#this is a joke. hana does not quit her day job. shes an influencer this just makes her marketable and unique

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

quit your day job and date rich older women . these is no way this plan will go wrong

[petroltogo]

full disclosure, this got complete out of control (you’ll see that below the cut) and for those who prefer to read longer texts elsewhere I also posted the full story on AO3. @hopeswriting I hope you like it!

So Hana takes a step back. She let the stress of being field-active, of having to cover for Sawada and keeping their squad upright run her down and never once took a moment to breathe and think. It worked, for a time, but it can’t work forever. Hana won’t be around forever to pick up Mochida’s slack when he’s hesitating, to push Sawada down when he gets ideas about helping, to shoot down Miura’s more crazed ideas that she makes sound horrifyingly reasonable.

In other words, she needs to start working on a solution instead of being the solution. Which means approach the problem in a new way.

Since Vongola Inc.’s bureaucracy is as nightmare-inducing as Hana expected it to be, getting another member assigned to their squad is a spectacular failure. [Hana cannot believe the bullheadedness of people who have never even seen a gun in real life but somehow think they can tell her what she does and doesn’t need in a fight.] Unsurprising but it was worth a try.

Which brings Hana to Plan B: Get Sawada off the squad. He’s spent the past two and a half months flapping around on the field like a fish who’s jumped out of an aquarium only to realize that he does, indeed, need water to survive. He’s panicked and cried and thrown up [in Sawada’s defense, they all have, but unlike Sawada they usually manage to control themselves until after the crisis is over] — in short, he’s had his fun.

It’s time to end this.

[continues under the cut]

Since the last time Hana tried to hammer a rational thought into Sawada’s brain, she’s payed attention and realized that Sawada won’t ever get off his ass and do something to improve his life if the only thing to be gained is more happiness and less lethal danger for himself. Which, frankly, is a thought that boggles her mind but alright.

If Sawada refuses to make decent life choices, Hana will make one for him. She doesn’t usually meddle like this, this is 100% Kyouko’s bad influence on her, but Hana has spent too many months keeping this idiot alive. He’s not gonna die on her now.

So Hana files the transfer papers for Sawada.

She does it properly too. Researches Sawada’s high school grades — which range from passable to terrible, how did he make it into the Vongola Inc. attack squad training in the first place? — and interests — of which there are barely any, seriously, does this guy not have a life? — and pays attention to Sawada in action. Most of the time that’s like watching an avalanche come down on top of you in slow motion, but there are parts of their work where Sawada doesn't hold them back. Even — dare she say it — makes himself useful. Like the whole talking to witnesses and calming survivors down part. Especially when there are children. Sawada is awkward and too sensitive and gets too restless around the adults, but with children he’s actually— Not bad.

Based on those same observations, Hana fills out the appropriate forms to get Sawada transferred to Human Resources. Sawada will be fine there. Maybe even do well. Not that he could do any worse than an attack squad but whatever.

The request is denied.

Transfer requests out of attack squads aren’t denied. No one wants a well-armed operative who doesn’t feel stable and confident that they can handle their job running around.

At this point Hana has repeated the phrase so often, the words have lost all meaning, but in the face of such a monumental, senseless idiocy it bears repeating: What the fuck, Vongola.

*

Practice doesn’t make perfect but it does make better.

A week passes and then another one. With every successful and unsuccessful mission that they survive together, they get better. Their teamwork improves, their instincts sharpen, they learn to play off each other. They learn to navigate around Sawada. And even Sawada does improve.

He doesn’t panic as much or as obviously anymore. He’s getting better at not getting in the way. He’s getting decent at hand-to-hand combat, even if he sucks at applying those same skills in an actual battle. Hana still isn’t happy to have him at her back, but she can trust him not to bowl her over from behind anymore. And besides they all do their best to keep him out of the actual fights whenever possible. It’s progress.

Not enough but it is what it is.

*

In the end. It’s not unexpected. It’s the opposite of unexpected and even that doesn’t seem a strong enough word for it. Because Hana is a planner at heart. She’s imagined this very outcome too often to be slowed down by shock or surprise now that it's actually happening.

[Numbers don’t lie. They can’t show the truth but they reflect trends and probabilities and just because every human being thinks they are the exception doesn’t make it true. Numbers don’t work that way and exceptions mean there’s a majority there whose story is told in those very same statistics.]

Hana knows what it means to walk into a battle with a squad member that can’t handle themselves by her side. She’s gone over the dangers too many times to count at this point, both inside her head and out loud. They all have. They’ve been doing this job for four months and by some miracle they’ve been managing, but beginner’s luck only holds out for so long.

It’s a bad mission.

Not their first one. They’ve already had close calls — too many of those — have gotten injured, hell, Sawada has even gotten himself kidnapped once. None of that knowledge helps prepare them for another once though. None of those past terrors make it any easier to remain calm and level-headed in the heat of the moment.

Most importantly none of it prepares Hana for a super who can control electricity. Whose powers apparently aren’t stopped by their uniforms, going by the charred body of what used to be one of her squad member that's lying crumbled on the other side of the room. [What does it say about her, about this squad that Hana’s first hysterical thought when she watched Nakamura go down screaming is 'At least it wasn’t Sawada’s fault.'?]

Communications are down, she’s cut off from possible reinforcements, trapped somewhere in the lower levels of the building. She doesn’t have any smoke bombs left, doesn't have a paralyzer, doesn’t have an exit and her only backup now that Nakamura is dead is Sawada. Sawada who is cowering in the corner furthest away from her and Nakamura's body, back pressed so hard against the wall he’ll have bruises if he survives this, wild, panicked eyes fixated on the crazed super who’s staring at him like Sawada is the fucking North star.

Or his next meal, going by Sawada’s luck.

Hana’s drawn her gun like Sawada should’ve because he’s armed, Hana knows he’s armed. She can see the gun from across the room. And Sawada isn’t fucking drawing it.

"Stay back!" she calls out towards the super who's glazed eyes remain fixed on Sawada. "Or I’ll shoot!"

Sawada still isn’t moving. The lightning guy is moving slowly, a demented grin on his lips, blood caking the left half of his face. And Sawada isn’t fucking moving. Not to defend himself. Not to run over and seek cover behind Hana, where she could fucking reach and protect him.

"Why are you so surprised?" Hana can almost hear Kyouko’s voice ask her, curiously puzzled. "You always knew he would be a liability."

Hana fires a warning bullet, half hoping the insane super will miraculously flinch back and let himself be arrested, half praying it will shake some sense into Sawada. Both is too much to ask and when lightening guy takes another step, Hana knows she’s out of time.

He’s too close to Sawada. All he needed to burn Nakamura alive was one touch. [The room is still echoing with his screams. Or is that only in her head?]

Hana doesn't kid herself: She's known how this story would end from the start.

She shoots.

*

[As the daughter of a lawyer and a librarian who fell in love over their shared passion for justice in a society that sorely lacked it, Hana didn’t grow up with the system-friendly propaganda her classmates were fed every day. She grew up with heated arguments over human rights over the dinner table, with long-winded discussions about the failures of the system and where and how to best address them.

Hana didn’t grow up glorifying supervillain deaths and she never, ever wanted to take a life. There is a reason why Hana planned to stay no longer than six months with her squad and it’s a simple one: Hana never wanted to become a killer.

But who does?]

*

Kurokawa Hana has been an active Vongola Inc. operative on an attack squad for four months, three weeks and six days when she kills René Moretti during a sanctioned mission with a clean headshot.

The official investigation is an open and shut case.

A month after the incident and three weeks into her mandatory therapy, Kurokawa Hana is cleared for the field once more.

*

Mandatory therapy is a joke. Hana isn’t going to let a therapist on Vongola Inc.’s payroll get into her head and brainwash her into believing killing isn’t a problem as long as it is for the organization’s gain, thank you very much.

[That’s not quite what the woman said but Hana can read between the lines and even if she couldn’t, she doesn’t trust Vongola. How could she, at this point?]

But Hana is smart and resourceful and has supportive parents who get in touch with some old friends and give her the contact of a psychologist that at least won’t have divided loyalties from the get go. So Hana goes and hopes it’ll help.

In the meantime, she pretends Sawada doesn’t exist.

[He doesn’t thank her. The one time he approaches her, he stutters out an apology of all things as though that would somehow erase the brain splatters Hana can still see behind her closed eyelids. She doesn’t snap and she doesn’t kick him out of a window because Hana is better than that.

She grits her teeth and turns on her heels and locks herself into the bathroom and smashes the mirror until her knuckles are bloody and there are glass shards sticking out of her skin and the screams inside her head finally shut up because Hana is a murderer and nothing anyone does will ever erase that.

The worst part of it is that she doesn’t feel guilty about the life she took. Only grieves for what she broke within herself.]

*

Here’s one truth Hana has to live with every day: She has taken a man’s life. [And it was easy.]

Here’s another one: If she’d been in that room with anyone on her squad other than Sawada, she wouldn’t have had to.

*

Sawada stays out of her way whenever possible and that’s the way Hana likes it. It doesn’t help and at some point she grows used to the bitterness that still twists her insides up into knots at irregular moments when she catches sight of him, but she can bear to look at him again, to give commands and order him to back up and cuss him out for breaking the coffee machine without actually murdering him.

Which she could do. She’s done it once already after all.

*

That first time is not the last time. Of course it isn’t. The longer she stays in the field, the more chances there are for something to go wrong and probability theory alone will tell you that sooner or later Hana will find herself in a similar situation, having to make the same choice.

*

Not every person Hana shoots is to protect Sawada. Some are to protect a civilian or even herself. Does that make it better?

Hana doubts it, but she realizes she doesn’t truly know.

[If there’s one thing she’s learned in the last month and a half, it’s that Hana is a good killer. Enough conscience not to turn a machine gun onto a crowd of civilians or throw a child off a building, but not enough to feel bad about snuffing a stranger’s life out of existence. Just the way Vongola likes its operatives.

Hana never pictured herself in this gritty, bloody world of field work, never wanted to be, but she makes herself at home all the same.]

*

One slow Wednesday morning while cleaning up the mess on her desk, Hana stumbles upon the transfer papers she never handed in. They’re filled out already, even the signature is already in place. Have been for — over a year now, that’s how long it’s been. Back when she first planned out every step of her career at Vongola Inc.

Staring down at her own handwriting that reads like a strangers, Hana considers. She could still hand them in, she supposes. Get transferred to the legal department just like she planned. What’s a delay of a few months?

There’s no reason to think that she couldn’t do the job. In fact, Hana is sure she’d be good. Great even. Certainly she’d make a better lawyer than a field operative.

"Kurokawa, you coming?" Mochida calls from the briefing room. The rising impatience indicates it’s not the first time he’s called her and a glance at the clock tells Hana their daily team meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago.

"Yeah, one moment."

She gets up. Takes one last glance at those papers. Throws them in the rubbish bin underneath her desk and doesn’t look back as she crosses the room in sharp, determined steps. There’s no point to it.

[What she wanted to protect when she made those plans is already lost. And Hana might be a better lawyer but she’s a decent operative. She’s keeping her squad members alive, keeping Sawada alive, which is an achievement all on its own.

She’s already taken lives for the sake of her team, for the sake of the mission even. What’s a few more?]

*

In a strange way it makes almost sense. [Out of the two of them, Kyouko is the villain. But it’s Hana who’s always flirted with the darkness looming at the edge of every super’s consciousness. It’s Hana who’s cut out to be a monster.]

*

"Why are you here?" Hana asks Sawada on a whim, roughly a year and a half after they were first assigned to the same squad. There’s no deep motivation or reason, not even any real curiosity.

Sawada blinks stupidly at her. "You said the first one to go home and leave you alone with this tower of paperwork would be dangling from the Vongola sign on top of this building by a rope made out of their own entrails."

Hana rolls her eyes. "I meant why did you join an attack squad." You idiot, she almost tacks on but leaves it unspoken in the end. It’s nothing Sawada hasn’t heard before. Damn she needs coffee if her tongue is getting away with her again. It’s not even two in the morning yet.

"Huh?"

Sawada looks honest to god confused. He’s lucky that punching him would require too much effort. Now that Hana thinks about it, so would getting worked up.

"I mean," she says very, very slowly, "that you are the least violent person I’ve ever met, Sawada. You’re a terrible field operative. So why haven’t you quit and applied for something else?"

Sawada stares at her with those illogically huge eyes that are supposedly cute — if Kyouko is to be believed — but that Hana finds off-putting. Possibly because they look at her like that all the time. "Oh." Sawada says as though none of what Hana has just said ever occurred to him. "I’m terrible at everything. And Vongola Inc. were the only ones who offered me a job. So." He shrugs.

Which. Hana isn’t even gonna touch that one. Nope.

"Just get the damn coffee, Sawada," she groans and hopes she’ll have forgotten this conversation in the morning.

[She doesn’t know what she’d hoped to find here, what kind of revelation she’d been waiting for but the worst self-esteem in the history of self-esteem hadn’t been it. If she thinks about the fact that this entire shit-show could’ve been avoided if someone had given Sawada a proper motivational speech as a child, she is gonna burn something.

Probably Vongola Inc.]

*

[On bad days, Hana cancels her coffee and cake time with Kyouko, doesn’t look at Sawada unless it is to glower and locks herself into an empty briefing room or her own apartment whenever possible. Her hands don’t shake when she holds a gun or a knife or a rope — they never do — but sometimes when she catches sight of her reflection she breaks it until it breaks her.

On bad days, catching sight of Sawada makes Hana feel every drop of blood drying on her hands, chunks of skin getting caught under her nails, gun powder sticking to her fingers. On bad days, she hates Sawada for what he’s made her become.]

By the time they’ve all been working together as an active squad for two years, every member of the team except Sawada has become a killer.

They don’t talk about it. They don’t acknowledge it.

[The shots one of them took so Sawada wouldn’t have to — because he wouldn’t have. They don’t even send him out with a gun anymore because what’s the point of handing someone a weapon they refuse to use? The shots they took to save him. The tasks Mochida assignes specifically so Sawada won't have to see some of the worst they’ve had to face, won't be forced to make choices he isn't prepared for and has too much heart to make. The missions he’s been put on desk duty for that no one else came out of unscratched. It's not even always about blood and death, is the funny thing. There’s so many things worse than murder.]

There’s nothing to talk about.

[On good days, Hana is grateful that it was her behind that trigger. Because even at her worst she’s never wanted Sawada dead.

And. Being a killer suits her, them. That's why they were chosen after all. That's why they qualified. That's why Sawada should've never passed his entrance exam. And perhaps one day Hana will make her peace with that knowledge. But the unvoiced issue remains: Sawada isn’t like them. Sawada cares in ways no one on the squad does, no one on any attack squad should, and— It’s not concern that compels Hana to shield him. It’s certainly not empathy. It’s self-preservation.]

*

Sawada doesn’t thank her for any of the lives she takes on his behalf. Hana doesn’t expect him to. She doesn’t think he understands what she’s protecting him from and a large part of her — a part that pulls the trigger without flinching, that has nightmares about Nakamura’s burned corpse, the smell of his flesh, but never about the man she killed — hopes he never will.

[It’s not the life Kurokawa Hana thought she would want, certainly not the life she planned, but most of her original squad is still alive, Sawada is still alive, even though Hana still doesn’t know who within Vongola is moving against him. And though Sawada is still useless, he’s calmed down a lot over the past two years. Could almost be classified as an asset on his rare good day.

And it’s not always great, not even always good, but. It is.]

*

aaand i think that concludes hana’s POV. if you have any further questions though (or if there’s other characters you’d like to see more of, don’t hesitate to let me know in a comment or an ask)!

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 10: Why

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4400

Rating: PG-13 (language only)

Summary: Five days since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

“I know the location of the former Duchess and Duke of Valtoria and the Queen-Regent of Cordonia.” Her tone was even and calm. Amalas wasn’t giving anything away.

“Is that so?” Olivia asked, her mind scrambling to let go of her irritation with Leo and figure out her best strategy here. “How did you happen to come across such information?”

“Oh, they don’t call me the ‘Spy Queen’ for nothing.”

“And why are you calling me? This would seem like the type of information that would be more useful to the acting monarch than me.” She tapped her nails against her desk, trying to come up with a way to get Amalas to reveal more. As helpful as it would be to hear how she had tracked Riley and Drake, finding out why she was following their whereabouts would be infinitely more invaluable.

“Interesting. I would have assumed that you had a vested interest in keeping them from being taken into custody.”

“Why would you think that? The Walkers are traitors who deserve whatever comes to them.” She and Hana had rehearsed variations of that sentiment with each other over the past few days. Hana had opted for a gentler stance, focusing on how sad the whole affair made her. Olivia knew that righteous anger was more believable from her, though.

Amalas was silent for a few seconds before she responded, “Very interesting indeed. Can you give me a way to get in touch with King-Regent Rashad, in that case? I’m sure he will find my intel quite valuable.”

She was trying to call her bluff here. There was no way Amalas had just decided to contact her out of the goodness of her heart. There had to be a reason why she came to her first. Olivia knew she had to keep pushing. “Of course, I would be happy to do so.”

Another pause followed. “Thank you; that would be so helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty. You know, you might want to look at your staff’s performance, though. If they can’t keep track of the palace’s contact information, I worry about what other details might be slipping through the cracks.”

The silence lasted longer this time. Jackpot. Olivia knew she was on the right track. “Just some friendly advice,” she continued, “unless you don’t want to interact with Rashad for some reason.”

“Why would you possibly think that?”

“Because he’s just a placeholder. You want more influence. He has nothing of value to offer you. An agreement with him could very well fizzle into nothing after the Conclave in a couple of months. So that means I have more bargaining power here than you want to admit.”

“There’s no need to be so confrontational about this, Lady Olivia. As I see it, this can be mutually beneficial.”

“What are you hoping to gain here?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted - an alliance between Monterisso and Cordonia. And I’m willing to help poor Mr. Rys regain his place on the throne to arrange that. You see, we can help each other.”

Olivia frowned. She didn’t trust Amalas, not one bit. Her being more tolerable than Bradshaw and Isabella wasn’t any sort of ringing endorsement. But it was possible that they weren’t going to have better options. She needed to tread carefully here. Not commit, but not close the door.

“I’m not sure how much help any outside power would be at this point, quite frankly. Why don’t you give us a taste of how useful you can be. It’ll be what I bring to Liam, so you might want to make it convincing.”

“Well, I’m not a fan of giving away my hard-earned information for free… but let’s just say that the Walkers might be doing a good job of not allowing their financials to be traced past Ioannina, but that if Cordonia had the surveillance and facial recognition technology of Monterisso, or if Greece actually cared about those warrants that have been issued, bringing them in would not be difficult. Have a nice day. I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.” And with that, the line went dead.

Olivia massaged her temples. There were just too many moving parts, too many different parties with their own agendas here for her to try and do this solo, or even just with Hana’s help. It was time to end Leo’s lackluster efforts at support. She needed Liam back in the fray.

She marched through the keep to the quarters customarily given to the reigning monarch upon a visit, quarters that Liam had used for years and that she wasn’t going to prevent him from using now, even though both he and his brother were titleless at this point. She knocked on the door, waiting a few moments before Leo flung the door open, a glass of scotch clutched in his free hand.

“Liv! I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

“Yeah, not here for you. I need to talk to him.”

Leo stepped to the side, gesturing grandly as she passed. “Of course, Your Grace.”

She rolled her eyes and looked around the sitting room. There was Liam, wearing a green sweater, a pair of jeans, and a pair of plaid slippers. It was his equivalent of not getting out of his sleepwear. He was also holding a glass of scotch, a highlighted copy of what appeared to be a section of Cordonian National Law laying forgotten on the coffee table in front of him as he instead was intently focused on the television, which had some sort of football match playing.

“Really, Leo?” she hissed at him, “I thought you were joking about getting him drunk.”

“Relax, Olivia. He’s not drunk drunk. And it’s Cordonia vs. Barcelona, so he’s actually distracted. I thought you wanted me to improve his mood,” he said, under his breath, before raising his voice enough to carry across to his brother, “Hey, look who came to join us?”

Liam glanced over, and Olivia was pleased to notice a little more life behind his eyes. “Olivia? But you hate football.”

Leo clapped a hand on her shoulder and attempted to guide her to the couch, but she rolled it off, walking over to join Liam on her own. “I actually came because I think it’s time we talk about some details, start planning your next steps.”

“Of course,” said Liam, setting his glass down with a little more force than usual, but otherwise not showing any signs of any tipsiness or drunkenness. He moved to grab the papers he’d abandoned in front of him, but Leo interrupted him.

“Hey! I thought we were getting drunk and watching football? The one thing I suggested since I’ve been here that you actually showed enthusiasm for, and now she gets to just cancel the plans?”

“Leo, if Olivia needs-” Liam started, but she held a hand up, stopping him as she glared at Leo.

“Unlike you, I think he and I are capable of multitasking, but I will not drink that swill you two are having. If you go a fetch me a decent Merlot, I will stay and have a drink with you while we talk. And the game can stay on.”

Leo grinned and gave her a little nod before turning and heading out in search of her wine, likely aware he wasn’t going to get a better deal from her than that one. When the door closed, Liam started apologizing.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have agreed to drink with him if I had known you wanted to meet. But he’s just been insistent, and with this match, I thought-”

“It’s fine, Liam. I wouldn’t have disturbed you two if I hadn’t just received a very interesting call from Amalas.”

Liam’s eyes widened at that. “She… called you?”

“Yes. She is apparently still looking for a formal alliance with Cordonia.”

His eyes dropped to his lap just briefly. “That’s not exactly our place to consider at this point, though.”

“Liam…” Olivia wasn’t quite sure what to say. She had never been good at the whole comforting, shoulder to cry on thing.

“It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Why did she want to speak to you and not Rashad?”

Olivia knew he was deflecting, but she didn’t know how to make him open up to her, particularly not when she actually needed to tell him about that phone call. “She’s thinking long term. She made it pretty clear she’s willing to help you with your bid to reclaim the throne in exchange for the promise of an alliance going forward.”

Liam sighed heavily, letting his head sag. “Alliance via betrothal? As per her original terms? After everything with Auvernal, I struggle to envision Drake and Riley…” he trailed off, “I guess that doesn’t matter at this point does it?”

He had a point. If they were able to regain his title through the Conclave, it was highly unlikely that Bridget was going to remain his appointed heir. But at this point, that felt so far off, like a concern that didn’t really warrant discussion until a much later date. “No, that’s not really worth worrying about right now. To answer your original question, she didn’t state her preferred terms.”

“Did she elaborate as to what she intended to offer in exchange?”

“Not much. The only thing I was able to get out of her is that she knows where Drake, Riley, and Bridget are.”

His head whipped around to face her fully at that, so she continued, “She’s not going to do anything with that info yet. It’s leverage when negotiating with us, but she gets nothing from telling it to Rashad.”

“How does she know, though?” His eyes were wide, the fear clear in them. “And what if she decides to contact Greek authorities?”

“Via facial recognition tech, apparently. But going to the Greek authorities costs her the best bargaining chip she has. She only wants to tell us, Liam. I’m sure of that.”

“I feel like we can’t be sure of anything at this point.”

Olivia took a breath before she spoke again. “Speaking of not being sure of anything, before your brother comes back, you need to know that he was asking me a lot of questions surrounding Drake and Riley.”

“Wait, he was?”

“Yes. I think it’s nothing, but just be aware.”

Liam shook his head. “Leo hates politics. Hates the monarchy, even. I can’t imagine him having any sort of agenda here.”

“Yeah… I know, but I think we need to be cautious here.”

“I’m finding myself being exceedingly cautious lately.” He frowned slightly, then picked up his glass and took another sip of his scotch. “Did he tell you why he was so interested in Drake and Riley?”

“It seemed like he had a possible interest in… reaching out to provide some assistance.”

“Ah,” Liam said, taking another drink. “That’s understandable, I suppose.” He stared at the match, but in a way that made Olivia think he wasn’t exactly watching. 

“Look, you know Hana and I are trying to help them in little ways where we can, but if you’d rather not hear the details, then-”

Liam shook his head. “No, I need to know what’s going on, don’t I? It’s not like I want any harm to come to them. It’s all just so… muddled at the moment.”

Yet again, she wasn’t sure how best to comfort him, so she just placed her hand gently on his knee and gave him a little nod. He seemed to understand her intent, as he forced a smile before reaching for all the papers scattered in front of him.

“Why don’t you warn Drake and Riley that Amalas is tracking them? Then we can go over what you’ve heard about staff in Portavira we might be able to buy off.”

Olivia gave him a little frown. “Are you sure you're ready to do this today? If you wanted to watch this match or-”

“I’m sure, Liv. Too many pieces are moving for me to sit still.”

“And you’re up for this?”

He nodded. “More or less. Enough to be productive at the very least.”

Olivia wasn’t sure about that. He was clearly still processing everything, but maybe having a goal to work towards would be good for him. She wasn’t sure if it was the healthiest coping mechanism she was providing him with, but at least it was a useful one. So she shot a quick text to Drake before settling in to discuss what she’d been working on. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Drake tried to shift in bed without disturbing Riley or Bridget. Usually, Riley was a heavy sleeper. At home, on nights where he couldn’t sleep, he could move about, sometimes even turn on a light and read, without waking her. But since they’d fled Cordonia, she’d been waking up much more easily, and he figured it wouldn’t do any good for both of them to be sleep deprived.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he grabbed his phone to check the time anyway. 2:04 am. Great. Another night where he would be lucky to get four hours of sleep. He resisted the urge to look for more news stories out of Cordonia on his phone, instead shifting onto his back and staring at the ceiling, a rickety old fan clicking as it spun above them.

Not only was he finding it difficult to relax enough to sleep these days, but he’d been having strange dreams too. Some of them didn’t take much effort to see their meaning. He’d had several nightmares where Bridget was wailing and he couldn’t find her, often with Riley sobbing somewhere out of sight, crying out for him to fucking find their child. In others, some combination of Bridget, Riley, and Liam were missing, and he couldn’t move his legs to go find them. It didn’t take a professional to figure out why he was having those dreams.

The dreams that featured his dad were a bit more unsettling. These dreams were more varied, but they all featured his father, now a giant, looking down at him as an adult and expressing his disappointment in him. Once it was for breaking the motor on the boat and lying about it. Once it was for running out of Mom’s line of sight at the store. Most of the time, Drake couldn’t even remember what he’d done wrong in his dream when he woke up, only recalling Dad shaking his head in shame repeatedly.

He hadn’t really dreamed about his father much over the past decade. For the first few years after his death, it had been a somewhat common occurrence, but eventually, those dreams faded. But now Dad was back, judging him for his actions over and over again. He supposed those dreams didn’t need to be analyzed by a therapist either. The message was pretty damn clear.

So often, he wondered if his dad would have been proud of the man he grew into. This was the first time in his life he didn’t need to wonder at all - he knew his father would have been disappointed in him. He’d fled, acted without honor or regard for his duty towards his country. And he just didn’t think all his reasons would be good enough for Dad. The man had put king and country first time and time again, even when it meant letting down Mom or him and Savannah. He’d given his life for his cause.

But Drake hadn’t been able to do that. When Riley had stood there, crumbling to pieces on the palace drive, a panicked mess of terror, he’d just held her tight and done what she needed from him. When Olivia and Liam had asked him to return, he’d denied their request. He’d done what his wife and daughter had needed each and every time. And he couldn’t even bring himself to regret about that choice. Hell, it hadn’t even really been a choice, not when it came down to it.

But that fact that he’d been so able to ignore his other obligations, ignore Dad’s lessons, weighed on him. He both felt like he did the wrong thing and that he’d made the absolute right choice all at the same time, and that conflict had settled into his gut as a massive pit of guilt. And with everything going on, he’d been reluctant to share these thoughts with Riley. She was just now seeming to trust him to be there for her and Bridget. Today, when she’d come back to find him in the park, he couldn’t even be irritated that she would have been wasting precious time if that woman had been a threat. He was just so relieved that she hadn’t wanted to leave without him, so different than her instinct back at the palace.

He knew he should probably talk to her about how he was feeling, that these feelings weren’t going to get better the longer they stayed on the run. And she’d always been good at listening to him in a way that made him feel understood, not stupid or dumb. She got what he meant when he stumbled over describing things or when he couldn’t quite put things in words. But she was still frayed and on edge herself. Today’s trip to the park proved that.

Besides, there were more pressing matters to discuss. Like what they were going to do about aliases. Or the fact that Amalas had apparently located them. Olivia had told him she had it under control, but Drake was still unsure. He hadn’t brought that up with Riley yet. She was already kicking herself after the trip out, and he hadn’t wanted to pile on, but he knew he would have to let her know in the morning. She wasn’t like his mom, who had adopted a clear “ignorance is bliss” policy when it came to obvious dangers his dad had faced at work. Riley was tougher than that, and she really was his partner in this. He would have to let her know so they could decide what they wanted to do next.

Letting out a sigh, Drake rolled to face Riley, sprawled on her stomach with Bridget curled up next to her on the far side. He inched closer to her, but the fact that her hair no longer smelled like peaches was just one more unsettling change in their lives. But that couldn’t really be helped. All he could do was watch his wife and daughter sleep and hope that seeing them safe would calm him enough to get some rest of his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hana shifted in her seat slightly, uncrossing and recrossing her ankles as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. She glanced around the little cafe, but she didn’t see any members of the press. She usually wasn’t deemed interesting enough to be followed, but given everything that had transpired in the past week, that could have changed. Thankfully, it just seemed to be other patrons, absorbed in their own meals, phones, and conversations.

She’d decided to extend this invite to a public venue in the capital because that felt like neutral ground. Although the estate at Valtoria would have provided privacy, she couldn’t be bringing outsiders in there. Not until she was sure that no information could be gleaned from a visit.

Of course, the investigators hadn’t left much anyway. The office had been emptied essentially, as had the bedroom, the private lounge, and the library. Thankfully, they had only done a cursory check through her personal belongings, and they hadn’t checked under the floorboards she’d pried up in her quarters, now filled with Drake, Riley, and Bridget’s passports, some of their favorite pieces of clothing, Riley’s glasses and spare contacts, a few of Bridget’s toys, and a handful of framed photos.

It was strange, still living there without Riley, but Hana knew she had to stay as long as she was allowed. She wasn’t even sure if she technically could be there now that Riley had been stripped of her title, but no one had told her she needed to vacate the premises just yet. The staff all gave her a wide berth, clearly unsure what to make of the whole situation. Hana knew gossip must be running rampant, and she wondered who was sympathetic to their former employers and who saw them as selfish and reckless.

The little bell over the door rang as the woman Hana was waiting for entered, large sunglasses covering her eyes. She gave a little nod of acknowledgement from the doorway, then joined Hana, sitting down across from her, a slight tremor visible in her hand as she pulled out her chair.

“Hello, Hana.”

“Hello, Kiara.”

She pulled off her sunglasses and placed them gently in front of her. “I’m surprised Olivia approved you meeting with me one on one.”

Hana shook her head. “Olivia doesn’t have much interest in speaking to you directly, I’m afraid.”

“So she sent you to do her dirty work?”

“No, she has no idea I asked you to meet for coffee.”

Kiara stared at Hana for just a moment, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised. “Vraiment?” she finally asked, “That’s not what I expected.”

Hana gave a little shrug, signalling a waiter and ordering their drinks before she responded. With as much as Olivia had on her plate, she’d decided that she could handle this conversation herself. Additionally, Olivia’s one size fits all, rather aggressive approach didn’t feel right here. She and Kiara had been friends, or so she had thought. They were certainly closer than Kiara had been with Riley or had even been with Olivia herself. She wanted to see if she could reopen a line of communication here, handling things far more gently than Olivia would ever support.

“Look, I always considered us friends, Kiara, but what happened last week…”

“I know. I didn’t want to do that. I don’t know if you can believe that, but it’s the truth. I even tried to warn Riley ahead of the vote.”

“What happened, Kiara? I’m just trying to understand how this all came to pass.”

Kiara glanced around, likely scanning for any obvious eavesdroppers, before she answered, “I can’t get into it all here. If he found out we were talking…”

“Barthelemy?”

“Or my father. Look, Barthelemy has foreign support for his bid for control.”

“Kiara, what do you mean?” Hana was trying to put together these little scraps of information, but she just did not have anywhere near enough to go on at this point.

“I can’t give you more details than that, at least not in public.”

“Then where do you propose we meet next?”

“The Social Season is currently delayed, but it will have to resume again soon, oui? So we will have to talk then. Step away from curious ears discuss things without arousing suspicion.”

All Hana could do was nod. As helpful as it would be to gain more information today, she needed to tread cautiously. She was relatively new to this degree of political maneuvering, and she didn’t want to damage the connection she had here by pushing too aggressively too quickly.

A few moments later, their waiter returned with their drinks. “Will you ladies be ordering lunch as well?” he asked, reaching for his pad of paper.

“No, thank you,” Hana said, turning to Kiara to explain, “I’m meeting with Rashad at the palace in less than an hour.”

Kiara pursed her lips at that, glancing around once more before saying, “If that’s the case, I would recommend trying to persuade him to delay the Social Season for at least two weeks.”

Surprised by that statement, Hana returned her coffee to the table and looked Kiara dead in the eye. “Why might you suggest that?”

“Old bylaws are pretty strict about both the minimum length of a Social Season and that it must conclude prior to the apple harvest.”

“Yes, I’m aware. It’s only happened twice in Cordonian history, if I recall correctly, that the Social Season had not technically concluded by the first harvest.”

“Correct. And both those times the Social Season was merely suspended until the next calendar year, picking up for its conclusion in early January.”

Hana knew there was some important detail here that Kiara was dancing around. If the Social Season got pushed into the next year, so would the Conclave. But that wouldn’t benefit Liam unless…

“Kiara, has your father set a date to formally transfer his head of house status to you yet?”

Kiara widened her eyes significantly as she nodded. “Oui, I will claim the title officially on New Year’s Day.”

“Congratulations! So you will represent House Theron in all matters after that point?”

“Indeed, and while I look to my father as an inspiration for how to lead, I think you will find I am interested in striking my own path as well.”

Hana opened her mouth to try and clarify things a little further, but Kiara shook her head.

“Enough of these matters. I went wedding dress shopping with Penelope the other day, and she was hoping to get your opinion on some options. Shall we look at some photos I took?”

It was a clear redirection of the conversation. Hana knew she was unlikely to get anymore information from Kiara today, so she nodded and gave her a smile, scooting her chair over to look at her phone screen. But instead of photos of Penelope in white gowns, she was surprised to see a blank message thread, an unsent text typed at the bottom of the screen.

You will want me voting at the Conclave, not my father. His vote is decided. Mine is not.

Hana looked at her, but Kiara just nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen as she pulled open her gallery and scrolled to a series of photos taken a few days earlier. As Hana oohed and ahhed over dress after dress, millions of questions swirled through her mind. And even though she didn’t have most of the answers, at least she felt like she was making progress. That had to count for something.

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