have been from Amelia. “Now, put it on and don’t take it off…” She wondered if he would be forbidden, when he tried to cross the threshold again. Soon enough, that was answered. Simon groaned in pain, with his skin burning and he took the necklace off. “Well… wear it whenever you’re outside of that barrier.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve been told that it is urgent.”

Grace stepped outside and asked, “What’s the problem, Simon and The Cat?” Samantha poofed away into a cloud of green smoke. Simon was surprised. She just left him? Just like that? Grace was waiting on an answer.

“She gave me a necklace, but I can’t bring it through. I don’t think it’s dangerous. Just… I guess it has too much conductor’s magic,” he answered honestly. Getting her to trust him was going to take telling the truth here and there.

“Lemme see it.” He held it up in the moonlight. She looked into it and saw herself. She began to pose into it and kiss at her reflection. Simon was annoyed. He snatched it back and put it in his pocket. “It’s for spying. It can’t pass the barrier, because that would violate my solitude spell. I was very shocked that your cat was able to come in, but then again, she IS made of natural magic. She left before I could pin down a strand, though.”

“What does that mean?” He asked, defensively.

“It’s like tracing her back to where her magic originated… like to find out who you stole her from.”

He was angry now, “She’s been with me my entire life!”

“Okay, so who your parents stole her from…”

Simon reached out and was knocked across the grounds. Grace sighed. At this point, there was no need to go help him up. He knew not to try to attack her. She went back into her cottage and waited for him to come back.

He hit the barrier and grunted, “Dammit!” Then tossed the necklace to the ground and stormed inside. "Don't talk about my parents!"

"You don't even know them, Simon. They could have been scandalous rascals!"

He was furious, but he’d already hurt himself reaching out for her too angrily, so he simply smirked and said, “Your feet are scandalous rascals.”

“STOP TALKING ABOUT MY FEET! They’ve got character!” She whined, folding her arms. Simon kneeled in front of her and held his hands out in front of him. Runes on his wrist glowed and he stuck his hands into the water. “Simon!” the water bubbled, but didn’t heat up and Grace removed her feet, reflexively and saw that they looked sloughed and smoothed. She hadn’t seen her feet be this soft and flawless since she was a girl. “What did you do?”

“I healed them,” he said.

“Where did you steal the magic to do that?” She asked.

“Just… say thanks. Your feet are now as beautiful as the rest of you.”

She blushed, but she was frustrated. “Please, don’t ever use that kind of magic on me without my consent again. I’m disappointing enough to my mother without adding magical tainting."

"What's disappointing about you? Aside from those gargoyles you called feet?" She kicked him and he caught her foot and cradled it. "Really. What's your mom's problem. I watched everybody fawn over you all day."

"I'm supposed to be a queen of the One someday. By now, I should have been married, made whole by my soul mate, with child, and ready to ascend to the throne someday, raising my child to do the same."

"You're too young to be married! You've barely lived yet."

"A princess's life is doing what her kingdom needs. But, my soul mate died, and the One never revealed another… and all of the suitors are not powerful enough to make into a king… but… I may have to settle. I only have a few more years. If I turn 21 and have no heir, my parents will have to look outside of our house for my successor. I'll be the first queen who didn't put a Monroe born on the throne."

"What's so special about the Monroes?"

"We're descended from the original witches. There were certain families, descended from them, with natural Magic. Many have faded away. Some have married non-magical and evolved into blended families. The Monroes have never yet done this. We're the oldest of the natural magic families and the… purest…"

"That only comes with high concentration of inbreeding."

" No. That's not true. We've had seers to help guide us in order to avoid that. They get someone with natural magic for us to breed with. Then, a priestess intertwines our destinies. We're raised to be the person who completes the other. Our marriage is preordained by magic and our consummation is the fulfilment… but, my soul mate got sick when I was young and we lost him." She pulled her foot back. "And, now you know most of my flaws."

"Those aren't flaws. We're magic, Grace. We should be able to write our own destinies! Your mother is disappointed because she's weak."

"You've felt her magic. You know that isn't true."

"Her magic is wasted on someone so easily controlled. You're an amazing witch. This place doesn't deserve your power."

She smiled and flicked his ponytail with her fingertips. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up. You're not so bad, for one of them. Tomorrow… would you like to come to the fair with me?"

"Fair?"

"Yes. It's a gathering that the natural witches have to share our gifts with each other. You seem recovered, and you haven't left, so… one day of fun should be… nice."

"Go to the fair with you, as your guest?"

"Yes."

"Okay…"

"Thank you for my pretty new feet." She left through the curtain and he saw the glimmer of her vanishing. He couldn't help but to smile… until he felt a sharp pain in his armpit. He held himself and looked in the mirror.

The veins looked like vines pulsating with the venom of the blood oath. Holding himself, he went outside and picked up the necklace. Maybe this was helpful? He put it on his neck. Nothing seemed different.

But, on Amelia's end, she could see everything that the pendant pointed at, and she could sense through Simon's contact with it that he was in pain. He formed his fingers to try to conjure up something to allow the pendant into Grace's cottage. Amelia noted and assisted him from where she was. He got passed the barrier and looked at his infected wound in the mirror again. Amelia was standing behind him and startled him. "Amelia!"

"You're supposed to get close to her without letting her into your head. You're making yourself ill by not doing that. You'll die before you even have a chance to strike."

"She's trusting me. She asked me out on a date tomorrow. Is there a way to slow down this venom?"

"Yes. Succeed. Gain her trust, get close, kill her. Don't let her destroy what we've built."

"What if… I mean… she doesn't seem to be a threat. She's a powerful witch, but she doesn't even understand her own power. They've raised her to be a babymaker…"

"One way or another, Simon, if you don't destroy her, she will destroy you."

"I'll take her out as soon as I can. She has a very strong protective spell by her mother…"

"Kill the mother, end the protection."

"Acknowledged." Amelia faded from behind him in the mirror. He tried to address his throbbing armpit, but it was no use. The magic of the blood oath probably set out against him for helping Grace earlier. All he did was make her feet nice! He took a potion for the pain and got some rest. He had a date with a princess tomorrow and she'd have a date with death...

[prince-claremont-diaz]

étoiles et fleurs

Summary: Lucas is next in line for the throne, about to be engaged to marry a young noble woman and he hates it. That is, until he runs into the curious florist, Eliott, on a walk through the city. Lucas has little choices in life, but will one of them be Eliott?

Word count: 2.9k 

Warnings: none

ao3 version:

ii.

Lucas sighed, putting his book down on his knees and turning to look out the window and onto the grounds. The massive garden was alive with colour, the lawn a vibrant green, flowers of every kind covering the hedges and trees and bushes. Roses and marigolds and lilies and carnations, perfectly trimmed and watered.

That day, it was a particularly clear afternoon, only a few pale white clouds bobbing along the pale blue June sky. Lucas could see one of the gardeners out with his clippers, trimming the hedges neatly.

Lucas looked along the corridor for any signs of life, tilting his head back against the window frame, tucking his knees in closer on the bay window. He could barely get a second of peace anymore now that he was technically dating Chloé. Although it was hardly dating since it was arranged and he couldn't stand the girl. The more he got to know her, the more he realised she was physically incapable of not talking, always going on and on about complete nonsense. She talked his ear off at dinner about annoying servants, complained in the garden about friends back home, babbled in the library about her new clothes she was sent.

Opening his book once again, Lucas pushed all thoughts about Chloé out of his mind and continued to read his book.

He was almost onto the next chapter, starting to get into the scene, when he heard quick footsteps behind him, followed by someone grabbing his shoulders. Lucas startled, dropping his book onto the floor with a thud and spinning around so fast his neck clicked. When he came face to face with none other than Yann, his startled frown melted into a grin. "You gave me a fucking heart attack, Yann!" he whined, shoving his friend and getting off the window sill.

Yann snorted, shoving his shoulder back. "Don't be such a drama queen—sorry, prince. It's not my fault you're jumpier than a kitten," Yann replied, smirking and jumping out of the way of Lucas' swat. "Oho, that's not very nice, is it? I know I'm just a servant, but surely you don't have to be so cruel!" Yann mocked defense, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

"Can I help you, Yann?" Lucas asked, crossing his own arms.

Yann shrugged casually, plopping onto the windowsill with his back against the window. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, your Royal Highness?" Yann teased. He digressed, straightening up. "But really, no. Mum let me go for a wander and I was bored so I came to exactly where I knew you'd be."

"How'd you know I'd be here? No one else knows about this area," Lucas asked, furrowing his eyebrows together, "No one ever comes here because it's not even near any staff quarters."

"Oh, Lulu, you underestimate me," Yann replied, "Of course I know where you hide from your little girlfriend. You're far too predictable, really." Lucas rolled his eyes. "A distant, mostly deserted corner of the castle which is relatively close to the library and has a good enough view of the gardens? Hmm, I wonder how I figured out you'd be here…"

Lucas leaned against the wall by the window and slid down to the floor with his back against the wall. "Okay, so maybe I am a little predictable," Lucas admitted. He lifted his fallen book and flattened out its pages, closing it properly and setting it down by his side. "But can you blame me for hiding? That girl never stops. I needed a break before dinner later on."

"How on earth would I ever manage to talk to her, Lucas?" Yann deadpanned, staring at Lucas, "I'm just the butler's son and she's a noble who is soon-to-most-likely-be-engaged to the heir to the throne."

Lucas groaned, shut his eyes and hit his head against the wall. "Fuck. Sorry," he muttered, "I don't use my head at all."

Yann poked his nose with his finger. "No, you don't," Yann said, "But it's okay. I forgive you."

They fell into amicable silence, Yann watching the gardener water the plats while Lucas fiddled with the pages of his book, legs outstretched in front of him. If he really strained, Lucas could just about hear the chirping of birds outside the window.

"Do you really think I'm going to have to be engaged to Chloé?" Lucas asked after they had been sitting in silence for almost 20 minutes. He looked over his shoulder, making Yann turn his head from the window down to him.

Yann sighed, placing a comforting hand on one of Lucas' shoulders. "I hate to break it to you, but yes," Yann admitted sadly, "Most likely. She's from a noble family that has pretty much always backed your family and she's been basically living here since late April. And you're of marrying age. I think it's safe to say you'll be engaged at least by the end of summer."

Lucas groaned, falling onto his side on the itchy carpet, burying his face in his hands. "But I don't want to marry her," Lucas whined, distorted by his hands, "She's annoying and talks too much and I'm not even 21 yet. I don't wanna marry anybody yet." Yann climbed off the bay window and settled down beside Lucas, forcing him to sit up. "I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes I really hate being the prince." Lucas rested his head on Yann's shoulder, scowling.

Yann reached up and patted his head. "I know, Lucas," he said, "I'm sorry." Lucas frowned deeper, glancing sideways.

"Sorry? What for?"

"Even though you're a royal and have all these privileges, at least I have more choices in life than you."

♤

Dinner that evening was a disaster. Lucas' father called him out for hiding from Chloé all day because she asked multiple people where he was (including the king!). This turned into his father yelling about duty and chivalry and honour and how Lucas would never be a good enough king. Chloé cried, his mother left the dining hall shaking, his father accidentally broke a plate slamming his hand on it in anger and Lucas stormed out of the dining hall with his hands curled into tight fists.

Lucas burst into the hallway, pacing the floor and breathing heavily, tightening and loosening his fists. The doors to the dining hall swung open again and Manon hurried out, holding up her scarlet dress, hair a mess. Lucas was hunched, leaned against the wall, eyes burning with hot tears as he tried to keep himself from punching the wall out of anger.

"Lucas? Lucas, are you okay?" she asked, striding over to him. She held his fists in both her hands, uncurling his fingers to reveal red rimmed crescents indenting his palms. "He's wrong, Lucas. None of that is true. You'll be a far better king than he ever has been, okay? You have more chivalry and honour in your big toe than he does in his entire body." She wiped the tears from his cheeks, smiling sadly.

"But what if he's not wrong? What if, when I become king, I ruin everything?" Lucas cried, sniffling. "And I'm hardly ready to marry anyone nevermind her."

"Maybe if you tell mother—"

Lucas cut her off and shoved her away. "No! I'm never going to be satisfied with my spouse and you know it," Lucas snapped, "I'll never be happy enough with who I marry and our parents won't ever care." Manon started to reply, but Lucas was already marching out of the hallway, heels clicking on the stone floor.

"Lucas, where are you going?" Manon called after him, hands on her hips and worried frown on her face.

"Out! Anywhere is better than here!" he called over his shoulder, storming down a flight of stairs. He heard Manon's heels following him down the stairs frantically, hair flowing behind her and skirt bunched into her fists. "You're not stopping me, Manon."

"Come on, Lucas. Don't do this. You can't just leave the castle."

Lucas stopped and spun around, fresh tears in his eyes, making Manon blur in his vision. "I'm just going for a walk, okay? I'll be back later." And before Manon could protest further, Lucas spun back around and stormed out the front doors once again.

♤

It was sunset by the time Lucas reached the middle of the city. He was mostly calm now, walking through the winding streets. The evening air was cool against his skin, having neglected wearing a coat, which left him in his simple white button down. All the market stalls were shut for the night as well, only a few shops and restaurants still open. The streets were almost deserted and Lucas only passed a handful of people, thankfully. He was considering turning back, shivering with cold, when he stumbled upon a small florists still open, warm light flooding onto the dim street.

Lucas pulled his sleeves over his hands and stepped inside the shop. He was instantly overwhelmed by the strong floral scent filling the air, along with the pleasant heat coming from a small fireplace in the corner. Lucas glanced around the entire store, brushing his fingers over the soft petals and leaves, occasionally leaning down to smell one.

"Hello," a voice said in his ear. Lucas lept to the side, whipping his head up, eyes wide. He found himself barely an inch away from the same florist from the market stall pess than a month ago.

"Fuck, you scared me!" Lucas exclaimed, clutching his chest.

The man chuckled, eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to!" he replied, still laughing, "I was just coming to see if my customer needed anything. Looks like I found my favourite one."

Lucas flushed, distracting himself by fidgeting with the stem of a gloxinia.

"It's been a while. I was starting to think you were a dream," the man continued, "Or at least that you weren't coming back." The man was standing so close to Lucas he could feel his breath on the side of his face and neck. It sent a chill down his spine.

"Yeah, I've been, uh, busy," Lucas replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "And I live just outside of the city, so it's hard to come here often, I guess."

"What a shame," the man said. "Where's your companion from last time? The magnolia girl."

Lucas snorted at the memory. "She's back home. I came here myself."

The man nodded and clapped his hands together once. "Right. Well, can I do anything for you today?" he asked, stepping away finally to gesture towards the flowers surrounding them. "I'm Eliott, by the way. I don't believe I introduced myself last time. Silly me." He held out his hand in front of Lucas.

Lucas shook his hand, lingering for far too long to be considered normal. "Lu—Louis."

Eliott smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. He's onto me. "Well, Louis, what can I do for you? Another arrangement for a special someone?" Eliott asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. He gestured around the shop again. "I can do loads of different bouquets for all occasions."

Lucas stepped past Eliott further into the shop, looking around the room at the seemingly endless array of flowers filling the room. They were set in baskets and vases and paper bags on the wall, overlapping endlessly in a rainbow of petals and leaves and ribbons. Lucas made his way all the way to the back of the shop where he found a bunch of parchment stuck to the wall, adorned with what looked like pressed azaleas and peonies.

"They're my favourite flowers," Eliott said, appearing by Lucas' side, "They symbolise my soul. Like spirit flowers or something."

Lucas walked ever closer to the wall, lightly touching one of the azalea petals. "So like floriography?" Lucas asked casually, glancing sideways at Eliott. Eliott's smile softened, looking down at Lucas through his lashes.

He nodded. "Yeah. Exactly like that."

"So." Lucas turned his entire body towards Eliott, who mirrored him. "What flowers am I? What's my soul flower?" Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly, suggestively.

A sharp intake of breath. A grin. A pause. Eliott looked Lucas up and down thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side. The silence in the air hung heavy and charged, but no less comfortable. "I don't know. I'll think about it," Eliott said after a moment. "Maybe come back and I'll have one in mind."

"Okay then…" Lucas turned around, circling the store once again. "Will you make me an arrangement at least? Any that you like. Any occasion you can think of," he said, walking backwards, grinning. Eliott followed him, eyes full of mirth.

"Now that I can do." And then Eliott was hurrying around the small shop, knocking down baskets and grabbing flowers here and there seemingly haphazardly. Lucas hopped up onto the cash desk, swinging his legs back and forth as he watched Eliott hurtling around the room collecting the flowers for the bouquet. It was the most fun Lucas had had in weeks, watching Eliott stumble and scatter around, a man on a mission, barely pausing for breath.

After five minutes, Eliott came over to the table with a bundle of flowers, laying them down and searching through the stack of ribbons. He pulled out a baby blue one and went to work arranging the flower assortment into the way he liked. Lucas watched with interest, giggling when Eliott dropped flowers or struggled over tying the neat bow to perfection. Finally, after making sure the bouquet was satisfactory, Eliott presented the bouquet with a flick of the wrist, holding it up for Lucas to take.

Lucas gasped as he looked over the arrangement. It was made with gloxinias, yellow tulips, white carnations and a few sprigs of heathers, all bunched together perfectly tied with the baby blue ribbon. Love at first sight, loveliness, admiration, Lucas thought to himself. The mixture of flowers smelled divine. Lucas glanced back up at Eliott, cheeks burning, and smiled flirtatiously. Eliott watched Lucas inspecting the floral arrangement, smirking, eyes glinting hopefully. Lucas took another whiff of the bouquet, eyes closing with contentment.

He looked back at Eliott and raised his eyebrows. "This is quite the selection of flowers you chose," Lucas said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well I thought they would suit you, now," Eliott replied simply, "I'm glad you like it." He stepped forwards, closing the majority of the gap between them. He was only a few inches away, warm breath hitting Lucas' face with mint and coffee. Lucas sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he peered up at the taller man with awe and something he thought was attraction. Lucas could have sworn he saw a similar look in Eliott's bright eyes that stared straight into his soul.

"How much is the bouquet?" Lucas asked, taking a step back and clearing his throat.

Eliott blinked, stepping back as well, face falling briefly before returning to a polite smile. Lucas' heart fell with it. "You can have it for free," Eliott said, "Take it as a gift from me."

"Are you sure? I assure you I can afford it—"

Eliott nodded. "I insist. Your sweetheart must get gifts like these often. Perhaps you should get something for a change." Eliott pushed the bouquet closer to Lucas' chest, still forcing a polite smile. Lucas caught Eliott's wrist, staring at him.

"Thank you, Eliott."

Eliott gulped. He glanced at Lucas' grasp on his wrist and back at Lucas, eyes wide. "I'm serious. No one's ever done something like this for me. So, thank you," Lucas repeated, deadly serious. His heart was racing with the intensity in the air between them, eyes burning from staring at Eliott so long.

"Well, I'm glad I can be the one to do it for you," Eliott replied, finally breaking their eye contact, glancing at the bouquet. "You deserve—"

"Eliott? Are you ready to go?"

Lucas ripped his hand off of Eliott's wrist, jumping back and nearly tossing his flowers behind him. Both men turned towards the door to the shop where a young woman was standing looking at them curiously. She glanced at Lucas and he turned away, avoiding her eyes.

Eliott peered at Lucas and back at the woman. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "Lucille. I apologise, but I was just speaking with this customer and, er, got a bit distracted," Eliott replied, moving towards the back of the shop and disappearing behind the desk. Lucas watched the exchange with his heart at his knees, face scarlet.

Lucas took a deep breath, straightening his trousers and pushing past the woman–Lucille and into the street. "Thanks for the flowers, sir," he said over his shoulder, ignoring the woman and looking at Eliott behind her. "The recipient will love them, I'm sure," he added cryptically, smiling politely. Lucas turned fully away and began his trek back down the street, sighing.

"I'll see you again soon, sir." Lucas stopped walking. He turned back around and found Eliott standing outside of the shop, hands in his pockets. Lucille was unlocking the door to the shop, back turned to them. "Please." Lucille finished, turning to face Eliott and Lucas.

Lucas nodded stiffly, gesturing with the flowers. "If you can find my soul flower, I'll certainly be back for more of these arrangements," he replied. Before Eliott even had the chance to react or reply, Lucas was already hurrying away down the street. He looked down at the bouquet once again and couldn't help but smile despite the discomfort caused by the girl interrupting them.

Maybe he would be coming back to the city more often.

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 18

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Platonic!Drake x MC

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season. Some of the dialogue was taken directly from Book 1 of The Royal Romance but was changed a bit to fit my fic.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @indiacater, @alexintheskyy, @jared2612

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

It was freezing out. December was in full swing and as the snow fell softly outside, Ali was glad to be in the safety of Drake and Liam’s apartment, trapped on the couch within a blanket burrito of her own making. Winter was her favorite season and there was nothing she loved more than being cuddled up under warm blankets while there was a slight chill in the air of the apartment. Drake had been scarce recently, and Ali had suspicions that he was seeing someone even if he refused to confirm it. Liam, however, was due back home from work any second, and she was eagerly awaiting his return. 

As she was reaching for the remote to change the channel, the door opened and the man who was plaguing her thoughts walked in bundled up in a long, black, wool coat, and burgundy scarf in attempts to block out the cold, New York air. There was a slight sprinkling of snow covering his clothing, and as he saw Ali curled up on the couch, he was filled with both envy of her warmth and amusement at her ridiculous appearance. He quickly shrugged off his coat, pulled the blankets off of her and dropped down on top of her small frame. She jumped at the intrusion and hastily reached over his back to throw the blankets back over them.

“What are you doing?” she half-screamed, her body now shivering along with his. 

“I was cold,” he said with a chuckle, resting his head on her chest. 

Ali smiled down at him and relaxed as she felt the material of his suit jacket under her fingers. She loved the playful side of her boyfriend that not many got to see. However, not seconds later, she jumped again as Liam pushed her shirt up, gripping onto the warm skin of her sides with his cold hands.

“Your hands are freezing!” she said. 

She squirmed underneath him in attempts to get away from him, but the weight of his body on top of hers kept her firmly in place. 

“Stop touching me with your disgustingly cold fingers,” she whined, still trying to push him away.

“But, you’re so warm,” he spoke into the soft material of her shirt. 

By now his hands were beginning to warm up, and although she wanted to be petty and continue to complain about his actions, her heart softened as he closed his eyes and attempted to wrap his arms around her. Ali moved her own hands up from his back and began to run her fingers gently through Liam’s blond hair, causing his body to melt closer into her.

“You’re so lucky that I love you,” she teased.

“I know.”

~~~

Ali pulled her covers up to her chin and stared out the window in her room from her spot on the bed. The sun had risen a few hours ago, and she knew that she should be getting ready for the second day of the Apple Blossom Festival, but she couldn’t seem to find the courage to get out of bed. Last night had been good. It was fun, and she genuinely enjoyed herself. But, for some reason, she broke down in tears as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was exhausted and scared, and having to come home to an empty room after being surrounded by people all day made her feel isolated.

A loud knock startled her, but instead of answering the door, she sunk further into her pillows and pulled her blankets tighter around her body. The knocking persisted, and when she still didn’t respond, the door opened.

“Why are you still in bed?” Bertrand asked, as he and Maxwell walked into the room. 

Ali didn’t have a good answer for this. She didn’t know how to explain to them that she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to get out of bed. She didn’t know how to tell them that she felt like she was falling apart; that she knew someone was literally out to get her while she was pregnant with the future heir to the throne, and it was mentally exhausting. All she wanted in that moment was Liam. She wanted to run into his arms and have him tell her that everything was going to be okay, but she knew that once he found out about her pregnancy all hell would break loose. He couldn’t be strong for her right now. She needed to be strong for herself. 

“I’m getting up now,” she said instead, throwing the blankets off of her body.

“The best dressed lady today will be crowned Apple Queen. The title itself is mostly just for show, but it is important in terms of impressing the people and gaining their favor,” Bertrand said, urging her to move faster.

He shoved a garment bag into her hand that she hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“What’s this?” she asked, placing it down onto the bed so she could unzip it.

“I was able to procure a historically accurate rendition of a Cordonian peasant’s best gown from the country’s most prestigious stage production company,” he said.

Ali pulled the blue and white dress off of the hanger and went into the bathroom to change. Bertrand wore a satisfied smile on his face when she emerged. 

“You are guaranteed to become Apple Queen in this dress,” he said, as Ali fiddled with her hair.

“Are you ready?” Bertrand asked, giving her a once over, his eyes lingering on her face. 

She nodded in response, and the three of them made their way out to the orchard. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but make sure not to pout in front of the cameras,” Bertrand whispered, looking back down at her face again.

The fact that Bertrand was still being his usual, pushy self was reassuring. It made her feel normal on the outside, even when her mind was bustling with chaos.

The air was buzzing with excitement when they stepped into the orchard, but Ali couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. The thought that someone was watching her was unsettling.

“Ready to show off your baking skills?” Hana asked, cheerfully.

Lizzie groaned from beside her. The dark-haired woman was wearing large sunglasses and was obviously hungover from drinking too much the previous night.

“Yeah, I am actually,” Ali said happily. 

If there was one thing she was happy about, it was that her love for baking was finally being put to use. Although, it didn’t slip her mind that it was kind of ridiculous to be baking in the middle of the orchard. 

“Good, because right now you need to focus on impressing the queen. Let everything else fall away and make House Beaumont proud,” Bertrand said from his spot next to her. 

He and Maxwell excused themselves, and Madeleine sidled up next to her.

“Lady Alison, it’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to join us in the festivities today,” she said in a sweet tone that Ali recognized as anything but nice. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You’ve just been looking a little… sick lately,” the other woman commented with a smirk.

“Have I?” Ali asked, wondering if Madeleine actually knew something or if she was just trying to intimidate her again.

“Yes, and I noticed that you left the festival quite early yesterday evening. I have to admit I’m beginning to wonder if the pressure of the season is starting to get to you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I feel just fine, Madeleine,” Ali said, ending the conversation. 

The pie baking competition was easy. She spent most of it taking orders from Olivia, but she felt no need to fight the duchess on this. Olivia seemed to know what she was doing and arguing would have only slowed the process down. It was the Apple Queen ceremony that had Ali completely flustered. She felt like she was suffocating while she stood with the other ladies as the crowd cheered them on. 

“Lady Alison will be this year’s Apple Queen,” Regina said, pulling Ali out of her thoughts. 

Ali wiped the surprised look off of her face and smiled at the crowd. 

“Wooooo! Go, Ali. Party like it 1299! All hail the Apple Queen from the Big Apple!” Maxwell yelled from somewhere in the crowd. 

Ali held back a laugh as she approached Regina for the “coronation”

“Queen Regina, it’s an honor. Thank you all for electing me to represent you as the Apple Queen,” she said, meeting Bertrand’s eyes through the group of people. “I’m happy to accept this esteemed position, and I will treat it with the utmost respect.”

He nodded proudly at her, a genuine smile on his face. She went through the rest of the ceremony with a new surge of confidence. She knew that if Bertrand, the most difficult person to impress, was proud of her, then she had done something right. 

“As your final honor, you are entitled to a kiss, my queen,” Liam said, approaching her and kneeling before her. 

Ali looked down at him, the adoration in his eyes evident, and her mood came crashing back down. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. The pride that she had been feeling just moments before had been replaced with a feeling of guilt for not telling him about the baby. The seriousness of their situation was once again brought to her attention and hearing him call her “my queen” brought up a negative emotion that she couldn’t quite place. It was a cross between longing and dread. Longing for the day he could officially call her that, but dread at the thought that everything would come crashing down and that day would never come. 

She remembered all of the good times they had shared together: the two of them wrapped up in each other’s arms in bed, Liam mocking her for being afraid of a nonexistent ghost, their first “I love you”. Then the bad began to come forward: her crying for him at the airport as he got on a plane back to Cordonia, every night she couldn’t sleep without him the first few months after he left, the press cornering them the morning after the bachelor party and Liam dismissing her. A look of confusion passed over his face at her troubled expression, but she quickly wiped it away and forced on a smile. 

“Prince Liam, I humbly accept your offer,” she said, 

Liam rose to his feet and kissed her cheek gently, his hand squeezing hers in both a comforting and questioning manner. The crowd began to disperse as the Apple Queen ceremony came to an end, and Regina approached her, a diplomatic smile on her face.

“It’s time I head back to Applewood Manor, but please feel free to enjoy the festival as the reigning Apple Queen. Past queens have been popular at the apple bobbing contest.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The queen walked away, and Ali visibly relaxed. 

“There’s our glorious Apple Queen,” Maxwell said happily, pushing past groups of people to get to her.

“I heard you out there. Thanks for cheering me on,” she said, punching his arm playfully.

“Well, somebody had to do it, but I’m actually here to tell you that Liam’s waiting for you in the manor’s conservatory. It’s across the estate.” 

“Thanks, Max. I’ll head over there now. Hey, can you meet me later? There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said. 

She had made up her mind. Maxwell had been in her corner since day one, and she needed to tell him. He shot her a confused look, but nodded anyway. 

The conservatory was beautiful. As Ali entered it, the smell of flowers and plants overtook her senses, and she stopped to breath it in for a second. It had a calming effect on her. The sun shone through the entire area through a glass ceiling, and it gave her an odd sense of being both outside and inside at the same time. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe before walking further into the conservatory. 

Liam was standing in front of a large fountain in the middle of the conservatory.

“Ali, thank you for meeting me,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m fine,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it in hers.

“You didn’t look fine in the orchard,” he persisted in a low voice.

“Really, I’m okay. It was all just a bit overwhelming.”

“The ceremony?” 

Ali nodded in response but didn’t meet his eyes. Liam sighed softly, his concern clearly evident.

“I spoke to Drake,” Liam said, softly.

Ali’s head snapped up. Drake wouldn’t tell him about the baby. There was no way.

“He voiced a concern that the person who tipped off the press about your ‘relationship’ with him may try to hurt you again,” he said.

“And you agree with him?” she asked, quickly recovering. 

“I have learned to trust Drake’s instincts. If he believes something is wrong then I know he has reason to.” 

“I think it may have been Madeleine.” 

“Why do you think that?” Liam asked, shocked.

“She said some things earlier. Maybe she was just being passive aggressive, but they didn’t sit well with me,” she said.

Liam nodded and pursed his lips in concentration. 

“I’ll have someone look into it.”

Ali nodded and pointed in the direction of the door. She was trying to get out of their as quickly as possible, her discomfort and paranoia dictating her every move.

“We should probably head back,” she said, already turning to leave.

“Wait!” Liam said, causing her to turn back to him. “Are you sure everything’s okay. You still seem upset.” 

Ali sighed. She knew that then would have been the perfect moment to tell him, but as she looked up at him, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“Can you hold me?” she whispered, finally breaking down and needing his arms around her. 

Liam looked down at her and pulled her glasses gently off of her face. He placed them into his jacket pocket before pulling her into his arms. Ali buried her face in his chest and willed all of her anxieties away. 

“What’s bothering you, my love?” Liam asked, his voice was gentle, soothing.

“I just… have a bad feeling,” she said, moving out of his arms and wiping away a stray tear. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing. If there’s something causing this feeling you know you could tell me, right?” he asked, placing his hands on her arms to keep her from turning away from him. 

“Of course, I know. There’s just… a lot going on,” she said, nervously fiddling with one of the buttons of his white shirt.

“You mean with the season?” he asked.

She nodded, and reached into his pocket to pull out her glasses. 

“We really need to get back out there. Madeleine already noticed that I left the festival early yesterday. I’m sure other people have too,” she said. 

Ali reached up and pulled Liam into a gentle kiss. It was slow and soft, and she tried to pour as much of her love into it as possible. 

“I love you,” she mumbled against his lips. 

“I love you too,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the conservatory. 

They parted ways when they made it back to the orchard, and Ali took Regina’s advice and found the apple bobbing contest. 

“Hey, are you going to participate?” Lizzie asked, her sunglasses now off as she chewed an apple. 

“Yeah, Regina said that it’s pretty popular with Apple Queens, so I figured I might as well give it a shot,” she said, with a smile. 

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as a little girl in a peach dress pulled her head from the bucket, a large apple clenched between her teeth. 

“Lady Alison, would you like to go next?” the woman in charge of the booth asked.

“Yes, I would love to,” Ali said, tying her hair back. 

She saw the press gather around them enthusiastically as she took off her glasses and handed them to Lizzie. Ali took a breath and picked out an apple before placing her head in the large basin. Her teeth closed around the Cordonian Ruby, and she once again fought back a gag as she raised her head, the press snapping pictures the entire time. 

“Oh, these really are terrible,” Ali mumbled to Lizzie under her breath as she took her glasses back. 

“I quite like them, actually. But, they’re definitely an acquired taste,” she responded as they linked arms and walked away from the booth. 

After she decided that she had spent enough time at the festival, Ali left the orchard and made a beeline for her room, ready to lie down. 

“You wanted to talk?” Maxwell asked, already waiting by her door for her. 

“We should talk in here,” Drake said, opening the door to his room and nodding for them to come in before she had a chance to respond. 

When Ali entered the room she was surprised to see both Bastien and Charlie waiting for them there. 

“What’s going on?” she asked confused. 

“Maxwell mentioned that you wanted to talk to him earlier, and I figured now would be a good time to tell you our plan,” Drake said. 

“Why am I here?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, what did you need to talk to me about?” Maxwell piped up. 

Ali was beginning to get overwhelmed. She had originally only planned on speaking to Maxwell, now she was standing in a room full of men, and she was being forced to talk about something intimate with them.

“Ali, why don’t you take a seat?” Bastien said, placing his hand on her elbow and leading her to a chair in the corner of the room. 

Ali took a seat and looked up to Drake for reassurance. He simply nodded at her, and she took a breath. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Maxwell and Charlie simultaneously dropped their jaws, and the former snapped his head back and forth between her and Drake.

“The two of you?” he asked, gesturing wildly between them. 

It was Ali’s turn to drop her jaw in shock. 

“No!” she said, grabbing the cushion that was behind her and throwing it at him. 

It hit him square in the face, and Drake let out an amused chuckle. 

“I’m sorry! You just looked over at him before you said it so I assumed,” Maxwell said, trying to defend himself. 

“Ew! No! I looked over at him because Drake was the only one that knew. Or at least, I thought he was.”

“Hey!” Drake said, offended, “I know we’re just friends, but I wouldn’t say ‘ew’!”

“Really? You want to have this conversation now?” Ali asked sarcastically. 

“I just think “ew” is a bit of an exaggeration,” Drake said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ali rolled her eyes and was going to respond when Maxwell spoke up instead.

“Liam doesn’t know?” he asked. 

Ali looked down at her hands and picked at her fingernail. All of the energy she had from bickering with Drake now suddenly gone.

“Wait. What do you mean you thought Drake was the only one that knew?” Charlie asked. 

“I got a tip off that someone was trying to sell pictures to the press of Drake buying a pregnancy test, and Ali throwing up after the Regatta,” Bastien began. “We assumed that the person following them that day is the same one who tipped off the press after the Derby. We don’t know for sure that whoever’s doing this is dangerous, but we need to be extra cautious now that she’s carrying the future heir to the throne. Charlie, you’re Ali’s new guard. I need you to stay close to her at all times and look out for anything suspicious.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie responded, serious again. 

“Ali, you need to tell Liam,” Bastien said softly, now turning to her. 

She could see the sympathetic look in his eyes as he spoke. His demeanor now calm and reassuring instead of authoritative like it was before. 

“I know,” she responded, nervously biting her lip again. 

“Why haven’t you told him yet?” Maxwell asked cautiously, afraid of setting her off again.

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do. Constantine already doesn’t want me to become queen. How do you think he’s going to react when he hears that I’m pregnant?” she said, gripping tightly onto the arm of the chair she was sitting in. 

She was getting increasingly agitated and uncomfortable at the situation she was currently in. The four men exchanged nervous looks, and this only served to irritate Ali even more.

“Don’t do that! If you have something to say then just say it!” she said angrily. 

“You’re right. We don’t know what’s going to happen when everyone finds out, and it most likely won’t be good,” Bastien said, approaching her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But, Liam needs to know. He can help you through this.”

Ali visibly deflated. 

“I know. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Look, none of us know what you’re going through, but we just want to help. Get some rest tonight. You can think about talking to him tomorrow,” Drake said, as everyone began walking to the door. 

Ali nodded and got up from her chair as well, wishing she could just curl up and sleep through the next nine months. 

[elara-moon]

Title: Happy Together (chapter two: BingQiu Week Day Two)

Author: Elara_Moon

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Summary: BingQiu Week Day Two: Royalty AU. Shen Qingqiu is a minor noble. Luo Binghe is the long-lost heir to the throne.

AO3 Link

The halls were filled with gossip. The nobles, the maids, the guards, everyone was talking, and all about one man.

Luo Binghe.

He was, apparently, the long-lost son of TianLang-Jun, the king. TianLang-Jun’s pregnant wife, Su Xiyan, had gone missing while traveling, and she had been presumed dead. Now, Luo Binghe had appeared, eighteen years old and an accomplished swordsman, with the necklace TianLang-Jun had given Su Xiyan as a courting gift.

He was believed immediately; absolutely nobody had any doubts that he was telling the truth. Everyone talked about how handsome he was, how charming he was, how skilled he was.

Shen Qingqiu felt that his story was a little farfetched, but who was he to complain? He didn’t care who became king. Shen Qingqiu was only minor nobility; barely noble at all. It was none of his business. Besides, he hadn’t even met the man -- nor did he care to.

He cared far more about his books.

He was sitting in one of the gardens, reading his book. Though it wasn’t private, this garden wasn’t especially popular, so it was usually fairly empty. It meant that the sound of an approaching crowd was even more obvious than it might usually be.

Frowning faintly at the interruption, Shen Qingqiu looked up -- and directly into the dark eyes of Luo Binghe. Though Shen Qingqiu hadn’t met him, and didn’t know what he looked like, Luo Binghe was immediately recognizable by the royal purple edging on his black clothes. Even if not for that, though, Shen Qingqiu thought he would have recognized him anyway. Some of the descriptions he’d heard of Luo Binghe went through his mind -- breathtaking, the most handsome man in the kingdom, unfairly pretty, the very personification of attraction.

Yeah. Those things definitely fit this man. Especially when his expression, previously calm and serious, lit up with a smile as he met Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t bad looking, but this man was gorgeous.

Luo Binghe wasn’t alone, of course. The crowd Shen Qingqiu had heard was Luo Binghe’s entourage. Guards, advisors, and admirers crowded around Luo Binghe, more than a dozen people in all.

Better him than me, Shen Qingqiu thought. The thought of being subjected to it himself horrified him.

Aware of propriety, Shen Qingqiu dragged his eyes off of Luo Binghe’s features (which were unfairly pretty indeed) and back to his book. After a moment, however, it became unavoidably obvious that Luo Binghe was walking towards Shen Qingqiu. There was no other reason for him to be aiming for Shen Qingqiu’s little corner of the considerable garden.

Oh no. That could be bad. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong, or anything he’d done that could have offended Luo Binghe, but there were no good reasons for the crown prince of the kingdom to be approaching Shen Qingqiu, either.

Shen Qingqiu stood as Luo Binghe approached, and Luo Binghe stopped directly in front of him. He was still smiling, bright and somehow delighted. The entourage stopped a polite distance away, though they were definitely still eavesdropping.

“Shen Qingqiu?” Luo Binghe said.

Heart pounding, Shen Qingqiu managed a nod and a bow. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said.

And then Luo Binghe dropped to one knee in front of him. Shen Qingqiu just about had a heart attack. What was that! Prince, what were you doing!?

Luo Binghe offered a ring to him. It was a nice ring, with a diamond inlay. Shen Qingqiu stifled a scream.

“Shen Qingqiu. Will you marry me?” Luo Binghe asked, still smiling. He seemed happy. He seemed as though this was normal, like he was asking his boyfriend, a person he’d actually ever even met before.

The entourage, previously silent, burst into hushed chatter.

Shen Qingqiu only did not react by pure strength of will and many years of practice at court. Inwardly, he was freaking out. What was he supposed to do now! He couldn’t just say no to the crown prince of the kingdom! But how could he say yes!? They’d never even met!

Why was Luo Binghe proposing to him!?

The silence dragged on a little too long. Luo Binghe’s smile started to falter.

They needed to talk about this. Obviously. Shen Qingqiu needed to get Luo Binghe to explain. But not in front of The Entourage.

Shen Qingqiu reached out, grabbing Luo Binghe’s arm (which was audacious and presumptuous, but oh well!), and pulled him to his feet.

“Excuse us,” he said briefly to the entourage before dragging Luo Binghe away.

Once they were in a different corner of the garden, which seemed remote and private enough, he let Luo Binghe go. Shen Qingqiu took several quick steps away before turning back to Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe was frowning, now, ring still held in one hand. Was it Shen Qingqiu’s imagination, or did he look hurt? “What’s wrong?” he said.

What was wrong. What wasn’t wrong!

“Why are you proposing to me?” Shen Qingqiu said. “We’ve never even met!”

That was definitely hurt on Luo Binghe’s face. “We -- haven’t we? Don’t you remember me?”

Shen Qingqiu allowed himself a short, controlled flail. “I really don’t. When would we have met?” he asked.

“It’s been a few years,” Luo Binghe said slowly. He let out a humorless laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course I wouldn’t have left as big of an impression on you as you did on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Shen Qingqiu said, starting to feel like he was the bad guy here. He was also intimately aware of their different stations.

Luo Binghe shook his head. “Don’t you remember me at all, A-Yuan?” he said.

A frisson went down Shen Qingqiu’s spine and he couldn’t help but jump, startled. It had been years since anybody called him by that name. Nobody had called him that since his parents died, and he was sent to live with his cousins… Sent here. From the city he’d grown up in.

He’d been born in Cang Qiong city, and wasn’t that the same city Luo Binghe claimed to be from?

But Luo Binghe was younger than him, he was eighteen to Shen Qingqiu’s twenty-two -- he wouldn’t have been very old when Shen Qingqiu moved. Ten, probably?

Oh.

It hit him like a horse-drawn carriage.

When Shen Qingqiu was a child, he’d become friends with an orphan, a few years younger than him. Little Binghe. Binghe had been so small, though, he’d always thought there were more than four years between them. Malnutrition, probably. Shen Qingqiu had snuck him food, when he could. Had taught him to read. Had shared what little swordsmanship he learned with him.

Binghe hadn’t had much to offer in return. He’d given Shen Qingqiu little gifts -- pretty rocks he found in the river, flowers he thought smelled nice. A couple of times, he’d made earnest promises about giving Shen Qingqiu real gifts. Gems instead of rocks, roses instead of wildflowers. He’d talked about marrying Shen Qingqiu a couple of times. Shen Qingqiu had always thought of it like a young child wanting to marry their best friend. Nothing serious.

Then Shen Qingqiu’s parents had died, and he’d been sent off to his nearest relatives. He’d never gotten the chance to say goodbye to Binghe.

He hadn’t recognized the name. He hadn’t thought of Binghe in a long time, and besides, the Binghe he’d met before was an orphan, certainly he never would have associated him with this man, the crown prince of the kingdom.

Shen Qingqiu staggered backwards a step, feeling like he’d been slapped. “Binghe?” he said.

It was foolish. Obviously, Luo Binghe’s name was Binghe. But Luo Binghe’s expression brightened.

“You remember?” he said, delighted.

“I… I remember,” Shen Qingqiu said. “I’m sorry. I never got to say goodbye.”

Luo Binghe shook his head. He was smiling again. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I found you again.”

He stepped closer to Shen Qingqiu and lifted a hand to cradle his cheek. Luo Binghe was standing very close, Shen Qingqiu noted. And Luo Binghe was taller than him now.

The shock broke. Shen Qingqiu remembered that this ridiculous man had found him for the first time in eight years and immediately proposed. He pushed Luo Binghe’s hand away from his face and scowled at him.

“What were you thinking, proposing out of the blue!” he scolded, whacking him gently on the forehead with the book he was holding in one hand. “It’s been eight years! Give a man some warning!”

“I told you I wanted to marry you, before,” Luo Binghe protested with a pout. “And now I can. I can give you real gems! I’ll give you all the presents you want. I’ll give you a proper wedding.”

Shen Qingqiu hesitated. He actually considered it for the first time, the prospect of marrying Luo Binghe. The crown prince of the kingdom, this unfairly handsome man, the cheerful little kid he’d willingly spent most of his time with from the ages of ten to fourteen.

It wasn’t… entirely unappealing. And his family had been trying to get him to marry, anyway.

However.

“How about we try dating first?” he said with a sigh.

Luo Binghe beamed like Shen Qingqiu had already agreed.

[honeymoonjin]

Chapter Eight

Summary: When you hear that your recently deceased grandmother left you her property in her will, at first you think that a dinky old cottage in the middle of nowhere isn’t going to mean much for you. But after spending a night there, you discover something far more valuable than the house itself: a hidden door that leads to another time, the same place but over 200 years in the past. In the late 18th Century, there is a king who will die before his 21st birthday unless you can save him. Will you help him, even if it means leaving your own life behind?

“I think you’re becoming a nerd,” Namjoon proclaims proudly as he dumps a pile of old birth records on the table you’re sitting at. “You’ve asked me for research help like ten times in the past week.”

You look up from the poorly printed lines of Times New Roman to frown at him. “This is like, the third time, max. Don’t get it twisted.”

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, all I’m saying is that maybe you secretly like research, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of-”

“Here it is!” you interrupt hastily, “Jimin’s great-great grandfather. Okay, and he married…” Your voice trails off and you stare at the piece of paper in shock. Jeon. His great-great grandmother was a Jeon. “Namjoon, can you grab me that book on the King Jeon rule again?”

After retrieving said item, Namjoon sat beside you as you flicked through to the table of contents. “Here we go, lineage.” You locate the right page. “It says here King Jeon had a son.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon muses. “Jiminie’s great-great grandmother and King Jeon are only, what, five or six generations apart? King Jeon’s father was the first Jeon to come to this region, so as long as Jimin’s family has always lived here, it looks like he’s directly related to that King. Huh, that’s really neat.”

You sit back, mind whirring. “Can you go back to the obituary page?”

Namjoon acquiesces, skipping right to the back of the heavy bamboo tome. “Says here… King Jeon tragically drowned while on a trip to a nearby lake. Huh, it’s almost the anniversary of his death.”

You shake your head slowly. “But last time you told me he died from infection, and the time before that you told me he bled out.”

Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t remember that, sorry. I actually don’t know much about the Jeon reign.”

You slide the book closer to you, flipping back to the lineage section. “But… Namjoon, it says right here he has a child… The dates don’t line up. The child is born well over nine months after he dies.”

“Hmm? Oh, no, you’re right.” He chuckles. “Wow, the guy’s so amazing he managed to conceive a child postpartum. Guess someone got a little freaky in the morgue.” When you don’t laugh at his crude joke, he sighed. “Y/n, it’s either a typo, or, more likely, it’s not actually his child. People in those days liked to fabricate evidence to get their children to be in line for the throne. It’d be a good way to keep the Jeons in power; fake an heir.”

But you had seen the birthmarks. Jimin was descended from King Jeon, but what would happen if he truly did die when the book said he would? What would happen to your boyfriend? “I need to go back,” you muse aloud.

“Back where? Oh, yeah, it is getting kinda late. You should get back to Jimin; he was just telling me about that little café you had lunch at today. I should check it out sometime.”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere. Why did King Jeon’s fate keep changing? Yoongi seemed insistent he needed to survive, and now you felt that same desire to preserve his heritage, but surely after saving him twice he couldn’t keep having bad luck?

Unless…

You had to go talk with Yoongi. Someone was trying to kill King Jeon.

--

“So, we go to him, we tell him we fear his life is at risk, and… I don’t know, use him as bait and see who tries to kill him?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Taehyung, if the King is truly in grave danger, we mustn’t use him as bait. But yes, we shall go there now-”

The shaman breaks off abruptly as the liquid in his cup of tea begins to tremble. You watch in anticipation as the tremors grow, until the glass jars on his shelves are wobbling dangerously, threatening to fall over. Quicker than they came, the shakes cease, and moments later the three of you jump in unison when someone raps on the door.

Taehyung answers, holding the door open as a familiar face enters the hut.

Jung Hoseok, clad in riding leathers and a ruby red coat, glances around the room until his eyes land on you. “Min Y/n, the King formally requests you accompany him on his excursion to Lake Silvermeer as the royal healer. We ride at dawn.”

With that, he departs, and you stare out the open door in wonder as he gets back on his horse – a muscled, black beast – and gallops away the way he came, causing wandering villagers to jump out of his way.

Taehyung frowns. “She’s not even from here, and she gets to go on holiday? Why don’t I ever get to go on the King’s excursions?”

“Because you’re a useless healer, Taehyung.” Yoongi turns to you with a solemn look. “You’re staying here tonight.”

You hadn’t exactly prepared for a sleepover, and you were yet to actually bring any of your belongings into your grandmother’s house in present day, so you couldn’t exactly dart back and grab some pajamas. Because of this, you found yourself in a large, slightly sweat-smelling cotton shirt, courtesy of Taehyung, with a scratchy blanket to cover your legs.

“I don’t think we have to worry,” Taehyung pipes up from beside you, “if Y/n messes up and the King dies she can just go back in time and try again.” He turns to you with an accusing look. “Who’s to say she hasn’t had this conversation hundreds of times before?”

Yoongi sighs loudly from the kitchen as he cleans up some clay and ceramic dishes. “She isn’t actually traveling through time, Taehyung. Think of it as more of a… a back door. She can step in and out, but time is still flowing as per usual. This is our only shot.”

You stare blankly into the fire. Our only shot. “Yoongi, what happens to his descendants if he dies?”

“How should I know?” You turn to him with pleading eyes. “Fine, if I had to wager a guess, I’d say that history would begin to rewrite itself and adjust to the new timeline. Perhaps only those that had traveled through the portal would be aware of it, though. I imagine for the rest of the world it would be like nothing ever happened.”

You nodded slowly. “My friend already has no recollection of past conversations we’ve had about the King. Each time I go back to the library he works at the books say something different. But today, the same book said two different things, like time couldn’t make its mind up.”

“Don’t personify time, Y/n. It isn’t moody; it won’t cry if you’re mean to it. Now, if you’ve finished your tea, there’s nothing more for us to do tonight.”

Yoongi had been tinkering around the hut all evening, back and forth from the variously sized cauldrons on the hearth to the shelves of ingredients, making you consume countless potions. As a med student, you were vaguely concerned as to whether taking so many different reactive ingredients at once could possibly prove fruitful, but since you had twice seen him turn people into animals, you were learning to have a little more faith in the witchy side of things.

So far you had drunk a sweet syrup for clarity of mind, a spicy tea for strength and physical endurance, and, oddly enough, a somewhat chewy paste for ‘good instincts.’ Yoongi didn’t know what you would need to be prepared for, so apparently, he decided to give you a general range of aids, but you weren’t complaining. The final thing you had been given was another tea that smelt of black licorice but tasted like chamomile, and you imagined it was for resting well, as you’d been growing consistently drowsier since taking it.

“See if you can get him to stay away from the water, but I imagine there’s not much chance of that. At the very least, be sure to accompany him when…”

You tuned out Yoongi’s voice, slumping over to rest your head against Taehyung’s shoulder and letting your eyes fall closed.

“…ening to me, so I don’t know why I bother. Taehyung, you didn’t even drink the tea, why are you going to sleep as well? Gah, you children. I’m going to my room to sleep on an actual…”

--

Dawn comes with a rude awakening by Jung Hoseok as he storms into the small abode and shakes you awake, but Yoongi has clearly done his job, because you feel vibrant and aware instead of sluggish and hazy.

Still, your heart drops in your chest when he leads you outside to two horses that he’s tied to a tree. “I can’t get on that thing alone, are you crazy?”

Hoseok frowns, back in the same clothes from yesterday, albeit with an extra layer underneath his coat to account for the cold weather. “What lady does not know how to ride a horse? What do they teach you in Mirefeld?”

You pout. “Other, more important things,” you defend. “Anyway, I’ll just walk.”

“It’s several hours on horseback. You cannot walk.”

You bite your lip. “Then get Jin to do it instead. It’s his job, anyway.”

Hoseok sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer, until the both of you are right beside the smaller horse’s body. “The King formally requested you, Y/n. Would you like me to ride back to the palace and tell him you said no?”

You brighten up. “Yeah, that would be great, thanks!” When his face stiffens even more, you huff. “Oh, you were joking. Seriously, Mister Jung, I can’t do this by myself. I’ll fall off and die. Do you think the King will be happy when his healer dies on vacation? No.”

Hoseok gives you a hard stare, then turns around, deftly untying the knot that attached the horse’s reigns to the tree.

You watch in pleased surprise as the horse happily trots back down the street towards the palace in the distance. “Thanks, Hoseok, I owe you one.”

He turns back to you, unimpressed. “You’re riding with me.”

TAGLIST Message me or send an ask to be added to the taglist for Sovereign, and never miss a new chapter!

@sonyeonsideupsmile  @sweetcheeksdna (I can’t seem to tag you!)  @hoodiebangtan @mntchcchp @shay-the-turtle @under-dah-sea

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Alonso’s Legen-Wait for it-Dary Dating Rules

Note: Inspired by HIMYM’s Barney Stinson’a dating rules and theories as seen in these videos. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=IWQF9fuQ2pA#, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xDD5nv3Phzg&t=9s, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=m9vXJ4HB2fU, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1Cg62TySYvk https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iKAHEZRJUUU&t=80s

Marzel and Alonso are basically my new brotop even though they have never met. Thanks to Lady B for looking this over, and @missnobodynobodius and @shasta627 for completely agreeing with me that Alonso = Barney and encouraging me to do all this. 

“Ah Prince Marzel, just the man I was looking for!” A floppy-banged prince who seemed to be about his age slung his arm across the sirena prince’s shoulder, nearly jostling him off his chair.

The scene was at the palace of Paraiso, one of the most luxurious and extravagant palace Marzel had ever seen his life. In fact it was the most. The walls were ceiling to floor golden emitting bright light which unfortunately blinded him everytime he glanced to his sie. This had the embarrassing effect of him tripping more so than usual when he walked.

He had been getting pretty good with his land legs and he had improved enough to play frisbee without falling on his face but he had a feeling that the royals at this year’s retreat were not seeing that progression.

“Who are you?” Marzel made an effort to smile politely but the guy was taking up too much personal space and seemed to have forgotten his greeting in favor of admiring himself in the blindingly golden dinner plates.

“Wha-yes, I’m Prince Alonso, heir to the Royal Throne of Cordoba!” The guy declared with a flourish and paused, obviously expecting some sort of recognition or perhaps applause.

Marzel looked helplessly to the other side of the table where Elena was in deep conversation with her royal wizard, Mateo and the host of the retreat, Princess Valentina and he couldn’t see his sister anywhere.

“Hi?” Marzel gave a weak wave and grimaced at his high-pitched voice, he coughed, “I mean hello.”

“Heh, you really are new to the land, aren’t you?” Prince Alonso sniffed once seeing that Marzel had nothing else to say.

Marzel was about to react defensively to his tone but Alonso leaned toward him conspiratorially, “I see that Elena hasn’t told you about me. I don’t blame her, there are so many brilliant ways to describe me and my looks and my awesome deeds, she couldn’t think of where to begin. It doesn’t matter. Now in the past, I have been accused of being a little bit self-absorbed and just a tiny teeny bit lazy. But no more. I’m turning over a new leaf. And being a new kind of man, I am helpful!”

Marzel didn’t understand why Alonso was telling him all of this so he nodded blankly and paused again seeing that Alonso was waiting for him to say something.

“Congratulations on turning over a new leaf. That’s very...mature of you.” Alonso was still staring at him expectedly and it started to dawn on Marzel what Alonso might be waiting for, “And I’m fine. I don’t need your help. Elena has already helped me.” “Yes, I’m sure Princess Elena has helped you with basic stuff like ruling and social etiquette and blah blah blah. But she hasn’t taught you about life, has she?” Alonso raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Life? I don’t need help with life. I haven’t died yet. I think I can handle it.” Marzel brushed Alonso’s arm off his shoulder.

“You’ve fallen twelve times walking down a hallway.” Alonso pointed out, putting his arm on Marzel again.

“It’s too bright here, how can anyone see?” Marzel grumbled.

“What advice I have to offer, isn’t any advice Princess Elena or anyone else can give. It is bro advice. From now on, I pledge my support to you as a bro and a wingman as you will be mine-” “I haven’t agreed to this.” Marzel protested.

“-Do you know how to get out of a date that you don’t want to be in?” Alonso abruptly asked.

“...No?” Marzel answered. Admittedly, he had never been on a date since he had been busy with royal training and the fact that anyone who dated him had to uphold the standards fitting for sirena royalty. Though there were many fish in the sea, he hadn’t found one that fit that standard yet. But he wasn’t going to admit that.

“It’s called the Lemon Law. In Cordoba, we have a law that if someone buys an item, let’s say a lemon, from a street cart and finds that it is a rotten lemon, the person can return it. Same goes for dates. This applies this to dates. A person has five minutes within the date to decide whether it continues for the rest of the night or not.” Alonso smiled smugly at his knowledge.

“Wow, that’s- I didn’t know.” “That’s why you need me.” Alonso sipped his recently poured drink.

Marzel rubbed his neck as he thought about what Alonso was proposing. It was true that he didn’t know much about land culture beyond what his mother told him from her fragmented memories. And he knew less about girls and romance in the dating world. 

He could ask Elena but it seemed that she was in the same boat as he was dating-wise, ie. no dates just the kingdom. Besides Alonso seemed to know what he was talking about and he kinda liked the idea of having a “bro” as he kept saying.

Marzel clasped hands with Alonso, “I’ll do it. Let’s be bros.”

“Yes!” Alonso crowed, “This is gonna be legen-wait for it-dary! Legendary!”

“Where are we going?” Marzel stumbled s Alonso grabbed his arm to drag him to the bar-room.

“To get you a suit. One of the most important things to attract a woman is a suit. So, let’s suit up!”

_______________________________________________________________________“Why can’t you clean the dishes? I did it yesterday.” Marisa crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Because..just because..I’m older than you!” Marzel retorted.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Marisa rolled her eyes.

As guests and royals at the retreat, technically they didn’t have to wash the dishes. But their mother said they should take this as a chance to learn about chores on land, and reminded them that she had washed dishes when she was a human. It was about honoring their heritage which they both were sure was some sort of trick because their mom had complained about their laziness in underwater chores.

Marzel considered his words before talking again. Yesterday, after confirming their “bro-lationship” with a suit fitting and celebratory drinks, Marzel had asked Alonso for advice on his problems with dating and girls, even his sister since Alonso said arguing with girls was the same with all of them, no matter the relation.

Alonso had given him the exact argument he should use and he needed to remember how it was said.

“Hmmm sounds annoying. Chores are the worst. So menial. That’s stuff for servants to do like rookie, here.” Alonso pointed to Gabe who was on the other side of the bar with Manuel.

Gabe looked over at them and glared at the arrogant prince, “I don’t do dishes, and I’m not a rookie. I’m the captain of the guard.” “I’m sure you will be soon.” Alonso waved him off.

“I am already.” Gabe corrected, stalking up to them but Alonso ignored him in favor of continuing their conversation.

“Now here’s what I would do if I were in your position. I’d come to the room and she’d leap into my arms and we make out. Her small body leaning against mine, her lips just..”

“Dude, that’s my sister!” Marzel stared at him in horror.

“I wasn’t saying what you should. Just what I would do in that situation. If I was there, we would be getting it on. Not that I would in real life, a bro never touches another bro’s sister unless she makes the first move.” “Just continue.” Gabe hissed through clenched teeth, seeing Marzel’s eye vein throb distressingly.

“Okay fine. We eat dinner and Marisa says, “Sweetie, are you gonna wash that?” Now I say or you should say, “I’m glad you bring that up, Marisa. No, and here’s why.” She gets on my lap, “I know you don’t like a dirty sink. But does that make it my job to clean it? If one day I look up on the living room ceiling and decide I want a replica of my royal portrait up there, would it be your job to paint it?

She says, “No, of course not.”

I say, “Exactly. So darling, by the same logic, if you don’t like a sink full of dirty dishes, shouldn’t it be your job to clean it?”

Then Marisa would understand the reason behind it all, and agree, “Thank you for explaining that. I get so confused.”

“You’re kidding me.” Gabe interrupted, laughing.

Marzel understood the flaws with the argument since they were arguing over whose turn it was to help the kitchen staff, not the fact that they disliked looking at a dirty dishes. However, he was on his third glass of champagne so he had a warm, giddy feeling assuring him that if he said it right, Marisa would see reason just as Alonso said she would.

“Let me finish…” Alonso looked disdainfully at Gabe, “Once I have her attention, it’s time to bring out the big guns. “Look, Marisa I love you. But with the little energy I have after the meetings, I want to shower you with love, not wash some silly dishes.”

And Marisa says, “Oh you’re right, Alonso, you’re always right. I’ll do the dishes from now on. Right after I do this.”

So then the lights dim and she turns around and dances for me. Her butt’s firm, round…”

“Are you going to hit him or should I?” Gabe asked, but Marzel was too busy envisioning an afternoon not having to help with the dishes.

The time had come.

“Marisa, I’m not doing the dishes and here’s why.”

Marisa looked at him irritability. Staring at her, Marzel lost his train of thoughts. The next part of Alonso’s vision called for her to sit on his lap and that was just gross. He remembered that Alonso had been saying his argument had to be modified since they were siblings and now all he could think of were the disgusting phrases Alonso had used followed by the even worse image of Marisa doing them.

It had made so much sense when Alonso said it last night, what was wrong?

He manfully tried to scrape out the appropriate parts of the argument to use and came up with this,“I’m not doing the dishes and here’s why. You don’t want to dishes, but it’s like if I wanted our baby pictures on the wall..I-I-I mean ceiling. All our baby pictures and family pictures painted on this ceiling. Would you do that? No I mean, first. Let me start over. It’s not job to do the dishes because.. Um I? Dance for me. Eww no. I don’t uh-”

“HUH?” Marisa stared at him as if one half become a malandro and he sprouted three more heads. Just a face of confusion and disgust.

“I-ugh” Marzel stuttered then hung his head in defeat, “I’ll do the dishes.”

_______________________________________________________________________“Are you sure you’re reading the map correctly? Give it to me. I’m an excellent navigator, I was the first one in my team to orient us to win the scavenger hunt.” Princess Valentina sighed as she and Marzel wearily walked down the side of one of Paraiso’s lush mountain ranges.

“Here,” Marzel handed it off to her miserably.

It was midnight and what started out as innocent date led to them walking on the side of the mountain for hours, and he was pretty sure it was the same side of the mountain. They weren’t even going around it, just back and forth.

He really wished he never accepted this date.

He didn’t dislike Valentina exactly, it was just that she was too..much for him. She talked so much, usually about herself, always pointing out how Paraiso was the best, best in chocolate, best in sports, best in everything.

With all her talk about how the best she was in everything, he never would have thought she would have interest in him since he wasn’t the best in walking much less second best in subjects..behind her, of course.

But Alonso had pointed out that when she entered the bar, her eyes had went straight towards him and her eyebrow raised before she quickly flounced out followed by her guard, Manuel.

That-the eye contact and eyebrow raise-was a clear sign she was interested in him, which was only confirmed a few days later when Valentina invited him to have a talk about the personal Coronado-Paraiso treaty.

“Personal Coronado-Paraiso romance!” Alonso high-fived him when Marzel told him. Marzel didn’t want that at all. It was too late to back out of the date without potentially offending her, but thankfully, Alonso gave him advice to prevent a girl friend from becoming a girlfriend.

“You see Marzel. The rules for girls are like the rules for gremlins.” “Gremlins?” Marzel never heard of such a creature and wanted to ask but Alonso plowed ahead with his advice as usual.

“Yes, gremlins. Rule number one: Never get them wet. Aka never let them shower at your place.”

Marzel thought that eliminated almost all the sirenas but then reasoned that these rules must be specific only to mortal girls.

“Rule number two: Keep them away from sunlight. Aka don’t ever see them during the day.”

Rule number three: Never feed them after midnight. Aka she doesn’t sleep over, and you don’t have breakfast.” 

“What about brunch? Is brunch cool? Marzel asked. Marisa had recently introduced him to brunch through Elena and he rather enjoyed the idea of having a snack between breakfast and lunch.

Alonso looked at him in disgust, “No. Brunch is never cool.”

In an effort to keep things platonic, Marzel requested to have the meeting at night since he never seen the moon rise in Paraiso before which Valentina eagerly grabbed on to the idea to lead up to Paraiso’s highest peak and show him the best view.

The date was not romantic in the slightest way. Valentina had kept things professional and they discussed how trade would be conducted between their two kingdoms. 

Marzel had figured this platonic nature was due to the nighttime setting just as Alonso said it would and was relieved when the meeting finished at 9 without any sentimental overtones.

It was when they left that things went downhill literally. Valetina said they must have taken a wrong turn at the waterfall or somewhere because they had been walking for three hours and there was no sign of the valley or the palace and the nighttime heat was covering them like a smothering blanket. As Princess Valentina proudly told him when he said it didn’t feel cold at all up in the mountains, “Paraiso has one of the warmest climates in the Ever realm. No one suffers from hypothermia or frostbite here.” “Just potential heatstroke” Marzel thought darkly to himself as felt sweat dripping from his forehead down the bridge of his nose.

“Marzel.” Valentina panted, fruitlessly fanning herself with her hand, “Can you hand me some of the water?”

Marzel was about to hand her the water when he remembered Alonso’s rule about not getting the girl wet.

Marzel clutched the water bottle from the picnic basket she had brought, and promptly poured it all over himself, “Sorry. Sirena, you know. I need more water to compensate for being on land for so long.”

“Oh okay.” Valentina nodded understandingly which made Marzel immediately feel bad for his lie. Her hair which had been put in her usual ponytail had frizzed out and bigger thanks to the humidity and her face seemed to have gone pale from exhaustion.

They walked for what seemed like miles but must have been a few minutes when they crashed through a brush to see the palace.

“Yes!” They cried simultaneously. They would have run to their destination, but tiredness made their feet drag oh so slowly on the manicured lawns of the Paraiso palace.

“Marzel, do we have any food left in the basket?” Valentina asked weakly.

Marzel frowned, “No.” There had been a few apples left in the basket but he had thrown them out after their meeting in compliance with the third rule of making sure she didn’t eat after midnight.

He took another good look at the princess who seemed slumped, dejected and near collapse.

“You don’t look yourself, do you want me to carry you?” Marzel approached her, gently taking hold of her shoulder.

“No I can handle it” Valentina slurred and fainted onto the grass.

Adrenaline took over Marzel’s body, tiredness forgotten, he picked the princess up in a bridal carry and raced her over to the palace’s front door where Manual opened it, gasped, grabbed Valentina out of his arms and took her to the infirmary.

Marzel paced restlessly, guilt gnawing at his stomach. Who cares if she wanted a date with him? He should have let her have the food and water! It was all his fault that this happened-

The royal physician opening the door for visitors interrupted Marzel’s guilt-ridden reverie. Manual pushed Marzel out of the doorway in his rush to get to the princess.

Manual tenderly lifted Valentina’s face towards his as she slowly opened her eyes, and smiled, “Oh Manual, I’m fine. Just a little dehydration. I’m not going to die.”

“I was so worried.” Manual murmered in a choked up voice and swept her up in a deep, full kiss.

“You’re dating?” Marzel meant to only say it in his head, but it came out in an awkward squawk.

The couple turned to him, Valentina contedly resting her head in the crook of Manual’s neck.

“Yes, we don’t like to show it off in front of everyone but we are very much in love.” Valentina answered, rubbing her nose with her guard.

“She’s my shining light, and I’m her shining knight.” Manual agreed.

“I could never lay my eyes on someone else.” Valentina mused.

But she did---wait. Marzel thought back to the bar. The guards had been behind him and Alonso. She must have sent that eye contact and eyebrow to Manual.

This whole thing had truly been a Coronando-Paraiso treaty meeting. With a groan and Marzel face-palmed himself.

_______________________________________________________________________”Do it. Do it, Naked man!” Alonso cheered as he passed by Naomi’s room.

“I will. I will. Just go already.” Marzel shoved Alonso away from the door to the room.

“What pose are you doing?” Alonso called

“Just go!” Marzel yelled at him and shut the door.

Marzel was going on his first official date, where it was certain that both people knew it was a date, with Naomi who was visiting Paraiso to pick up some diplomatic scrolls and gift Valentina with the Avaloran chocolate that Elena accidentally forgot.

Though Naomi had been hesitant of him at first, particularly after how she acted the last time she saw him, but after they played olaball together and she taught him some sail knots, he asked her out.

They agreed for it to be a friendly date. Unlikely to be serious, more like two friends hanging out with potential for kisses among other things.

Alonso had been in favor for ‘the other things’ part and urged him to do ‘The Naked Man’.

At first Marzel was hesitant but another part of him was very curious as to how it would play out especially since Naomi said this date wasn’t supposed to be serious, just fun.

And from the way Alonso put it, ‘The Naked Man’ was the best way to amp fun.

It was yet another technique Alonso had explained the night they became bros.

Alonso clinked his glass against his as he explained the brilliance of the naked man on a friendly date.

“It goes like this. You’re on a first date, you’ve had a few drinks. You go up to the room, once she leaves the room. You strip naked and wait. When she comes back, she laughs and is so charmed by your confidence and bravado, she sleeps with you. Boom!” “No way that works.” “Two out of three times. I would not lie to you mi amigo. Two out of three times. Which is why it is important to pick your pose to display your naked man in.” And so he began to display the poses.

“There’s the Superman.

The Capitan.

The ‘Oops I didn’t see you there.’

The Thinker.

The Lounge.

The Fencer.

The Gymnast who stuck the Landing.”

He had laughed at Alonso at the time just as Gabe had when he left them, shaking his head.

But now he really was going to do it.

Naomi had gone into her guest room to find the fiddle her mom had been teaching her to play while Marzel stood outside. Now he crept in and stripped and after much deliberation chose to do the ‘Capitan’ in honor of his sea roots.

Naomi entered, “Now promise you won’t laugh. I’ve been practicaack!”

“Ta-da!” Marzel showed proudly.

Naomi gasped,her face turned red and she exploded, “Oh my GOD! What is the matter with you! Get out! I can’t believe-ugh Sirenas! GET OUT!”

Marzel looked at her in horror. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why wasn’t she charmed and laughing?

He face burned as he realized how bad this situation was and how he appeared. He wanted to explain but he could clearly see this wasn’t the time for it and tried for desperation.

“Wait-I-my cloth..”

“OUT YOU CREEP! You sick son of-” Naomi yelled.

“Wait! My suit is very expensive...”

“I’m going to call the guard on you.” Naomi threw a pillow at him which he promptly grabbed to shield his private parts and ran as fast as he could to his room.

He slammed his door closed,highly embarrassed, Marzel sank to the ground with a groan, “Why did my first time have to be that third time out of three for ‘the naked man’ to fail?

_______________________________________________________________________“Ready?” Marzel asked his sister as they entered the bar-room where Alonso was flirting with the bartender.

“I got your back. You will be avenged.” Marisa intoned menacingly with an evil cackle.

“Don’t do the laugh.” Marzel shook his head.

“It’s my evil laugh.” Marisa pouted but did as he motioned and sasheyed toward Alonso in the slinky purple dress she borrowed from Elena.

“Hello” Marisa purred, exaggeratingly fluttering her eyelashes that made Marzel think she had something in her eye, “Wow. I have to admit, there’s nothing sexier than a man in a suit, and you..are sexier than most.”

Alonso did a double-take before he formed a slow smile, looking her over. “And I appreciate your appreciation, and” His lips curved to a wicked grin, “Your sexiness.”

Marzel saw that Marisa pursed her lips, a sure sign that she was trying to hold back a laugh. He cringed but the laugh never came. Instead she continued with their plan.

“Is your suit cashmere?” “Cashmere. No, this is handspun. The fibers are less than twelve microns thick.” Alonso scoffed and gulped as Marisa began to feel up his arms.

“Twelve microns.” Marisa gushed breathlessly, “I love a tiny fiber.”

“You’re in luck. Mine’s the tiniest.” Alonso bragged, “And the more you touch it. The softer it gets.” Marisa giggled and Marzel felt himself being jostled by the sudden appearence of Mateo, Elena, Gabe and Naomi.

“Is it happening? Is he falling for it?” Naomi asked eagerly.

Elena had come to yell at Marzel after his awful date with Naomi and he had confessed all the things that happened after he had followed Alonso’s advice. Elena had calmed down a little bit when she told them that, understanding where such a crazy idea came from and explained to him that while Alonso was trying to turn over a new leaf, he had a long way to go and was not the best role model to follow or a good advice-giver. 

“I realize that, trust me.” Marzel blushed sheepishly, “I just don’t get how it all worked for him and not me. How did I mess it all up?”

“Well like I said before. It’s best to be yourself. And if it makes you feel better. I don’t think those techniques would have worked for everybody, not even him. All of that is an awful way to seduce a girl. Bragging about yourself? Just sleeping with them without thinking of their feelings or being serious? He might have been just messing with you.” Marzel shrugged, “Maybe he should see how it feels to be a failure with a woman?” Elena looked at him curiously but a mischievous glint was present in her eyes, “Aren’t you bros? Bros don’t get revenge on other bros.” “This isn’t revenge. This is just a lesson. I think I need your help.” Marzel said.

Elena had been on board with getting revenge and apparently so was the rest of Team Avalor, even Naomi after she heard from whom ‘the naked man’ originated from. Marzel originally had wanted Elena to flirt with Alonso but apparently he was aware of her relationship with Mateo, and Naomi refused to do it, citing some other incident where he tried to flirt with her.

That left Marisa to do the job even though it rankled him to see Alonso acting like a lecherous guy to his sister. Marisa, on the other hand was all too excited to play the part of evil seductress. It was a little unnerving.

“Yes, shush.” Marzel motioned for them all to duck lower behind the door and the bar as they discreetly watched the action unfold.

Marisa continued to girlishly giggle, “I was actually looking for you. But there was such traffic in the ballroom. I was at the inter-sex-tion from ballroom and the dining room and I had only a few sex-onds to get in an opening in the crowd. And then people start yelling at me to move over and it totally sex-cked, but I can’t move because a man tripped on one of the tropical bird’s sex-crement.”

Alonso was breathing heavily and gulping as he listened to Marisa’s purposefully innuendo, “G-go, go on.”

“Hmm” Marisa looked him over, and did what Marzel was assuming to be her version of a sexy pout but looked more constipated, “Let’s go my room.”

Alonso nearly tripped over his feet as he and Marisa speedwalked through the halls with the rest on their heels from a safe distance.

The door was open just a crack so they all could press their ears up against it and hear the ensuing conversation.

“Alonso, you should know.When I get into bed with a man, my body becomes a machine. Fueled by desire and lust, and a singular hunger to satisfy my lover’s every carnal need.” Marisa sighed, her voice practically oozing with moans and breathiness.

“Such a shame we all have to go home tomorrow. So let’s go like it’s the last night we’ll ever see each other.” Alonso growled.

“Yes, yes. Well, good night.” Marisa walked out the door.

“Wh-What!” Alonso came rushing out behind her, “Why are you leaving? I thought your body was going to become a machine fueled by desire, lust and a singular hunger to satisfy my every carnal need?” Alonso’s voice cracked at the end.

“Yes. But no. I don’t sleep with people who think I would dance for them after agreeing to do the dishes.” Marisa raised an eyebrow in his direction, crossing her arms with a triumphant smile.

Alonso froze dumbfounded, and soon realized he was in the presence of a small crowd, all trying their best to muffle their laughter.

“Huh-I-I I’m so confused.” Alonso muttered.

Marzel took pity on him and slapped on the back, “This is called a lesson.” “For what?” Alonso shrugged Marzel’s off of him.

“The dishes. The gremlin rule. The Naked Man.” Naomi listed.

“Oh, I-okay that was good advice.” Everyone gave him a look, “I’ll admit the results that happened to Marzel were pretty funny, but I wasn’t setting him up I swear! All of that advice was from a desire to help you. We’re bros.” Alonso protested.

Marzel smiled and grabbed Alonso in a side-hug. He sounded sincere and considering what Elena had told him of his upbringing, it may have been true that all those things worked for him. If not less so because of his looks and charm and more so for being the crown prince.

“We’re bros.” Marzel confirmed, “I’m your wingman and your mine. I am just never listening to your ridiculous rules or advice on dating ever again.”

“Not even about the Hot-Crazy Scale or the Three Day Rule? The Three Day Rule is an unofficial social rule.” Alonso insisted.

“Even that.” Marzel said and so arm in arm the two bros parted ways until the next adventure. 

[rederinserthell]

A free slave?

I miss Loki ;;;

Warnings: Nothing, the word “slut” is thrown around but what ever

summary: Who’s that new man? He’s hansom. Let’s talk to him.

The music was loud, the alcohol was good, the people were... weird. The grand master was holding his usual parties just before the big brawl. Of course you attended. You technically were forced to, but you never complained. No one ever forced you to do anything. You were free to eat, drink and talk to anyone you wanted. So you gladly attended the party. Recently, you noticed a new face. He looked... human. The grand master rarely let humans stay with in the tower. This was curious! You wanted to talk to him and figure out who he was. So you did... 

You walked up to him, hips swaying. Humans were easy to manipulate. Yet he took in interest in you, continuing to talk to the.. person.. in front of him. Your brow raised. Sure, you were known to be the flirt at the grand master’s parties, but surely this man didn’t take you for a slut. The being that the black haired man was talking to abruptly stopped the conversation to look at you, no words were said. The strange, large eyes scanned over your form as you came closer, leaning your weight on its body.

“Hey, big fella.. How about you leave me and the newcomer alone? I promise to come talk to you latter, all you want~” You pressed a kiss to the scaly skin of the being’s cheek. You felt gross. A purr and some whistles emitted from its throat as it left you and the man alone. When out of eyesight of the being, you wiped your lips clean and adjusted your short dress. “Filthy..” Your attentions turned to the man, who had his arms crossed and was staring at you intensely with serious bright blue eyes. His expression was like stone.

“What ridiculous thought crossed your mind to race me with your presents, girl?” He asked, finishing off his glass of champagne. A soft hum pulled itself from your throat as you snatched the glass from his hand. a servant girl quickly rushed over to fill it and left. By the look of his face, he was expecting you to and it back, but you swiftly pulled the glass to your lips and took a refreshing sip.

“My first thought was ‘My, he’s gorgeous’. Then I thought, ‘Well, wait a minute, how did this human convince the grand master to allow him to sleep within the tower?” You look up into the blazing blue eyes of this stranger, is sharp jaw noticeably tightening.

“I am not a human, you inept girl.” He growled through his teeth, “I am Loki Laufeyson of Asgard, God of mischief and rightful heir to the throne.” His stance changed to one of power. You liked this guy. Instead of fear on your face for having just confronted a prince, you stood with a smile, staring at his brilliance.

“And I am (y/n), slave of the Grand Master, and free party-goer.” You bowed. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Loki blinked a few times, staring at you as he took in everything. “I’m sorry?”

“What?”

“Slave of the Grand Master?”

“Did I stutter?”

Loki was taken back. No one has ever talked to him like this, and then to say your a slave, but are also free to attend these parties without a leash? You’ve successfully confused the God of confusion. He was intrigued by you. A sly smile played on his lips. His hand moved forward and plucked the glass of champagne from your hand and sipped on it himself.

“Answer me this, girl-”

“(Y/n), please.”

“(Y/n). Why do you roam free under the Grand master,” His sharp gave turned to the white haired man, who was getting a little too comfortable with one of his “toy” girls, then turned back to you, “but non of the other slave girls are allowed it?”

Oh that was a good question. Every other man who comes up to her doesn’t care why she’s there, just that they could get a little extra attention. Your smile grew as you leaned closer to the god.

“You wanna know?” You asked. He hummed a yes, moving closer for you to whisper it in his ear, “I make them happy.” Your soft voice flooded his ear, making him pull back and look at you with a confused gaze. Your giggle made his brow raise.

“Make who happy?” he took another sip. Your hand made a general sweeping motion to the whole room. His blue eyes followed quickly, then landed back on you. “Like a slut?”

Damn this man. Your smile dropped. “No, you fool. I make them smile. I have the power to sway emotions, I helped the Grand master with a few.. political enemies.” Your smile returned as your brows wiggled, implying that you personally “delt” with those enemies. Not in a kind manner. Loki looked genuinely interested now. A sly smile pulled at his lips.

“You don’t happen to help people... personally.. do you?” He moved closer, body only a foot from yours. His large looming from shadowed you. You felt cold. Yet secure. Now you really liked this man.

“I told you before, Loki Laufeyson, I am not a slut. If you want me in your bed, you’ll have to talk to the Grand Master,” His deep blue eyes flicked to the GM before turning to you quickly, “then take me on a few dates. I’m a woman, not a toy.” You reached forward, adjust a few pieces of his outfit, brush him off then smile. “Deal?” He seamed baffled. Women don’t usually reject him. Or set such complex deals. Before he could answer, you had already walked off to “deal” With a few guests of the party.

[script-a-world]

Is it honestly actually possible that bad people run most of the galaxy or several galaxies? Or at least even just an entire planet? It's done in sci fi a lot. However in real life that obviously has never happened. I'm not sure how to well, begin, create the circumstances that will give them that kind of vast power and not be defeated before. Even if they are the good guys, still, can't see how they can run everything either.

Bina: Totally possible since “bad” is relative depending on you who ask. If they have a believable facade of being “good” (or if they ARE doing good....... to just the right people (such as, politicians or powerful allies who will back them up)), and if they have a lot of supporters who think they’re the good guys, then it’s super feasible that they can take control of the majority of the galaxy with very little opposition.

Heck they can even get away with people just not thinking badly of them. They don’t necessarily need supporters who think they’re the right people to have in charge. Having people be neutral towards them can also be also good enough for them to take control without anyone complaining. All they need is people not caring. People supporting them is bonus, but apathy from the common man also goes a long long way in helping bad people come into power. 

In the end it’s all about controlling their narrative and their own publicity. They can be totally truly evil, but if they cover their tracks with enough propaganda and efforts to appear like they’re doing nothing wrong, or even that they’re doing things for the benefit of the people (or that they’re beneficial for powerful people who have more sway than the average person and can thus override the wills and desires of the common people), then the baddies can take power and the common man would either take no issue with it or be unable to do anything about it. 

Tex: The thing about leadership is that morality doesn't really calculate into it - they're two separate areas with very little overlap, especially if a leader is a successful one. The longevity of a leader's reign has more to do with their bureaucratic competency, organizational skills, competency to set and achieve certain goals that benefit those whom they rule (in some form), and ability to manipulate people. And, I hate to break it to you, but both "good" and "bad" people are manipulative, just for different reasons.

Al Capone is a classic example of how "bad" people can do good things that legitimately benefit others. He was a gangster that directly or indirectly had a hand in killing a great deal of people - but he was incredibly influential in making sure milk had expirations dates, among other things (Atlas Obscura). It could be argued that running bootleg alcohol at all was a good thing, given that a significant portion of the US population did exactly the same thing (to various degrees) during Prohibition. Is profiting off civil disobedience in such a manner against the mores of altruism? Murder or no murder, Capone straddles the line of "good" and "bad", depending on your point of view.

Martin Luther King, Jr, while on the surface might look like a paragon of virtue, did purposefully break laws with specific goals in mind - while his civil disobedience resulted in drastically fewer deaths than Capone's, he did still break the law. There are some schools of thought that believe adherence to the law is virtuous, and thus moral (and thus, "good"). Is MLK virtuous in this regard? Does his position as a minister of his faith grant him more morality than the average person, who isn't an official representative of a codified set of beliefs?

Both MLK and Capone caused immense upheaval in their respective eras and societies. Is this necessarily good? Is upheaval - change - bad? I'm sure there are proponents regarding both of them that can see the advantages and disadvantages of their respective actions. One is classically referred to as a "bad" person, and the other a "good" person. Why? And through whose lens are these judgements being made? Is the perspective itself moral?

Let me bring some fictional examples into this.

Emperor Palpatine, of Star Wars, is coded to be a distillation of evil - the evil, a scourge upon the galaxy. And yet, when he rose to power and declared himself emperor of a new empire, he was lauded as an incredible unifier. General evil-doer he may be, but his grip upon his own galaxy was ironclad, and his background as a senator and then chancellor shows that he was canny, able to organize his political agenda in influential ways that effected significant change upon the political and even economic landscapes of the respective eras of his life.

He was respected - yes, even by the Jedi - for his affable demeanour and bureaucratic acumen. His death, depending on the canon you subscribe to, did not end the vast reach of his influence, with post-mortem orders that were followed with the same fervent veneration as in life. Palpatine's opinion was trusted, and regardless of his moral compass, trust is still something that needs earning. What perceptions his followers are predisposed to, well- that's certainly another topic.

Aragorn II, son of Arathorn, of Lord of the Rings fame, ruled over the reunited kingdom of Arnor and Gondor after the war against Sauron. He is typically coded as the exact opposite of someone like Palpatine - generous, compassionate, wise. A unifier that began an unequivocal era of peace. However, his death toll is proportionally similar to Palpatine's during the war that secured his place upon the throne, and he had eschewed his responsibility as blood heir to the throne for a great deal of his life, a time during which there was famine, suffering, and death from Sauron's own influence. Are his reasons for obscuring his identity and being a Ranger good enough to justify the expansion of Sauron's reign through his relative inaction, his non-acceptance of leadership? Does the end of the war justify the means that Aragorn took to get there?

Is Aragorn more moral, more good than Palpatine, because his reign was brought about through total bloodshed? Palpatine's was wrought through the genocide of the Jedi, and yet his own reign brought a stability to his empire. It can be argued that the inaction on Aragorn's part, and the action on Palptine's part, during their respective wars pre-coronation, were a manipulation of the masses. They both chose to guise themselves for who they really were - the son of Arathorn II and the Lord descendant of Bane's line - only to unveil themselves at an opportune moment hastened on by their own actions to claim, and unify, these warring factions.

All four of these individuals, be the real or fictional, share something in common - the ability to be a successful leader. Their morality did not, in the end, impede them from swaying the masses to their opinions and leveraging the influence that they had - through argument, through force, through lineage - to assemble under a common goal. They all enacted dramatic, sweeping changes upon the society in which they lived, and utilized the power granted to them through their public's opinion to direct society in a direction that they wanted. They were good leaders, but that doesn't mean they had to be good people. 

Saphira: In my novel, I am working with two different rulers. One is an Empress and the other a Tyrant. I'll see what I can glean from each of these two to provide more context in a fictional setting.

The Empress has a positive perspective from her people, as he is backed by her Goddess and her long family line of rule. She has  well developed court, council and structure set by both the Goddess and generations of Empresses before her. (Yes, it's an all female-ruling lineage because they're Elephants and the species is largely Matriarchal, but I digress.) She uses generations of Faith-based morality and ideology  to cultivate the values and perspectives of her subjects. Her choices are just because the Goddess has told her to do it, and our Goddess is Benevolent for all. Behold, she has given us life and freedom beyond our bestial origins. She makes her decisions and rules her people using rigid methods and strict guidelines to keep the common life consistent and rational. Whether she is aware of it or not, it is not so much the faith or the prestige of her rule that is powerful, but that selfsame consistency and rationality of her people.

What I mean is this: because the way of life is consistent, it feels rational. Any good or bad that she does is ruled by the same beliefs as those before her. That makes it easy for her subjects to accept her decisions because it makes sense in the context of their everyday lives. Of course she is going to hoard all the 'non-essential' food in storehouses for the war, because we, the entirety of our people, have been preparing for the war that dominates over other races since our inception. Of course we will put finances into the arts, because we are the great race that will take over the planet and arts show how sophisticated and glorious we are. All of the laws that control, govern and guide her people tether to the same principles, and that makes her powerful. There is minimal resistance, because to resist is to change their daily life and core philosophies.

The Tyrant, on the other hand, has by definition stolen the power for himself by force, and that leaves him with a radically different set of tools to stay in power and rule his territories.

First is the Legacy. The narrative of his glorious victory, his noble war that dominated over the nations to protect the underdogs, helps give him some positive influence, but force is force. He is still dealing with those who will be able to mentally reject or object to his power. He could have taken one of two simple routes: A. Quell or crush any rebellion, or B. Wield that rebellion and outcry as a tool for positive change. A sometimes needs to be done, but his ideal is B. This helps create a positive influence over the territories to help reinforce his Coming to Power Narrative, and also fixes problems in the nation that allows him to turn his focus to other problems. Fun stuff.

His true power is that he is cheating. He is using his arcane ability (which won him the war in the first place) to A. live far longer than anyone has any right to, and B. give the overall impression that he can snap his enemies with the thought of snapping a matchstick. This makes his greatest tools Benevolence and Fear. Or, rather, Love and Fear. This gives the people two reasons to hesitate against him: "I don't want to because he does a decent job most of the time," followed by "also I just like being alive in general." 

Where he lacks in 'legitimate rule' with a long lineage, he has made  up for in a single, long lifespan. The current generation has never lived outside of his rule. Their parents were under his rule. Their great grandparents were under his rule. This also introduces a fear of change, and the fear of change is the greatest tool of all. If there is no great and colossal reason why something should be different (like, I dunno, a lot of people dying) then things tend to stay as they are.  

So what it comes down to are three factors, for staying in power. 

1. The populace thinking it's honestly not that bad, or it could be worse. 

2. Fear of change, or that this thing that claims to be better, isn't. 

3. The consequences of change are too dire. This person can murder me, my family and if they die the economy dies with them.

The moral strength of the character may be a direct influence over these factors. That moral compass might be completely irrelevant. That depends on the characters you want to write and what the narrative needs to present your ideas xor experience. Either way, it's how the ruler handles these factors, ether with skill or great lacking, that determines the strength and distance of their power. 

Constablewrites: Cracked just had an article about this from the perspective of the citizens: http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-ways-normal-people-allow-evil-rulers-to-thrive/ It's got some good links to sources discussing real-world regimes and historical examples.  

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

No Conditions, No Reservations - Chapter 20

It’s so good to be back to this one, y’all. I’ve missed my soulmate Bucky baby.

I’ve also missed Margie and Jon, so they’re back for a bit!

Word count: 1568

Warnings: Fluff and fun

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (Soulmate!AU)

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

“Bucky!”

Your soulmates eyes flew wide as he watched your glitter-drenched figure enter your bedroom. Before he could react, your arms were around him and you were rubbing your sticky face into his shirt.

“That’s for not warning me when Sam and Clint figured it out,” you said smugly, resting your chin on his chest and grinning up at him.

“Okay,” said Bucky slowly, left arm held well away from his side in an attempt at keeping the glitter out from between its plates. “I probably deserved that.”

“Damn right you do.” You turned toward the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower! We’ve got just over an hour until we have to leave for Margie and Jon’s place.”

Bucky swore under his breath and took his shirt off as carefully as he could. There was no way he could shower after you and be ready in time to go. With a sigh, he grabbed a towel from the linen closet and headed towards the kitchen. Looks like he’d be cleaning himself off standing at the sink.

----------

Despite his best attempts, Bucky’s arm still had some noticeable sparkles across the matte dark grey of the vibranium alloy as the two of you headed out. When he complained you dryly informed him that you were in need of a maintenance session with Tony when you got back because the glitter and glue had gunked your hand up to the point where it wasn’t working as smoothly as it should be. That shut him up, although he secretly found Clint and Sam’s retaliation prank hilarious.

“You’re here!” Jon crowed as he opened the door. Turning to shout over his shoulder, he called out, “Margie, they’re here!” before grabbing your flesh hand and dragging you inside. “We pulled out a bunch of games since we weren’t sure which ones you’d want to play,” he babbled, leading you through the open-concept living area into was would have been the dining room were it actually its own room. “There’s a new card game we got in last week called Exploding Kittens that’s pretty fun, but it’s kinda better with more people, so I don’t know if we’ll want to play it or not. Same goes for Apples to Apples and Cards Against Humanity; I swear, we’re going to have a gaming party one of these days so we can actually play the fun stuff. Of course, we’ve also got Catan and Risk and Monopoly and classics like that. Margie made me pull out Sequence but I swear if Bucky has any tactical skills at all we’re not playing that one because neither Margie nor I have any sort of head for that thing and that would be an unfair advantage. Although I suppose eliminating tactical games just leaves us with stuff like Sorry and Candy Land…”

Bucky looked at you wide-eyed as Jon just kept rambling. You fought back laughter as Margie stopped what she was doing in the kitchen and came out to whip her fiancé with the towel she was holding.

“How… many… times…” she teased, snapping him every few words, “ do I… have to tell you… not to overwhelm… our guests… with your chatter? Ah!”

By the time she’d finished her sentence he had caught the other end of the towel and reeled her in to pepper kisses all over her face. The two of them dissolved into laughter and Bucky couldn’t help but marvel at just how happy they were together. Yes, he was happy with you, but what he was seeing in your friends was a happiness borne of time together and the work they’d put into the relationship.

Saying Bucky was uncomfortable around people he didn’t know well would be an understatement. Something about Margie and Jon, however, had him wanting to get to know them better. He surprised you by being the one to start the conversation once dinner was on the table and you were all sitting down.

“So,” he started off rather shyly, “I remember you mentioning that you both met in the same park where Y/N and I did. Could I hear the story behind that, if it’s okay?”

Jon beamed at him. “My favorite topic!”

Margie rolled her eyes fondly at her fiancé. “You should find it embarrassing. You made a fool out of yourself.”

“I’ll always be a fool for you, my love,” he cooed sappily, before turning back to your soulmate. “I work in an office near the park. Nothing special, just IT and network maintenance, but I enjoy it. I’d just had a physical and my doctor told me that I needed to get more vitamin D, so I started taking my lunch breaks in the park.”

“It was my day off,” Margie jumped in. “My sister and her husband were on vacation and I was dog-sitting for them. Since I had a full day free and Dani was restless – she’s a lab, and they have so much energy – I decided it was a nice day for a jog around the park, when I run into this idiot.”

Jon took over smoothly, leaving Bucky a little awed at how well they flowed together in telling the story. “I swear it was Dani’s fault. I was minding my own business, getting up to throw out my trash, when suddenly there was this dog right in front of me and I couldn’t stop in time.”

“He face-planted on the sidewalk,” Margie finished with a laugh. “Broke both our noses. We worked out the soulmate connection while sitting next to each other in the ER.”

“Not as fluffy-type romantic as you two,” Jon said, leaning back in his chair, “but very…us.”

“Yes,” his fiancée agreed with a smile, “it was very us.”

Jon straightened up and grinned. “So naturally, Dani will be our ring bearer. I was going to ask her to be the flower girl but the engagement has been a little longer than either of us had planned, and by now she has a human sister who will get that honor provided she’s not too old for such things when we finally have a wedding date.”

You smiled at the two of them, squeezing Bucky’s hand where you’d taken it under the table. “I still think you two should just elope to Vegas. There’s no way you’re satisfying both of your families anyway. Just have fun and make it official, get a good story to tell your kids.”

Margie noticed Bucky’s brow furrowing at your statement and explained. “Jon and I are both from big families, but ones with very opposing opinions on how weddings should be done. That’s why we’ve been engaged for three years and still don’t even have a date; our mothers keep bickering over the time of year, the flowers, the color scheme – if it can be fought over, they have argued the point into the ground, and it’s kept us from making any actual plans.”

Bucky still looked confused. “I thought your wedding was supposed to be about you two? Shouldn’t you be making those decisions?”

“Our moms are both…” Jon paused and looked a Margie with a slight wince, “strong-willed, I guess. As soon as we got engaged it became a competition for which of them could show us off better. I don’t think either of them have ever considered letting us plan anything.”

Your soulmate still looked confused, but he shrugged and turned back to his food. “Well, if your families ever get it together and you can’t find an officiant who’s available, most of the Avengers are licensed officiants so at least one should be free barring global catastrophe. It’s rare for a mission to take all of us.”

“Wait,” you said, blinking and trying to register what you’d just heard. “Who all are licensed officiants? And why didn’t I know about this?”

Bucky shrugged. “Last year there was a charity raffle to have an Avenger officiate people’s weddings. Steve, Tony, Nat, Rhodey, and Sam all signed up, so they got their licenses. They’re doing one again this year and Stevie talked me into doing it, so I’m licensed now too. Thor might do it if he’s on Earth at the time; no one seems to care much whether he’s licensed or not, being heir to the throne of another realm and all.”

Margie’s hand shot out and gripped Jon’s around his fork. “Babe, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He nodded. “It’s just a twenty-four hour waiting period after getting the marriage license, right?”

The look in your friend’s eyes was hopeful. “We could do it this weekend? Elope here, have the service in the park if we can get the space on such short notice?” She turned to you. “Y/N, would you be my maid of honor?”

With a squeal, you threw yourself on your friend. “Yes, yes, of course Margie, yes! And we can get the space, don’t worry; if anyone says we can’t I’ll just ask Tony for help. Who do you want to officiate if they’re available?”

“Well,” Jon was nervous, chewing on his lip, “honestly? If he’s available, it would be great to get Captain America.”

“Done,” Bucky said with a firm nod. “As long as the punk is in town, he’ll be your officiant.”

The four of you never did get to the games; the rest of the night became a whirlwind of wedding planning.

[imagine-loki]

Taming the Rage

TITLE: Taming the Rage

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 65 

AUTHOR: lokilover9

Original Imagine: Imagine Odin tells Loki that he has to marry and it’s you. You’ve hated him for years. Every time he sees you in the palace he smirks knowing all the duties you’ll have to perform as his princess, making you cringe. He isn’t exactly fond of you either, but can’t help looking forward to the challenge.

RATING: Teen

Upon Edgar’s death, Frigga had ordered his small apartment be locked and un entered until further notice. She’d intended to personally deal with his belongings, but hadn’t had the time. The drawings Erika mentioned kept resurfacing in her mind however, so when a delegate cancelled dinner for the same evening one morning, she used the opportunity to investigate. Edgar’s apartment was spotless as he’d always kept it and she smiled at the light scent of sandalwood still present amidst the rooms. It was his favorite and would forever remind her of him. Once finding the chest, it was larger than Frigga had anticipated and upon opening it, she was truly awed. Inside was file after file, labeled with names and specific time periods all the way back to Edgar’s early adulthood. Edgar’s parents, her and Odin when first married, Ander and his Mother, Thor and Loki as babies, the palace, friends, Thor and Janes wedding, Junior, there were so many, she’d need time to inspect them all and so turned her attentions to a particular era. Loki’s childhood.

It didn’t take long for her to find drawings of Loki secretly watching Odin and Thor spending time together. Often they were laughing and playing, or Odin was expressing a rare gesture of affection towards him. As much as she’d loved her husband, the heartbreak in Loki’s expressions angered and brought her to tears, especially in the drawings where she realized Odin was berating him. Loki would be cowering in fear and she couldn’t believe he’d been so frequently cruel to him as there were no drawings of Odin treating Thor this way. She’d witnessed him deliver harsh words and delegate discipline to both boys, but never had he looked so vicious like in Edgar’s drawings making it obvious he’d observed incidents between Odin and Loki she hadn’t.

After shedding many tears and verbally thanking Edgar for all his kindness towards Loki, she’d almost put everything back when a file she hadn’t initially noticed caught her eye. Searching it from the very beginning, she found something that warmed her heart beyond words and knew exactly what needed to be done with it. “Oh Edgar, thank you again. This is perfect.” Upon standing, she accidentally knocked a small box from the shelf above her. It opened when hitting the floor and she chuckled. “Oh my, this will be perfect too.”

A few days later, Erika requested the presence of her sisters, Father and Frigga in her room and Loki arranged it. They all sat in chairs around her bed and Erika cleared her throat.

“I’m uncertain of what you’ll think of this, but I must to tell you.” She described her time with Asta word for word, including the part about Beatrice and as her sisters cried, Jarles and Frigga stared at her in awe.

“The..the clover.” He stated. “You were a baby when I lost that Erika. I never told you of it.”

Jarles’s oldest daughter suddenly rose from her seat. “Oh norns!” She yelled, before bolting from the room. Jarles asked his other daughters to follow her and they left.

Erika then turned to Frigga. “What’s going to happen to Beatrice?”

Frigga explained she would go before the highest court in three weeks. She could either plead guilty, or have the lawyer assigned to her plead her case for a trial. Either way, her participation in the plot to murder an heir to the throne, would most likely result in death.

Erika then revealed to Frigga what Edgar had asked of her. While imprisoned, he’d strongly sensed the horrible guilt and sadness that constantly plagued Beatrice and knew she’d been an unwilling victim in Anders plot. He’d asked of Erika upon her sentencing, if she’d visit with Beatrice and assure her one day she’d be forgiven.

Frigga sighed. “I can’t say I disagree with her sorrow. She cries so often I’ve had to place a magic shield around her cell so no one can see or hear her. The other prisoners were complaining and calling her a baby killer. From the day she was imprisoned, her entire family seems to have completely disowned her as well and she’s had not one visitor.”

Erika winced at this. “Please Frigga? I must see her.”

Edgar’s input definitely influenced Frigga’s decision and she agreed, but only if Erika was healthy enough at the time. Then her sisters all came barreling into the room and stared at Jarles.

His oldest daughter approached him, holding out a closed hand. “Father, forgive me? I’d completely forgotten until Erika mentioned it.” Upon opening it, there sat a perfect four leaf clover encased in the clearest and strongest of plastics within Asgard.

Trembling when taking it, he looked to Erika. “You’re Mother had this made for me when we were dating. It was for luck whenever my job required a dangerous mission, or I had to go off into battle so I would always return to her safely. I thought I’d lost it forever.”

Erikas sister apologized again and explained. She’d been playing in Astas jewelry box as young girl where she’d found it and had it in her hand when she got caught. Asta was furious and while taking the box away, she’d slipped it into her dress pocket. Sent to her room, she’d hid it in a small box deep in her closet, fearing Asta would think she’d meant to steal it. A week later, Asta went to her about it and she’d lied, still fearing punishment. Believing it lost, Asta stopped talking about it and over time, it ended up forgotten about until this day. Elated to have it back, Jarles forgave her immediately.

“So, she actually said we’d all be together again one day did she?” He asked Erika.

“Yes Father and I believe her.”

Jarles stared at the clover in his hand, then smiled at Frigga. “Me too.” ~~~~~~~ Erika continued getting stronger and early the next week, Loki left her room shortly after breakfast one morning and returned with a wheelchair.

“Really?” She asked. “I can?”

He smiled at how her face lit up. “You may, I spoke to Eir about it last night.”

“Can’t I just walk? I’ve done so good in my room.”

Loki helped her put on some tights and a sweatshirt Jane had given her, using magic to fit it around her IV tubes. “You have, but it’s a beautiful day and I thought we’d go outside for a bit.”

“We’re going outside?”

Her response was that of an excited child and Loki kissed her. “Yes Darling we are, but only if you agree to stay in the chair.”

“I promise, just please get me out of here?”

Everyone that passed them in the palace corridors greeted Erika with nods and smiles, but Loki didn’t give them a moment to stop and chat.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” She asked.

“You can see them another day. Why waste more time inside?” They reached the palace’s main doors and he stopped. “I need you to do something for me please?” He stood beside the chair. “I’m taking you somewhere and need to blindfold you until we arrive.”

“Blindfold me?” She asked. “Isn’t it a little soon for the ‘God of Kinkyness?’ You aren’t taking me to that tree are you?”

The guards at the doors smirked and Loki squatted to her level. “No, I am not.” He whispered. “Could you keep your voice down Darling?”

“Then what are you up to?” She whispered back.

“Erika, will you please just humor me?”

Something in his eyes convinced her to allow it and as they exited, she inhaled a deep breath. “I’d almost forgotten what fresh air smells like. It’s funny how we take some things for granted until we no longer have access to them.”

He leaned to her ear. “Very true and I shall do it no longer.”

Erika sighed. “Oh Loki, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know you didn’t. Enjoy the ride, hmm?”

He purposely took her along different areas of the palace grounds in hopes of confusing her and could tell it was working as she kept smelling the air and tilting her ears to various sounds. Eventually, they drove over what felt like grass and came to a stop. After locking the wheels, he stood before her while removing the blindfold, watching her reaction.

Recognizing the spot immediately, she smiled up at him. “Oh Loki, this is it. The pond we first met at. I still can’t believe you remembered.”

“How could I forget? Such a brat you were.” He teased. “This truly was my pond and no one said I had to share it. Then along you came with your red curls and big green eyes, thieving rocks and dirtying my new boots. Consider yourself lucky I don’t toss you in for that.”

“I can swim silly, remember? Although my dancing partner might not fare so well. I’ll certainly be happy when I’m freed of it. I know it’s necessary, but the longer I’m stuck with it, the more I miss ‘home’ and our life there. You must miss home too and I’ve kept you so long from it. I’m sorry.”

Loki knelt before her. “No Erika, listen. Wherever ‘you’ are, that’s where home is for me too. If that’s within Eirs rooms right now, then so be it. I don’t care how long it takes until you’re well, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now cheer up or I ‘will’ toss you in.”

She chuckled, then took a better look around. “It’s been awhile since I’ve come here. The gardeners have done wonders with the landscaping, it’s beautiful now. Thank you for bringing me.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and kissed her hand. “I couldn’t think of a better place than the spot we first met for the occasion.”

“Occasion?” She asked.

“I know we’re betrothed Erika, but I couldn’t let that stop me from doing this the way I’ve wished.”

She gasped when from a back pocket, he presented a small, velvet, green box. “Loki?” Upon opening it, her mouth fell ajar as inside was a beautiful fair sized Emerald in the shape of an eye, surrounded by small diamonds on a gold ring.

Loki looked her in the eyes. “I call you Emerald girl because that’s what your eyes have reminded me of since the moment I first saw them. I’ve wasted enough of my life without you and refuse to do so any longer. Will you marry me Erika?”

A sob escaped her as she threw her arms around him and slid onto his lap. “Of course I will marry you!”

Loki laughed, gripping her IV pole as it almost fell over. “Don’t you want to wear it?”

“Yes, I do!” She kissed him then sat back in the chair.

“I measured your finger while you slept and as you’ve lost so much weight, had it made a size larger.”

Erikas hand trembled as he placed it on her finger. When realizing it was too big, she pouted and he put it on the middle one.

“It doesn’t matter to me which finger you wear this on, the jeweler can fix it accordingly. You will still be my wife sooner than you think.”

“Loki I love this, it’s so beautiful and don’t worry. I told you I’d wait for you.”

“Why should you when we’ll be married this Saturday?”

Erika was stunned, realizing he was serious. “Wh..what? How? That’s only four days away.”

He could see the concern on her face and reassured her. “It’s alright darling. I’ve had this planned since days after you first woke. It will only be immediate family and we can have a proper wedding later, whenever you wish. Marry me this Saturday Erika?”

Loki couldn’t have been happier when she agreed and after an extensive walk through the gardens, he took her to one more place before returning. They stopped along the path near the clearing where Colton’s tree was and he offered his hand.

“I actually get to escape?” She asked.

“Only for a moment as I’ve a question about something.” He stood her in a certain direction and smirked. “The vines along this fence are rather thick and difficult to see through, wouldn’t you agree?”

She gave them a quick gander. “It would appear so, yes.”

His smirk widened. “I see. So where exactly were you standing then, to get a good view of me pouring water onto my half naked body?”

Erika’s expression flooded with embarrassment and she squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh no. I have a serious bone to pick with someone. Very serious.”

“Ohhh, come now.” He teased. “She meant well Darling. Your perversion was revealed along with your love for me.”

“What? It’s not a perversion. I…”

“Yes it is.”

“Look.” She stated, with a sigh. “I was bringing you lunch and you were shoveling and…it just sort of happened.”

His smirk returned. “You watched me shoveling as well? Just exactly how long ‘were’ you ogling me through those bushes for?”

“I wasn’t ogling. Can we not talk about this anymore? It’s rather..embarrassing.”

“Hmm.” He sauntered towards her and feathered his lips over hers, speaking in a husky tone. “So tell me. Did I make you as wet as I made myself?”

“Oh that does it.” She walked over and plunked back down in the chair, sighing at his impish grin. “I’m never going to live this down am I?”

Loki laughed as he pushed her along the path. “Not a chance in hell Darling.”

Once back in the palace, Loki insisted they have lunch before informing Thor and Frigga of their decision. Eir entered her room while they were waiting for it.

“You look happy. Did you enjoy your walk?”

“Very much so. I was formally proposed to and look!”

She beamed with pride, showing off her ring and Eir smiled. “It’s beautiful, congratulations. May I see you both in the Soul Forge room please?”

“Is something wrong?” Asked Erika.

“No child, but it’s time you had a more exploratory check up. Come.”

They followed and Erika laid on the examining table while Loki watched, standing near the bed. A 3D vision of Erikas womb appeared and moments later, they all heard a faint, yet rapid, consistent swooshing sound.

“What is that?” Loki Asked

Eir smiled at them. “Your baby’s heartbeat.”

Erika became excited. “Is it really?”

“Yes.”

Loki and Erika smiled at each other. “Is he or she alright? I mean, considering.” She asked.

Eir continued viewing the image, turning it on different angles while studying it intently. “I realize what you’re asking and we won’t know more until later in the pregnancy I’m afraid.”

She looked really focused and they stared at her. “The weekly blood work I’ve been taking and now this Forge, still shows the antidote is steadily killing the poison and that’s good. However, it’s also left me suspicious of something due to your hormone levels.”

“Oh?” Asked Erika.

Just then, the heartbeat was heard again and Erika noticed Loki was very focused on the image as well. The curious, yet baffled look on his face, was amusing and she smirked as it intensified.

“Eir?”

She smiled again. “Yes Prince Loki?”

“Is that..what I think it is?”

“Yes it is.” Seconds later, she was chuckling at him. “Oh Norns.”

Erikas mouth fell open as she looked at the floor. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’ll be fine. Look closer at the image child.”

Realizing what he’d been staring at, Erikas face lit up. “Oh my goodness! Really?”

“Yes, that was a second heartbeat. You’re having twins.”

Erika chuckled while looking at the floor again. “It would appear the God of Mischief has played the sneakiest of tricks on himself.”

[narniasecretsanta]

First Date

@rosesnvines secret santa for @fingersnapchaos 

First Date - Susan and Corin plot to get Cor and Aravis together on their first date, and what better way than the annual Christmas ball. With Edmund’s help they just might pull it off, as long as things don’t get royally screwed.

Susan was sitting by the window in the coffee shop, sipping her cappuccino and reading the paper, when the ringing of the shop’s bell followed by chatter caught her attention. She glanced up, and saw the Archenland twins and Aravis walk through the door. Cor, the heir to the throne, was talking to Aravis about something they had watched on TV the night before, one of those comedy sketches the fauns liked to put on, something Susan really didn’t care too much for. Corin, however, wasn’t taking part in the conversation and glanced around the shop, his eyes falling on Susan eventually. He grinned at her and waved before following his brother to the ordering line. Susan smiled and waved back at him before turning back to her newspaper and her cappuccino. She slowly sipped from her cup as she perused the articles, Lantern Waste was complaining about Giant attacks, Terebinthia told of their constant battle with pirates, while Archenland was all excitement and partying with the news that their twin princes were going to college in Imiamos with the Pevensies. Susan smirked at the article as she snuck a quick glance at the twins who were just getting to the register. But that’s when she noticed Cor’s arm around Aravis and blinked. When did they start going out? Susan turned back to the Archenland section to see if there was any mention of this new development between the heir apparent and the Tarkheena, but she couldn’t find a thing. Was this very recent?

“Hey Sue, what’s up?”  came a voice, startling Susan. She folded up her paper to reveal the very bored-looking Corin.

“Oh, hi Corin! Nothing much. You?”

Corin shrugged. “Same old, same old with the studies, and a studious older brother. I just want to play sports, that’s all.”

“No interests in girls, either?” asked Susan pointedly, aiming to steer the conversation towards the obvious affection the oldest prince was showing.

“Nah, at least, not right now. I’m open to it later on, but not now.”

“And Cor?”

That’s when Corin raised his eyebrow and a mischievous grin spread on his face. “So, you noticed Cor only ever so slightly flirting with the Tarkheena, huh?” 

Susan chuckled. “Is that what he calls it?”

Corin rolled his eyes. “That’s the closest I’ve gotten to getting a confession of love from for Aravis. He says they fight too much. Well, I told he should marry her anyway, they can do it even better after they get married.”

“Corin!” berated Susan as she whacked his arm.

“What? I’m serious! Married couples fight all the time!”

“Not all the time, Corin. What TV shows have you been watching? Comedy Central?”

“OK then, smarty-pants, how should a married couple act?”

“Completely in love! Yes, they’ll have a few arguments, but that’s not the basis of their marriage!”

“So, you think like my brother, despite the fact that he is obviously smitten with Aravis, the one person besides me he argues with, a lot.”

“Do they look like they’re arguing now?” asked Susan, pointing out the duo as they sat and chatted away like the best of friends.

Corin blinked. “OK, well, they don’t argue all the time …”

“Exactly, if they did, Cor wouldn’t fall in love with her.”

“Well then, your majesty, how do we get him to ask her out on a date? I’ve been pestering him about it for weeks now.”

“This is technically a date,” pointed out Susan.

“Yeah, but, like, with flowers, a romantic walk under the moonlight, dinner for two, and all that jazz?”

“Well, Corin, sounds like you might be properly prepared to sweep a girl off her feet when you are ready.”

Corin grinned at her. “But seriously, what should we do? He is expected to find a queen, you know. More pressure on him than you four, or me.”

Susan nodded as she placed her head on her hand, watching the couple. “I know, but, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, if you have any ideas, let me know, alright? I’ll help as much as I can. I’m kinda getting tired of him talking about her the way he does, only for him to blush and stutter no when I suggest asking her out.”

“Hmm … it might be a little harder than I thought. We don’t want to push them too hard, or it will push them apart. I’ll give it some more thought and get back to you once I have something.”

“It better be good, because I’m about at my wit’s end,” muttered Corin before standing up. His brother had noticed him sitting with Susan and motioned him over. “I might be back, but if not, you have a good day, Queen Susan. Thanks for the chat.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later!” she said as he walked away. She waved at Cor and Aravis when they waved at her, but then Corin turned and waved her over. Susan smiled, folded up her paper, picked up her cappuccino carefully, and walked over to their table.

Later, when Susan was walking back to the cabin she shared with her siblings while they went to school, she thought about Cor and Aravis. What could she do to help convince Cor to ask Aravis out on an actual date, as Corin put it? She was still deep in thought when she entered the cabin.

“Hey sis, what’s on your mind today?” quipped Edmund as he walked past with a book. He was already well into his studies in the living room. He sat down on the sofa and glanced up at her when she didn’t reply. “Oh come on, I know it’s got nothing to do with the news. It’s the same old, same old. Father already took Peter out to Lantern Waste, they’re going to try and come up with a solution over the weekend. But what’s on your mind?”

Susan let out a sigh as she sat next to him on the sofa. “Oh, Corin asked me to help him convince Cor to ask Aravis out on a real date. I saw them today, he’s obviously smitten with her.”

“And you already ship it,” muttered Edmund.

Susan grinned. “How could I not? They are so adorable together!”

“Uh-huh … don’t they argue a lot?”

“They weren’t earlier. I didn’t hear a single argument at the coffee shoppe.”

Edmund glanced at her in surprise. “Really?” No arguments at all? Did hell freeze over or something?” he asked when Susan shook her head.

She laughed. “I don’t think so. I think it’s because Cor is finally realizing himself that he has feelings for her. Corin said the closest he ever got to a confession was Cor admitting he might have been slightly flirting with Aravis.”

Edmund laughed. “Sounds like Cor too.”

“So I’ve been thinking of what to do to get Cor to ask her out,” continued Susan. 

Edmund played with his pencil. “Hmm … with Cor, that might be hard. Unlike Corin, he doesn’t make his feelings all that well known. He’ll make a great king for it though.”

“That’s true. What do you think, Edmund? You know him better than the rest of us.”

“And I would think Corin knows him better still,” pointed out Edmund.

“Right, but, you’re more observant than Corin.”

“No contest there,” remarked Edmund with a grin. He leaned forward and placed his chin in his hands, drumming his fingers against his mouth. “Well, we won’t be able to get Cor to ask her by himself for sure, and I highly doubt we could get him to ask her out to a simple dinner date.”

Susan sighed. “Then what would you suggest?”

“A party, for couples,” stated Edmund, a grin tugging at his lips.

Susan raised her eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, think about it, Cor would have to ask her to be his date for the night, but he wouldn’t think of it as a date, per say, since technically he won’t have to be obligated to be her date the whole night. But, between you and Corin, you can make it that way.”

“You might be onto something.”

“I mean, after all, when a guy is really nervous about taking a girl out, he likes to do it a parties first, with a bunch of people, so it makes it easy on his nerves and can open up some conversation between the two thanks to their friends. Unless, of course, you’re someone like Corin, and you’re just perfectly easy around everyone.”

Susan laughed. “Quite true. Well, then, I think we’ve got ourselves a plan. And I know exactly when to do it.” Edmund glanced at her questioningly as she grinned. “The Annual Christmas party,” she explained. Edmund’s face broke into a mischievous grin. “And I can assume you’ll help us?” she asked.

Edmund let out a sigh, though his grin and eyes were telling her he was going to enjoy it. “I guess I’d better, otherwise, you two might mess it up.”

“What? No we wouldn’t!” blurted Susan as she hit him. He burst out laughing before ttwo took to planning it all out.

The Annual Christmas party in Imiamos was always put together by the fauns and the nymphs, and it was always splendid. This year was no different. There might have been more mistletoe than usual, but a snickering Edmund with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes might have had something to do with that. Everyone came decked out in their holiday best, the ladies all wearing gorgeous gowns in every shade of the rainbow, the gentlemen usually having a flower in the matching color to indicate which lady was with which gentleman. Not everyone had a partner, but it was an age-old tradition that the fauns and the nymphs were quite picky about. So if someone came without a partner, there had better be a good excuse or they were promptly paired up with someone who didn’t have a partner. A tradition Susan was betting on to get Cor to ask Aravis to be his partner for the evening. And if not, she had already informed the fauns and the nymphs in charge of it that if they were without a partner, to partner them up. So far so good. She glanced at Peter and Lucy, Peter was with their parents talking to the guests, while Lucy was well into the games. Corin, to be on the safe side, asked Susan to be his partner, but he was coming in with his brother and Aravis. She glanced back at the door, which should be soon.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have said you liked Corin,” muttered Edmund as he joined her.

“Edmund!”

He chuckled. “I know, you just want to make sure Cor and Aravis have their first date without really realizing it. But to someone who doesn’t know about that, it really does look like you are anxious for Corin to arrive.”

“Well I just might, with all the unwanted attention,” mumbled Susan as she crossed her arms and nodded in the direction of a certain guest from Calormen, Rabadash. “I’d rather a demigod at this rate.”

“No, no, the correct response is ‘I’d rather a god at this point’, considering not many of the gods are really that trustworthy.”

“No kidding. I’d probably go with either Apollo since he’s handsome but vain, or Hephaestus since he’s not the best-looking, but sincere.”

“And Rabadash is probably more Ares,” muttered Edmund.

Susan nodded vigorously. “Yes! And Ares is not one I really like, I would so prefer Hephaestus over him, any day.”

“But, for now, you have a handsome boxer,” stated Edmund, nodding in the direction of the door. There they were! All three had just entered, Corin was standing behind Cor, who had Aravis’ hand tucked in his arm. Aravis was wearing royal purple gown with silver accents while Cor had a royal purple rose tucked in his pocket. Susan let out a romantic sigh.

“They are so adorable!” she exclaimed softly. Edmund just rolled his eyes. By then, Corin had noticed them and was walking towards them, the pine bough he picked to match Susan’s forest green gown bouncing along.

“Alright, step one is complete, they’re here. Now what?”

Edmund shrugged. “Now we just need to make sure that they stay together the whole night and get them talking. Should be a piece of cake.” But boy was he wrong. First, Rabadash had to make a scene because Susan refused to dance with him, and Corin and Edmund had to practically pull him out of the ballroom. This caused them to lose track of Cor and Aravis, and when they finally found them again, Cor was talking with Peter while Aravis was dancing with another guy, and it seemed she was flirting with him. Corin and Susan quickly stepped in and broke up the couple and got Aravis back to Cor once the dance was over. They convinced Cor to take Aravis out to the dance floor, finally, and the three seemed to relax a bit.

“Well, that was a rocky start,” quipped Edmund. “Hope nothing else bad happens.”

“Compared to Rabadash’ complete and total meltdown at someone not giving into his childish ways, I think anything else will be … well, child’s play,” replied Corin with a grin.

“Let’s just get through the night in one piece,” muttered Susan.

“Yes, let’s,” remarked Edmund.

“So, Queen Susan, may I have this dance?” asked Corin with a bow.

“Certainly, we might not get another,” replied Susan with a curtsy. The two went to the dance floor and joined in, though while still keeping an eye on Cor and Aravis. When they returned to where Edmund was sitting, Lucy had joined him, and apparently he had given her all the details.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything? Aravis is my best friend!” stated Lucy with a pout as she crossed her arms.

“Sorry Lu, but I didn’t want you to get so excited that you’d give the whole thing away!” blurted Susan.

“She does have a point,” remarked Edmund. “Ow!” he exclaimed when Lucy pinched him.

Susan sighed. “Please don’t start, you two.”

“No, but seriously, I could have talked to her, found out if she liked him back, and dropped a few hints that he might like her!”

“She does have a point,” remarked Edmund. Susan shot him a glare. “What?”

“Ugh, can we keep to the task at hand?” blurted Corin. “I know family spats can be interesting to watch, but my brother still needs to admit he likes Aravis, and maybe find out if she likes him back!”

“Well, she kinda does …” began Lucy.

“She does?” all three asked incredulously.

“Yes, she just didn’t want to make the first move until she was absolutely sure he liked her back,” explained Lucy.

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” asked Susan.

Lucy shrugged. “You never asked.”

“She does …”

“Edmund, if you say that one more time I will drag you out of the ballroom myself and you can keep Rabadash company,” blurted Susan.

“OK, OK, but she is right. We didn’t ask her, we didn’t include her in this whole thing even though she is Aravis’ best friend, so to speak.”

Susan let out a sigh. “Fine then. Lucy, do you think you can keep Aravis close to Cor?”

Lucy saluted her. “Yes ma’am, you bet I can!”

“Good. Ed, you keep an eye on Cor. Corin and I will make sure no one else distracts them.”

“Right!’ they chorused before they set off to do their tasks, right before the next accident of the night. Jill Pole had left the games and had joined Lucy as she walked towards Aravis at the refreshments station. The three were getting some punch when a rowdy faun toppled the punch, all over Jill’s lovely crimson and gold dress. She let out a shriek as Lucy and Aravis jumped in with some napkins to sop up the liquid.

“Oh no Jill!” exclaimed Aravis. “And all over your lovely dress!” She shot the faun a glare before he slunk away.

“Really?” muttered Susan with a groan as she moved to join them.

“Well, there goes that. Sorry, everybody, but, I need to head back home. I’m not staying in this mess.”

“Someone should go with you,” stated Susan.

“Ugh, fine,” muttered Jill.

“Well, I could,” began Eustace.

“Thank you, Eustace, but, I’d rather a lady. I would like some help with it,” she stated as she glanced at the sad state of her dress. Susan and Lucy glanced at each other. Susan let out a sigh and nodded. Well, there went that. But maybe Lucy could still talk to Aravis about it later.

“I’ll go,” said Lucy.

Jill smiled at her. “Thanks Lu, you’re the best.” The two walked out slowly, the dress heavier now that it was wet. Susan let out a sigh and a groan as she turned to Aravis.

“Well, at least it wasn’t Rabadash throwing a temper tantrum,” quipped Aravis.

Susan laughed. “That’s true. I think that will forever be the worst highlight of this evening. And since we’re out of punch, would some lemonade work?”

Aravis chuckled. “I think that would work just fine.” The two went and got some lemonade.

“So, despite the, uh, interesting mishaps tonight, how are you liking it so far?” asked Susan.

Aravis nodded. “So far so good. I’ve been having a blast. I’m sorry I missed the Michaelmas party, but I can’t wait for Easter if it’s anything like this!”

Susan laughed. “Oh it will be, without the spilled punch hopefully.” Aravis laughed. Susan continued, “The fauns and the nymphs know how to throw a party.”

“So it would seem.”

“I, uh, noticed that you and Cor seemed to be having a pretty intense conversation during that last dance. May I ask what was it about?”

“Oh, Cor was complaining about his family. They sent him another message to remind him that while he doesn’t have to have a  girlfriend just yet, he needs to keep an eye out for some good possibilities. Being Crown Prince sure had its down-sides.”

“Well, knowing Cor, he probably already has his sights set on a girl, he just wants to finish up his studies before he makes any moves. My only concern is that she might get whisked away by another guy while he does that.”

Aravis glanced at her in surprise. “You think, you think Cor might already be interested in somebody?”

Susan did her very best not to start squealing, she thought she was getting somewhere! Instead, she merely shrugged. “It’s possible. I think it’s very likely, in fact. Corin was just telling me that whenever he and Edmund would talk about how pretty the girls were, Cor would just stay quiet. Corin said he used to chime in, but now he doesn’t.” Susan just about lost it when Aravis bit her lip with what looked like hope in her eyes as she glanced at the fellow in question. She still liked Cor! And that’s when the next most disastrous thing happened that night, a nymph tripped and spilled the lemonade all over Aravis.

“Good grief! What is with everybody tonight?” exclaimed Edmund as he and the twins rushed to help Susan and Aravis. Well, he found out real quick, both the fauns and the nymphs had been getting plenty of liquor, and the nymph he helped up after tripping, was acting pretty tipsy.

“Alright then, party’s over!” shouted Mr. Pevensie the instant he came over and found out. He was not thrilled that children were exposed to such actions, and his children especially.

“Well, good thing I won’t have to miss too much,” stated Aravis with a smile.

Susan chuckled nervously. “There really shouldn’t be liquor out until after the children have gone to bed,” she muttered.

“Well, there’s that. Shall we escort you home, Aravis?” asked Cor.

Aravis smiled. “Yes, I would like that. Thank you.” He smiled at her as he held out his arm to her. She placed her hand in the nook of his elbow, and the two walked out. Corin practically grabbed Susan’s arm and, followed by Edmund, followed them out.

“Why do we have to come?” whispered Edmund as they quietly followed the couple.

“Because I want to see this through,” whispered Susan.

“And you wouldn’t let your sister walk home all by herself?” asked Corin in a low voice.

“Why not? She’s mean enough she could take out a whole armada of pirates,” quipped Edmund. Susan shot him a glare.

“Susan? Queen Susan the Gentle take out a whole armada? Really, Ed, you must be joking,” returned Corin with a smirk.

“I didn’t say she had to fight them. She just gives them the mean mama look and they’d run away,” remarked Edmund with a smirk.

“Really you two,”  muttered Susan.

“Sh, we’re getting close!” whispered Corin. The three became silent as they quickly ducked around the corner. They glanced around the corner at the scene before them. Cor and Aravis had arrived at her house and he was seeing her to her front door when she paused and turned around.

“Well, um, thank you for inviting me. I had a lot of fun,” she said.

“Even with the lemonade spill?”

“That’s a problem for the dress, not for me,” she replied with a grin.

“Which is kind of sad, you looked really nice in it,” blurted Cor. The two glanced away as they began to blush. Susan bit her lip as she did her best to conceal her excitement. It was working after all!

“Oh, um, thank, thank you. You look really nice in your suit too.”

Cor cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, um thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Aravis replied softly as she grasped at her dress and began to twist the fabric. “Um, well, I guess I should get inside. Good night,” she said after a moment’s silence.

“Yeah, um, good night,” replied Cor. The two turned, Aravis to enter her house and Cor to leave. But Cor paused and turned back. “Um, Aravis?”

Aravis turned quickly. “Yes?”

“Would you, um … Corin and I are going to watch Captain Narnia this Saturday. Um, would you like to come with us?”

Aravis smiled softly at him. “Yes, yes, I would like that, Cor.”

He smiled back just as softly. “Good, we’ll pick you up around seven. Would that work?”

“Yes, I’ll be ready. See you Saturday.”

“Right, see you Saturday.” The two stood there for another second just looking into each other’s eyes, while the twin brother was currently high-fiving Susan and Edmund. Cor finally broke the gaze and walked away, but both had big, soft smiles on their faces.

Susan and Edmund had to tell everyone the story upon their arrival at the cabin, but Susan went to bed quite thrilled. She played matchmaker quite well. Who else could she pair up?