#trope: royalty

[whumpwillow]

a royal who’s trained for assassination attempts, specifically poisoning. building up a resistance by taking small doses, getting sick, writhing in pain, and healing only to do it again and again and again until their body no longer reacts to it anymore.

then they switch to a different poison.

[lauri-rosehearts]

The lost royalty trope, they could never make me hate you 🫶😔

[avalanchinedream]

so when is someone gonna take one for the team & write a slow burn 'princess x her personal guard' melvika royalty au? where mel is the princess of the kingdom of piltover & sevika 'one of the greatest fighters in the nation' is sought after & hired to protect mel after a failed assassination attempt. the arguments, the tension, the TEASING omg...them both disliking the arrangement at first bc mel believes she can take care of herself & sev for obvious reasons but growing to fall for each other after spending so much time together. sev giving her loyalty to someone deserving of it. PLEASE SOMEONE HEAR ME!!!

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Tomarry AU where Tom HATES this book he read because his favourite character dies a miserable death. So what if his favorite character was a no-named side villain? Why does it matter that he only had like seven lines (seven is Tom's favourite number anyways)? He was still gorgeous, smart and strong and beautiful — and it doesn't matter that others think he isn't all that because they would never know him— understand him like TOM DOES.

An AU where Tom has a healthy obsession with a character named Harry Potter, a no named baron's son who was the first to go against the king (MC's father, and the mc who is incidentally known as Draco Malfoy, ahem anyways); he tries to “poison” him. But he gets caught or to be more precise he ends up sacrificing himself for the common girl Hermione Granger (the female lead, I'm sorry guys but imagine the fucking drama.) who gets blamed for his transgressions.

But that is not why Tom falls for this weak villain, no — it's because he respects how this no-named orphan became a baron on his own two feet without anyone being there for him especially in a world where old money and title is everything— and he hates how he had to give his life for the MC to notice the female lead? (Harry is better looking and smarter than her anyways — Tom, in an online forum perhaps.)

Anyways, now imagine Tom dying (he hated it so yes he ends up looking for immorality anyways.) and waking up in the world he hated. Now imagine, Tom Riddle, waking up in the body of a Duke who wasn't even given a name in the novel. (He would know because he has a photographic memory, ok? It's totally not because he read it more than 14 times) and then saying fuck it and owning it.

Just think, Tom taking over the world slowly with his worldly knowledge while trying to keep Harry alive because even though he was right about Harry being smart; the guy treats his life like Draco treats his money - you get the idea.

[villain-enthusiast]

The hero knew they'd be found one day.

So they weren’t entirely surprised when they were ambushed in their house, drugged, and dragged off to the enormous castle that they used to call home. But their anticipation didn’t stop the dread from pooling in their gut as they were tossed, unceremoniously, onto the ground.

They stifled a groan, flexing their bound hands behind them as they tried to shake off the last of the sedative in their system. Someone grabbed the scruff of their collar and yanked them up to their knees before pulling down their blindfold.

They blinked several times at the ground, squinting through the sudden change in light. As their vision cleared, the marbled pattern of the throne room's floor came into view and they involuntarily stiffened.

"Dismissed."

Fuck. That voice. The cold, cutting power laced in every syllable, the venom in each word that had haunted the hero's dreams for years, even after they escaped. Or so they thought they did. The hero's mouth went dry.

They kept their gaze trained down, hearing the guards behind them leave and close the doors with a harsh, resolute click.

Silence stretched between the hero and the villain, who sat languidly on the throne in a grotesque show of vanity. Of pride.

After a moment, the villain sighed. "So you thought you could get away."

The hero swallowed, hard. "I guess I was just playing hard to get." They hated how unstable, how hoarse their voice was.

The villain chuckled dryly. "You, my prized possession, the greatest weapon I've ever had the pleasure of crafting, were just playing hard to get." The hero heard them shift in their seat. "I'm sure that's a fantasy you'd love to be true, but I knew you'd run. Did you really think I haven't dealt with this before?"

"Guess I thought I'd get lucky." The hero looked up then, to stare the villain straight into their eyes.

The villain held their gaze and smiled, flashing teeth. "Unfortunately, even the most precious treasures are always found at some point." They tilted their head, brow furrowing. "Come here."

The hero did not move.

The villain tapped a finger, and an invisible force pulled the hero taut, dragging them towards the foot of the throne. They grit their teeth, knowing better than to struggle, but hating the agonizing memories that flashed through their head of when they used to fight back, of what the villain was capable of beyond simple commands.

"I see you've grown into disobedience after so many years," the villain tutted. "That's certainly fixable, but what I want to know," they dragged a hand through the hero's disheveled hair, who shuddered at the familiar touch, "is if you still remember what I've taught you." Their touch suddenly turned sharp as they grabbed a fistful of—

The hero's body reacted to the pain before their mind did, and they kicked their leg around, slamming their foot into the villain's forearm. Apparently they still remembered a thing or two.

They landed on their stomach, panting as they faced the wide expanse of the gilded room before them. The villain crouched down beside them, placing a boot on their back and squeezing the air from their lungs.

"Look at you. You could've had all this," the villain hissed in their ear. They grabbed the hero's chin, forcing them to look up. "You could've been by my side, sitting with me on the throne. But you chose to run and try to become someone who could overthrow me, the very person who created you. You are nothing, nothing, without me."

For the first time since they've been back, fear struck the hero deep in their heart. "Please," they breathed, and immediately realized their mistake.

Begging was a weakness. A crack in the boulder. An infection in a festering wound. And the villain saw it all too well.

"Forgiveness," the villain murmured, honey-sweet, "is for the traitors. Punishment is for the cowards. Which one do you think you are?"

As the villain's hand tightened on their face, the hero closed their eyes, knowing the question had already been answered for them.

[wigglebox]

Suptober [Extended] - Day 18 || Royalty 👑

[silvertongues-emeraldlies]

“Fated” - Killian Jones x Princess!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Killian Jones x Princess of Agrabah!Reader

Summary: Years after a short but unforgettable meeting with Captain Killian Jones in Agrabah, you’ve moved on and are now engaged. But when a visit to your sister reunites you with the pirate who once captured your heart, old feelings resurface, challenging your resolve. As your wedding day draws near, you're caught between the life you’ve chosen and the love you thought you had left behind. In a world where duty and desire collide, you must decide if you’ll follow your heart or honor your obligations.

Warnings: Angst, unrequited(ish) love, mentions of an arranged marriage, possible cliffhanger

The sands of Agrabah seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories of warm desert nights and the aroma of exotic spices filled your mind as you looked out over the familiar horizon, lost in thoughts of what once was—and what could never be again. It had been years since you last saw him, and you had tried so hard to leave that chapter behind. You had even convinced yourself that you had succeeded. Until a night weeks ago… Fate has a strange way of dredging up the past when you least expect it.

When Jasmine invited you to visit Storybrooke, you thought it would be a chance to escape the pressures of your upcoming marriage, a way to clear your mind before stepping into your future with Amir, the noble prince to whom you were now engaged. You didn’t expect to find the one man who could unravel all your family’s carefully laid plans with just a glance. It had been a quiet night in the small town, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth—so different from the heady perfumes of Agrabah. You had just stepped out of Granny’s Diner, the warmth of the cozy establishment clinging to your skin, when you heard a voice you thought you’d never hear again.

“Y/n?”

You froze, the world around you falling away. It was impossible. This was Storybrooke, a world far removed from the one you had shared with him. And yet, there he was, standing before you. Captain Killian Jones. The pirate who had stolen more than just little trinkets from Agrabah all those years ago.

“Killian,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The sight of him sent your heart into a frenzy, memories crashing over you like waves against a rocky shore.

He took a step closer, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to convince himself that you were real. “I never thought I’d see you again,” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and pain.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing to catch up with your emotions. “I didn’t expect to see you either,” you admitted, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same question, love,” he replied, a hint of his old roguish charm creeping into his voice. “But it seems our paths were destined to cross once more.”

Destined. The word lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of all the things left unsaid. But before either of you could say more, another voice cut through the tension—a voice that pulled you sharply back to reality.

“Y/n, there you are.”

You turned to see Prince Amir, your fiancé, approaching with a warm smile. He was every bit the regal, composed prince you had always imagined marrying—kind, honorable, and dedicated to his people. But standing there between him and Killian, the contrast between the two men was stark.

“Amir,” you greeted, your voice faltering slightly as you tried to compose yourself. “This is Killian Jones, an… old friend from Agrabah.”

“An old friend,” Amir repeated, his smile tightening as he shook Killian’s hand. “How fortunate that you should meet again. Though, I do hope this is a brief reunion. We have much to attend to before our return to Agrabah.” The words hung in the air like a death sentence. You knew what Amir was implying, and so did Killian. You could feel the weight of your impending marriage bearing down on you, the choices you had made now seeming more suffocating than ever. You could feel Amir’s gaze on you, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. All you cared about was the man standing before you, the one who had haunted your dreams for years.

“I won’t keep you,” Killian said, though his eyes never left yours. “But perhaps, before you leave, the princess might spare a moment for an old friend?”

Amir looked like he wanted to refuse, but you placed a calming hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Amir. I’ll see you at home in a bit.”

Amir stiffened beside you, but he didn’t object. With a slight nod, he released your arm. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, though his eyes held a warning that this conversation couldn’t last long. As Amir walked away, you turned back to Killian, your heart pounding in your chest. He finally faced you, his expression unreadable.

“Killian,” you began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice raw. “Just… tell me, are you happy? Is this what you truly want?”

As you stood there, with Killian so close, memories of your time together in Agrabah flooded back. The secret meetings, the whispered conversations, the way he made you feel like the world was full of endless possibilities.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Everything’s changed. I’ve changed.”

“But have your feelings?” he pressed, stepping closer, his voice low and urgent. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way, and I’ll walk away. But if there’s even a part of you that still cares for me…”

“Killian, I—”

You stopped, the words catching in your throat as the past rushed back to you. You remembered the first time you met Killian in Agrabah.

You were a princess, living a life of luxury and duty, content with your role until he sailed into your world. The moment you met him, something shifted inside you. He was everything you were supposed to avoid—dangerous, unpredictable, a rogue. But you couldn’t help it. You were drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Days turned into nights as you spent more time together, sneaking away from the palace to explore the vibrant streets of Agrabah, talking for hours about your dreams and fears. And somewhere along the way, you fell in love with him. But you never told him. How could you? You were a princess, bound by duty and tradition, while he was a pirate, free to live by his own rules. The love you felt was a secret, something you kept close to your heart even as you knew it could never be.

Then one day, he was gone. No warning, no goodbye. Just… gone. You tried to forget him, to move on, but the memory of him lingered like a shadow that refused to fade.

Now, standing here in Storybrooke with him so close, those old feelings came rushing back. But the reality of your situation was unavoidable. You were engaged. Your life was set on a different path, one you had no choice but to follow.

“Killian, I can’t,” you whispered, your heart breaking as you spoke the words. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

His face fell, the hope in his eyes fading to sorrow. “I lost you once,” he said quietly, “and now it seems fate is determined to keep us apart again.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” you said, your breath hitching. “But those were just dreams, Killian. They could never be real. You reminded me of that when you left”

“It was a mistake.” he pleaded, his eyes searching yours for answers. “Why can’t we make them real, Y/n? What’s stopping you from choosing your own happiness?”

You glanced down at the engagement ring on your finger, the symbol of a life you had agreed to—a life that, until this moment, you had convinced yourself was the right path. But standing here with Killian, all those certainties seemed to crumble.

“My family, my people… they expect me to marry Amir,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s a good man, Killian. He’ll be a good husband and an ally for Agrabah. I owe it to them—to everyone—to fulfill my duty.”

“Duty,” Killian scoffed, his expression hardening. “What about your duty to yourself? What about what you want, Y/n?”

The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you shook your head, helpless against the torrent of emotions that overwhelmed you. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “All I know is that I can’t abandon my responsibilities. I can’t be selfish, no matter how much it hurts.”

Killian’s gaze softened, and he took your hand in his, his touch gentle despite the turmoil in his eyes. “Loving someone isn’t selfish,” he said quietly. “It’s the most selfless thing you can do. But if you truly believe you’ll be happier with him, then I won’t stand in your way.”

Your heart ached at his words, and for a brief moment, you considered taking his hand and running away from it all—escaping the chains of duty and expectation that bound you. But reality crashed back in, and you knew you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t abandon your family, your kingdom, your people. Not even for him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words tasting like ash on your tongue. “I wish things were different, but this is the life I have to live.”

Killian stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let go of your hand. “Then this is goodbye, Princess,” he said, his voice hollow.

You nodded, though the tears continued to fall. “Goodbye, Killian.”

He turned and walked away, each step taking him further from you, from the life you could have had together. As you watched him disappear into the night, a part of you died, knowing that you would never see him again. You were stuck frozen for a while, watching as Killian walked away until a notification from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts.

‘Why did Amir just walk into the house looking like he’s going to kill someone?’ Jasmine’s text stated, making you smile sadly. As you glanced up briefly towards the direction of where Killian walked before making your way back home. You had barely talked to Amir that night, choosing to let it go as you both spent the night packing and getting ready to return back to Agrabah.

The following day, the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a physical burden. You moved through the preparations for your departure from Storybrooke in a daze, your mind replaying the events of the previous night over and over. You knew you had made the right choice—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself—but the pain of it lingered, a constant ache in your chest. As you gathered with Jasmine, Aladdin, Amir, and the others for the journey back to Agrabah, you felt the walls closing in around you. The return to your homeland should have been a comfort, a reminder of the duty you had to fulfill. But instead, it felt like a prison sentence.

Killian was there, of course—part of the group accompanying you back. But he kept his distance, his demeanor cool and detached. It was as if he had already accepted your decision and moved on. But you knew better. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched at his sides whenever Amir was near. The journey to Agrabah was long and silent, each passing day a reminder of the life you were leaving behind—the life you could have had if only you had been brave enough to choose it. And now, as the sun dipped below the horizon on the night before your wedding, you found yourself standing alone on the balcony of your chambers, staring out at the party happening in the courtyard. Everyone seemed so happy…so excited for the wedding, so why weren’t you feeling the same? You couldn’t bring yourself to join in. Your thoughts were consumed by the man you had left behind, the one who had walked away from you without looking back…twice.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind you until it was too late. “You’re not celebrating.”

You turned, startled to find Killian standing there, his expression unreadable. The sight of him took your breath away, and for a moment, all the emotions you had tried to bury came rushing back.

“No,” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I needed some air.”

He nodded, his gaze flicking to the horizon. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, his voice soft. “Perfect for a celebration.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. “To celebrate?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m here to say goodbye,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “For real this time.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I thought we already said our goodbyes,” you whispered.

“Not properly,” he replied, stepping closer. “There’s something I need to tell you before I leave.”

You glanced at him, your pulse quickening. “What is it?”

He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, with a deep breath, he spoke.

“I love you, Y/n.” he said, his voice low and intense. “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. But I can’t stay here and watch you marry someone else. It’ll kill me.”

The tears you had been holding back all night finally spilled over, and you shook your head, your chest aching with the pain of it all. “Killian, please don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry, I can’t—“

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Don’t apologize, love. I’m not here to make things harder for you. I just needed you to know how I felt, before I walk away for good.” You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning with a thousand conflicting emotions. You had made your choice, and you knew it was the right one—but hearing Killian’s confession made you question everything.

He smiled softly, though the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. “Take care of yourself, Princess,” he said, his voice soft and full of longing. “Be happy. You owe it to yourself.” And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night. You watched him go, your heart breaking all over again. As the door to your chambers closed behind him, the reality of your decision settled over you like a shroud. Tomorrow, you would marry Amir and fulfill the duties expected of you. But tonight, you allowed yourself to grieve for the love you had lost—for the life you could never have.

The sands of Agrabah stretched out before you, endless and unforgiving. And as you stared out into the night, you knew that no matter how much time passed, a part of you would always belong to Killian Jones but this was the price you had to pay. The price of being a princess.

————

Author’s Note: This was kind of rushed but I wanted to post something. Let me know what you guys think!

There may also be a second part coming out, if you guys want it?

Thank you for reading!! <3

Masterlist

[shy-raccoon]

The princess uses her political power to protect her kingdoms dragon population from knights who are driving dragons closer and closer to extinction by poaching them for their teeth, claws, scales, and the title of dragon slayer.

[chaotic-orphan]

Semantics

“It’s quite simple really,” the usurper says, his face impassive but his eyes burning with a malicious promise of pain as he twirls his dagger between his fingers. “Bend the knee, or die.”

The nobles were corralled like beasts, and now cowered before Usurper on his blood stained throne. One of the oldest nobles, Sir Mourden something or other steps forward, well, more like hobbles forward, his beak nose high in the air.

“We do not bend to bas—” in one swift motion Sir Mourden’s head is severed from his body. His body gasps and stutters forward still, as if it didn’t know its head was missing yet, and crumbles to the ground on the steps of the throne. Screams ring out through the hall as Usurper grins, and catches the head of Sir Mourden that Black Knight threw at him.

“Old fart,” Usurper muttered fondly. He fists a clump of the old man’s hair and lifts his head so the other nobles can see. He either didn’t care or didn’t notice the blood and guts spilling onto his armour, but in any case he smiles and reaches to grab the old man’s chin like a puppet. “Bend the knee or die,” he says again, in a pompous, dry voice like Sir Mourden’s.

Gasps of disgust and rude, albeit true, insults fly his way, but one by one the nobles bend their knee, the ones in front first and working in lines all the way back. Regular as clockwork.

Usurper tosses the head away, ready to stand and say his piece when he notices the one noble that remains standing. His clever, cruel eyes narrow, but a small wicked smile graces his lips as he realises it’s a girl.

“You wish to die?” He asks her, his voice booming through the room. A wave of startled gasps ripple through the crowd, all turning to see the fool that refused to bend their knee.

A man beside the girl yanks at her dress, and tries to get her to submit with the rest of them, but the girl rips her sleeve out of his grip, head held high. She never drops eye contact with Usurper.

Usurper beckons her forward. “Bring her to me.”

“No, wait,” the man beside her begs as soldiers descend through the crowd. “Please! She’s just a girl, your highness, please!”

“Silence, subjects, you will all witness what happens to those who disobey your king.”

The soldiers hand the girl to Black Knight who tosses her in front of the steps to Usurper’s throne. She almost falls, but catches herself and remains standing. Her glare defiant.

“My, my,” Usurper purrs, descending the steps towards the girl. He takes slow deliberate steps, as if he were born a pompous nobleman’s son and walked with the same swagger they did. He kicks Sir Mourden’s body away from the steps, the tiles slick with blood as the body slides. “That look in your eyes could kill if you’re not more careful with it, love.”

“That is the intention.”

Usurper laughs. His hand snaps out and grabs her chin between his gloved fingers, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Nothing. Not a flinch, or a flicker of doubt. This girl had nerves of steel.

“You dare threaten your King? You realise that is treason, right?”

Her lips curl back. “Tell that to the last one.”

Usurper smirks. There was something off about her, something inherently wrong with her. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Usually, Usurper was a master at reading people, it was why this coup was so simple, but he didn’t know how to read this one, simple girl?

“You wish to die?”

“That was the ultimatum, right?” She hisses, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand from her chin. “Bend the knee or die. I’d rather die than live amongst traitors, and bend a knee to a foreign Usurper.”

A hush falls over the crowd. Usurper’s eyes flash to Black Knight who has one hand on their great sword just waiting for Usurper to give the word.

“Alright,” he says and steps away. He motions Black Knight forward, and just before they swing their sword, Usurper hooks his foot around the girl’s ankle and she falls just in time for the sword to glide over where her throat should be.

Wide terrified eyes meet Usurper’s grinning ones as the girl tries to push herself up on the blood soaked floor. Her hand slips in the old man’s blood and she falls back with a gasp, adrenaline coursing through her body and leaving her trembling before him.

Usurper dropped to a crouch beside her, tilting his head as he spoke. “You are hereby sentenced to death. Not yet, though. I want to have some fun with you before.”

The girl’s eyes widened impossibly wider. “But— but you said—”

“Kneel or die. I didn’t specify when you’d die.” Before the girl can reply, Usurper stands. “Guards. Take her to the dungeons.”

“No! Wait,” the girl cries as arms encircle hers and yank her to her feet. Black Knight shackles iron cuffs around her wrists and gives the chain to her escorts as they lead her out of the throne room screaming. “KILL ME!” She screams. “KILL ME! Let me go!”

The heavy doors shut and muffle her cries for help. Usurper grins at his new subjects. “A bit of fun is always necessary when governing a kingdom,” he says as he stands, spreading his blood stained hands. “Now where was I before we were rudely interrupted?”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

[dumplingsjinson]

I LOVED your new years one thank youuuuu may I request some royalty prompts/dialogue? Like maybe a royal x a royal OR royal x servant if possible please~

(happy new years btw hope you have a decent 2023). 🥂

(A late ass happy new year and I hope 2023 has been decent to you so far!)

List of “royal x royal” prompts 

“This castle’s ground is all that I ever knew, until I met you — you, who brought me a whole new perspective of the world beyond these walls. And God, is it fucking beautiful when I’m experiencing it beside you.” 

“My father hates you.” “Trust me, I know. My father hates me too, but I’m the only child who can inherit the throne so… You know. It’s rough out here.” 

“You’re indebted to me for life, love.” “…Fuck you.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. We might run the risk of getting caught,” Character A murmurs as Character B’s hand settles on the small of their back. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” Character B says, staring into Character A’s eyes. Character A doesn’t say anything in response, and Character B smiles, hand straying further down. “Thought so.” 

“I promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to take you down.” “And so will I.” 

“I don’t want to take the throne. I don’t want any of this. I never asked for this.” “…Neither do I. Let’s… Let’s run away together? To somewhere else, where no one can find us. Where we don’t have to hide; where we don’t have to be under the control of our own parents.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” “I came to see you, what do you think?”

“How did you get into my room?!” “Might have sneaked past the guards and bribed some of the weaker ones who saw me and injured the ones who tried to fight me?” 

Throwing cursory glances at each other whenever their families are in the same room as each other.

“We’re destined to be enemies, not lovers. At least not in this life. We’re not meant to be.” “I don’t care. Fuck destiny, we’ll make our own destiny if it means I get to be with you.” 

List of “royal x servant” prompts 

“You’ve been there for me since we were kids. You’re my best friend. You’ve been through the good and the bad with me. You’ve never left my side, and maybe you didn’t have a choice in the matter, but you never gave me any indicators that you wanted to abandon me. You’re everything I could ever want. I’m not letting them you send you away like this.” 

“The thing is, you can give me anything in the world but yourself. You’ve given the world yourself, but you can’t give the same to me. And I don’t want anything but you.”

“Let’s elope.” “I can’t make you throw away everything just to—” “I don’t want any of those things anyways. I never asked for them. I want you, and only you.” 

“Can you come into my room for a second?” “But—” “Do as I say before I make you.” 

“What’s all of this?” “I bought all of this for you.” “You know you can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart with money, right?” 

“Me or the throne?” “God, don’t fucking do this—” “Did I stutter? Me? Or the Throne?”

“Sir/Madam—” “I told you to use my name.”

“Did you ever think that maybe this isn’t going to work out? If you truly loved me, then you’d let me go and find someone I can actually be with.” “…But do you really want me to let you go?” 

“You need to get off your high horse; you’re not better than anyone else just because you have your whole life planned out for you. Destined to sit and die on that throne, or have someone murder you in cold blood to take your place, and then being remembered as the one who died to some backstabbing asshole; a little sad, don’t you think?” “…No one else other than you speaks to me like this. It’s hot. Keep talking.” 

“Status? That doesn’t mean shit if you’re not by my side.” Character A sighs, running their fingers through their hair, their head drooping. “Just— I’m sorry, I know it’s selfish for me to say, but please don’t leave. I’ve only ever had you. You’re the only one who can look me in the eyes and tell me how it is; the only one who understands what I really want. The only one who understands the real me.” 

[whumpwillow]

Abused royal Whumpee? Whumpee who is heir to the throne, but his parent passed away and kingdom is under a rule of regent until Whumpee is of age. But regent does not want to give away power and abuse Whumpee so he won't dare to go against them in the future. And fun part would be if Whumpee for example was starved and forced to sleep on the floor and beaten, but then all of the signs of abuse got covered up with pretty clothes and no one knows what Prince is going through. Bonus points if Whumpee is seen as spoiled. Whumpee is exhausted from spending night in cold cell and is taking breaks often and people see him as lazy. Or people see pretty clothes and say "you live in such luxury I bet you eat meat every day" and Whumpee does not even eat every day

op i want you to know that you are SO valid for this, this is delicious. I love it and I want it in everything

[fictionadventurer]

Sometimes it's good to create stories that are nuanced and meaningful and explore deep themes and complex characters. And sometimes you need to create stories that make you CACKLE WITH DELIGHT because of how dumb they are.

[yuwuta]

i love love love regency aus princes and princesses and knights and bakers and blacksmiths and arranged marriages and secret marriages and going off to war for your beloved and sneaking into war for your beloved and starting a war for your beloved and sending letters and having candlelit dinners and horseback riding and secret rendezvous in abandoned woods and getting injured and then patched up by your beloved it's all so very lovely to me

[themirokai]

Queer Royal Arranged Marriage

Let’s say you want your characters to have an arranged marriage for Being A Royal reasons but your characters are either the same sex or some flavor of queer that makes procreation either impossible or undesirable. What to do? I’ve got you.

The kingdom requires that its rulers be “of the people” but they must also be trained from their earliest days to rule. This means that the heir to the throne must be adopted from the general populace. The monarch needs to have a spouse who can share the task of parenting the heir (and as many spares as they deem appropriate) because training the heir to be a monarch cannot just be fobbed off on servants.

In order to give the monarch and their spouse time to adjust to ruling the country and working together, they will not be eligible to adopt until they have been married for a year AND the monarch has been on the throne for a year. Once those conditions have been met, they must take the first child under one year old who is orphaned in the kingdom. If the royal couple had biological children, that would be fine, but those children could never inherit the throne.

Hopefully this system would lead to a populace that feels more connected to their monarch and monarchs that treat their people well. For arranged marriages, there doesn’t have to be any pretense that the match will include sex, because there’s no need. Once they get married they have (at least) a year to figure out how to raise a kid together. They can go into that not even particularly liking each other very much and make it work.

But if you want to write about a pairing this works for a wide variety of queer people:

Homosexual? Cool, no need to have biological kids.

Asexual? All good. No one cares what’s going on in the bedroom.

Aromantic? Not a problem. They need to marry someone and raise a kid with them. There’s no requirement that they be in love. The couple could be good friends or just work out how they’re going to coparent.

Putting this out there for anyone to use. If you write something with this system please let me know! Also, I have thought about this a lot and would love to hear what people think about it.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

King Steve

Prompt Day 12: Hallmark Movie Tropes | Word Count: 9963 | Rating: M | CW: Royal Inaccuracies | Tags: King Ralph AU, Unexpected Royalty, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending, Steve POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

Loosely based on the 1991 comedy King Ralph, starring John Goodman, but this time make it Steddie.

Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. Robin picked this place as their next place of employment, and he's pretty sure it was just to stick him in another goofy uniform so she could call him dingus more often.

Jokes on her. He looks damn good in lederhosen, way better than she does in the milkmaid getup. So, suck it, Robin. 

Even if he's too old for this shit. He's nearly thirty, and they're still bouncing from crappy job to crappy job, aimless.

He needs a purpose, but he just hasn't found it. Not yet.

He flips on the lights, and goes through all the opening procedures on his own. Robin won't be in until later, so he's gonna be on his own through the lunch rush. If there is a lunch rush. Sometimes, that's non-existent in this place. 

And it seems like today is gonna be one of those days. He hasn't had a customer in an hour, and he's bored out of his goddamn skull. Just watching the hot dogs turn on the roller grill behind him.

Finally, the door swings open, and in walks three stuffy-looking men in suits. Glancing around the place like they're walking in front of a firing squad instead of into a fast food joint.

"Welcome to Wienerlicious," Steve greets.

"We're looking for Mr. Steven Harrington," the first one says in a British accent, and Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn't think he owes money to anyone. Especially not to anyone British. Robin and him might be scraping by, but they've managed to do it all on their own.

"Who's asking?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm Gareth Jones and this is Inspector Goodwin and Inspector Williams," the first man says, like that means anything.

Steve doesn't think he's committed a crime, Pink Panther style, but maybe? He wishes he'd stolen some cash or jewels, but he hasn't, so he's not sure why they've sent two inspectors all the way to the Wienerlicious to talk to him.

"And you're here for…" Steve trails off, moving his hand in a hurry up and spit it out motion. He'd rather get this over with.

"Well, sir, that's a private matter for us to discuss with Mr. Harrington," Inspector Goodwin chimes in, and they are definitely British.

"Then, I guess you're shit outta luck," Steve says, moving back to wiping down the counter. "If you decide you want to order something, you let me know."

He watches them look between each other, clearly debating this offer. But they step up to the counter and study the menu, with a hint of disdain, before ordering three number seven combos. Steve makes them, and puts down the red baskets on a tray. Taking their money, and handing over their change.

They're staring at his name tag. Fuck. He forgot he was wearing it.

"Are you Steven Harrington?" Gareth asks, leaning closer, nearly across the counter.

"And if I am?" Steve asks, taking a step back.

"Then we have an exciting opportunity to share with you," Inspector Williams says, gleefully.

"Listen, I'm not gonna, like, sell Amway or knives or anything. So, just. No, thanks."

They look back and forth, like they don't understand what he's talking about.

Steve sighs, "I have a job. I don't want another, no matter how much money you think I'll be able to make, so thanks. But, no thanks."

Because, yeah, he's in lederhosen, but he's working with Robin and he gets a predictable paycheck. It's a fair trade-off.

"Sir, please, just give us a moment of your time," Gareth pleads, and Steve is annoyed.

"Just arrest me if that's what you're here for," Steve says, nodding towards the two inspectors. Robin will sort it out.

"Oh, no, sir. Not at all. They're here for your protection, for your safety," Gareth says, and Steve wrinkles his forehead at that idea. He's pretty sure he doesn't need protection. "Please, just hear me out, sir."

"Fine, one minute," Steve says, following them to a table, and sitting down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mr. Harrington-"

"Steve," Steve interrupts. 

"Steve," Gareth, the chatty one, says, but it seems physically painful for him to get out of his mouth, "it is my glorious duty to inform you that you're the new King of the United Kingdom, Your Majesty."

"The new King of what now?" Steve asks, because he's been King before. Sure, it was Hawkins High and not the United Kingdom, but he'll pass. He's grown and shit since then.

"Of the United Kingdom, and the entire Commonwealth, Your Majesty." 

Steve laughs, because why wouldn't he laugh. That's ridiculous. 

Then he remembers seeing the news headline that the entire Royal Family had been electrocuted and killed during a holiday photo session, and that they were searching their records for the next heir in line for the throne.

Steve bets they didn't expect to find him in lederhosen, slinging wieners with sauerkraut. 

"But I'm an American," Steve finally says, shaking his head.

"We are unfortunately aware, sir," Gareth answers.

"Then, how am I the next in line? That makes no sense." Steve questions, he's never even been to England. 

"On your mother's side. There's no delicate way to say this, but your grandmother had an affair with Prince Richard, and your mother was the product of that affair. So, you're in the line of succession for the throne through the House of Wyndam-Pryce bloodline."

"Okay, go talk to my mother then," Steve says, "she'd love to be a Queen."

"It doesn't work quite like that. See, there's what we call male-preference primogeniture-"

"Well, that's just sexist," Steve says, crossing his arms. He doesn't know what that last word means, but he definitely understands male-preference and can fill in the blanks.

"Yes, well, perhaps that's true," Gareth says, looking flustered, then looking excited, "but you could press to change that! As King. With the help of Parliament. You could work to change it."

"Now, Jones," Inspector Williams says, "you know the law prohibits Monarchs from solving problems."

"Yes, well," Gareth says, backing down a little, "that's a different issue altogether."

"This all seems suspect," Steve says. He wishes Robin were here. She'd know what to ask, what to say to all this. "If I'm not solving world problems, which to be honest, I'm not sure I'd be all that great at anyway, what exactly does this even entail? Is it not like being the President here?"

"No, that's more like the Prime Minister," Inspector Goodwin answers, "not exactly, but closer. You, as King, would be a ceremonial figurehead."

Steve is confused, but that's not exactly new. 

"I don't understand," Steve says, because he definitely doesn't.

"You are the new King. It's your birthright, sir."

Steve is pretty sure he's not interested in any birthrights. He's seen Buffy. Kristy Swanson was hot, but he doesn't want any of that shit for himself. No fucking way.

Unless.

"How much does it pay?" Steve asks.

"Well, it doesn't, exactly…" Gareth trails off.

"Then, again. No," Steve says, moving to stand.

"But as the sovereign, it all belongs to you. To the Crown," Gareth says, and Steve starts picturing that and now it doesn't sound so bad at all.

"All of it?"

"All of it, Your Majesty," Gareth confirms.

"So, are you willing to go with us, Your Majesty? To England?" 

And maybe he'd make a different decision if Robin were here to talk him out of it, but he nods.

"You can't go be the King," Robin says, pacing around the room, one of his shirts clutched in her hands. He jerks it out of her grasp, and stuffs it into his suitcase.

"Apparently, I can," he says, "and you can come with me."

She scoffs, "And do what? Be your lady-in-waiting?"

"Yes!" Steve says, he doesn't know what that is, but yes, if it gets her to come. Absolutely. 

"Steve, no," she says, shaking her head.

"We'll get married really quick and you can be my Queen," he says, nodding his head, "think how fun that'd be? You and me? Ruling a whole country?"

"And the Commonwealth," she says, but shakes her head, snapping out of that idea. "No way, they'd make me have your babies."

"Ew," he says.

"Ew, right back at ya, dingus," she says. 

"Then, I'll go first. Scope it out. And you can come later, once I'm settled in."

"This is a bad idea, Steve," Robin says, really talking with her hands.

"Careful, I'm the King," Steve teases.

"Not my King, dingus, you better keep that in mind," she says, and he smiles, pulling her to his chest.

"I wish you'd come," he says.

"I don't even have a passport," she says.

"Well, neither do I. But apparently, as the King, that doesn't really matter much."

"Oh, this isn't going to go well," she says, pacing again, worrying some more.

"Maybe not, but it'll be an adventure, right? C'mon. Come with me," he begs, trying to give her the eyes. But she's immune.

"Maybe later. If this sticks. I'll get a passport, legally, and come make fun of you in your stupid cape or whatever," she says, and he hugs her again.

A day later, Steve steps out of the black town car, and looks up. Jesus. This place is wild. Fucking crazy, it's a palace, like, for real. He still kind of assumed they'd been teasing when they showed up at his place of work, explaining that while he was once 46th in line for the throne, that he'd now been bumped up to number one. Just because the entire extended royal family died in a freak accident during a portrait session for their annual Christmas card.

That's a lot to swallow.

Do they not have a designated survivor? Robin has told him about that, in the US. They should have, it seems like. Most definitely.

Water, metal and electricity did not mix. And snap. They were all gone.

And now he's here.

King.

He's being led inside this freaking mansion, and it's way less funny. He's a freaking American. A bastard, apparently, and he shouldn't even be eligible for the throne. Robin looked it up. Made sure he knew that, as she railed on him for even considering doing this.

But they were desperate. And here he is. Steve Harrington, American. King of England. No, Great Britain? United Kingdom? The Commonwealth? He scratches his head and scrunches up his face. He doesn't remember. They went over this on the plane, but he's already forgotten. Shit.

He's just pretty sure it's not the King of England. Even if that sounds right to his American ear.

There's some old, stuffy British dudes waiting to lead him around, and he follows. But he's starting to think he can't be the King. Not again. He's pretty sure being the King of Hawkins High will be nothing in comparison to this. This is actual insanity. 

Actual royalty.

They leave him in his new royal bedroom, and you could fit his and Robin's whole apartment inside this one room. He stands and looks out of the window, and feels homesick. He'd rather be in that tiny apartment with her, than here surrounded by all this opulence. He shouldn't have even agreed to get on the plane, especially not without Robin. They couldn't make him accept this offer, he's pretty sure. Even if they were pretty adamant about it, at the time. It felt like he didn't have a choice, even if he's pretty sure he did. Still does, maybe. He hasn't been, like, crowned or anything. He thinks he can still say no, and probably will.

He'd just been hand stomping lemonade and slinging hot dogs, minding his own business. He was just a little delirious and desperate for something new, anything at all.

He was bored.

And then there these stuffy dudes were, telling him he was the new King. 

It all happened so fast.

He should call Robin soon, to let her know he landed. He really wants her to move here to be with him, if he decides to stay. Surely, that's something he could make happen, with all this money and all these resources.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and there's a guy, probably about his age, standing there, hands properly folded behind his back. When Steve looks at him, he bows his head at the neck.

"Hey," Steve says, turning to face him fully, "I'm Steve."

"I'm Edward, your private secretary, Your Majesty."

"What can I do for you, Eddie," Steve says, and he watches as the man cringes at the informality of it all. He just doesn't look like an Edward. He looks like an Eddie. But if he doesn't like that, Steve won't force it on him. At least not to his face. Not yet. He'll wear him down, first.

"Nothing for me, sir. What can I do for you?" Eddie asks, stepping a little further into the room.

"Edward, I think I'd just like to go to bed," Steve says, and Eddie moves towards the bed, drawing down the sheets and fluffing his pillows. 

It's overkill. But nice. 

"Thanks, you don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," Steve says.

"Your dressing room is over there. I'm sure there's some proper sleeping attire," Eddie suggests, pointing towards the right door. "And if you'd like a bath before bed, I can draw one for you, sir."

A bath doesn't sound half bad, but Steve is pretty sure he can run his own bathwater. He might be the King, and isn't that a stupid thought, but he hasn't forgotten how to do basic things for himself, not yet.

Eddie does it for him anyway, despite Steve's protests, and then shows him the little turtle bell on the marble ledge that he can ding if he needs assistance at any time.

"During my bath?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

And Eddie nods, "Any time at all, sir."

That's weird, Steve thinks, but watches as Eddie closes the big double doors, leaving him alone with his bath. He rings the little turtle bell, and Eddie comes back through the doors.

"Your Majesty?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him.

"Are there bubbles?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks taken aback, but quickly nods and produces a bottle of fancy looking bubble bath from a cabinet.

"Thank you," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie nods at him curtly, before leaving. Again.

Steve wants to ring the turtle, just for shits and giggles, but refrains. He wants Eddie to like him. He's close to his age, and maybe they could be friends. Well, maybe not, he's stuffy like his colleagues, just not as stuffy. That's for sure. Gareth and Inspectors Goodwin and Williams aren't exactly old, but they were a little uptight. 

When he's good and pruney, he gets out, and wraps a towel around his waist. When he opens the doors, Eddie is standing there, at the ready.

"You can sit down, you know?" Steve says, walking around the edge of the bed.

"I really can't, Your Majesty," Eddie says.

"Says who?" Steve hollers from the walk-in closet, where he's pulling up a pair of silk pajama bottoms. They're nice, and feel good against his skin. He likes them. He's definitely not wearing the matching long-sleeve shirt though. No way. He can't imagine how uncomfortable that'd be to sleep in.

"Royal protocol, sir."

"Aren't I in charge now? So, if I say you can sit, you can sit," Steve says, coming out of the closet, towel drying his hair.

"That's really not how it works, sir," Eddie says, looking away from him. Clearly trying to get Steve to drop it. 

He will, for now. But that man is sitting before this is over with. There's no reason for him to stand around all the time. Steve's worked retail. He knows how much that sucks, and he didn't even have to do it in dress shoes.

"Did you need help finding your top, sir?" Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that's why he's being so weird. Oh.

"Do I have to wear it?" Steve asks, pulling his towel over his chest. Maybe he's being weird, or creepy, right now. Is he sexually harassing his secretary? At home this is fine, normal. It's like a locker room, right? They're in his bedroom. But maybe that's not cool here, he has no idea.

"Well, no, sir," Eddie says, "but it would be proper. But you don't have to, I suppose."

Steve tries to slide in bed without flashing his hairy chest at Eddie again, pulling the sheets up to his neck.

"There, I'm in bed," Steve says.

"Very well, sir," Eddie says, pulling the drapes closed, nodding at Steve, and hitting the lights on the way out, "Goodnight."

"'Night," Steve says back, as the door closes, and then he's gone. 

And Steve's all alone.

These sheets are super soft, and so is the bed. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks he'll be asleep in no time.

He wakes up to the sun in his eyes, as Eddie is pulling open the heavy curtains.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep alright?" Eddie asks, bowing his head at Steve, and Steve really needs him to stop doing that. It's unnecessary. Steve sits up in bed and scrubs his hand across his face. He did sleep well.

"Yeah, I think I did, thanks," Steve says, stretching, as Eddie goes into his closet and starts selecting clothes. 

"We'll have to get you fitted properly today, but these should do for now," he says, laying out a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. A belt. 

"Okay," Steve answers. He can wear that. That's not so bad. "What's on today's schedule?"

And he wishes he hadn't asked, because the list Eddie rattles off is never-ending.

"All that today, huh?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Then steps out into the hallway so Steve can get dressed.

He stands in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair. He shouldn't have gone to bed with it wet, now it really won't behave. He might need to wash it again. He looks around, and realizes there is no shower in his bathroom. He's gonna need a bathroom with a shower, the bath was fine, but not for everyday use. 

"Edward?" Steve says, opening the door, and Eddie follows him back in.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, standing at attention.

"Is there a bathroom with a shower around here that I'll be able to use? I don't need it this morning, because of the bath, but in the future?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie.

"Yes, of course, sir," Eddie says, "I'll show you where that's at this morning."

"Thanks, also? Can I request some specific hairspray?" Steve asks.

Eddie pulls a little notepad out of his pocket, ready to take notes, "Of course, sir."

"Faberge Organics, the Farrah Fawcett spray," Steve says, and watches as Eddie takes notes. He doesn't even laugh at him. Maybe Steve should tell him it was discontinued, like, a decade ago. But it'll be funny to see how much sway this position actually holds. Maybe he'll send some staff member to find a lone can of it, long forgotten on the dusty bottom shelf of a drugstore.

"Of course, sir," Eddie says, putting the notebook back in his jacket pocket.

Steve steps out inside the hall, and isn't sure what he's supposed to do. Eddie must pick up on that because he holds his arm out, motioning for Steve to walk ahead of him. 

"I thought I could give you a more in depth tour this morning, sir, if you're feeling up to that?" Eddie asks, trailing him. 

Steve pauses, waiting for him to catch up. They start walking again, and Eddie's behind him again. Steve slows his pace, and Eddie slows his own. He feels like he's having to crane his neck back to even see Eddie as he explains all the rooms, all the antiques. The paintings.

That goes on for the whole tour of this floor, and then Steve waits at the top of the long, winding staircase. Eddie waits behind him.

"You do realize I don't know where we're going, right?" Steve says, holding his arm out, inviting Eddie to lead the way.

"Sir, you are the sovereign, no one walks ahead of you. Especially not your staff," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him like he's crazy, because that's a crazy rule. Steve is only King on a huge technicality. He's just a person.

But when it's clear Eddie is not moving until he does, he walks down the stairs, wishing Eddie would just fall into step beside him, at least.

And Eddie gives him the rest of the tour, from two steps over his shoulder. It's kind of weird and uncomfortable.

After the tour, he's led directly into a room to be fitted for new clothes, and Eddie stands nearby.

"We've prepared a few questions to ascertain your knowledge of English history," Eddie says, as they're measuring Steve for a new suit. 

Having your inseam taken is a little distracting, even under regular circumstances. Having three different pairs of hands nudging under your balls, right after you've been declared King, is another level of distracting entirely.

"Okay," Steve says, uneasy. He knows he knows nothing about history, "but I can tell you it's almost zero, right up front."

Eddie looks at him and asks, "When Anne Boleyn failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had her…"

Steve thinks, tries to come up with a logical answer, and settles on, "Adopt?" 

Eddie looks exasperated, "No. Beheaded."

"Jesus, that's a bit much," Steve mutters, and he swears he sees Eddie tamp down the barest hint of a smile. 

"Please pick a fabric, sir," Goodwin says, draping some swatches over his arm and showing Steve.

They all look the same to Steve. Various shades of dark, most with pinstripes. 

"You pick, Edward. I trust your judgment," Steve says, because he does. Eddie is dressed nicely, so surely he can pick the right thing for Steve to not look like he's wearing the curtains.

Eddie nods, quick and sharp, and then hands the chosen swatches over to one of the tailors. Pointing at three of them.

After his fitting, Steve is in jeans and a polo, even if Eddie fought him on it. "Here's a few traditional English dishes, sir, some of which you'll be served tonight. The kitchen chose things they thought you might enjoy, and I thought it might be prudent to make sure you're familiar ahead of time."

Steve nods. Okay. He can do food. He likes food. 

"Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, and of course, spotted dick." 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the bowl full of dicks in front of him that he had assumed were sausages. 

He grabs the silver tongs, and picks one up, carefully inspecting it like it might be a bomb, before looking at Eddie. 

"Dick of what?" he asks, scared of the answer. 

Eddie chuckles, "You're holding a banger. A sausage," he clarifies, pointing to some other dish, "that's the spotted dick, sir. It's a dessert." 

Steve looks and can see the raisins. The spots of the spotted name, he assumes. That's more reassuring.

"Please, sir, try it," Eddie says, so Steve lets him serve him a plate, so he can try everything so there's not an embarrassing incident at tonight's dinner.

"Sit, eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie shakes his head.

"No, sir," Eddie says.

"Edward, live a little," Steve coaxes, kicking out a chair leg, an invitation, but Eddie doesn't budge. Just stands at attention, a few feet behind Steve while he eats. It's good. He likes it. Even the spotted dick, which he can't even think about without laughing. How is he going to be able to eat it, or say it, in a public setting? Impossible.

"This is all good, I was scared what you might bring me, to be real honest," Steve says.

Eddie smiles, "Well, we went easy on you. I didn't think you were ready for the black pudding or haggis."

"I don't know what that is," Steve admits.

"For the best," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles at him.

"Tell me about yourself, Edward," Steve says, using his fork and knife to cut into one of the bangers. 

"I'm here to serve you, sir," Eddie says, and Steve looks back over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

"No, about you. Not about me in relation to you, just about you."

"Sir, I don't really…" Eddie trails off, like he doesn't know what to say.

Steve won't make him talk, but he sure wishes he would. He'd like to get to know him better.

"If you won't sit, would you at least come over here where I can see you?" Steve asks, and he's happy when Eddie concedes, and comes into his line of sight. 

"How long have you worked at the palace?" Steve asks.

"Nearly ten years, sir. I've been a secretary for about two years, though. After my uncle retired, I was chosen to fill his duties."

Steve nods, hoping Eddie will continue and elaborate further. He doesn't.

So, Steve eats while Eddie stands by, quietly.

And it's weeks of meetings, fittings, lessons. Eddie and the rest of the staff are working diligently to get him ready to face the press and public.

Steve's trying. He really is, but it's a lot to comprehend. He doesn't understand all the rules, all the protocols, and he is constantly on the wrong foot. Doing something stupid, saying something stupid. He's never gonna catch on to this.

He flops back on his bed. He's going to make a fool of himself, and the Crown. 

Eddie comes in later, and takes one look at him, and starts digging in Steve's walk-in closet. He comes out with an all-white outfit and instructs Steve to put it on. 

Steve does. He's stopped fighting. Stopped asking why, a long time ago. It doesn't matter why, none of them care. He's just a small cog, in a big wheel. He's in charge, but he isn't. Not at all. None of his choices are his own. He's not sitting on a throne barking orders. He's following, trying to please the people around him. Trying to please Eddie.

Once he's dressed, Eddie takes him out to the yard of the palace, and gets down and straps big pads to his shins. They look like oversized, shin guards for baseball catchers. But padded. He was a catcher for one season in high school and hated it. It's the hardest job on the field, he's pretty sure. Pitching was easier. He did that in little league for a while. 

He's standing there in his padded shin guards, looking at Eddie for guidance. Eddie hands him a paddle. Steve tries to hold it like a baseball bat, and Eddie laughs, while trying to help him correct his grip. 

"This is a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, sir," Eddie says with a smile. 

"Oh, so more like croquet?" Steve says, lowering the bat in front of him, and Eddie grins.

"You know how to play croquet?" Eddie asks, looking surprised.

"Sure," Steve says, "I might not be royalty, but I do come from a rich family. Back home. We definitely played croquet from time to time."

Eddie smiles, and nods, "It's not like croquet. You want to keep the ball away from your wicket, not aim it towards it," Eddie explains, helping him adjust his grip, again. His instinct is still to draw it up like a bat, twirl it around in his hand. Test its heft. But Eddie tells him to keep it down, in front of him, to protect his wicket, the three stumps and two bails balanced behind him.

Once Steve is in place, Eddie yells, "Bowler!"

And the guy downfield throws the ball at him in a goofy fashion, bouncing it in front of him, and Steve hits it. And it sails up and away. They do it over and over. This is something he's actually picked up on quickly for once, and it's fun. Steve hits the shit out of the next one, and declares it a home run.

Eddie laughs, "A maximum, sir, but yes, the same idea, I suppose. Six runs." 

If it bounces to the boundary, it's worth four Eddie declares, and eventually Eddie goes to the other side of the little dirt rectangle, and they teach Steve how to run back and forth to accumulate runs that way, if he doesn't hit it out of the park.

"You can lead with your bat, sir, get it over the crease ahead of you," Eddie says.

"The line? The baseline?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles. 

"Yes, sir, that," Eddie grins. 

And he runs past Eddie once more, passing in the middle, and he reaches up as they go past each other, offering him his hand, a high five.

Eddie clearly isn't sure about this, but still puts his hand up, and they touch as they run by each other, each headed to the opposite end from where they started. 

When they've finished, Steve leans over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. But he's happy right now.

Once he stands, he looks at Eddie, smiling, and asks, "Do you want to play croquet next?" 

And Eddie laughs, honest to god laughs, and it makes Steve smile, big and bright. It's a great sound, and he hopes to hear it more often.

"Sure, Your Majesty, we can play croquet," Eddie says, and sends the pages to go find the equipment.

Pads shucked to the side in the grass, Steve watches as Eddie lines up his shot.

"Don't do it, don't even think about it," Steve says, breathing down Eddie's neck, taunting him as he tries to line up his mallet with the croquet ball.

Eddie laughs, and nudges him backwards with his elbow, and then freezes, like he's realized what he's done. Steve just shoves him back a little, hopefully assuring him that it's fine, that he likes this. That this feels normal, at least almost, and that's fucking priceless. To his sanity, to his heart. 

He's homesick for Robin, for America, honestly.

He wants to watch baseball or basketball on TV. He wants to drive his car. He wants a pizza, a burger, or some fried chicken. Anything. He can ask for anything he'd like to eat, and they'll bring it, but it's always a fancy version. They seem to have an aversion to actually just going out and getting him the junk food he's missing.

This has been a huge responsibility to take on, one he doesn't fully understand, with a very steep learning curve. But right now, they are just two guys playing a sport together, for fun.

That he understands, fully.

"This is the most fun I've had since I've gotten here," Steve says, standing next to Eddie as he whacks the ball through the hoop.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Once the game is over, Steve stands there in the grass, happy. He looks at Eddie, "What sport can you teach me next?"

Eddie just laughs, "Polo, I suppose. How do you feel about horses?"

And then it's back to the unfun parts. Steve showers, and throws on the clothes Eddie has laid out for him. And he attends meetings. He has his weekly Audience with the Prime Minister, one-on-one, without Eddie present. They always make him feel nervous that he's going to fuck up.

But it's only twenty minutes. He can do anything for twenty minutes.

Eddie works sports into his tight schedule, and Steve appreciates it. It's not everyday, but it's as often as they can fit it in, and they play and Steve pushes himself. To get better. To have fun. 

To impress Eddie, a little, with the one thing he's been good at here.

 

Steve's having a bad day, and he's had enough, so he pulls a baseball hat over his head, and walks out of the front door. Nobody stops him, but he's pretty sure that's just because they've never had to deal with a Monarch that was trying to escape the way he is. But he's had all of this he can take today.

He doesn't get far down the road, before he realizes he is being followed. He turns and looks, and there's Eddie. So, Steve slows down, stalls, waiting for him to catch up.

"You coming with me, or are you going back to tattle?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Where are we going, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, falling in step behind him.

"I'm hungry. I want some food, some American food. Something I'm familiar with. No spotted dick, or whatever the fuck that was. Is there something around here that I'll recognize?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, and then he waits for Steve to start walking again, keeping two paces behind him.

Steve glances back at him, "How did you end up working for the royal family?"

"My family. It's just what we've always done," Eddie says. "My uncle had this position before I did. When he retired, the last King asked for me to step in, to keep with some sort of continuity, I suppose. He'd known me for a long time, since my childhood."

"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Steve says.

Eddie pauses, like nobody has ever said that to him before, "Thank you, sir."

Steve nods, "Well, what would you like to do instead?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him, like he hadn't expected the question.

"Working for the royal family is the highest honor," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"Okay, that's bullshit. You don't want to serve people. You don't want to serve me. That's not your dream. What do you want to do? What would make you happy?" Steve presses.

Eddie looks at him, like this might be a trap, even if it really isn't. Steve genuinely wants to know what Eddie likes to do. He wants to know anything Eddie will tell him. Which really, really hasn't been much. He's definitely not very forthcoming about anything personal.

"I like to play music," Eddie finally says. 

"That's cool," Steve says, meaning it, "are you any good?"

"Not bad, I don't think. I play with my friends in a little four piece, when I have the time. The palace requires a lot of my time," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be at your service, sir."

"Steve," Steve says, "please, just call me Steve."

"King Steve," Eddie says, and smiles at him, just a little. Steve realizes Eddie's teasing him, and it makes Steve happy. Like they might be friends. Or could be, in time. He definitely needs a friend here.

"Well, that's not the first time I've been called that, so it's an improvement. For sure. But try to work it down to just Steve, in the future. At least while we're alone."

Eddie nods, but he doesn't look like that's going to be something he'll ever do.

They walk a little further, and Eddie stops in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Perfect. 

Eddie ushers him inside, and into a hidden corner booth, before going up to order. When he comes back, he gently puts down the tray, and acts like he's going to start setting everything up, like this is a state dinner. It's definitely not.

"Just sit. Eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie looks uncomfortable.

"That's really not…"

"Does it look like I care, Eddie? Please?" Steve asks, and he pushes a styrofoam plate in his direction, and starts loading it up.

"Are you a breast, leg or thigh man?" Steve asks, and Eddie blushes a pretty pink.

Steve's pretty sure he's not a breast man, and that's more than okay with him. Maybe he can use that in his favor, someday, hopefully.

"Anything is fine, si-"

"Steve," Steve corrects.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, like he might be caught and reprimanded. 

Steve smiles, and puts a couple different pieces on Eddie's plate, then some mashed potatoes. Gravy. A couple biscuits, and looks at Eddie as he pushes it his way.

Eddie is just looking down at it. 

Steve reaches down and picks up his thigh with his hands, and takes a bite.

"Finger lickin' good," he says, and Eddie giggles, as he picks up a piece himself, and takes a bite. It looks awkward, and a little dainty, but it thrills Steve that he's playing along. Getting a little more comfortable with him.

He wants to get to know him, Eddie, the man under the suit. Maybe the man, out of the suit.

On the walk back, Steve looks back at Eddie. 

"Eddie?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him.

"Yes?"

"Was there really nobody else? Is it me…or nothing?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure he can't do this. Doesn't want to. At least not long-term. Not for his entire life. He's given it a good go, but he's not feeling it, at all.

"Well," Eddie says, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure if he should keep talking. 

"Well, what?" Steve asks, pausing, and pulling Eddie off the sidewalk and into a little hedgerow. They stand there looking at each other.

"There was one other option, but he didn't want to do it, so I kept my mouth shut," Eddie says, looking at the ground.

"So, that guy could say no, but I'm just the schmuck who had to accept this thing? This weight on my shoulders?" Steve asks.

"I didn't know you then. You were just a name, a profile, on paper," Eddie explains, still looking down.

"And you knew the other guy?"

Eddie nods.

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

Eddie looks up, quietly asking Steve if he'll keep this secret, and Steve reluctantly nods.

"My Uncle Wayne," Eddie says, "he's retired, and already he did his duty to the Crown, and didn't want that kind of spotlight trained on him. He just wanted to go on, living his normal life. He didn't ask for it any more than you did."

Steve nods, he understands, even if it doesn't make him feel much better.

"Oh," Steve says, "I understand. I just wish, well, that I'd have been given more of a choice, too. If I said no, they'd have found him, eventually, right?"

Eddie nods, "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve gets it. Unless he wants to make that old, retired man sit on the throne, he's stuck.

"It's okay, Eddie. But I feel alone here, most of the time, so I'd like Robin to move here. Can that happen?"

Eddie shakes his head, looking sad.

"Sir, they're never going to allow you to marry your American girlfriend. It's been a hard enough sell for you."

Steve laughs, pushing his bangs back off of his forehead, "Girlfriend? No way. She's my best friend. Platonic with a capital P, only."

"Oh, well, then, yes. I'm sure we could arrange for that to happen, assuming she'd like to come."

Steve grins, wide. That's the best news he's gotten in weeks.

They start walking again, "Do you live at the palace?" Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, and shakes his head, "No, sir, I don't live at the palace. It just seems like it."

He's teasing, and it makes Steve smile.

"Where do you live, then?" Steve asks.

"Right around the corner, actually," Eddie says, and Steve stops walking.

"Can we go see it?" Steve asks.

"You want to go to my flat, sir?" Eddie questions.

Steve realizes that was probably rude to invite himself over, "Only if you want me to. You're not obligated, of course."

"I didn't think I was obligated, Steve," Eddie says, "but it might not exactly be tidy. I wasn't expecting a royal to want to visit me at home."

"Do I look like I'm gonna care about that?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles, and redirects them, but still keeps just behind his shoulder. 

Eddie's apartment is nice, and not as messy as he'd sold it as. Steve looks around, at the pictures on the walls. At his guitar on a stand by the couch. Eddie is digging in the fridge and brings him a beer, which Steve takes with enthusiasm. He's been offered wine, and liquor, at the palace, but this is just a regular beer. That he'll be allowed to drink out of the bottle, no glass in sight.

It feels like home, and he twists off the cap, sliding it into his shirt pocket.

Eddie sits next to him on the couch, and they drink, and just make small talk. It feels normal. Cozy. Like he's in someone's home, instead of a museum, and he longs for a place like this to call his own again. He took it for granted back home, and now he misses those days. Misses Robin.

They don't stay long, and just walk back to the palace after they've finished their beers, but it's the best night Steve's had since he's gotten to this country.

"I can't move to London," Robin says across the ocean through the phone, and Steve slumps at his desk. 

"But, I miss you," Steve says, twisting the cord around his fingers.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you packed your shit and ran away to play King," Robin snarks.

She's teasing, but it's true.

"Will you at least come to visit?" he asks, hoping. Begging.

"Of course," she says, "if you're paying."

"I'm paying. I'm the King, you know. Just be aware you'll have to curtsy to me," he teases.

"Yeah, never gonna happen, dingus."

But she agrees, so he puts Eddie on the case to set it all up through his office.

"I want to go to the movies," Steve declares suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him. They're sitting across from each other at a desk, as Steve's going over paperwork from his red box. Signing what he needs to sign, asking Eddie about what he still doesn't understand.

"The movies?" Eddie questions. 

"Yeah, you know, a movie theater?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir," Eddie says, with a smile.

 

That night, Eddie guides him to a secluded room. And it's a private theater. Right in the palace.

"This has been here all along?" Steve asks.

"Well, yes, sir, but it's really for the staff. But I cleared it tonight, for you."

Steve doesn't even care what they watch, he just wants to have some fun.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, settling into one of the chairs. Patting the one beside him for Eddie to sit, and after Eddie's collected a bucket of already prepared popcorn from a table, he does sit, and hands it over to Steve.

They sit side-by-side, watching a movie, sharing the bucket of popcorn, and it feels normal for a couple hours. He could have been on a date, a regular date back home, tonight. 

But it's Eddie, and he can't kiss him at the end of the night, even if he'd like to. This gift from him was more than enough.

Eddie follows him back to his bedroom, and turns down the bed, and Steve stands there, watching him.

"Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I had a lot of fun," Steve says.

"Me too, sir," Eddie answers, "goodnight."

Steve is standing out on the step, bouncing on his feet, nervous. Excited. Robin is on the way, and when they finally pull up with her, she leaps out of the car and runs straight into his arms. Not a curtsy in sight. He catches her and spins her, hugging her tight. He didn't realize it until this very moment, that one of the things he's been missing the most is human touch. None of these people touch him. No friendly hands on a shoulder, or arm.

No reassurance. No checking on his emotional needs. No comforting him. No checking in, at all. He's just supposed to function, as is, all on his own, he supposes.

He's been needing a hug, he realizes, and he buries his face in her neck, and if it's weird, she's going with it.

"I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to my new home," he says, and she grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him into the palace and up the staircase, at a near run. Dodging staffers, who bow to him as he is dragged past them. They clearly disapprove, but he doesn't give a shit. This is the most normal thing he's experienced in weeks.

She pauses at the top of the staircase, but only because she doesn't know where she's going.

He nods to the left, and he's being pulled along again, giving her directions to his bedroom, and once they're inside, she launches herself onto his bed, bouncing.

He smiles, and hops up next to her.

"Holy shit, Steve, look at this place!" she shouts, eyes wide as she looks around.

"I know, right?" he asks, but he's only looking at her. She's the only thing in this whole room that he cares about, that he loves.

That night he wraps his arm over her side, crowding up behind her, and she lets him hold her, "I'm so happy to see you."

"You better not be that kind of happy to see me," she says, contorting to get away from his crotch.

He laughs, laying his head on his pillow, "I'll try to keep it in check."

"You better, dingus."

And dingus sounds like a better, more fitting, title than King ever has, a thousand times over.

He wants to be her dingus, he doesn't want to be the King.

Steve is startled awake in the morning, by Eddie at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I do apologize," Eddie says, starting to back away from the bed, "I didn't realize you had company."

Robin looks at him, giving him the once over, "Well, not that kind of company, Jeeves. Let's get that straight."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Definitely not that kind of company, Eddie."

"We're best friends," Robin says.

"Platonic with a capital P," Eddie repeats, "as Your Majesty has said."

"Your Majesty," Robin says with a cackle, rolling towards him, and he slaps her on the arm, and it just makes her laugh harder. "King Dingus."

"He hasn't picked a regnal name yet, so perhaps that could be an option?" Eddie says, and Steve can't believe it. It's the funniest thing Eddie's ever said in Steve's presence, by far.

Steve laughs, throwing his head back, melting into the bed again.

Eddie just looks confused, and a little alarmed. But he still draws back the curtains, and brings Steve and Robin in a wheeled cart full of breakfast and coffee.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says.

"Sir, madam," Eddie says, and he bows his head at the neck, and then he's gone.

As soon as the door closes, Robin slugs Steve in the arm, "You have a crush on Jeeves!"

Steve doesn't even try to deny it, just smiles, "Yeah, that's Eddie."

Robin stays two weeks, and then she goes back home to their real life. And Steve's agitated. He misses her. He should have gone home with her. 

Eddie comes in carrying a large, heavy by the look of it, cardboard box. Great, now what?

"What's that?" Steve asks, standing to go take a look as Eddie places it down on the table.

"Your hairspray, Your Majesty," Eddie says, opening the flaps, "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to convince Unilever to engage in a short, private production run, just for you, sir."

"No fucking way," Steve says, reaching in to pick up a can, and it's really it. 

He grabs Eddie and hugs him, shaking him around, and Eddie is just a ragdoll in his arms, but Steve could kiss him, he's so happy.

"Thank you, Eddie, you're now my favorite person. Robin, who?" he teases, immediately taking a can to the bathroom.

Eddie follows, and watches him as he sprays it on his hair and tries to style it, even though it's not wet. 

"Just wait until tomorrow, I'll look so damn good," Steve says, and he meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, and Eddie's blushing.

"I'm sure you will, sir," Eddie says, and Steve can feel it between them. The sexual tension. The attraction. He's not sure how to do anything about it, if he even can.

But he wants to, and it's nice to have that feeling again. About anyone. And he's happy it's Eddie that's making him feel like this, because he really likes him a lot.

"Can we go swimming today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at the schedule, and nods. 

"I think we can fit that in this evening, if you'd like, sir," Eddie answers.

"Yes, please," Steve says. 

That evening, they walk down to the private pool and Eddie stands there while Steve strips off his shirt.

"Aren't you coming in?" Steve asks. He's assumed Eddie would. It's a sport, and that's one of the few things they do together, as almost equals.

"Sir?" Eddie questions.

"C'mon, get in!" Steve shouts, laughing, splashing water towards Eddie, which Eddie dodges easily. But Eddie nods. Disappearing into one of the locker rooms.

Steve's taking bets with himself, if Eddie will be in one of those silly old-fashioned, striped swim costumes with shoulder straps when he comes back.

He's not.

He's just wearing a pair of basic black trunks, and Steve can't help it as his eyes rake over Eddie's pale, exposed skin.

Steve's not sure he's even seen Eddie's forearms, let alone is his bare chest. He has a tattoo. More than one, it looks like, and Steve grins. Fully enjoying the view. Maybe he's not as buttoned-up as he appears on the surface.

Eddie comes down the steps and pushes off, and swims towards Steve.

"What now, sir?" Eddie asks, treading water. 

"I was thinking about laps, but anything would be good with me," Steve says. As long as he's with Eddie, he's in.

And they fall into lane lines, and Steve breathes to his left so he can see Eddie, and for once, they are side-by-side, equals. They both do a flip-turn and push off, resurfacing together. Steve smiles, and keeps kicking.

He feels normal, here, now. Swimming. His teammate beside him. And Eddie is his teammate, maybe the only one he has in this place. He's surrounded by people, but he feels like Eddie is the only one that ever actually sees him.

And he's happy as they swim, together, until they are both struggling to breathe, clinging to the side of the pool. Steve rests his head on his arms, and feels good. Really, really good.

His happiness doesn't last long. 

The next morning, Gareth comes into his office, with four or five other staffers trailing behind him.

"Your Majesty, we'd like to discuss taking the first steps towards the wedding," Gareth says.

"Whose wedding?" Steve asks.

"Yours, sir," Gareth says, and Steve sees red. He knew they were scheming to set him up on dates with various available women, but this is too far. He'll be the King, but marrying a stranger isn't happening.

"I'm not getting married!" Steve snaps as he storms out, turning to hold his hand up, giving the universal motion to stop, demanding that they not follow.

Steve only wants to find Eddie.

Eddie is walking down the hallway, and Steve accosts him. 

"This is too far, you can't tell me who to marry, Eddie!" Steve yells, and Eddie quickly grabs him by the arm, and pulls him into Steve's bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. Locking them inside.

"Your Majesty, please, it's for the good of the country. To protect your bloodline, your birthright. You're the last. You need to marry, and produce heirs. That's just how it's done."

"I'm not the last and you know it!" Steve screams.

"Please," Eddie says softly, like he's trying to tame Steve, "please consider doing this. It's the right thing to do."

Steve crosses his arms across his chest, "Absolutely not."

"Sir, please," Eddie says.

"Stop calling me sir, if you're gonna fuck me over, at least use my name, for god's sake."

"Steve," Eddie says, "we aren't doing this to hurt you."

"Well, it sure feels like you are. What about love? What about who I love?" Steve asks, his voice softer.

"Love must be subordinated for the good of the monarchy, Steve," Eddie says, his voice softer now, too.

Eddie has called him Steve, here, and Steve can't even be happy about it.

"No. No way. No, no, no."

"Princess Caroline is a perfectly acceptable choice. You need to do this."

"You're serious?" Steve snaps.

"Yes!" Eddie snaps back.

"I won't, I'm not marrying someone I don't love!" Steve assures loudly, and he means that. They can't make him. "This place is terrible, this job, it's bullshit! It's all bullshit! I'd rather be selling hot dogs, or ice cream, than to be locked up here in this gilded cage! At least at home my choices were my own and I could fuck up my life any damn way I saw fit!" Steve screams. 

"Steve," Eddie says, scrubbing his hands over his face and Steve's never seen him this undone, "Why? Why are you fighting this? This is just how things are done."

"You know why," Steve says, crossing the room and closing the space between them.

"I don't…that's not…" Eddie mutters, looking anywhere but at Steve.

"Eddie," Steve says, taking him by the shoulders, "look at me."

Eddie does, reluctantly.

"I can't marry Princess Caroline, because I love you."

Eddie's face falls, like he's just been given terrible news, and Steve's stomach drops. He's miscalculated this, all of this, and immediately lets go of him. They haven't been flirting, they haven't been anything to each other. Steve has misinterpreted their whole thing.

He feels sick.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, taking a step back, "I shouldn't have said that to you. Please, don't-"

But his words are cut off, when Eddie is suddenly moving towards him, and finally, finally presses his lips to Steve's.

Steve reaches his hand up, and cups the back of Eddie's head. It's better than he'd even fantasized about. He kisses him, over and over, holding him. Finally touching him in all the ways he's longed to, for months.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out, once they've separated, and Eddie just smiles at him and takes him by the hand, leading him towards the truly outlandish bed. He hadn't dreamed this is where the day would end up, even if he'd dared to hope. 

Eddie pushes Steve onto his back on the bed, and the dynamic has shifted in a way that Steve loves. Yes, please. More of this. He watches as Eddie pulls off his jacket, his tie, and unbuttons his dress shirt.

It's the best strip tease Steve's witnessed in his whole life.

And when Eddie crawls on top of him, in just his underwear, Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close. Pressing kisses to his shoulder, his chest, anywhere he can reach.

After, Steve brushes his hand through Eddie's hair, holding him, as they lay together. Eddie's legs are tangled with his, and they're comfortable here, together. 

"I need to quit," Steve says, softly.

"I know you do," Eddie answers, pressing his lips to Steve's chest.

"Will your uncle take over? If I do?" Steve asks.

"I'll talk to him," Eddie assures.

"Will you go with me when I leave? Or will you need to stay with him?" Steve asks.

"At first, I'll feel I'm obligated to stay," Eddie says, "he's my uncle. He raised me. But after he gets settled, perhaps."

Perhaps isn't a no, so Steve takes that as good news, and just pulls him closer while he has the chance.

"Maybe, you'd like to settle in with me here at my flat, for a stretch. Before you go home," Eddie suggests and Steve nods. Absolutely. Yes, to that. Please.

Eddie and his speechwriters help him perfect his abdication speech, and write his Instrument of Abdication letter. Wayne Munson, at his side. Stoic and quiet, but willing now, to accept this responsibility. 

Steve signs it, and Eddie, Gareth, Goodwin and Williams all sign as witnesses to his signature. 

And it's done, basically.

"You boys do realize I have no children, so this might come right back to you, after I'm gone," Wayne says softly.

And Steve and Eddie both nod. They know. But they appreciate this time Wayne's given them, to live and love. It's a gift, because he loves Eddie and wants him to be happy. Steve knows that, and he won't take it for granted. Not ever.

In a few days time, he's standing before Parliament, something he's never had to do, before now.

"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I know it is unusual for a King to address you in this manner, but I have some things I'd like to say, that I'd like for you to hear them in person, from me," he starts, before going on to apologize for being too set in his ways, too American for this duty. But he explains that there is another heir, an English one, also born into the House of Wyndam-Pryce. He tells them that it was discovered after Steve had assumed the throne, but now that he knows, he feels it only right to step down. He introduces Wayne, and turns over the Crown, happily.

As soon as he steps back from the podium, he feels like the weight of the world has left his shoulders. He walks out into the sunshine and smiles, closing his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky. 

He's a free man, once again. 

Eddie is waiting, and takes his hand, and finally, for once, Eddie steps out ahead of him, leading the way.

There are lots of people standing around watching him pack, and Steve looks around, "Are they scared I'm going to steal something?"

Eddie laughs, "Well, maybe. You can't take anything that belongs to the Crown."

"I only want to take one thing with me," Steve says, smiling.

Eddie grins, lowering his voice, "Me?"

"Okay, well, two things," Steve teases, and Eddie cocks his head, curious.

Steve walks down the staircase, carrying the giant cardboard box of hairspray. Eddie holds the door open for him, and then helps him put it in the trunk. Technically, it belongs to the Crown, but Steve is sure they'll never miss it. If Wayne wants him beheaded for taking it, bring it on. The man hardly has any hair at all left, so he definitely doesn't have a pressing need for hairspray.

"So, how was it to be King?" Eddie asks, settling into the back of the town car beside him.

"Well, I met you and I got a lifetime supply of my favorite hairspray, so pretty good, overall," Steve teases, and reaches over and takes Eddie's hand, looking at the window as the palace grows smaller in the distance behind them.

He's not the King, not anymore. 

But he's Eddie's boyfriend, his partner, and he's pretty sure that's a way more important role for him to try and fill.

Notes: This originally started for Steddie Holiday Drabbles, but the length got away from me. And then really got away from me. I couldn't condense this into 1000 words, it seems. So, I did something different for that Royalty AU and used this one here.

Royalty isn't really in my wheelhouse, but King Ralph popped into my head, and made me cackle. Sure, I'll make American Steve an unlikely King. No problem.

I'm sure Eddie had the job of about a dozen men, here. Go with it.

Also? John Goodman is a damn delight. Nobody could deliver the "dick of what?" line better than that, though I had Steve try.

Wienerlicious was from the show Chuck.

House of Wyndam-Pryce is a Buffy joke. That's Wesley's last name, and Wyndham was the fictional name in King Ralph. So it seemed fitting.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

[satoruxx]

WIP GAME

rules — list the names/titles of docs in your WIP folder + open your inbox to have people ask about them!

@twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat thank you for the tag ari my love !! had to dig very deeply into the files for this... and i'm gonna be so honest i forgot about half of these oops

anyways pls do ask me anything about these bc i need to talk about them and talking about them will make me get inspired to write them :3333

the space between comfort and chaos. (part 5)

wolfhybrid!toji fushiguro x f!reader :: hybrid au, grumpy x sunshine, ongoing series (i'm obligated to put this here even though i think everyone knows about it)

dead reckoning.

geto suguru x f!reader, implied gojo satoru x f!reader :: canon au installment, angst, fluff, pining, unresolved feelings, bittersweet

untitled drabble.

wolfhybrid!toji fushiguro x reader :: hybrid au, in another timeline, how you and wolf!toji would meet if things played out differently, grumpy x sunshine, random thoughts about first meetings

say you'll love me to death, because i will.

vampire!sashisu x reader :: poly!sashisu, vampire x human, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, lots of blood ??

crawling back to you.

tigerhybrid!ryomen sukuna x reader :: hybrid au, drabble, obssessive behavior, bickering, animalistic tendencies, jealousy, extremely grumpy x sunshine (he's not even grumpy he's just a hater)

ROYALTY AU

dying by your hand.

royal knight!gojo satoru x princess!reader :: royalty au, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, bodyguard trope, mutual pining, lifelong devotion

angel eyes see the good in devils.

gladiator!toji fushiguro x princess!reader :: royalty au, forbidden romance, grumpy x sunshine

the illusion of a regime.

prince!geto suguru x princess!reader :: royalty au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage

no pressure tags: @vagabond-umlaut @ryomance @pupkashi + anyone else who wants to do this !!