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txemrn · 2 years ago

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Déjà Vu

Chapter 4

New? Check out the first THREE chapters HERE! (Go ahead; we'll be here. 😉)

Series Summary: After an unforgettable night with a stranger, Princess Eleanor finds herself caught in a secret love triangle between a noble and a commoner.

Chapter Summary: Drake heads to Club Core with Leo; he unexpectedly meets a young woman that reminds him of a past life.

Pairing(s): mention of Liam x Riley; Drake x Riley (former)

Word Count: ~4970

Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language (tons; it's Drake); sexual references (crude); mention of excessive drinking; drug-use reference; brief violence

A/N: Welcome to my Crack Fic! If you are new, hi! Thank you for joining us! This story takes place approximately 2 decades after TRR/TRH. I have made some canonical changes (they will be mentioned). Although this is from my crazy mind, it takes a village! Huge thanks to my sweet writing buddies for helping me figure out various parts! Love y'all! Characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry! This was not Beta'd; please excuse my errors.

~🖤~

Drake

What the fuck was I thinking? I hate large crowds and eardrum-piercing music. I hate being around people who can't hold their liquor, not to mention I hate dancing. But even worse, I hate Leonardo Anselm Phineas Rys. Old thorn in my side. What in the actual fuck made me agree to hang out with blondie in the first place? At a club? On opening night?

Because you're lonely, and he offered free booze…

My twisted expression relaxes as I shrug my shoulders. Meh. I guess it could be worse.

"Okay, baby… I'll be home later… yes… I'll tell Liam you said, 'hello'..." Leo gives an obnoxious kissing sound before disconnecting his call with the touch of a button. He lets out a sigh, taking a hit of his vape pen. "Dahlia," he answers to the question I never asked. He glances at me, sucking in his bottom lip before giving me a slow flutter of a wink. "She's a bit clingy."

I nod, drumming my fingers against the leather interior, playing it cool like I care. "Is… she your–?"

"Friend."

Ah. Okay. 'Friend.' The term just glides off of his tongue. Nonchalant. Sweet and syrupy, almost as if he believes the bullshit he's feeding this poor girl that's waiting at home for him.

And she thinks what now? That he's coming over after an evening with his brother's family which, no doubt, she has never met. And judging by that brief interaction with goldie locks here, she doesn’t seem to have the intellectual capacity to wonder why she wasn't invited to the dinner in the first place.

Side-piece. Booty-call. Friend. It's all just semantics to douchebags like Leo Rys.

I fidget with the navy collar to the button-down shirt Leo loaned me. I could barely fit my broad shoulders into the lean cut of his tailored threads. The guy has a rock hard physique, but tough, manual labor creates a different kind of body. A strong one. Like mine.

The buttons pull slightly across my chest as I flash a glance in the car visor mirror. I look like a fucking tool. I'm not used to my stubble brushing up against starched cotton; I'm usually wearing a tee, my work denim and my steel-toes. I mean, unless I'm meeting with a client or going out to dinner where you have a waiter and utensils. But, other than that, I am a fish out of water: this shirt is uncomfortable. And I have a feeling this is just a prelude of what's to come.

At least Leo approved of my jeans and Tecovas. He tried throwing my trusty chambray shirt in the trash. "No one has worn this for at least twenty years… and they weren't even wearing it then."

Fuck off.

We pull up to this club, and I swear everyone in Cordonia has turned out for this spectacle. The moment Rys steps out of his 'I didn't want anything too flashy' red Ferrari, the paps were on him like white on rice. Flashes of light rain from every direction as reporters flood him with curious questions about his Gucci loafers and gray Brioni blazer.

Lucky for me, I'm a nobody, and the press quickly discovers that the moment I step out onto the red carpet. Dropping their cameras and microphones in disappointment, they instantly turn their attention elsewhere. I don't know if I should be grateful… or offended, to be honest. At least confuse me for Leo's new lover… bunch of dickwads.

I push past the commotion, combing my hair out of my eyes as I look around the red carpet. This place is pretty snazzy, but holy fuck, they didn't spare with any expenses. It’s like a fucking fortress: a tall, wrought iron fence encased with stone surrounds the perimeter. Armed security in black tie a la James Bond swarm the space.

Now, the entrance? This wasn't just any ol’ red carpet; oh, fuck no, that wouldn't do for such a prestigious guest list. Contortionists and acrobats on pedestals perform sultry poses and maneuvers, leaving the crowd bewildered and amazed.

Scantily clad women tend to the average Joe commoners waiting in line. They serve hors d'oeuvres and complimentary spirits, fooling them into thinking they're still important even though they're on the outskirts of the main event, and truth be told: they'll never get in.

Taking it all in, I suddenly feel a massive clap against my back before an arm hugs tightly around my neck.

"Ready, Walker?" Leo pops his gum in between his smarmy grin. "Let's get our dicks wet."

—

Fucking. A. I'm pretty sure I just entered the third level of hell.

"Hey-yo, Walker!"

Make that the fourth level…

I glance back at Rys who is now flocked with an entourage of, and I quote, ‘aspiring models,’ all with their fake tits falling out of their tops, their overly-injected blow-job lips, and lashes so thick, you can't tell if they're sleeping or having a stroke. He flashes those pearly whites as he dangles a small, gram-size plastic bag of white powder.

Now, I'm not against tokin' up or getting obliterated with alcohol, but cocaine isn't my style… not to mention, if we got caught–no doubt, Leo knows people that could bail us out, but if Liam and Riley were to hear about this? They'd kick me to the curb in an instant, especially with their kid around. They’d label me as a bad influence, and Liam would give me that fatherly disappointment glare.

"What do you think, Walker?" Leo nods with eager anticipation. "Wanna join… all of us?" He lets out a knowing laugh, winking at the women around him. They take his cue and begin to giggle, as if he was the funniest, most charming man they've ever met.

And my IQ just dropped two points.

"I think… I'm going to… " I notice a large bar area, quickly throwing a hitched thumb back at it. "...I'll check out the bar,"

"Suit yourself." The women practically swallow him whole with their arms. "Don't forget: give 'em my name. Drinks on me!"

The drove of venereal diseases buzzes off with their king, and a sense of relief washes over me. Would I rather be at home? Absolutely, but since I'm already here…

I make my way toward the crowded bar area, ducking between drunken cat fights and groping couples. Finding a stool, I plant my ass down, and despite how busy it is, the bartender tends to me quickly–probably because I'm a 45- year-old man alone in a club. Translation: I have money, I know what I want, and chances are, what I order doesn't require my rim being bedazzled with seasonings, flowers, or fruit.

"What can I get ya?"

Oh, shit, I haven't heard that distinct nasally Portavira accent in so long. My God…

"Um… Larceny. Neat."

"Double?"

My man… I nod as I watch him pull out the bottle and a clean tumbler.

"Do you have a tab started, sir?"

I reach for my wallet, but I abruptly stop, remembering Leo's words. 'Give 'em my name. Drinks on me!'

"I do. It's under Rys," I smirk, "and actually, do you have Macallan?"

The bartender stops, giving me a glance over when finally a Cheshire grin creeps across his face as if he just struck oil. "We sure do, Mr. Rys." He extends his hand to fist bump me before reaching to the top shelf for a new bottle of the liquid gold. Before I knew it, he's twirling the tumbler across the bar. "Enjoy, Mr. Rys."

Taking a sip, I give him a wink as a thank you as I bask in the much needed woodsy burn of clove on my tongue. Damn, that's tasty.

Feeling more relaxed, I glance out onto the dance floor as other club-goers get lost in the hypnotic buzz of the ethanol electrifying their veins. The tantric beat of the music and the flashing swirl of multicolored lights feeds the adrenaline and raging hormones as people grab and grope one another.

I am way too old for this scene.

I grab my glass to take another pull when out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face at the bar. Turning my head to get a better look, I suddenly swallow my whiskey down the wrong pipe, causing me to fall into a fit of coughs. Smooth, Walker, real smooth.

Blinking back the tears, I sniff into a napkin before looking back at the beautiful face. Shit. She's absolutely…wow. Gorgeous dark, silky waves, porcelain skin, that pouty mouth with those big, doe eyes… She's the spitting image of… Riley.

"Fuck," I growl at myself before rubbing the shit out of my eyes. No way, it can't be. I look up again, and instantly I can feel my jeans begin to tighten.

You're just wanting to see her. You're just wanting it to be her, especially with what happened back at the palace.

I down the rest of my drink before allowing my attention to be completely saturated by this girl.

It's not Riley. It's not…

See? Her nose appears more prominent from the side, and-and her neck. Her neck seems longer, slender. And her eyes. They're gorgeous and big… they aren't Riley's navy blues, but damn, that sparkle–

"Would you like another–?"

"Please," I grumble as I stare at this Riley look-alike. I just… can't tear my eyes away. Her presence feels so real, so intimate. Now, judging from this woman's creamy, velvet skin, she's young. Maybe early 20s. Way out of my league… but still that face. It's like looking into a past life, a life I once loved.

—

(Two decades ago…)

"Brooks," Drake whispers loudly, "come on!"

"Shhhh!" Riley presses a finger to her lips, stifling her giggles as she looks down from her palace window. "Are you trying to wake everyone up? You're going to get me into trouble."

"You are trouble, lady."

Riley looks back at the commoner, the glint of mischief in his eyes making her adrenaline pump faster through her veins. "Now are you sure about this?" She bites her lip, "you'll catch me if–"

"For the hundredth time, yes," Drake rolls his eyes, holding his arms out wide.

Since Drake's confession to Riley at Applewood, the two of them have been enjoying each other's company, especially after hours. They flirt with danger, sharing in kisses that they swear will never happen again for obvious reasons: she is there to pursue Liam and his hand in marriage; Drake is his best friend.

After watching Liam share a kiss with Riley, a dam of excruciating jealousy broke in Drake's heart. He already shared with Riley before that he was developing feelings for her, but now, it was… something else. Something more.

During dinner, the commoner passed her a note, asking her to meet him outside her window after midnight because they needed to talk.

Riley is staying in the guest quarters off the West Wing with the other suitors. She's only on the second floor, but still, a jump from that high could be dangerous. So, Drake helped the brunette construct a climbing rope with her top sheet.

"I've got ya. Just… ease yourself over."

Riley takes one step at a time, following Drake's directions; but when she gets close to the ground, she looks back at Drake, raising an eyebrow, then jumps.

"Whoa!" Drake stumbles as Riley crashes into his chest, his arms quickly cradling her close. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Riley giggles, combing her fingers through Drake's thick hair. "Sometimes a girl just wants to be caught."

Their eyes lock on one another, Drake's hand finding her cheek. He gently rubs his thumb across her soft skin, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into his touch.

"Come with me," he whispers softly while grabbing her hand.

"Wait… I thought we were going to talk–"

"I want to show you something." Riley gives him a curious glare. "It's a surprise," he smirks, pulling her to follow him.

They walk silently, hand-in-hand across the grounds, playfully gazing back-and-forth at one another–that is, until all a sudden a bright flashlight skims over where they are walking.

"Who goes there?" A palace guard bellows.

"Brooks, take off your flip-flops," Drake commands under his breath, watching the guard in the distance.

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me," he squeezes her fingers.

Riley quickly kicks them off, holding them in her hands. "Okay… now what?"

Drake grabs her hand again, his grip tight. "Run!" Giving her a warning tug, they both take off across the wet lawn, Riley following Drake's lead.

"Where… are we… going?" She pants, laughter bubbling from her chest.

"You'll see," Drake chuckles, "but we have to lose Barney Fife first!"

Dodging the glow of the searching lights, Drake and Riley finally make it to a large wall of greenery. Finding an entry, they pass through the walkway and hide behind the vines and leaves.

Drake looks to see if they finally lost the guards, but Riley takes a moment to look around the thicket they just entered.

"Whoa," her eyes widen as she looks at the well-manicured covert. "Where… where are we?"

"It's… a maze. A hedge maze that we used to play in as kids."

"Are you serious?" She meanders down a corridor, looking around a corner. "It's so dark. Did you ever get lost?"

Drake chuckles, reaching into his pocket. "Plenty of times." He saunters closer to Riley, pulling out a flashlight and handing it to her. The air crackles around them as the charm of the blue moon ignites the twinkle in their eyes. Drake lowers his voice into a deep gravel. "Come get lost with me, Riley Brooks."

With that, he smiles and takes off jogging, Riley staying close behind. "Hey, not so fast Drake." She turns a corner and notices his denim shirt discarded on the grass. "You lost your shirt."

"Did I now?" He snickers. "Can you bring it to me?"

Riley scoffs into a giggle as she continues through the maze at the sound of his voice. "Maybe if you'd stop running away–"

"Maybe if you weren't so slow–"

"Hey!" Riley chides, "I just jumped out of a window–" she falls silent as finds Drake's belt tossed on the ground. She collects it in her hand, biting her bottom lip. "Drake?"

"You're getting warm," he teases. Riley stumbles through another corner, turning left, then right. The sounds of her toes in the grass compliment her heavy breathing as she stops again to the cooing of his voice. "Warmer, Brooks."

She continues until suddenly, she notices a warm glow just up ahead. Her steps quicken until finally she reaches a small clearing in the maze that opens to a stunning backdrop of the star-filled sky. Gas-lit sconces illuminate the garden, revealing tapestries of vines and flowers fixed to wooden lattice work amongst the bushes.

"Wow," Riley gasps, her eyes glowing with the wonder all around her. "This is beautiful." She feels Drake's warm touch on her hand, their fingers lacing together.

"Cmon," he tugs on her, "I want to show you something."

"There's more?" She giggles, following his lead. They walk a short, pebbled path until they are standing in front of a large gray-stoned well. Riley presses her fingertips to the cold marbled edges before looking down into the dark abyss. Her eyes shift to Drake, "Is this where you murder me?" He chuckles, shaking his head as she turns back to the well opening. "Hello!" She shouts, the echoes welcoming each other back and forth.

"I'll be honest, Brooks." Riley looks back at Drake. "I'm kinda shocked Liam hasn't already brought you here. It's one of his favorite places to show off in the entire estate."

"Oh," Riley's eyebrows knit together with a pained expression.

"Hey," Drake nudges her playfully. "What's with the long face?"

Riley snickers into a scoff before finally succumbing to tears. "I'm just exhausted," she pulls her hands to her face.

"Brooks," he pulls her into his comforting arms.

"This social season bullshit is just … it's really screwing with my head," she sniffles. "I've never been more insecure in all my life, and what for?" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her throat. "I wish I knew where I stood. I wish the competition was over. I wish–"

Drake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of worn copper coins. He offers them to a confused Riley.

"Pennies?" She sniffles.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "I forgot to get rid of them when we were in New York. They're worthless here. No conversion."

Riley's lips begin to curl. "Then why keep them?"

Drake starts inspecting the coins in his hand, allowing them to softly clang together in his palm. "I read a book once–"

"--picture books don't count as reading."

"Ha. Ha." He smirks, feigning annoyance as he starts to jingle the coins in his hand. "I read that in ancient civilizations, finding random metals was a sign or a blessing from the gods."

"You see them everywhere back home. The streets, sidewalks," she snickers, "a whole cent. How generous of the gods."

"What? A penny isn't enough for you?" Drake playfully growls, slowly leaning closer to Riley. She coyly bats her lashes, a soft titter in her throat. "Here." He puts a coin in her hand.

"What's this for?" Riley studies the trinket.

"For something bigger, citizens would offer the metal back to the gods, like a payment. So they would say a silent prayer, then toss it–"

"--into a well," Riley softly finishes.

Drake nods over his shoulder to the stoned well. "Let's make your wishes count."

One by one, Drake and Riley silently take pennies, casting them into the well with unspoken hopes and dreams until every last coin was gone. Feeling his close proximity, Riley stares up into his dark eyes, getting lost into a charming stillness.

"What did you wish for?" She whispers.

Drake slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He offers a crooked grin. Combing his fingers into Riley's dark, espresso waves, his hand gently grips the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "All my wishes have already come true, Brooks." He closes the space between them, their lips grazing one another. The feather-light touch instantly ignites a hunger, one they both feel and crave. Drake pulls back, chuckling under his breath as he fidgets with the hem of Riley's shirt. "So... why didn't you take off any clothes?"

Riley bites her bottom lip. "Maybe... because... I wanted my wish to come true." She pauses, her fingers tucking into the front pocket of Drake's jeans, pulling his hips flush against hers.

He swallows thickly. "Which is?"

"Take them off for me, Walker."

—

(Present)

Damnit. I adjust myself in my jeans, but my cock always hardens at the memory of Riley and me that night. We fucked. A lot. But that night, our first night together, it was more than just sex. We made love.

I take a swig of my new drink that the bartender must've dropped off while I was taking a stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams when my eyes dart to my Riley look-alike.

And I feel my dick shrink.

She's with someone, some blond tool, probably named Chad, with a tool haircut that shops at Tools-R-Us with a matching trust fund.

I sigh to myself, polishing the rest of my drink before staring at my empty glass.

He is pretty hot; I don't blame her.

I glance at them one more time, kissing my own dirty fantasy away when I notice something odd. His hand is sternly gripped around her wrist, staring at her like she's his next meal.

But her face tells a different story. She seems to be struggling, trying to tear her arm away from him. Those big, doe eyes are panicked, large as table saucers as she frantically looks for help.

I sigh. Goddamnit...

I wipe a napkin across my mouth as I stand, my glare fixed on this commotion transpiring before me. I shrug my shoulders, loosening the tight fabric off my back as I stretch my muscles. Just in case.

I hurry my way through the dense crowd of patrons gathered around the bar. I flex my fingers, bending my wrist as I get closer.

Ah, shit. This is the part I'm bad at. What do I say first? 'Stop that!' No, that's lame. I need something clever, like maybe, 'Is there a problem here?' How about–

My clenched fist meets his jaw, knocking the asshole in one swing into a bartop table before he crashes down onto the floor. He's so disoriented; he's trying to get up, but he keeps slipping on shards of glass, falling back into the pathetic rumple he calls his life.

Fuck. My hand. I know it will hurt like a bitch in a few minutes when my body depletes of adrenaline, but for right now, I'm basking in the moment.

A smirk grows on my mouth, but it doesn't last for long. The young woman. I turn to the Riley look-alike, her terrified stare already fixed on me. Instinctively, I carefully put my hand on her shoulder. She's shaking.

"Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?"

Ho.ly. Fuuuuuuck.

Brooks? Seeing her up close is almost painful; I can feel my balls beginning to ache. This woman is hauntingly stunning: the subtle freckles on her nose, the curve of the bow to her top lip, even the flounce of her long, flirty eyelashes. She's beautiful; she's… like somebody I used to know…

The young woman shyly nods, but she's trembling. She's clearly not alright.

And I suddenly possess this overwhelming need to take her in my arms, hold her tight and let her know she's safe.

Calm down, Walker.

"Let's get you away from this." I look up, noticing an open lounge-type area near the dance floor with large, plush couches. Offering my arm, she holds on tightly as we escape through the debris of the nightmare that just happened. Placing a reassuring hand on her back, I encourage her to sit.

I, on the other hand, keep an eye on douche canoe who is being helped up by security and his friends. But, I don't think he'll be a problem for us anymore tonight. He never got a good look at me, and even if he had, something tells me his ego would keep him away from telling the truth of who made him taste his own blood.

Turning towards the young woman, I notice she is anxiously looking around, her body on edge. I tilt myself to her ear, shouting over the blaring music, "Are you here with anyone?"

She nods, "B-but it's okay," she yells back, waving her hands. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She fakes a smile, and my God, it knocks me back. Stunning.

Focus on her words, Walker...

"I don't exactly want to…"

I don't quite understand the rest of her statement, her words lost in the heavy beat of the music. I give her an inquisitive look, causing her to careen towards my ear, her hand brushing across my shoulder.

And my cock twitches. Breathe, buddy…

"I said… I don't want to interrupt their fun." She motions aimlessly to the dance floor. Got it.

"Can I call someone for you? Family perhaps?"

Her eyes widen. "What? No, no."

She grins, but it's clearly hiding her true feelings. Which is fine. I'm a complete stranger. Shit, she probably thinks I'm some creepy old man, hitting on her at the bar. And sure, maybe on a night where she wasn't assaulted, maybe I would've bought her a drink, asked for her number.

But the fact of the matter is this: I really don't feel comfortable leaving this girl alone. She just got into a physical altercation with… whoever that guy was. Her boyfriend? Oh shit, husband? I look at her hand; I don't see a ring, but that doesn't mean anything. You never know these days. Still, she doesn't need to be by herself right now. She really doesn't need to be here, but again, who am I but another creep at the bar.

I run my fingers through my hair. Oh, what the hell. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

A hint of fear crosses her expression as she looks me over.

I hold up my hands in defense before leaning over her shoulder. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a place like this," I shout, "especially with what happened with your boyfriend."

She takes a deep breath. She flashes those big, brown eyes at me before finally nodding in agreement.

And my heart melts.

I offer my hand. "Drake."

The corners of her lips curl as she takes my hand, leaning towards my ear. "Jake?" She yells.

I shake my head, facing her ear more directly. "Drake!" I holler over the deep thrumming of the bass.

She raises an eyebrow. "Jake?"

Eh, close enough. I smile in agreement.

"I'm Nora," she smiles, already more relaxed.

"Nora?" I repeat, ensuring I heard her correctly. At least one of us should be called by our real names this evening.

She nods innocently, a beautiful rosy pink painting her cheeks. "Oh, and, um… he's not my boyfriend." A piece of her hair falls like liquid silk into her eyes as she looks down at her lap. She quickly shoos the wisp away, chasing it behind her ear before looking back at me, trying to figure out my angle. Am I here to hurt her? Flirt with her? Invite her home for a messy, drunken fuck?

Don't worry, sweetie, you're safe with me.

"American?"

She catches me off guard with that one. "Uh, yeah. How did you–?"

She points to her mouth, her lips perfectly rounded and plump, painted a deep crimson. Oh, duh. My watered-down accent. Toto, we're not in Texas anymore. It's hard to believe that at one point in my life, I actually sounded like these people. Every once in a while, the Cordonian beast pounces, but these days, I sound like the typical American mutt.

"Are you on vacation?" Nora asks.

I smirk, shaking my head. "I… moved here for work."

"To Cordonia?" She snickers. "Of all places?"

"Fair," I chuckle under my breath as I feel the heat rise up my neck. "I… grew up here, so I have… connections, friends and family. It makes for an easy transition. How about you?"

Her eyes brighten, like a pageant contestant being asked about world peace. "Cordonian. Born and raised."

"That's unfortunate," I joke. Sorta.

"Hey," she giggles, scrunching up her nose playfully. She swats the back of her hand against my shoulder. The touch sends a shockwave of familiarity, robbing me of my breath. "I love Cordonia–"

"Spoken like a true Cordonian."

"And… what's wrong with that?"

Drake guffaws. "What isn't wrong with that?"

"Your tone is suggesting that there's something wrong with having pride in your country–"

"It's egotistical–"

"The only thing egotistical is thinking that your opinion about Cordonia is the only opinion to be had." She furrows her brows. "If you hate it so much, why did you come back?"

Shit. She's feisty. And this conversation has gone completely off the rails. I can't tell if she's really pissed… or if I'm just really turned on and wanting a sparring match.

Fuck. You just had to be a jackass…

"Okay, truth?" I offer, even though I'm sure she wants to toss a drink in my face at this point.

She turns to face me, tucking her leg underneath her. "Please."

"I had a rough time fitting in here. Except for my best friend. He's–" I grin thinking about Liam and I, growing up together, how perfect and inseparable we were. "--as Cordonian as you can get. Well, except… I mean, his mom… nevermind," I shake my head. "He's the nicest person I've ever met in my life. I needed some help after a bad business deal, and… he was there and… now I'm here."

"Huh." She sits back, crossing her arms as she takes me in. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling. She's clearly unsure of me, and I don't blame her.

"Drinks?" A cocktail waitress dressed in a skimpy, leather skirt interrupts us.

Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I turn to Nora. I have a feeling that this might be the end of the night for us, especially if I don't offer her a cocktail.

I stare at the sparkling flecks of bronze in her eyes. There's something about this girl, more than just the memories she stirs up in me. I can't explain it… shit, then again, maybe I'm fooling myself, wanting something to be there that never was. Still… I clear my throat… you never know unless you try.

"Would… you like one? A drink?"

She narrows her eyes in thought… and fucking hell, she's so goddamn beautiful. Like Riley incarnate. The mannerisms, some of her expressions. Watching her literally robs me of speech and air, and I am dying to spend more time with her. Hell, who knows where the night will take us.

I really hope she agrees to this drink. I can tell I haven't exactly won her over in the past twenty minutes, but if she would just agree to one more drink, just a few more minutes with me, maybe history could repeat itself. Maybe I could experience the woman of my dreams in a different way. Now, I could never tell Nora this; she could never find out. I mean, I am attracted to her, it's just…

"Sure," Nora interrupts my thoughts, her lips curling. "I'll take a drink."

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

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#the royal romance #the royal heir #choices the royal romance #choices the royal heir #choices trr #choices trh #princess eleanor #drake walker #riley brooks #liam rys #crack fic

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griffinsabina · 1 year ago

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#playchoices #my choices #the royal finale #trr daughter #eleanor rys #liam rys #arwen estrella #the royal romance

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thefirstcourtesan · 1 year ago

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I can’t believe I never reblogged this? I adore this fic. I love the interaction between young Kiara and Liam and how Joelle is able to figure out what he doesn’t like about ta vine. I really enjoy your Eleanor’s Kitchen fics and the way you weave food I tot he history of Cordonia and Liam’s personal history.

Eleanor's Kitchen

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: None. Queen Eleanor & Prince Liam (mother-son), Queen Eleanor & Joëlle Theron (platonic), Prince Liam & Kiara Theron (platonic)

Rating: PG for one cuss word.

Summary: Eleanor and Liam get a visit from Joëlle and her daughter Kiara, along with a few surprises. (Takes place a few weeks after Chapter Two. Liam is seven years old, Kiara is five)

Note: In this series, Hakim, Joëlle and Kiara's surnames are spelt Thorne. People close to Constantine call him "Kontos".

Series: Eleanor's Kitchen

Word Count: 3,532

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for Fics of the Week

Tagging @choicesmonthlychallenge for the May Challenge - Day 31 - smile | macaroons | "This isn't goodbye"

Chapter 3: Djaj M'qualli bi Zeitoun

Today is one of those rare days when Liam finds both himself and his mother in a bad mood, near-identical pouts jutting out from their lips.

He suspects Mum's has something to do with a phone call today from Duchess Joëlle Thorne, instructing her strictly not to cook, because this time she wants to be the one bringing food. Mum had practically forgotten she was Duchess Joëlle's Queen and got on the verge of pleading, several times. But the other woman, miles away on holiday in France, would not budge.

I think I know where Kiara gets her stubbornness from, Liam thinks to himself - remembering his sometimes-playmate who always drove hard bargains during their "toy trade wars" and beat him, Drake (and Maxwell whenever his father Duke Barthelemy brought him over to the palace from Ramsford) in raucous games of football.

He almost-smiles at the memory of the three of them stomping off the palace grounds after yet another defeat, but the sudden flash of memory of a recent state dinner abroad, sitting next to his older brother, makes him scowl again.

Seven tagines. Seven alone this year, and Liam has lost count of how many people have fed him tagine over the past year. And each one with such a lovely, glowing, expectant look on their faces that he hasn't had the heart to tell them that he's hated tagines ever since that first tongue-numbing bite (Mum would later wonder if the cinnamon might have been a little much on that dish, but then brushed the idea off, being the Biggest Cinnamon Lover Ever) at a diplomat's house in Fez last March. Some of the dishes had ingredients he loved (apricots. shrimp. meatballs) and things he would never touch (prunes), but that first awful experience haunted him every time he took a forkful, making him dread even the possibility of going somewhere where it could be served.

"You could just say no," Leo had once said, smirking. That little shit, Liam had murmured a phrase he'd picked up from his own brother under his breath, knowing his parents would take offence at the last word, and Leo at the second. It would be so easy. He could go tell Mum right now and she'd make sure everyone - palace chefs, Heads of State, everyone - stopped bringing him tagine, court protocol and social embarrassment be damned. After all, she's now grown suspicious enough to ask. But he can't.

This is a game the brothers have been playing ever since Liam turned four: you never let the other side know they're winning. Not unless you wanted to everyone to think you'll forever be the little baby around here, always crying to your mother.

He will never admit to Leo how much he hates it, and he will never admit to himself that over the last few months he's begun to hate it a little less. So now, whenever the tagine gets laid out on the dinner table, warm in its brightly-patterned pot alongside a bowl of jewelled couscous, Liam defiantly stabs the meat, staring his older brother straight in the eye as he forks it into his mouth. You lose!

Mum is still flicking her thumb over the other fingers on her hand now, lost in her own thoughts. It takes her a couple seconds before she speaks. "Joëlle loves the Cordonian Ruby, Kiara likes puff pastry. I could make them chaussons aux pommes to take home!" she says in a low, triumphant whisper.

Liam stares at his mother in confusion. "I thought Auntie Jöelle said no cooking."

Mum shrugs her shoulders in a rare show of childlike glee. "What's she going to do, fly a plane back to stop me?" she says, and Liam can tell she's already keeping a mental note of the ingredients, "By the time she gets here, we'll make her a dessert she can't refuse."

For a split-second when Auntie Joëlle and her daughter arrive, Mum seems to search for something behind them, then at their faces, with a rapidly dimming smile. But the look is so fleeting Liam wonders if he'd imagined it.

"Where's Uncle Hakim, Mum?"

Mum's hands involuntarily tighten on his shoulders at the question, it is a smiling Auntie Joëlle who answers. "He's in a meeting with your father, Prince Liam."

Mum greets little Kiara with a warm hug, before moving back and admiring her hair. Kiara's half-ponytail zigzags in waves along her shoulders, her heart-shaped face framed on either side by thin long braids studded with tiny butterfly clips. A very tiny topknot adorns the top of her head, and Liam can see small braids covering it too. She looks very pretty and very proud of her mother.

"Now you're just showing off, Jo," Liam can hear Mum whisper, chuckling. "You've really outdone yourself this time. And that dress!"

"Butterflies and ladybugs," Auntie Joëlle grins, waving her free hand in the general direction of Kiara's bright red frock, dotted with tiny ladybugs. "Her latest passions."

"My cousin Céleste saw this in a magazine and asked her maman to do it," Kiara whispers to Liam, fingering a green butterfly on her braid as they walk towards the table, "so I asked mine. Maman got all the clips from back home too."

"Lots of butterflies come to our garden but you won't see a lot of them now," Liam whispers back, "ask Auntie Joëlle to bring you in the morning next time, Drake and I play everyday there."

Kiara gifts him a wide, sunny smile, showing off the gap from her first fallen baby tooth. "Okay!" Liam is amazed at her confidence; he was only a year older than she is now when his first milk tooth fell, and he couldn't open his mouth in front of anyone for weeks.

"I've been hearing from several people that this is Prince Liam's favourite," Auntie Joëlle says, and Liam's heart sinks to his stomach as she opens one of the parcels of food she brought with her.

Of course!, Liam mentally kicks himself for forgetting, I should have known! Uncle Hakim is half-Moroccan!

The thick gravy is an inviting deep golden brown, coating tender, browned pieces of chicken. The pickled lemon slices glisten moistly, and the entire room is filled with scents of citrus and caramelized onions. If only this wasn't -

"- tagine?" Liam says, realizing too late, and to his horror, that he sounds just as disappointed as he feels. Somehow without Leo around and without spite to drive him, Liam can't find it in him to pretend.

"Oh," Auntie Joëlle's voice sounds soft and bemused. She looks at him blankly for a few moments, then shifts just as quickly to a cheery smile and an overly-bright tone. "Well! It's good I have backup then!"

Liam looks towards Kiara, but she's staring at the tagine instead, mouth pursed and eyes wide.

As Auntie Joëlle quickly rummages for something else, Mum moves closer to her and mouths a "sorry". "I've had a bit of a suspicion for a while, but he's always told me very strongly that he liked that dish."

"It's alright," Auntie Joëlle whispers back, taking out a small box. When she opens it Liam can already smell the citrus notes in the air intensify, but this time it's oranges. "I should have asked you first. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You did save the day by bringing dessert," Mum says smiling, her hand on Auntie Joëlle's shoulder. Kiara is still suspiciously silent, but Liam can see a pout growing, and she looks at him like she's caught him cheating at tag.

"If there's one thing we all know for certain, Elle, it's that your youngest has the biggest sweet tooth in the palace." She laughs, then turns to Liam. "Have some meskouta, cheri. I know you like nuts and honey, so we got you an almond-orange cake, with a little honey and orange blossom water."

She lays the cake on the table, letting him admire its simple golden hue, studded with green-pink pistachios.

"Don't worry about the tagine, we can save it for the rest of the -"

Kiara finally speaks up. "Prince Liam doesn't like tagine?"

Her voice is pitched high and drips of disappointment. He's heard Auntie Joëlle tell Mum and Leo about Kiara's growing love for the dish since last year, but she's always been the kind that took opinions she didn't agree with with a shrug, before moving on to something else. Except, it seems, when it comes to playing tag. And tagine.

"How can you not like tagine!" Kiara turns to her mother, aghast. "Maman, do you hear this??"

Auntie Joëlle shakes her head, looking at Kiara in a mixture of exhasperation and fondness. "Oh, you're just being dramatic now, ma fée. Not everyone has to like it!"

Kiara's raises her chin and scowls in defiance. "Well I think that's just a vatful of mer-"

"Language, Kiara!"

Her mother's eyes narrow dangerously at her, and Kiara freezes mid-sentence, before frowning and folding her hands on her lap.

"- mercredi," she mumbles instead, sulkily.

Mum turns to Auntie Joëlle as they leave the children to move towards her private kitchen. He can only barely hear them. "Was she about to say merde?"

"Yes. Only five years old, and already managed to pick up that kind of language. I ought to have a word with her brother...when he's back from my sister's house in Loire," she hisses, stealing an apologetic glance in Liam's direction. Ashamed at being caught eavesdropping, he turns away. "I just hope le petit prince doesn't find out what that means."

Relaxed now but still pouting, Kiara turns to Liam. Her tone is low and a little grudging, like she thinks she's being too nice. "When did you have tagine?"

"The first time was last year," Liam murmurs resentfully, his foot tapping rhythmically against the table. "I hated it. My tongue went numb."

Suddenly thoughtful, Kiara softly clicks her tongue. "My worst tagine ever tasted like that. Maman said that was because it had too much sin...sin... ugh! -" she groans in frustration, "the brown curly stick. I forget what she calls it."

Liam giggles quietly. Already he can hear Father's booming voice in his head, telling him that's not how boys laugh. But he's sure Kiara won't mind. "I think she meant cinnamon."

"Mhm. This tagine doesn't have that. Maman said you wouldn't like it."

Liam's eyes widen. "How would she know?"

"She says you always ignore the things on the dessert table that use a lot of it."

I didn't even know that. He shifts a little in his seat, uncomfortable but a little touched that Auntie Joëlle noticed something about himself that he hadn't. And the dish does look and smell lovely...and she did take the effort to make him not one, but two, dishes.

Would a tiny taste really hurt? Besides, he'd always thought he hated tomato pasta until Uncle Franci gave them tomatoes from his uncle's farm.

Liam sighs in defeat against his own thoughts. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try.

He tears a piece of very soft, very fluffy khobz, and dips a little bit of it in the sauce, letting a little bit of chicken fall like butter off the bone. He eats it slowly, gingerly, waiting in dread for that odd, tingling sensation on his tongue to hit.

It never comes. The sensations that hit his tongue make his tastebuds come alive rather than numbing them. The chicken and the gravy mesh and dissolve in his mouth as he takes one bite, then one more, then several; the hum of spices wrapping his entire body in a blanket of warmth. And underneath it all, a subtly silky sweetness, one that he decides comes from the browned bits he can spot atop the tagine.

"Daghmira, my Jiddah used to call it," Kiara finally speaks after finishing off her own meal, looking very smug. "She'd cook onions until they were dark and sweet and sticky like jam. So goooooood."

Liam's laugh comes out in a closed-mouth, satisfied hum, his mouth full and his spirits high and his tongue ready to leap out of his face from the medley of flavours it has been greeted with. Between the two of them, the tagine bowl gets empty quite soon.

The two of them make quick work of the almond-orange cake too. It's a moist, dreamy slice of heaven, dissolving easily on his tongue, the earthy, nutty bitterness of the almonds blending with a flavour that is sweet, and bright, and quite floral. Kiara's right - you can't pick out the cinnamon from the medley of subtle spices infused into the cake - the saffron, the cardamom - it's a gentle caress of that spice rather than a punch in the face. Liam used to think coconut macaroons were his favourite Moroccan dessert, but his dreamy confection of a dessert seems to be beating them hollow.

Mum and Auntie Joëlle return to empty plates and a pair of talkative children, their moods both considerably more subdued than what it was when they left. For a minute Liam feels like Mum's eyes look a little reddened, and Auntie Joëlle's smile a little weaker, a little more tired...but he quickly brushes it aside when he sees just how impressed they are with all the food their children managed to finish.

"Did Liam eat some of it too?" Joelle says, her face breaking out into a smile.

"He ate half," Kiara tells her mother, raising her chin and looking very proud of herself. Liam forgives her easily for her smugness this time - at least for the flavour of that tagine still lingering on his tongue.

"It was very nice," Liam tells his and Kiara's mothers, smiling for real, "I liked the cake too."

Mum says nothing, simply beaming, her hands clasped in a single clap. She shares an amused look with Auntie Joëlle, then gasps and leaves, almost like she's just remembered something - only to return with a little box of apple turnovers. Kiara immediately makes a beeline for the dessert, asking her mother if she can sample some right now.

"Elle?" Auntie Joëlle gives her a very pointed look, "what did I tell you before I got here today?"

Mum suppresses her laughter, gently nudging Auntie Joëlle with her shoulder. "You're the one who gave me that recipe. Of course I'm going to show off!"

Kiara, already full from the chicken and the cake, seems to have an extra stomach for desserts too, because she has already begun sinking her teeth into the crisp puff pastry. She does not forget to wipe the crumbs from her mouth delicately with a handkerchief like a good lady-in-the-making would. "Please tell Her Majesty to show off more."

When Mum (looking a little more exhausted than usual) tucks Liam into bed that night, Liam allows himself a tiny, triumphant smile. He isn't sure whether tagines will ever replace tomato pasta and fragrant fish stew for his favourite dish - he isn't even sure if he will like it that much later, or whether Auntie Joëlle's cooking was just that good - but he is sure of one thing.

When he is served his ninth tagine this year, and Leo smirks across the table in anticipation, his older brother will be in for a surprise. This time he's not going to just stab that meat with a fork, look Leo square in the eye and eat the damn tagine. He's going to fork that tender piece of meat into his mouth, look Leo square in the eye, eat the damn tagine and enjoy it.

I win!

Some time earlier....

The first thing Joëlle does when she enters Eleanor's private kitchen, is to close her eyes and breathe in deep, as if to memorize the scents of this place.

"Mon Dieu...it even smells like you."

Eleanor laughs nervously, trying hard to cover her trembling hands by busying them with the cabinets. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Cinnamon...black pepper...vanilla beans...dried roses...coffee. Can a combination of those smells ever be considered bad?"

Her laughter is a little louder, a little more genuine this time. "Far cry from our university days. When both our rooms used to smell of new books and old clothes we never wanted to throw away?"

Joëlle nods, sighing at the memories. "And then we got married."

Eleanor's smile dims. "To a Duke and a King. Who would've thought." It's hard, thinking about Hakim and Constantine now, remembering a time when the two were her and Joëlle's seniors, distant, mysterious, only visible through fleeting glimpses. And you would almost never catch a glimpse of those two apart. Every university event, every auto race, they seemed joined at the hip. Kontos would tell her later how his first month in university was also his loneliest, having been tutored all his childhood in private, and how much Hakim had cared for him, helping him with class notes and giving him company when other classmates were too intimidated to approach him.

The irony, Eleanor thinks as she runs a thumb over the rustic wooden surface of a kitchen counter, that two men so close together can look each other in the face and hardly recognize what they're seeing. For the millionth time, she wonders at the role his new friends...advisors - whatever they are, the lines are so blurred now - have to play in this, and at her own failure.

It hits her like a punch in the chest. Her guilt is suddenly so intense that Eleanor looks away, unable for a moment to face her own friend. Her mouth twists in a grimace and she presses her lips tight together, as if that attempt will stem the tears she knows are coming.

"Elle?" Joëlle says softly, "Are you crying?"

"No." Damn this voice, Eleanor thinks, hating how hard it's always been to hide the tremor in her tone.

Jo sighs. "Is this about Hakim and Kontos? Am I right in assuming you're beating yourself up over their friendship again? As if you don't have enough on your plate already?"

"I tried to talk to him before you three came here," she says, still unable to face Joëlle, "and I don't think it worked. I know it sounds like another excuse, but -"

"Excuse??" Joëlle whips around to face her, her face rife with confusion, "Ellie? Who told you that? Just where are you getting these ideas from?"

The tears now stream down her face in freeflow. "I'm trying. To help Kontos realize just how valuable Hakim is to him. To make him see what he'll lose if he gives up such a friend...such an ally...for two people who I know in my bones he can't trust. But I feel like I'm not trying hard enough."

It isn't just about saving a personal friendship they've seen from afar - both Eleanor and Joëlle know that. There is a vision of what this country can be - beyond the tribalism, beyond the suspicion and naked fear. They both know they want Cordonia that doesn't simply think about barely surviving from day to day, but feels safe enough to create. To share. To thrive. Hakim is the only Great House member far-sighted enough to understand that.

Joëlle covers Eleanor's hands in her own. "We know you've been trying, Elle. Doubting that is out of the question. I'm saying you shouldn't have to."

Eleanor looks up, incredulous, "You're... you're telling me to stop trying?"

Joëlle shakes her head, running a hand through Eleanor's hair before resting it on her right cheek. Her face is such a medley of conflicting emotions that Eleanor can't single out just one. "No, Elle. I'm saying stop holding yourself responsible for things you can't control."

She winces. "I don't understand."

"I knew you wouldn't. That's just how you are," Jo lets her hand fall, turning away, "You're trying. Hakim is trying. But ultimately the decision to honour that friendship...that lies with Kontos. And he is his own man. If he decides he doesn't want Hakim - he doesn't want us - then that's his decision, Elle." She turns around to Eleanor, worry for her old friend shining in her eyes. "I want you to be certain that when..."

Eleanor winces.

"...if nothing works out, you will know you gave this your all. And we both know you didn't need to. Neither Hakim nor I will love you any less."

Speechless, Eleanor can do nothing but hug Joëlle, sobbing weakly on her shoulder.

"Promise me," Joëlle whispers to her before they leave the kitchen, even though they're the only ones in the room, "Promise me that the compassion you show everyone else... you'll at least start showing a fraction of that to yourself."

Eleanor opens her mouth to argue this, then closes it. "I'll... I'll try."

Hakim comes out of his talk with Constantine, not too long after Joëlle and Kiara are done with their meal. Eleanor can tell, from the bleakness in his eyes and the strained lines around his mouth, that it didn't go well. Still, he doesn't hesitate to smile at her and Liam when he's about to leave, and she's comforted by the small gesture.

It's a comfort she doesn't yet believe she deserves...but it settles her heart a little, nonetheless.

She serves the rest of the tagine that night, beaming as Liam eats it with genuine enthusiasm, frowning at the thought of Leo (he's out late and avoiding his father...again), and looking back innocently when Kontos asks her, his face giving away nothing, whether this dish came straight from the Thorne house.

"Yes," Eleanor replies, "yes, it did."

A corner of his mouth goes up the tiniest bit. "I can tell," he replies, taking more bites and refusing to say any more, pointedly not seeing the small smile on his wife's face, "Good tagine. Good tagine."

Recipes:

Classic Moroccan Chicken with Preserved Lemons, Olives and Daghmira (Onion Sauce) from the Taste of Maroc blog.

Recipe for Meskouta from the book The World Cookbook: The Greatest Recipes from Around the World.

Translations:

French:

Chaussons aux pommes - French-style apple turnovers

Chéri/Chérie - Darling

Ma fée - My fairy

Merde - Shit

Mercredi - Wednesday. But in this context, Kiara is using it to cover up the above cuss word

Le Petit Prince - literally, the Little Prince, also a reference to a book of the same name.

Mon Dieu - My God

Darija/Arabic:

Djaj M'qualli bi Zeitoun - Usually used to refer to a chicken tagine with preserved lemons and olives, made in a traditional tagine clay pot. Djaj means chicken, m'qualli is a cooking technique that involves frying, and zeitoun means olives.

Meskouta - A traditional Moroccan cake, often served for teatime, featuring a range of ingredients. It's usually made in bundt shape. The popular ones used almonds or yoghurt in their base for the batter, and the most popular flavourings are lemon, orange/orange blossom, or vanilla.

Khobz - A type of bread

Daghmira - Sauce made of caramelized onions. In tagine it's used as a topping.

Jiddah - Grandmother. Kiara is using this to refer to her paternal grandmother, and Hakim's mother.

Reference hairstyle for kid!Kiara in this chapter:

#fanfic review #TRR #Eleanor’s kitchen

48 notes · View notes

twinkleallnight · 2 months ago

Text

Book: TRR AU/ Once upon a time prequel

Belongs to my series: Estranged part 5

Pairings:Liam x Savannah

Word count:2502

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: none

Prompt: The @kingliamappreciationweek (day 2:Vanilla ) thank you @lizzybeth1986 beta reading this.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Liam had promised Savannah that he won't meet Fabian without her permission but he couldn't control himself. ‘I am only going to watch from a distance. I am not meeting him so technically I am keeping my word.’ he thinks. And so when Savannah walks down to Fabian's day care he discreetly follows her.

He eagerly waits behind the dense hedge of the Mastic tree, for Savannah to come out of the day care. Liam's heart soars high at the first sight of his son. He is mesmerized at the sight of his own miniature form trotting down along with a grown up Savannah. He steps back to keep away from them. They cross over, Fabian busy narrating the events of the day to his mother. He picks up on their conversation. Fabian is explaining, “....I told her it's simply milk, cream and plain vanilla, isn't it mother?” Savannah nods. Fabian punches his fist in air. “I knew it. I couldn't be wrong with my favourite drink.”

‘He likes Vanilla, just like me!’ Liam is excited on discovering a tiniest detail about his son. He wants to know more but he has to patiently wait for Savannah’s call. He starts walking back to his hotel. Seeing Fabian with Savannah takes his mind to the memories of yesteryears when he was with his mother…..

Little Liam walked with a skip to his mother. She could see through his focused eyes that he had an agenda in his mind. He stopped a few steps away from her and stood with his arms pushed back, his fingers wrapped tightly around each other behind his back.

“Mother, when are we going to visit Drake’s place?” He asked, hiding his nervousness.

“After two days my son,” Eleanor replied wondering where his thoughts are wavering. “why?”

“Oh, it is nothing, mother.” Liam tried to make it light.

Eleanor pulled him to her holding both his arms. “I can see you are pretty excited about something. What is going on in that smart head of yours?”

He brought his hands ahead, fidgeting with Eleanor’s scarf. Coyly, he raised his eyes to her. “I… I am fond of the vanilla shake that Drake’s mom whips.”

“Aahaan ! So you want to visit them just for that milkshake. I bet I can make one too” Eleanor teased.

Liam jerked back. “Not just any milk shake, mother. It’s Bianca’s special vanilla milkshake. Besides, playing around their cozy little rooms with Savannah.” He tried reasoning.

“I never knew you like to play with that little girl.”

“I meant Drake and Savannah.” Liam added.

“Hmm. So Drake and Savannah?”

“And Vanilla shake.” Liam reminded her.

“And the vanilla shake.” Eleanor repeated. “You are sure you are not hiding anything else ?”

“No mother, it’s Vanilla milkshake.” Liam laughed shyly.

Savannah’s home. Lozzi village, Corsica.

Savannah had narrated many bedtime stories about King Liam to Fabian and she had narrated many stories about his father though she was always careful not to overlap any of those. But today everything seems difficult. She tries to speak to Fabian throughout the day and each time she finds herself beating around the bush. She always thought she would be ready and exhilarated to introduce Fabian to his father. Now she is at a loss of words.

After dinner, Fabian makes his bed with his mother and gets under the covers. Savannah keeps roaming around his room still pondering where to start.

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Are you worried about something?”

She stops replacing things idly and looks at him, “Not exactly, dear.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Savannah leaves everything aside and moves towards his bed to sit beside him. “You didn't…Why would you say that?”

“Because I can see you picking up the same things and placing them back again, going round and round the room. You do that when something is bothering you.”

“Oh Fabian!” Savannah bends down to place a kiss on his forehead. “You are such a sweetheart . Always so observant and caring.” ‘Just like your father’, she thinks.

“Does this mean there is something nagging you?”

“Nothing, dear. Actually it's just that… I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

She pats on his blanket and moves her fingers gently through his golden locks. “You remember, you lost that set of colour pens I gifted you last Christmas?”

“That one? I found it, mom. It was just misplaced under the pile of my colouring sheets.”

“And how did it feel, getting it back?”

He claps his hands gleefully, “I was so glad, I found those. They are the best gift.”

Savannah smiles. “What if I tell you that you are going to get the best gift you could have ever wished for?”

“What could that thing be?”

“Fabian, it's not a thing. It's a person who wants to meet you.”

“Do I know them?”

“Yes, you know him by certain names , now you will see him right in front of your eyes.”

“Does he know me?”

“Yes, very well.”

“Is he important to you, mother?” he asks in a serious tone making Savannah smile. His change of tone taking the matter at hand seriously reminds her again of the similarities he shares with Liam.

“Yes. He is someone very important.”

“Someone like….do you mean… like is there... is he… is he your boyfriend?”

Savannah laughs out loudly at that and starts shaking her head in denial.

Fabian pouts his lower lip and lowers his eyelids in embarrassment. “I am sorry. I just…”

Savannah cuddles him up. “You don’t have to be. Fabian, it’s time you meet your family, my child. He is one of the important part of our family. Let’s just meet once and then we take it ahead from there.”

The word family has Fabian thrilled. He has been patiently waiting to see uncles and aunts, grandparents and cousins like all other children do. He leaps at the opportunity. “Okay, when are we meeting?”

“Whenever you are comfortable.”

“I am ready, mom. Like, right now .” he emphasizes with his small hands.

“That’s great. Although right now won’t nd possible. How about breakfast tomorrow?”

“I would love that, mom” he beams at her.

“Okay, tomorrow morning then it is. Breakfast.”

“Will you be able to make some vanilla shake?”

“Why not. See you my sunshine. Good night. “

“Good night mom.”

Savannah trudges to the bedroom still smiling at Fabian’s vanilla shake request. ‘Like father, like son.’ She remembers how Liam too used to like Vanilla shake . He had once visited with Drake after a polo match and they all had shake made by Savannah.

She got into her bed, remembering the young age fun.......

“What man! I defeated the prince and all I get is a vanilla shake?” Drake whined to Liam.

“Vanilla shake is a good celebration, Drake.” Liam tried to convince.

“Yes, try it.” Savannah said walking in with three tall glasses in a tray.

“Cheers!” said Liam, picking up his glass.

Without a minute to waste he took a big sip and so did Savannah while Drake just watched them in disinterest.

“Who has vanilla shake for celebrating a victory?” he was mumbling when he heard his sister giggle.

He followed her gaze settling on Liam’s face that had a big white moustache of cream. Drake smirked.

“What ?” Liam asked looking between both of them.

She pointed out snickering, “ You got a big Moustache like an old man.”

Instead of wiping it off, Liam got up to look into the reflection on the TV’s black LED screen.

He turned towards Savannah and boomed, “Ho,Ho,Ho. I am Santa Claus. I am here to give you the Christmas present. What do you wish? Tell me young lady and I will grant it.”

Savannah shied looking at Liam’s playful manner and giggled more while Drake rolled his eyes.

She shakes her head to come back to reality and messages Liam inviting him for the breakfast. Next moment she goes into a deep slumber while thinking about the golden days. It has been a long day.

Next morning

Savannah greets Liam and ushers him into her humble abode. There in front him stands his replica. Fabian’s sandy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes are a straightforward giveaway for anyone to see.

Savannah awkwardly smiles and tries to break the ice. “Fabian, Come meet William.” She introduces.

“Good morning Fabian. I am William.” Liam says.

“Good morning sir,I am Fabian.” He moves ahead and shakes his hand in a very formal manner. Liam is surprised and impressed too.

“Pleasure meeting you.”

Savannah guides them to the dining table where Fabian already has his glass placed. “Please have a seat. I will be back in a minute”

She goes to the kitchen leaving them alone for sometime.

Fabian is slurping his favourite Vanilla shake while his eyes are fixed on the man who has come to meet him. Surprisingly his looks are too familiar to him. So he is observing him with his big blue eyes.

Liam smiles at him waiting for Savannah to join them.

“You like Vanilla Shake?”

Fabian nods, “Its my favourite drink.” He swallows in another sip and asks, “What is your favourite?”

“Same as yours.” Liam bends over the small round table, to whisper.

Fabian imitates bending towards him and whispers back . “My Mommy makes the best vanilla shake. You can ask her for some. She won’t deny. She has a big heart.”

Liam straightens. “I know, Fabian. I love the one she makes.”

Savannah walks out of her kitchen holding two glasses and offers one to Liam.

Vanilla shake. His favourite drink that Bianca made, that Savannah learnt and mastered from her mother, that his son is also fond of. He gives out a heavy breath that he didn’t realise he was holding up and takes the drink from her hands and places it on the table.

He gives a dry smile, first time at loss of words.

Savannah nods slightly telling him to wait. She is going to handle it. ‘The way she handled everything in her life. Alone.’ Liam thought. She is stronger than anyone can think of. She is stronger than him. He knows. So he lets her take the reins of this moment.

She sits down beside Fabian, her son and starts. “Fabian, you remember those bedtime stories?” she pulls him into her lap.

“Yes, Mother.” He answers and Liam thinks. ‘Oh, he answers like me!’

“Do you remember, you always felt strongly about one person in particular, in those stories?” Savannah continues.

Fabian nods, stealing a glance at Liam.

‘Was it me?’ Liam questions himself silently.

“Mommy?” Fabian holds on to her hands, “Is he really King Liam?”

While Liam is surprised that his son has recognised him, Savannah isn’t. She knows how her eight year old was smarter than any kid around. She simply nods.

Fabian’s gaze is intense making Liam squirm in his chair. The fear of rejection grappling him. ‘What if … ? ‘

Before Liam’s mind could wander into the threatening possibilities, Fabian shocks him with another question. “Are you my father?”

Liam expected Savannah to tell Fabian about him. But his son is intelligent enough to connect the missing dots. Liam loses control over the stoic appearance he carries. His emotions are raw as he looks at Savannah. She nods at him.

He Is scared, ‘What if…?’ his mind is continuously taking him down the spiral, ‘What if Fabian doesn’t accept me? What if he hates me?’ He shakes away the wild thoughts and swallows. He doesn’t realise his mouth has gone dry. A heavy minute passes before he answers, “Yes.”

Fabian breaks away from his mother’s arms and leaps to hug Liam taking him back with surprise, yet again. His short arms circle Liam’s neck as he hugs tightly, resting his head on Liam’s broad chest.

“I knew it.” He utters. “I knew it, father. I am glad you could come. I am very happy that you came.” He keeps repeating. “ I am sorry, you had to go through so much, Father. I am sorry I couldn’t help you. I am sorry, I wasn’t there to tell you that we love you and we care for you, father. We do, we really, really do. Both Mommy and I do.”

Savannah had told Liam that Fabian knew about him. But he didn’t expect the little one to forget his own hardships and instead console his father. Liam hugs him back, tears falling unfiltered from his eyes, breaking his strong façade of a king. Fabian has not only accepted him but is pouring out all his love and affection forgetting all the wrong that happened. His little boy is already so grown up and he has missed it all! His heart brakes at the thought and he looks up at Savannah.

She sits there, quietly watching the reunion, wiping away her tears. Fabian made her proud. And then, this man! She catches his gaze and he mouths the words at her, ‘Thank you.’

He caresses Fabian, moving his hand over his head and then placing a kiss in his hair. His other hand is still snuggled around his son’s little frame. Fabian looks up and Liam cups his face placing kisses on his forehead and cheeks and the nose and his eyes. He can never get tired of kissing his son but Fabian shakes his head. Liam stops. ‘Does he not like my kisses?’

Fabian shakes his hand while he raises his tiny little fingers and starts wiping Liam’s tears.

‘Oh dear God! I need to learn a lot from my son.’ Liam thinks and smiles through the tears, hugging his son again. He stretches out an arm for Savannah to join in and Fabian circles his one arm around his mother other arm latching on to his father.

After a long time, they finally sit around the small circular table, Fabian settled in Liam’s lap.

Savannah pushes the vanilla shake that sat idly on the table towards Liam.

Liam instantly indulges into his drink. After a gulping half the glass in one go, he smiles at Fabian.

Fabian looks wide eyed at Liam and then back at his mother . He is not sure if he can react in front of his father. When he sees his mother chuckling, he joins in.

Liam gives them a confused look.

“What happened ? He asks.

“You got moustaches like Santa!” Fabian splits into a laughter.

Liam catches Savannah go stiff at mention of Santa. The memories come back to her like a whiplash. Before Fabian could notice his mother’s sad face, Liam jumps at him and grabs him. “Ho,Ho,Ho. I am Santa Claus. I am here to give you the Christmas present. What do you wish? Tell me young boy and I will grant it.” Liam circles his arms around Fabian

Fabian rolls out laughing, “Really?”

“Always!” Liam beams hugging Fabian and looking at Savannah with a promise in his eyes.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Tags : @angelasscribbles @alj4890 @tessa-liam @lizzybeth1986 @3pawandme @annabellewynter @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @choicesficwriterscreations @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @rubiwalker @703cowbarn @kyra75 @likealotus @kskvb20 @marietrinmimi @aussiegurl1234

#twinkleallnight #pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #king liam #choices fic writers creations #liam rhys #kingliamappreciationweek #klaw day 3

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tessa-liam · 1 year ago

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I need to share my commission of my OTP family, King Liam Rys & Queen Riley Rys with their children, Eleanor, William and Stefan! Finally!

I posted the corresponding chapter of Smoke and Mirrors, chapter 11, The Lantern Festival , today.

Thank you so much Ainna /@artbyainna (IG) for bringing my idea to "Life"🥰😘❤️ once again!!!

📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

📌TRR/TRH/TRF Liam & Riley: @irisk12 @walkerdrakewalker @thesvnsins @jared2612 @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @queenwalton @bascmve01 @umccall71 @choicesfrog

@choicesficwriterscreations

#tessa liam writes #liam rys #the royal romance #riley brooks #trr fanfic #king liam rys #king liam #trr #always liam and riley #trr liam x mc #smoke and mirrors #choices fandom #choices the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #choices #choices trr

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kristinamae093 · 1 year ago

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Hey There! I saw this, and I couldn't agree more! Nothing says I love you more than "I'm willing to try this for you." And this works for all kinds of relationships: romance, friends, and family, too.

Would you be able to create something showing this for one of your characters or pairings? It could be a drabble, fic, edit, art - anything at all!

NO PRESSURE AT ALL - only if you want to, but I'd love to see what you could come up with!

Hey @jerzwriter! 👋 Thank you so much for sending this my way! This was a lot of fun and I hope you enjoy this silly nonsense I came up with! 🙂

Baking Memories

Everything else can be found here.

Book - TRR

Characters - Constantine, Liam.

Warnings - There's like, one bad word.

Word Count - 2489

A/N 1 - This is a one-shot from my HCTS AU, but this can absolutely be read as a stand-alone. The only thing you really need to know is Constantine didn't die as he did in canon and beat his cancer, but has been diagnosed a second time. Kyla (F!OC) is mentioned but not present, so I guess this takes place sometime between the previous chapter and the next.

A/N 2 - I slipped in the third @choicesflashfics prompt — “Why are you being so weird?” that will be bolded.

A/N 3 - (last one) - thank you SO MUCH @ao719 for reading through this for me and your suggestions! Any errors found are mine and mine alone, and I didn't really edit this a whole lot to be honest, so...... There's your warning lol 🙃.

Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Constantine Rys was once a hard man; born and bred for royalty, he never got to enjoy and experience the little things in life. It never bothered him before, considering he was the reigning monarch of an entire nation with the world at his fingertips. However, since his retirement he found himself longing to experience all the things he missed out on. Today specifically, he wanted to learn how to bake; not just anything, a very specific recipe.

His first wife was clueless in the kitchen and Regina knew very little, but Eleanor spoiled him with various baked goods consistently while she was alive. When she found the time for it Constantine never understood, but she always had warm cookies for him and the children to enjoy. He'll never forget the memories of retiring to his quarters after a long day and opening the door to hear the boys and Eleanor’s laughter, accompanied by the sweet, heavenly smell of whatever she prepared for them that day.

Now, especially since his time left on earth was limited, he wanted to learn all these things he never had the opportunity to experience before. He found an instructor and Bastien vetted the person before scheduling a private lesson right in his quarters. His intention was to set everything up so Kyla could join him, but the teacher was only available on a specific day and Kyla was off. He knew she would still come if he asked, but he didn't want to impose on her personal time. Regina was his backup, but unfortunately, that day was a no from her as well.

Even so, Constantine was still excited about his lesson. It may only be a class of one, but he was looking forward to putting his new skill to use.

A knock sounded on his door and he quickly scurried over to answer it. On the other side stood Bastien, a woman who he assumed to be his 'teacher', and Liam, who Constantine hadn't told. It wasn't that he was trying to hide anything or keep secrets; he initially wanted to recruit Liam for this venture to begin with. However, he knew all too well how busy a Friday afternoon was as a solo monarch and figured it would be of no use to ask. However, his unexpected presence made Constantine hopeful that perhaps they would get to share this experience after all.

"Son! What're you doing here?"

"I just so happened to be taking my lunch when I saw Bastien with Mrs. Finch." Liam motioned to the woman with a polite smile. "Care to explain to me why you're having bakers come to your quarters?"

"She's going to teach me."

"You want to bake?" Liam asked with an arched brow.

"Precisely."

"Why?"

"Do you remember those cookies your mother would make? The molasses ones?"

Liam's mouth involuntarily started watering. "I do… That's what you want to make?"

"Eventually I'd like to try other things, but that's where I’ll start. I haven't had them in years and the staff just can't make them the way she did, anyway. I was hoping if I took some lessons, perhaps I could give it a go." Constantine stopped talking as he took in Liam's nostalgic expression. "Care to join us?"

"I don't bake, or – haven't in quite a while."

"Then this is the ideal time to perfect your skills!" Constantine hopefully suggested.

Liam's face instantly fell at seeing him so excited. "I really wish I could, but I have a meeting soon."

Constantine was trying his hardest to smile, but on a few occurrences he realized Liam was doing what he'd done to him and Leo for years; putting the crown first. He never realized how much it truly hurts to be left alone when the person you're longing to spend time with is occupied. Of course, he understood Cordonia does ultimately have to come first, but perhaps since his time was limited he was beginning to develop a love-hate relationship with the word duty.

"Ah, I see... No worries, son." Constantine sadly smiled and motioned for the woman to come in. "If everything goes right, perhaps I can bring you some."

"Thanks…"

The woman stepped inside and disappeared with Constantine. Liam remained outside the door, suddenly feeling guilty for leaving. His whole life all he wanted was a genuine relationship with his father, and now that he'd been blessed with it he often had to put the crown first. However, now that his father's time left was dwindling, he found it was practically impossible to walk away.

"Bastien," Liam started, "Clear my schedule for the day – no, the weekend. I'm unavailable unless it's an emergency."

Bastien smiled and bowed. "Of course, sir."

Liam made his way inside his father's quarters to the in-suite kitchen and couldn't help but laugh as he saw his father wearing a white, puffy chef's hat. When Constantine looked up and saw Liam enter, the pure excitement radiating off of him was enough to fill Liam’s heart so full he was sure it would burst any moment.

"Liam! What're you doing here?"

"As it turns out, I had a cancellation." Liam winked.

"Get in here, then! You need a toque as well."

"I don't think–"

"We are pastry chefs right now; it's absolutely necessary." Constantine held out a hat to him.

Liam stared at it for a long moment before he took it and reluctantly put it on. "Happy?"

"Elated. Now, Mrs. Finch, what are we doing?"

"First we'll start by creaming the sugars and butter together." She showed the pair her measurements, as well as how to soften the butter. Using a hand-held mixer, she swirled the bowl until the task was completed before continuing, "Now, the eggs. The biggest thing to remember is don't over mix, or your cookies won't turn out properly."

Constantine nodded and picked up an egg from the supplies laid before him. “I’ve never done this before…” He held it up with furrowed brows as he intently studied it. "How do we get – inside?"

Mrs. Finch laughed. "We have to break it, sir. See? Like this." She gently cracked an egg on the counter and emptied it into the bowl. Liam silently chuckled at Constantine's flabbergasted expression; something so simple was blowing his mind, and his elation was incredibly contagious. "It's easy, you just need a hard surface. You try."

Constantine nodded and tried to mimic her by using the counter, but that resulted in multiple yolks in his palm after a number of failed attempts. Finally, he looked around the area searching for a different surface to try when he got the perfect idea. He took the egg and although he intended to lightly tap it, he ended up smashing it against Liam's forehead; the egg splattered but thankfully most of his hair was shielded by his new accessory. However, the yolk and slimy membrane started dripping down his face, accompanied by the remaining shells.

Liam squeezed his eyes closed as the goo slipped over them and his mouth fell open in shock, but he quickly closed it to not ingest anything. He felt something soft on his forearm and blindly reached out to accept a towel someone offered him.

After cleaning his face, Liam turned to Constantine with narrowed eyes. "Seriously?!"

"I guess I do still have some strength left." Constantine nervously chuckled before he added, "I apologize, son, I had no intentions of being so… brute."

"Why my head, though?!"

"She said a hard surface…"

"Ha. Ha." Liam grabbed an egg and without breaking eye contact used one hand and cracked it perfectly against the side of the bowl. "Gently, grasshopper – and it goes inside the bowl."

Constantine’s mouth fell open. "You may be upset, but you will not refer to me as a bug–"

"It's – Nevermind�� Mrs. Finch, please continue."

She did as instructed and walked them through the various steps to make the cookies, plus gave them tips and tricks along the way to help make sure the recipe turned out correctly. They sifted their dry ingredients together in a separate bowl and were preparing to combine everything together, but Constantine insisted he wanted to be the one to use the hand mixer this time. Liam was absolutely reluctant, but ultimately caved after a five-minute debacle.

Liam stood beside him watching Constantine's every move; so far, he was doing incredibly well with this specific job. Mrs. Finch was slowly adding their dry ingredients and Liam started to relax, thinking that things were smooth sailing from here on out.

His phone rang and he stepped away to answer it but remained in Constantine's line of sight. Liam spoke with furrowed brows, his face red, and Constantine could tell he was speaking sternly; it instantly piqued his interest.

The conversation was short and Liam reappeared a moment later completely unfazed. "Who was that?" Constantine practically shouted over the mixer still whirring in his hand. Liam answered, but Constantine couldn't hear him. "What?!" Again, Liam said something, but Constantine couldn't make it out.

There was text beside each button on the machine, but they were so small Constantine couldn't see which one was labeled power. He ended up increasing the speed to the maximum setting, causing the mixer to shake and vibrate in his hand. Liam walked back beside him and spoke again, but Constantine paid him no attention as he was trying to read the tiny prints. Instead of leaning over to try and find the correct one, he decided to bring the mixer to eye level.

It happened in slow motion; everything was fine one second, and the next their still very thin batter was flying all over the front of Liam’s suit. Constantine naturally turned his direction to Liam instantaneously as he held the mixer at arm's length, away from his own body. The machine continued to forcefully whirl until the beaters were clean, all its contents now covering the front of Liam’s face, body, and a little of the surrounding area. Liam could only stand there in shock; mouth agape, arms raised, completely flabbergasted.

Constantine finally pushed the correct button and the mixer slowly stopped. He had a sheepish smile as he lowered it back into the bowl before speaking in a soft, timid voice. "The good news is there's still plenty left…"

Liam only stared at Constantine with narrowed eyes. Constantine nervously chuckled and swiped his finger across Liam’s cheek before licking the contents. "Mmm – delicious indeed." Liam opened his mouth to speak, but Constantine quickly added, "Don't be mad, son… It was simply a mistake…"

Liam took a deep breath and slowly let it out to keep his composure. "I'm not upset," A vengeful, mischievous idea struck him. He smirked and said, "matter of fact, perhaps we should hug this out."

"I don't think that's–" Constantine tried to protest, but soon found himself engulfed in Liam’s strong arms. He looked down and saw Liam rubbing his face on his shirt, thoroughly cleaning it, and couldn't help but chuckle. "I suppose I deserved that."

Mrs. Finch was quick to take over and simply talked them through the rest of the process to avoid any more mishaps, although they did help form the cookies. The sweet, heavenly aroma that filled the air as their delicacies baked brought back memories for both. Their goods came out of the oven and Mrs. Finch was dismissed, paid very well for her services, and Constantine even insisted she take some with her.

Now, they were simply relaxing on the couch, enjoying the product of their work, and reminiscing with a cup of hot tea. Although they were missing Leo and Regina, it was nice for just the two of them to relive moments they’d shared while creating new memories at the same time. Constantine expected his ‘class’ to be rather boring but informative; never did he think it would turn into a chaotic, beautiful memory for him to relive for the rest of his limited days.

"Liam," Constantine started as he sat forward and grabbed another cookie. "Thank you for joining me today. I know things didn’t go quite as smoothly as they could have, but I'm thankful you were here… I had fun."

Liam smiled. "I’m glad… There were definitely some mishaps–” He stopped to rub his forehead. “–but I had fun too. And, these cookies turned out amazing."

"I concur. Mrs. Finch did an excellent job and I have to say, they are quite close in comparison to your mother's."

"Here, here," Liam agreed whilst holding his cookie up to Constantine, which he returned before they both took a large bite. Liam swallowed and spoke again, "Listen… I know I'm busy, but I'll always try to make time for stuff like this – especially now…" He trailed off with a sad expression.

Constantine signed and patted Liam on the knee. "I know. But I'm also aware of how demanding the Crown is. I don't want you canceling obligations on my account – again." He gave Liam a knowing look.

Liam held his free hand up in surrender. "It wasn't that important! Neville comes here and bitches consistently, I'm sure he'll be back in a few days."

Constantine couldn't help but chuckle. "Perhaps I could give you a warning next time, then… So you can try to pencil your old man in." He playfully grinned.

Now, it was Liam’s turn to laugh. "You don't need 'penciled in', but a notice would be appreciated."

"Done," Constantine suddenly stood and extended his hand. Liam shoved his last bite into his mouth and took it, confused, but Constantine was quick to pull him into a tight hug as Liam rose. "I love you, son."

"I love you too."

Their moment hung for a few seconds before Constantine stepped away with a bright smile. "Let's plan our next endeavor! It'll need to be during Kyla's work time, which proves beneficial to the both of us…" He stopped talking to wiggle his eyebrows. "Actually... What would you like to do? Perhaps something to woo her? We could go to a massage–"

"Why are you being so weird?” Liam interjected. "You decide what you want to do and we'll figure everything out from there."

"Hmmm…" Constantine trailed off, deep in thought. He snapped his finger a moment later. "We enlist Duchess Olivia and–"

"I'm going to stop you right there; anything pertaining to Olivia means weapons and that's an automatic no." Constantine tried to retort, but Liam held a hand up. "Do I really have to pull the King card again? Think of something else, and we'll talk."

Constantine opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head and mumbling something as he sat. "What was that?" Liam asked with an amused grin.

"I said you can be a bit of a hard ass sometimes."

Liam smirked and confidently replied, "I learned from the best."

HCTS Tags (If you'd like added or removed, please let me know):

@choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @queenrileyrose @tessa-liam @angelasscribbles @kingliam2019 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @bascmve01 @busywoman @belencha77 @mysticalfangirl @nestledonthaveone @lovingchoices14 @lunaseasblog @malblk21 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @choicesflashfics

#the royal romance #king liam #liam rys #choices the royal romance #trr #choices trr #trr au #choices #here comes the sun #constantine rys #father son #baking #beautiful disaster

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choicesficwriterscreations · 2 years ago

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Sunday Six #2

Six Sentence Sunday 05.21.23 / Mood Music Monday

I have a new obsession peeps. I am watching this series called FROM currently, and it has all my senses tingling. Talking to some friends I have realized, 1. I like shows set in small towns where weird stuff is happening. 2. If the people are trapped in said town and there is spooky, weird or supernatural stuff going on, or something that just can’t be explained, I’m all about that life. And From tickles my fancy, watch it be cancelled tomorrow, as this tends to happen with all of my weird favorited shows.

Work has been crazy, but just recently in the past few days, even though work is still insane, I’ve been inspired to write, even though my whole day is spent typing for my job. Go figure.

So here’s amazingly what i’ve posted in the last little bit:

The Life of Riley: Book Two: Garden Party Photo Op

The Rotten Apple 🍎: The Last Part:

Original post: 05/21/23 at 7:52PM EST.

Keep reading

#the royal romance #liam rys #trr mc #eleanor rys x m!oc #cfwc sunday six #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations

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choices-binglebonkus · 6 months ago

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I’ve got a lot of gripes with The Royal Heir but I think my biggest one is how unsatisfying the conclusion of TRH 3’s plot was.

Barthelemy is, in my opinion, the most maddening Choices villain there is, and we didn’t get nearly enough of an end to his arc. Even with Bradshaw and Isabella we got the choice of whether or not we reveal the truth about the twins or keep it as leverage before we banish them from Cordonia and reject their alliance, and then later on in The Royal Finale we learn that they’ve lost the crown, and depending on who becomes Queen of Auvernal, risk being tried for their crimes and imprisoned. A pretty fitting conclusion to their characters and arc, in my humble opinion.

But TRH 3’s plot (and by extension, Barthelemy’s arc) just…kind of ends? We trot out during his coronation, interrupt it, play the recording implicating him in Queen Eleanor’s assassination, and he’s just…immediately arrested, never to be seen again. It’s very anticlimactic to say the least, especially when you take into account just how much torment Barthelemy put the MC and their family through, and how much he seemed to enjoy that torment, too!

The Royal Heir should’ve been a single book of about 10ish chapters that served as a supplement to TRR, showcasing the MC and her spouse’s married life and a few moments in time as they start their family. It did not benefit from any of what was done in regards to the Auvernal betrothal plot, the Barthelemy regent plot, or the Via Imperii plot.

#choices stories you play #playchoices #choices stories we play #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #playchoices fandom #choices stories you play fandom #choices stories we play fandom #choices the royal heir #choices trh #trh #the royal heir #anti the royal heir #anti trh #anti the royal finale #choices the royal finale #TRF #choices TRF #the royal finale

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alj4890 · 1 year ago

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Snowed In

(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a TRR Christmas One Shot from the series Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Song Inspiration: I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Dean Martin

A/N Hello again! I think I might be back for good or at least will try to be back 🤦🏻‍♀️. The writer's block that has been keeping me away along with life has been slowly killing me. But look! Sound the alarms! I finally wrote something! I will get back to this crackship series starring these two and their complicated love story. For the time being though, here is a glimpse into the future and their first Christmas together as requested by @angelasscribbles It is chock full of fluff for the holidays.

Masterlist

December 21st, Lythikos, Cordonia...

The holidays were, in a word, complicated.

Olivia had spent the majority of her life alone with nothing more than a special meal prepared by good natured servants and a single gift sent over from her aunt. The gift wasn't something one would expect for a little girl/young woman. It was usually a reminder of the Nevrakis illustrious past, one meant to instill the rather harsh, no sentimentality allowed frame of mind.

And let's not get into what the brief time with her parents had done to her.

There was the one precious year Olivia spent Christmas with Liam and the Royal family. Queen Eleanor made certain the newly orphaned duchess received more child appropriate gifts such as a new doll holding a felt sword, a miniature porcelain tea set, and a leather bound collection of fantasy children stories. Olivia was encouraged to help Liam decorate a Christmas tree in the palace nursery and then put frosting on freshly baked Christmas cookies. The pair sat before their tree, eating their creations, and made plans for spending the next day playing in the snow.

It had been the closest to a perfect Christmas Olivia had ever experienced.

When little Olivia shared what all had occurred that particular holiday, Lucretia was beyond livid that the commoner queen was setting her niece up on a path of ruin with useless gifts and experiences. How was she to one day rule the country with an upbringing that included such ridiculous traditions?

It didn't matter. The following summer, Queen Eleanor was dead and Constantine sent Olivia back to Lythikos to remain under the strict supervision of her servants and a nanny he personally hired. They were tasked to keep the duchess healthy and schooled.

Nothing was ever mentioned or demanded that she also be made happy.

Life went on. Olivia learned to sneer and roll her eyes whenever she heard her peers gush over their holiday plans with family and loved ones. Christmas was nothing more than another day of the year. She had little time and even less patience to remain in conversation with the lot once December first rolled around.

She did allow a tree to be decorated in the main hall and accepted the traditional Lythikos Christmas Eve dinner of a turkey basted in their specially brewed Skull Cracker Ale with all the trimmings. Other than those two concessions, she ignored the holiday as much as she could.

She made certain though that her people had all they deserved during the Christmas season. The local orphanage was sent a shipment of toys that would put Santa to shame. Lythikos General Hospital also received gifts for not only their children's ward, but for each patient stuck there during the holidays. Any family/person struggling financially was gifted a tree and traditional meal.

It was, she decided, her duty to take care of these needs herself. After all, she was supposed to make certain her people thrived. For some odd reason she never quite understood, having a good holiday helped people look forward to a prosperous year. Who was she to question it?

Though she had the satisfaction of taking care of these minor needs, the Christmas following Liam's coronation and marriage was more difficult for Olivia to face.

Alone.

It was baffling that she'd become close to Liam's new bride, Riley. It was even more mind blowing that she'd also become friends with Hana and Drake. Riley and Hana were once her competition and she was convinced that Drake was Satan himself, but somehow she'd come to care for them.

Then...there was Maxwell.

One could only shake their head over the fact that Cordonia's most fun loving lord had been harboring a love so deep for the icy duchess that rivaled that of the new king's for his queen.

Jaws were still on the floor from the realization that she, Olivia Nevrakis, the very woman who made people tremble with fear of her waspish tongue and ability with a dagger, happened to have lost her heart to Maxwell Beaumont as well.

"It's been an odd year." Olivia muttered as she gazed out her window at the snowy landscape.

Even odder still was the fact that she was somewhat depressed. With the amount of snow falling, roads would soon be closed leading in and out of Lythikos. No one would be able to drop by for a visit.

No one at all.

"It isn't like I've never spent Christmas alone." She grumbled, turning away from her window. "What's one more year?"

But...

It did matter. There'd been talk of her new group of friends coming to snow ski and spend New Year's Eve together in her home.

Maxwell hadn't mentioned if he'd planned to spend Christmas with her. She hadn't asked him to. She only assumed he might since he bragged about the surprise gift he planned to give her.

Now though, the mail wouldn't even be able to get through to deliver it.

Olivia glanced over at her Christmas tree. One lone gift sat under it. She grimaced somewhat that she spent not only time but a great deal of thought in finding the perfect gift for Maxwell. Instead of allowing her servants to wrap it like she normally would have, she'd personally wrapped it herself.

Lost in thought of not being able to give it to him on Christmas Day, she jumped in surprise when the wind picked up out her window. A typical Lythikos blizzard was revving up with the immense power that usually left her in awe. Now, it made her heart drop even more in disappointment.

Christmas was going to be another lonely day after all.

**************

December 24th...

Snow continued to fall. The providence had already received well over four feet of snow. Temperatures dropped to dangerously low readings, keeping everyone within the cozy confines of their homes.

Olivia glared at her phone. It'd been nearly a week since she'd last spoken to Maxwell. He'd been in California for most of the month speaking to Hollywood execs about turning his best selling novel into a movie. Though she was secretly proud of him for such an accomplishment (especially since he wrote her so flatteringly), she also wanted to strike him down with all her might for not even sparing her a moment for a simple phone call.

He's the one insisting we do all the normal couple things! Isn't wishing a Merry Christmas to the one you supposedly love fall somewhere on that list?

I wouldn't answer the phone now if he did call. In fact, I don't think I'll EVER answer another call or text of his again. He can go straight to---

Olivia's eyes widened when she heard an unusual pounding coming from her front door. She knew that no true Lythikosian would step foot from their fireplaces in this weather. Death would greet that level of stupidity.

Setting her steamy cup of nog aside, she went to see what fool would dare be outside.

She should have known only her fool would do so.

Maxwell dashed past her and began to stomp the snow off his boots.

He was covered from head to toe in ice and snow. Shivering, he began to peel off the layers that were partially frozen to one another after dropping a caked in snow suitcase on the floor.

"It's cold out there." He told her with teeth chattering.

Olivia blinked a few times. She glanced back and forth between him and her door.

"How in the--What are you doing here?" She managed to say.

Maxwell paused in rubbing his numb hands together.

"It's Christmas." He told her.

"Yeah, I know." She placed her hands on her hips. "But there is a blizzard out there."

"Yeah, I know." Maxwell mimicked with a grin. "That's why I almost turned into a popsicle."

He grinned at her on his way towards her fireplace.

Shivering even more violently, he got as close as he could to the crackling flames without catching on fire.

Olivia followed after him.

"How did you get here?" She demanded.

"That journey is worthy of an Epic Poem." He began to rotate, letting each side of his body slowly thaw with the welcoming heat.

Olivia groaned. She wasn't in the mood for this type of conversation.

"Plane ride from L.A. to New York." He began. "Then onto London. I couldn't get a flight out of London to here because of the weather. Not wanting to wait, I decided to travel by train as close as I could. Train rides from there to Barcelona, then onto Rome. Don't ask me how many trains I had to change. I lost count after five. Then, I rented a car and drove the rest of the way."

He ended his explanation with a shrug then turned back to face the fireplace.

"But the roads and bridges are closed!" Olivia exclaimed.

"It's amazing how easy it is to move those barricades." He quipped over his shoulder.

"Okay, but there was no car outside." She reminded him.

"It couldn't make it up the mountain to your duchy." He turned back around to face her. "So, I walked."

"You walked?" Her eyes narrowed. "You walked in a blizzard up this mountain knowing you could slip off or freeze to death?!"

"Yep." He grinned at her. "It wasn't too bad."

Olivia walked up to him, gripped his shirt, and gave him a hard shake "YOU IDIOT! You could have died out there and we wouldn't have found your body! I wouldn't have known to look for you because you haven't called me in a week!"

"I tried to call." He explained. "But it kept going directly to voicemail."

She paused in berating him. "It did what?"

"I've been calling and texting all week. I checked with Liam when I couldn't get a hold of you and he told me the towers and phone lines were down in this region due to the weather."

Olivia's hands dropped from him.

"Oh." She mumbled.

Maxwell leaned down a little bit to study her face. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't make certain to spend Christmas with you?"

"I..." She folded her arms across her chest, averting her eyes from his.

The last thing she wanted was to reveal not only how vulnerable she'd been since they'd gotten together nor the fact he made her feel depressed with the thought of being unable to be with him on Christmas.

"I thought you would stay at Ramsford." She straightened her shoulders. "After all, this is the first Christmas with Savannah and Bartie."

"That's Bertrand's family." Maxwell reminded her.

"They're yours too." Olivia argued.

"Christmas is about being with the ones you love." Maxwell explained. "And you happen to top my list."

Olivia bit back scoffing at something so eye rolling sweet that she needed to hear from him.

He slipped his arms around her waist, tugging her close. He tilted his head down, resting his forehead against hers. His cold nose rubbed against her own, reminding her of how cold he still was.

"Let me get you a cup of nog." She took a step back, pausing when he tightened his arms around her.

"Wait." He softly pleaded. "All I've thought about since I left you was this."

Olivia moved closer within his embrace, arguing with herself she was only doing it to help him warm up. Surely she wasn't doing it because she'd missed being held in his arms.

He hugged her, sighing over how good it felt to have her near again. Nudging her chin up, he pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

"I've missed you." He murmured between heated kisses.

"I missed you, too." She admitted with a resigned shrug.

His delighted, dimpled smile over her words brought an all too familiar fluttering to her stomach.

She pulled away, keeping her hand in his, and tugged him over to a nearby couch. She prepared him a hot cup of Nog and covered him with a blanket.

He insisted she sit close against him for warmth.

"I'll use any excuse I can to have you near." He teased.

Olivia snorted, unable to stop her smile from forming.

She rested her head on his shoulder, tucking herself within his side.

As she readjusted, she felt something hard against her hip.

"Almost forgot." He mumbled, digging into his pants pocket.

He pulled out a little blue box with a white bow.

"Merry Christmas!"

Olivia merely stared at it.

"Don't you want to open it?" Maxwell asked.

"Of course, but I thought we would wait until Christmas morning to exchange gifts." She explained.

"I can't wait! Plus I'm pretty sure it's Christmas Day somewhere in the world. Probably Australia." He placed the box in her lap. "This is something I promised you during Liam and Madeleine's engagement tour."

Olivia stilled in the midst of opening the box. Her thoughts drifted back to those tense months of trying to find out who had threatened both Riley and herself. She knew the night she reappeared in Venice was when the promise he was talking about was made.

"When this is over, I'm going to ask you a question." Maxwell told her as they stood on the Ponte degli Scalzi. "One that will once and for all decide the future for us."

She untied the ribbon and allowed the small velvet box to drop in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she cracked it open.

There sitting amongst the cushion was a ruby ring surrounded by a halo of diamonds.

"Maxwell?" She breathed, carefully lifting the ring out of the box.

"I want to spend every holiday with you." He replied. "And all the days in between."

She looked up at him. The vulnerability in his expression made her own seem not so silly.

"Will you let me?" He asked. "You already know I've been in love with you since I was seven. Don't you think it's about time you put me out of my misery and marry---"

"I will." She declared, cutting off his proposal.

He swooped in to kiss her, knocking the ring out of her hands.

"Wait!" She said in the midst of a laugh. "I don't want to lose it."

"Who cares?" He kissed her again. "I'll buy you all the replacements you need for my impulsive behavior."

"Yes, but I want that one." She mumbled against his lips.

He groaned, pulling away to find her ring.

He got down on his knees and found it under the couch. Grinning at her, he slid it over her ring finger.

She held her hand up to admire it, watching the firelight set the precious stones aglow.

Maxwell cleared his throat and lifted an eyebrow in expectation.

Olivia's eyes widened. "Your gift! It's--"

"You." He climbed back on the couch, covering her with his body. "You officially agreeing to marry me is the best gift ever."

Olivia pulled him down for a deep kiss. "You know? I actually did buy you a present."

"Thank you." He kissed her again. "But it will never beat this one."

#choices trr #maxwell x olivia #trr crackship #choices crackship #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #trr maxwell #trr olivia #christmas #choices fic writers creations #choices the royal romance

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choicesficwriterscreations · 8 days ago

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CFWC F/AtoW: Jan 19 - 25, 2025

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA+

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Mal & Daenarya Kisses Sketch 🎨 | Mal Volari x F!Human!MC - @storyofmychoices

Tyril Sketch 🎨 | Tyril Starfury - @0seme

CRIMES OF PASSION

Unexpected 🎨 | Sebastyan Thorne x F!MC - ArtbyAinna (IG) C: @loreofyore

THE FRESHMAN SERIES

The Graduate (Series) ✒️🔥 | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 9

The Press Secretary (Series) ✒️ | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 19

Rooftop Date ✒️ | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga

HIGH SCHOOL STORY

Aiden in his marching band outfit 🎨 | Aiden Zhou - @cadybear420

Aiden Plushie Doll! + Evie and Aiden Plushie Pair 🎨 | Aiden Zhou x F!MC - @cadybear420

Skye Plushie Doll! + Mila and Skye Plushie Pair 🎨🏳️‍🌈 | Skye Crandall x F!MC - @cadybear420 c: @lover-also-fighter-also

NIGHTBOUND

Alex Plushie Doll 🎨 | F!MC - @cadybear420 C: @ladylamrian

Nik Plushie Doll! + Nik and Alex Plushie Pair 🎨 | Nik Ryder x F!MC - @cadybear420 C: @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Complete Open Heart F/AtoW List - Week Ending Jan 25, 2025

RED CARPET DIARIES

Alex Spencer 🎨 | F!MC - @theartoflovingthomashunt

Chibi!Hunt 🎨 | Thomas Hunt - @theartoflovingthomashunt

Happy Birthday, Thomas ✒️🎨 | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - ArtbyAinna (IG) @theartoflovingthomashunt

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

High School Sweethearts (Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!MC - @eadanga Part 1

One Handsome Devil (Series) ✒️ | Drake Walker x F!MC - @onehandsomedevil-trr Chapter 22: King Nicholas

Royal Love (Series) ✒️ | Eleanor Rys x F!MC; Liam Rys - @eadanga Part 22

#choices fanfic #choices fanart #playchoices #pixelberry #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #the freshman series #high school story #nightbound #open heart #red carpet diaries #the royal romance #cfwc fics of the week #cfwc art of the week

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dcbbw · 2 years ago

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Taking the L

I am participating in #KingLiamAppreciationWeek (#KLAW), hosted by the ever-lovely @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes. This is my offering for Day 1: Throwback/Character Appreciation. I will be providing at least one more story for the event; if I do it correctly, the fic will cover the additional themes/days.

So, this is basically me giving my opinion and head canons about Liam while linking throwback fics into the dialogue; while I have all the love and appreciation in the world for my first, true LI, it may be best to have some of my Rileys express what they treasure and cherish most about the Liam they are paired with. After all, they are the ones with the man day in and day out.

Thank you to all who will read this brain dump; I can only hope it makes sense and comes across in a coherent manner. Everything is below the cut.

PB birthed Liam Rys, but us content creators raise him.

Song Inspiration: Fanfiction on the Internet, Jake Timothy

Word Count: 1,207

Why Liam?

My reason is incredibly simple (and it isn’t because it’s The Royal Romance) … I have dated enough Drake Walkers and Maxwell Beaumonts in real life; no way am I doing it in an alternate universe and spending real dollars to do so.

I dealt with enough games and guards/walls and insecurities and mothering of men; I have done more than my share of putting forth efforts and ego-stroking and reminders and pushing and prodding. I have begged men to love me and proved (to no avail) that my love is worthy of acceptance.

Playing the game with Liam as my LI is my form of escape from reality … the refreshing openness, honesty, and emotional availability Liam Rys provides gives me hope, and will always be my why.

Which Liam?

My preferred Liam is Asian Liam (Asiam). When I first joined the fandom almost 5 years ago, Caucasian Liam (Whiam) was the King of choice for the majority of the fandom, and I remember being nommed for a Clown Award for fetishy writing because I wrote a tall, black MC with Asiam. (I received 7% of the vote)

Asiam is my default Liam, and not just because I see him (looks-wise) as a cross between Gong Yoo and Alex Landi; in my head canon, Asiam is patient (more than most), more sensuous than sexual, logical, an overthinker, and has a humility that is rare for someone born into and raised in an environment of the highest privilege.

He is the driving force behind Riam, Sock Game Liam in the DC AU, UnRomance, and the majority of my TRR-themed one-shots and limited series including The Platinum AU, Driam, and Laxwell.

My love for Asian Liam does not stop me from using the other versions of Liam.

I know I’m in the minority here with my thought process, but I see each version of Liam as a separate person with a distinct je ne sais quoi who just happens to share core characteristics and personality traits with the other two.

I think it would be especially true for Asiam (whom PB did not even classify as an ethnicity, and let's not get into the whitewashing of his mother, Eleanor), and Black Liam (Bliam). While all versions of Liam have a mother who is both a commoner and foreigner, two of them have a parent of color, which (again, to me) has to influence how they are perceived by the international audience they are constantly paraded in front of.

White Liam (Whiam) to me, is trusting, definitely carnal, and has a boldness ...a recklessness if you will; yet he is hesitant to fully embrace his role as King. This Liam takes the lead in stories such as The Commoner’s Wife, Streets of New York, One Night Stand, and he is the Liam of choice in the upcoming stories, Sins of the Father, Best Friend, and Body Count.

I have plans for Bliam; he is the star in a few upcoming fics: Looking, Heartland, Life in a Southern Town (the Election AU), and Eight Minutes. For me, Bliam exudes a confidence the other Liams do not, which is at odds with my head canon that this particular Liam is more guarded than Drake and more of a loner.

Currently all three Liams can be found in my Remix series (only two chapters in, but more is coming!) where Asiam is a complete thot. (He can be an anomaly at times)

Head Canons (strictly my envisionings, opinions, and thought processes that formulate my version of Cordonia’s favorite King)

· His name is Liam, not William; his mama named him Liam and that’s good enough for me. And coming from a family where me and my siblings all have names that begin with an R, I like the Leo, Liam, Lena thing; bonus that the first syllable for each is pronounced “Lee”

· He has BDE, and the BD to back it up

· He is not submissive in the bedroom. Being King is a 24/7 job, and I do not see him just shedding that type of power the second nakedness enters the picture

· I also do not see him as dominant in the bedroom; for his partner’s pleasure, he can be assertive (not to be confused with aggressive). The man is still kinky though

· However, he has no problem with a transference of power between he and his partner between the sheets (within reason)

· Liam grew up in an environment where unilateral decisions that affect the entire country are made in a millisecond; hence the Coronation night fiasco. If keeping you a secret from Cordonia means you’re safe … it’s worth the fallout

· Madeleine was his only choice that night because another suitor’s acceptance would immediately become a political arrangement, with their families/houses effectively trapping Liam in a marriage neither party wants

· It doesn’t happen often, but he and MC argue. Loudly

· He’s a social smoker, especially when networking or brokering a deal/arrangement/alliance

· If he’s pouring a scotch, he’s stressed

· MC is his first true/real relationship

· He is not perfect

· He makes mistakes

· Two of my Liams can cook; the rest are at the mercies of the kitchens and Riley

· He doesn’t flaunt his wealth

· He is deeply spiritual (believes in a higher power and prayer), but doesn’t begin attending church until he and MC have created a family

What is the one thing Riley appreciates most about (her) Liam?

Riam Riley: I’ll have to get back to you on that.

Riley B.: I would have to say his thoughtfulness. When he borrows my car, he returns it with a full tank of gas. When he comes to my place, he brings in my mail and packages. He’ll Venmo me money when it’s a couple of days before payday. He looks out for me.

Mermaids Riley: His vulnerability. It’s hard to open to someone you hated for absolutely no reason, then find out you’re going to marry them, and now you have to get to know said person and let them get to know you as well. The more we talk and spend time together, the more I learn and not just the surface stuff. That takes more than courage, and I admire it.

Platinum AU Riley/Raleigh: I haven’t seen him in 10 years, but I remember his intelligence. He was more than educated or smart; Liam had a hunger for knowledge, and constantly fed it. He was open-minded as well, so prone to listen to opposing perspectives and broadening his mindset.

Discontent Riley: What I appreciate most about Liam? His selflessness. We’ve had … we’re having our share of problems, but he is always there for me despite public opinion, and at great risk to his reign. I can only imagine the toll our losses and my drinking have taken on his health on all levels, but he only cares for mine. I don’t deserve him.

UnRomance Riley: I appreciate the way he takes care of me. It may not always be the way I would want or even like, but he knows what I need without me saying a word.

Riam Riley: Oh, dear Lord! It’s my turn again? Okay, okay … I got one. It’s his even-temperedness. He’s the calm to my storm, he listens to me go on and on and on, especially when I’m hormonal which is all the time. Liam is steady. He makes things make sense. Not saying he doesn’t get frustrated, fed up, and angry … he does. But he’s never volatile, and it never lasts long. He truly forgives and forgets.

And there you have it, dear reader … a few things I think makes my Liam(s) tick and sets him apart (if only slightly) from the others. Your mileage may vary.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @kingliamappreciationweek @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes

#dcbbw writes #king liam appreciation week #klaw day 1 #king liam rys of cordonia

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the-unconquered-queen · 1 year ago

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*Examples of books in which you can tell there is a main LI:

Bloodbound - Adrian

Bachelorette Party - Aisha

Foreign Affairs - Blaine

Open Heart - Ethan (practically canonized in WEH)

The Haunting of Braidwood Manor - Eleanor

#playchoices #bit of a tangent but I find it interesting how if I had to name a main LI in MotY I'd say it's Thomas but it's Levi who gets canonized #unconquered queries

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choicesholidays · 2 years ago

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National Siblings Day

Eleanor's Kitchen

Books: The Royal Romance/Heir, Rules of Engagement

Pairing: Queen Eleanor & Prince Leo + Liam (mother-sons/siblings), Leo x Damien (mentioned in RoE) (romantic), Liam & Jason (OC) (platonic).

Rating: PG

Summary: Liam notices Leo's friendship with Damien, their gardener's eldest son, becoming stronger.

Series: Eleanor's Kitchen

Note: Damien (not Nazario from PM!) has been mentioned in this scene in Rules of Engagement, Book 2. I played fast and loose with the timelines for this backstory, and have given Damien a younger brother who was Liam's age.

This chapter takes place almost a year following Ch 3. Liam is now 8 years old, Leo is 15.

Word Count: 3, 718 words

Tagging @kingliamappreciationweek for KLAW Day 4: Childhood, @aprilchallenge for the prompt "just want to be with you", and @choicesholidays for National Sibling Appreciation Day (April 10th).

Chapter 4: Garídes Saganáki

(Photo from this recipe)

Liam greets the salt air that briefly kisses his face, and the sand that pools around his toes at the beach, with a sense of homecoming. This beach has felt as much like his home as the palace he was born in, suffused with memories of sandcastles and uniquely-shaped seashells and the rush of excitement that came every time a wave crashed against the shore.

And most of all, it feels like home for the moments long past. For the rare times both he and Leo did things together, back when Leo actually liked taking him along for things. When his talk was actually more talk and less eyerolling and "oh you're too young to understand". The love is still there, and so is the need to protect each other (especially against Father's acid remarks, usually aimed at Leo) - just...the companionship isn't, any longer.

The sad, sinking feeling that used to emerge from realizing that is, thankfully, rare now - Liam much prefers the company of his own friends - but when he was four and hanging on to his big brother's every word, it had stung.

"Every big brother does that," his newest friend, Jason, shrugged. Jason is the palace gardner Giorgos Vasilakis' youngest son, accompanying his father since last year on visits to the Queen to discuss the plans surrounding her dream project: the palace hedge maze, that was to echo the one in Château de Villandry in France. Jason's older brother Damien had always been the one at Kýrios Vasilakis' side before that, but of late Liam has begun to associate his presence more with his own elder brother.

Jason is lonely. Unlike Liam, who has managed to bring together his own motley band of merry playmates, Jason has only the one older brother and has never gotten the chance to venture beyond the palace and his father's cottage. Liam has experienced only a fraction of that kind of loneliness and it had felt like hell. He and Jason may not know each other well, but he'll be damned if he let the other boy he has no one. And so he brings Jason along to meet all his friends.

Both Liam's and Jason's older brothers accompany the group of exhilarated children to the beach, but slip away in another direction before the group can notice. Liam notes the direction Leo and Damien are headed - their heads leaning towards each other as they walk - but says nothing. More friends, Liam reminds himself of his purpose here, first make sure we give Jason more friends.

Liam isn't disappointed. Before long, Jason's name has been shortened to Jase, his shorts and shirt have been drenched from jumping over the crashing waves with Maxwell, and he's snacking happily over pine nuts with Drake and Olivia. He even enjoys collecting seashells with Tariq, even if he did find him a little odd at first.

"I can understand not wanting to get your shoes wet but why would he want to keep them 30 feet away from the sea??"

Liam giggles a little. "They're not just shoes! They're...uh... Salvatore Ferra-somethings!" he says, already forgetting the Italian names that slip so easily from Tariq's tongue when he's talking about a shoe brand. Liam would too, if his father spoke his ears off about shoes as much as Tariq's did.

"If you say so," Jason replies doubtfully. What a funny bunch of people these nobles and royals are, he must be thinking, "but what if they get stolen?"

"Then Tariq will sniff and say he hopes they were stolen by someone who truly understands the value and beauty of Italian shoes."

Just before they leave, the children build a sandcastle. Liam and Jason deem themselves the architects of the main structure, Drake and Olivia choose to build a fortress. Maxwell ropes in a skeptical Tariq to help him construct a fantastic "Tower of Fun and Parties" right next to the castle itself. They are almost done when Jason stands up, declares the castle incomplete without a good garden, and pokes dots into the sand to form imaginary flowers.

For a moment all they can hear is the shriek of the gulls and the buffeting crash of the waves. They are all silent, and smiling, and very, very proud of themselves.

This structure is the biggest sandcastle the children have ever built themselves thus far, and by the time Leo and Damien return (hair damp, skin glistening, breathing hard as if they'd jumped down the steep cliffs of the Forgotten Falls and climbed back up, hands very close but not really touching) they are all convinced it is the biggest castle they ever will conceive of building. Even if it is one built in sand, soon to be a victim to the crashing waves.

Liam puts on his baking gloves, balancing himself on the balls of his feet as he waits to take his freshly-baked bread out of the oven. It's a moment he likes to gear himself up for - there's just something, some magic, about that first, comforting, soul-filling whiff. He'd experienced that feeling the first time he actually watched Chef Anais bake, and he's felt it ever since.

His version of Greek village-style bread is perfect today - the crust a lovely brown with little cracks and ridges to show off how crisp its outside is, and he is certain the inside will be soft and a light shade of yellow from the semolina he added to it. The aroma is good enough to make his mother stop in the middle of her own cooking just to breathe it in.

Her face covered in a fine sheen of sweat today from the heat in the kitchen, her hair bunched into a wrap and her hands waving away steam and smoke from her face. Liam can't quite tell whether it is excitement he sees on her face or exhaustion. But from the corner of his eye as he carries the bread to the table to rest, he can tell it is more of the former.

There are two pots boiling away at once on the stove: one a creamy, garlicy, peppery fish broth; the other a beautifully silky tomato-based sauce that he knows from experience will become even silkier and creamier when Mum adds a sinfully liberal amount of feta chesse to it.

He almost reaches out for it with a spoon when his mother stops him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Mum says, playfully wagging her finger, "Not yours, thisavré mou. This is for your brother and his friend only. That's why I'm making something with your favourite Stone Bass fish as well. For you and your friend."

Liam frowns. "But I've had shrimp saganaki before. You know I like it too. Why couldn't you just make a bigger batch?"

Mum lets out a sigh suffused with embarrassed laughter. Her hand inadvertently motions itself towards a bottle of alcohol on the table titled Ouzo. "This one is... different. Not for children."

Liam pouts in petulance. Of late reminders that he is still a child and his brother isn't have begun to annoy him. There is something so mythical about teenagehood, Liam is beginning to realise, something he wants to know more about but is too out of his reach to even begin to understand.

Don't be so eager to let go of your childhood, pet, then you'll spend the rest of your life wanting it back, Mum would often tell him. All that phrase does now is make him even more impatient.

The smell of ripened crushed tomatoes, mixing in with the garlic, onions, and chilis, makes for a heady combination. He secretly thanks Uncle Franci for sending them yet another carton of San Marzanos - Mum said he'd written in his last letter that his wife, Aunt Pari, would be making a trip down to her home province of Bethulia soon for the Navroze festival, and was hoping Mum would come celebrate it with her this year.

There is another aroma in the sauce Liam has never smelled before, and has a hard time identifying - it's slightly pungent and makes his eyes water a little. It must be from the bottle of Ouzo.

Mum tosses the feta into the small, two-handled heavy-bottomed frying pan at will - she has never really been one for measurements - and quickly places the pan beneath the broiler to melt the cheese. Liam watches in fascination as her hands crumble extra feta; there is no rubric for how much, she just stops when she feels like it. Just throw! she will tell him anytime he asks her for a measuring cup. Cooking for Mum has always been just a play of hands; trust your hands and give them their time with the ingredients - and the results may not always be consistent but over time they will be forever delicious.

Liam has timed his baking closely enough that by the time both his and Leo's dishes are ready, his bread will have rested long enough, and is ready to serve as a side.

They find Leo talking to Jason's brother at one of the more intimate drawing rooms of the palace, their heads so close they're almost touching. Both their hands are jammed into their pockets, as if they'd hurriedly put them there from whatever their original position was. Their eyes dart everywhere and both seem to turn a little pink. A curl from Damien's dark hair rests carelessnessly on his forehead, and Liam catches his brother looking at it at least twice.

Jason skips to Liam's side. "Where is everyone else?" he whispers.

"Drake and his sister have gone to Texas to stay with their aunt, Olivia's with one of the Elders in Lythikos, Maxwell and Tariq are back home. It's just me, I'm afraid." Liam shuffles his feet in uncharacteristic awkwardness. He knows that a lot of the things he likes to talk about can either bore or confuse his own friends.

"Good enough for me," Jason says, grinning. "Her Majesty says she's got us fish stew."

"Bianco. And shrimp saganaki for Leo and Damien." Liam lowers his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell your dad - Mum made those herself. Father built her her own kitchen two and a half years ago. Not many besides some of the kitchen staff know."

Jason's eyes widen at the bowl that's just arrived, and then brightens. Imagine that, being treated to the cooking of an actual queen!

Mum had wisely decided to seat the pairs of brothers in different areas, confident that they would be bored stiff if they were made to eat together. It's a lot better this way, Liam thinks, as Jason talks animatedly of the new toys his dad got him with the increase in his salary from last month onwards. Leo and Damien would perhaps find their chats rather silly, and a lot of the things they say fly like seagulls over Liam and Jason's heads.

The Bianco is as good as Liam and Jason had hoped: the sauce smooth and creamy, the fish mildly sweet and with flesh so soft it crumbles a little on the tongue. Liam can't help but puff his chest in pride as he and Jason use the bread he made to sop up the rest of the sauce, the heat from the pepper and garlic and the delightful tang from the lemon warming them all down to their toes. Jason tells Liam to tell Her Majesty to forgive his lack of manners but he is this close to licking his plate.

Normally, Liam would be ecstatic about getting to eat a Stone Bass, especially here where the catch is always today's, wild and fresh and soul-stirringly tasty..."not that garbage you get from the fish farms" as Grandmother used to say.

But his thoughts keep crawling back to the meal his and Jason's older brothers got. The dish that has been so familiar to him all these years, yet seems so alien now. All because of an added mysterious... thing that seems all the more exciting because he isn't allowed to touch it.

Liam goes and sneaks a look at where their brothers sit, enjoying their shrimp. Leo looks over to his friend's plate, notices his bread is over, breaks his own loaf apart and offers it to Damien, looking straight into his eyes as he dips it into his sauce and eats it. Damien's fingers lightly brush his as he takes the bread.

"You know who made that bread?" Leo's voice for some reason sounds different, warmer and deeper and a little more serious. Liam turns pink with forgotten filial pleasure at the note of pride in his words. "Liam. My baby brother."

Damien grins. "There's sauce near your lip."

Leo makes a great show of pretending not to know where. "Where?"

Damien looks left and right - and satisfied that they cannot be seen (Liam heaves a sigh of relief as he emerges from behind a corner Leo and Damien cannot clearly see) takes his napkin and dabs softly at the corner of his mouth. The two boys suddenly cannot look each other in the eye, and their smiles hold secrets that make Liam feel like an intruder on this little moment, for perhaps no reason. Damien's only cleaning Leo's face.

But when he returns and tells Jason what he saw, the other boy stays silent for a few minutes.

"Babás almost saw Prince Leo at our home once," Jason says quietly, "Mamá had to hide him in a cupboard."

"But why?" Liam asks back, puzzled, "I thought Kýrios Vasilakis liked him. Ever since he started attending his lessons regularly and actually -"

"I know. I thought so too. I'm not sure why Leo and Damien and Mamá look so scared these days. No one ever tells me." Jason finishes with a nonchalant shrug that belies his petulant frustration at not being told things he cannot fully understand.

Liam sighs, all thoughts of their brothers forgotten. "No one thinks I'm old enough to understand anything either."

As Liam watches Jason's older brother reluctantly take leave of his own, their gazes lingering more than their touches ever could...and realises how childishly enthusiastic their own goodbyes are, Liam goes to bed wondering what Leo's shrimp saganaki tastes like. Is it pungent? Is it sweet? Does it leave a bitter aftertaste?

That night, Liam lies in bed in his silk unicorn-and-rainbow pajamas, burningly aware of how like a child he looks in it. How unlike his older brother - in his leather jackets and carelessly tousled hair. He begins counting the months before his mother can properly deem him "of age", and falls asleep before he can even reach his pre-teen years.

Days later, Leo takes a walk around the Wishing Well with his mother.

It's amazing how much things have changed in the years Eleanor has been married to Constantine, and therefore into the Royal Family. His little son had only been four then, and he'd hidden behind his father the first few times she tried to come near. Constantine and his mother had fumed over this in the beginning, wanting to help ease him into trusting her but neither having a whole lot of patience - so it had been up to her to reassure him that they would only set his relationship with her at his pace.

And it had paid off. Little Leo had once seen the "new mother" outside, trying to stargaze, and sat beside her in silence, listening for half an hour as she pointed out constellations. She'd known he loved stargazing and knew he needed a companion of sorts The first ever times they talked were all about stars...until five months later when he lost interest and Eleanor found out whatever it was that captured his fancy next.

Still, because that night was the night they tentatively began to consider themselves mother and son, she often brings back memories of it by calling him astéri mou.

"Your tutors have been very pleased with you this year," Eleanor says, suppressing a little smile, "they've been seeing how hard you've been working at your studies lately." There's a mischievous glow in her eyes. "Any more efforts and you'll soon be surpassing Liam, they say."

Leo snorts. He knows, no matter how hard he tries, that he can never reach his kid brother's level in either interest or acumen for politics. That is a quality unique to just him and he's more than happy to let him bask in it, but ever since Damien....

A quick, intense memory of him flashes. Dark curls, full lips, skin smooth beneath Leo's fingertips. It had amazed him how they'd been playmates one minute, pretending to be pirates and running around the palace gardens, and he'd never in all that time noticed that kind of gut-capturing beauty. His voice deep and passionate at the Forgotten Falls two weeks ago, as Damien whispered into his hair, "Let me hold you for a bit. We don't have to talk...we don't have to do anything. I just want to be with you."

He knows becoming a good King will be a hundred times harder for him than it was for his father, than (he is beginning to realize) it could be for his brother. He had made his peace with that at some point this year. But being around Damien...knowing that in his future position a relationship like theirs could be both legally permitted and morally viewed as sheer irresponsibility (and this is in only the kindest of parallel universes) and still knowing it is a relationship he cannot ever conceive of giving up...

If he could just prove himself capable in every other area of his life, just please his father and bring pride to his mother in other ways, maybe both his father and Damien's may just not force what they could have together, to die.

Mamá sighs. "Leo...astèri mou. You don't understand. I am already proud of you."

Oh no. Had he just said the words aloud?

He responds to her answer with another question. "How did you find out about us, Mamá?"

She shakes her head. "Kyría Vasilikou." Damien's mother, who hid Leo in a cupboard that one time Kyríe Vasilikos almost caught them. She had been extraordinarily kind and very contrite - sending Leo with a box of melomakarona and begging him never to come to this house again for fear of what Damien's father may do to him next.

He remembers Mamá's words from that evening.

"Damien's father - and his father before him - are extraordinarily dedicated to the King. It was His father that ensured their family would be set for many, many years to come...and his gratitude towards them can make him blind to what could make his own son happy."

The mother who had birthed him, the one he had often called Mummy, is at best a faded memory now. He called Eleanor Mamá almost a year after she'd married his father, because he finally felt ready and because it suited her. That evening, he understood his Mamá's underlying message.

I will always support you. But until we can figure out a way, you must be careful.

And so he will be. Both Damien and he will try their darnedest not to be too obvious about their love for each other...and Leo will continue to work harder on his lessons.

Smiling, Mamá changes the subject. "Liam's very upset we won't let him have shrimp saganaki."

Leo bursts out laughing. "He's had it so many times already!"

She shrugs. "Oh no, not that way. He's demanding the "Leo and Damien special". Ouzo and all. I suspect the baby of our family wants to be seen as a baby no more."

He rolls his eyes. "He's going to be really disappointed. It's not going to be that different from regular saganaki. Just makes it taste a little bit more like anise."

If that isn't a fitting symbol of what adolescence feels like when you come out of your big impractical dreams of what adolescence might be, Eleanor doesn't know what is. It is a lesson they all learned the hard way, only to see their children struggle with it too. They can only sit back, knowing that nothing they can say will change the kids' minds.

Leo at age 15 is already bored of his teenage years and raising his eyes towards the glamour of adulthood. Liam at age 8 has a far too rosy picture of adolescence, and envies his brother for being the whole-body-manifestation of everything he now wants but knows he needs to wait to have.

And while Eleanor will be forever grateful Liam has inherited her vast capacity for patience and not his father's, she is also aware that that patience is beginning to wear thin.

Leo may be too focused on his feelings for Damien to see it, but a time will come when the brother he has always considered a kid will grow before his eyes, and he will be too surprised by the change to understand, or know how to communicate. She can only hope they'll find their little ways, as they once did before.

Sighing, she passes her eldest a coin, and takes a second in her own hand.

"Ready to make a wish?"

Leo nods. Eleanor smiles. She knows already what he's going to ask.

Eleanor tosses hers into the well, watching as it makes its rapid descent down.

Whatever else changes, just make sure these two never forget how much they need each other.

Eleanor returns to the palace with her son, smiling. Between the Wishing Well and the official gardens, there are bits and pieces of a plan taking shape, a plan for a garden maze. Around it, she can see her youngest playing tag with his friends: one of whom is the youngest of their gardener, a little boy Liam seems to have taken under his wing.

Leo and his mother stop by to watch the children. Both sigh, and both realize it's for the same reason.

Liam will be thrust into his adolescent years before he even knows it. But at least they both can enjoy this sight of him enjoying his childhood completely, wholeheartedly, for what it is. If only for today.

Recipes:

Shrimp Saganaki

Corfoit Bianco

Horiatiko Psomi

A/N2: For Sibling Day I really wanted to do a fic that explored the dynamics of a sibling pair with a significant age gap. There is some amount of awe at older people - esp older kids- at their age, as well as a little envy and a desire to become them.

Meanings:

Kyríos/Kyría: Greek for Mr and Mrs usually.

Thisavré mou - my treasure

Ouzo - Ouzo is an anise-flavored liquor produced from grape must (the remnants of wine-making). It can only be made in Greece and Cyprus

Feta cheese - A brined, white cheese with a soft and creamy texture, often made from sheep's milk.

Navroze - Festival for Parsi New Year, often celebrated with Iranians around the world as well as other Zoroastrian communities.

Babás/Mamá - Greek for Dad and Mum.

Astéri mou - my star

#choicesholidays #siblings day #trr fanfic #rys brothers #liam rys #leo rys #the royal romance #lizzybeth1986 #series: eleanor's kitchen #rules of engagement #content: fanfic

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