#v. consort au tbt.

[ofvanaheim]

"Is it awful of me to wish I'd been there to see the look on Harbard's face when you walked into that meeting?"

starter for @emeraldxphoenix, from lofn.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Threads

A Royal Romance Au Fanfic

What would it be like if Princess Charlotte of Cordonia had to marry Anton Severus ?

A/N I rarely write sad pieces - but I promise this has a happy ending. I wrote it some months ago but I don’t seem to have it on my masterlist. I post it as part of TBT

WARNINGS - Very bleak, Noncon, depression, thoughts of suicide, major character death. Please read with caution. No under 18s

All we do is hide away, all we do is, all we do is chase the day,

All we do is lie and wait, all we do is, all we do is feel the fade

I’ve been upside down, I don’t wanna be the right way round – can’t find paradise on the ground

All we do is hide away, all we do is, all we do is chase the day,

All we do is play it safe, all we do is, all we do is live inside a cage

I’ve been upside down, I don’t wanna be the right way round – can’t find paradise on the ground

All we do is hide away, all we do is, all we do is chase the day,

All I did was fail today

All I wanna be is whites in waves…

All We Do - Oh Wonder  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTUdw2ja0MY

 Charlotte walked down the aisle, the ivory lace clinging to her arms and across her chest, the neckline below her collarbone but feeling as if it might choke her, the dress heavy as lead. She moved slowly, her paces even, a hollow smile plastered to her face, tears starting to prick her eyes… tears of joy, the people watching would say – those who knew no better.

The people of Cordonia, still in mourning for their King, needed this wedding to lift their spirits, mere weeks after his death by an assassin’s bullet. The Princess - or Queen as she immediately became – had to announce Anton as her chosen consort, to quell the unrest that had inspired the uprising. An alliance between the houses of Rys and Severus would bring peace. And here she was, walking down the aisle on Maxwell Beaumont’s arm. She dared not look toward the pew where Drake stood, his face pale and drawn. Only hours ago they had been in each other’s arms, unknown to Anton, making use of the secret passages through the Palace to finally consummate their love.

Drake had promised months before that no matter who she chose as Consort, he would be her first. For years they had met in secret, brought each other release and bliss and comfort, never taking that last step so that the night before her wedding, Charlotte was a virgin. Their final union had been bittersweet, the final piece to the jigsaw puzzle that was them.

Now she remembered every touch, every caress, every shift of her body, the texture of his skin, the scent of his body. They rose and fell and surged around and over and under each other. He pierced her tenderly, waiting until the sharp pain eased, then all had been bliss, and they could not get enough of each other. They already knew how to please the other, but this had added an extra dimension that made it so complete.

All too soon the dawn came, and they had not slept, and she had to go. The final embrace, the tears, the pain of parting to give herself to another man who could never love her like Drake did, could never know. The memory of that night would have to sustain her for what was to come.

Maxwell squeezed her arm as he let her go at the altar to hand her over to Anton, who smiled triumphantly. Suddenly she was outside her body watching it all, like her body was a hollow puppet. Drake had her heart, her mind, her soul and it was only the empty husk that she gave to Anton. She heard herself saying her vows, prayed that none would object, felt Drake’s pain as Anton placed the ring on her finger and claimed her with his cold lips. Her body walked back down the aisle on his arm, went out to wave at the crowds, got into the limo with him.

She snapped back into reality as he smirked at her, cold blue eyes boring into her.

‘You’re mine now Charlotte. I won’t tolerate you seeing anyone else, do you understand?’ she nodded, her stomach twisted with fear ‘I’ll kill anyone who so much as touches you – and you know I carry out my threats, don’t you?’

‘Yes Anton’ she heard herself say, starting to slip back out of her body.

‘Now smile and show everyone how happy you are’ he said as she floated away. She watched herself at the reception, smiling, moving around amongst the guests, automatic words spilling from her lips

‘Thankyou – you’re very kind – yes the weather was just right – I hope so – perhaps’ At last she was seated for the banquet, endured the speeches, ate sparingly, sipped the champagne. She stood with Anton to cut the cake, they took to the dancefloor, and again she circulated. All the time she knew exactly where Drake was, he was like the North of her compass, keeping her grounded. Be brave my sweet Princess, we’ll find a way. Hana will be there, you can tell her anything. We’ll be working to find a way out. Trust me my darling, I promise we’ll be together again.

His words were a silver thread that kept her from running to the roof of the palace and throwing herself off. She floated behind her body as Anton led her to the Royal Suite, to the bed they were to share. She saw him unzip her dress, she fought to stay out of her body as his lips on the nape of her neck threatened to ground her. Like that hollow puppet she took the rest of her clothes off as he watched, his eyes burning her skin, as he took off his tie, his shirt, unbuckled his trousers, let them fall. She tried not to see his naked body as he advanced on her.

Under other circumstance it might have been good – he was good looking, charming, intelligent. But she knew his heart was black, that he only wanted her for the power he would gain, to gain an heir to his dynasty, to blot out her own family. He had plotted and subverted and killed to get her, and her own father was dead, though given time he would have died anyway from the disease that ate away at him.

The sheer physicality of his lovemaking snapped her back into her body, and she felt everything. She hoped against hope that he didn’t realise he wasn’t the first – she had washed herself thoroughly so Drake’s scent was gone, douched so that she was clean inside and out, but she had waited as long as she could, in the hope that… she dared not think why she left that till last. She lay unmoving under Anton and thought of Drake, but he was nothing like him, she could not pretend it was him. He had been tender at first, then rough as she didn’t respond to him. She blotted out the things he did to her – to her body, and finally found out how to switch off, to float above herself but not watch what was happening, though she could still hear everything.

Thankfully, once she missed her period Anton stopped coming to her bed and left her alone at night. There was the thread of hope, the one thing she dared not think in case her thoughts leaked out and he found out. Hana was there, as Drake had promised, and she kept Anton happy, took him to her bed to keep him from Charlotte, playing the wicked Mistress, pretending to Anton that Charlotte didn’t know but meeting her in secret, keeping her updated with plans for her escape. Drake had vanished from court, at which point she had cried secret bitter tears even though she knew he was safer away from her.

Charlotte continued to float behind her body, the silver thread keeping her there until the day she felt that fluttering in her stomach, felt the little being telling her it was there. She hoped against hope that it was what she wanted, telling Anton he was to be a father whilst hoping she was wrong. She cherished it, cherished her body, watched it bloom and blossom, and met with Hana. She spoke to the little life inside her belly, telling it she would love it no matter what – and hoped against hope.

 Drake stepped out of the shadows and Hana hurried to meet him

‘We have to do it soon’ she said ‘He wants his heir, and once he’s got that, he won’t need Charlotte any more.  We have to get her away before she goes into labour’ Drake’s face went white

‘Tell me what to do’

 Hana’s phone dinged with an incoming message. It was Charlotte, and it was just two words

It’s time.

Quickly she gathered the bag she kept waiting by the door and slung it into the back of her jeep, pausing only to send one text – this time one word

Now

Bastien was the recipient, and he passed it on to those who needed to know. He entered the secret passage that lead to Charlotte’s room and helped her out to the SUV. At the same time, another identical vehicle left and made its way to the hospital, while Bastien peeled away toward the border with Monaco.

At the hospital in the Cordonian capital, a woman got out of the SUV, her bulky pregnant form obvious, a blanket over her head to avoid the prying lenses of the press. She entered the private wing set aside for VIPs and the Press waited outside. It was only a short time before Anton arrived in the limo, followed by Hana, grinning triumphantly for the cameras. He disappeared into the maternity suite.

Olivia sat waiting for him, the bed empty. He ground to a halt and heard the door close behind him, aware that Hana stood behind him.

‘What’s going on? Where’s Charlotte? Where’s my wife?’ Olivia stood, looking at her watch

‘She’s a long way away Anton. She’s finally free of you’ Anton’s face fell

‘Free? What do you mean? I saw on the press reports, she came here’ Olivia shook her head

‘A decoy’ she said ‘You’ll never hurt her again. You die here, Anton’ He lunged at her, but she was ready. With one smooth move she stooped to pull a stiletto knife from her boot, stepped forward and plunged it into his side, under his ribs. He grunted with surprise as she shifted, pulling him back and holding him with the blade across his throat. Hana stepped forward

‘Drake was with her the night before the wedding’ she said ‘If the baby is yours, your line will survive. If not, it dies with you’ She nodded to Olivia and she drew the blade across his throat as surprise and rage crossed his face.

‘I’ll be happy to spend time in prison for your murder’ Olivia whispered ‘if they catch me’ She let his body drop to the ground, his lips working but no sound coming from his mouth, blood pooling on the tiled floor. She and Hana waited for the blood to stop flowing, watched him die, the light fading from his eyes. Swiftly they left the room and out of a back entrance to a waiting car that sped away into the night. The citizens of Cordonia would welcome his death, only finding out his ruthlessness and disregard for the common folk after his elevation to Consort.

 ‘Bastien, you have to stop’ Charlotte cried, agony gripping her insides

‘We’re nearly there, your highness’

‘The baby doesn’t know that, it’s coming now’ Bastien stopped the car, punched a number into his mobile phone, gave curt details.

‘They’re coming to us your Majesty’ he said, climbing into the back with her, fumbling for the bag at her feet. She cried out in pain, and he waited for the spasm to die down ‘You’re fine Charlotte - breathe, everything is fine.’ He looked at her ‘Not my first emergency birth’ he lied, not telling her it had been a foal.

 Drake stood on the prow of the Royal Yacht waiting for the little tender to leave the shore.  There were no details, he knew Bastien was there, but could only hope she was with him. He watched it approach, straining his eyes for the first glimpse of her. At last he saw two figures, one unmistakably hers, and the boat grow nearer and nearer. At last it was by the side of the boat and he was helping her to climb the ladder up the side of the hull. The first touch of her fingers burned him, an electric tingle almost breaking his grip, then she was in his arms and he rained kisses on her – on her face, her lips, her neck as she cried tears of happiness and clung to him as if she would never let go.

‘Drake, Drake’ she wept

‘My sweet, sweet Princess – my Queen’ he said hoarsely, burying his face in her shoulder and holding her tighter. He was aware of Bastien behind her, looming into sight, holding a tiny bundle, the only thing that would allow him to let her go.

She turned to Bastien, face stained with tears but radiant with happiness.

‘Is it – is he – is she…’ he couldn’t form his words as she gently took the bundle from the smiling guard. She pulled back the blanket to reveal the perfect little face, a shock of dark hair and deep chocolate brown eyes, little hands like starfish.

‘Drake, you have another Princess to look after’ she said softly ‘Meet your daughter’.

@drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @livingthroughchoices @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @missevabean @mrsdrakewalkerblog                 @cora-nova @missameliep @endlessly-searching-for-you @drakenazario @tabithacarlisle @furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234 @wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater @katedrakeohd @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography @kennaxval @sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @aworldoffandoms @iplaydrake @drakesensworld @drakewalkerisreal @samcpossum @melodyofgraves @museofbooks @be-still-my-aching-heart@fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @hopefulmoonobject @emceesynonymroll @dcbbw @cgd03 @simsvetements @mrsdrakewalkerblog @ladyangel70 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @cora-nova  @akrenich @stopforamoment @burnsoslow @pedudley gibbles82 @rainbowsinthestorm @submit-choices-tbt

[ofvanaheim]

@emeraldxphoenix said: "I have been forbidden from doing origami. Again." chaotic sentence starters. | accepting.

"Is that your way of telling me that you've been politely asked to leave yet another council meeting?" Gerðr can't help the smile that forms as Loki offers their explanation. In the years since certain revelations came to light, the fondness she'd always had for the Prince whom her niece so clearly adored has blossomed into a distinct protectiveness.

To see them now - comfortable and thriving - makes her feel far more proud than she's ever voiced aloud. It's there in the glimmer in the Jötunn's eyes, though, as she holds her arm out to them and says: "Come on - we consorts can make our own fun."

[ofvanaheim]

@emeraldxphoenix said: "I need enrichment, I'm gonna go be weird somewhere." chaotic sentence starters. | accepting.

"Can I come with you?" Hnoss asks immediately, looking up from the papers in front of her. "I'm so bored - I thought when Mamma abdicated it would mean she stopped giving us these lists to study before people came to visit. Why do I need to know all of this?"

[ofvanaheim]

She should have expected such a response, but the transformation still prompts a surprised, delighted giggle. The moment is so reminiscent of ones Lofn remembers from when she was a child, when Loki's magic was so often the instigating factor in whatever mischief the royal children of Asgard and Vanaheim managed to get up to together. And that has her thinking (not for the first time) about just how glad she is that they are here; not just as part of their court, but as part of their family.

Besides, she's never liked Harbard. Have any of them ever liked him?

"You ought to be careful - there are more than a few people who'll want you to attend more of those meetings, purely for the sake of putting him in his place again."

“Why in all the realms would that be awful?” Face is scrunched up in confusion trying to understand why such a thing would be bad. Then a flash of gold washes over the trickster, and they are draped in Lord Harbard’s visage. “It went something like this–” And so saying, they imitate the expression of horror worn by the counsellor when they had arrived in the council chamber with the now infamous bloodied sack.