#yet she obviously feels safe and secure enough about it to take her baby grand kid to a place literally called sin city 😭

[spurgie-cousin]

JROD IS ON HER WAY TO VEGAS (with Kaylee and Gideon) THIS IS NOT A DRILL

It’s in the 100 degree heat index this week in NY where I live, I hope to god those two aren’t going to traipse a baby around outside on the strip if it’s even hotter in NV

My prediction: they’re not going to leave the proximity of the hotel. I feel like they’re about to have some extreme culture shock

I honestly can't wait to see all her complaints 😭 I have a stripper friend in LV and I'm so tempted to hire her to just say hi to Jill at her hotel in one of her flashiest work outfits

So far we know that Jill hates that it's called sin city (not enough to not go there though i guess) ☹️ but she loves the bright lights 😬!

[solohux]

Hi! How are you doing at work Lottie? Has it improved any? Since you've opened up to prompts again, would you mind expanding more on the ask you answered the other day? Where Hux is about to be killed by Rey and his babies jump in to help until Kylo arrives?

based on this ask!

Hux knows that he’s about to die. 

He took the risk to face the scavenger-turned-Jedi Knight in an attempt to stop her from accessing the Supremacy II’s hidden databanks that hold information about the First Order’s plans for complete dominance, the blueprints for their next TIE upgrades, the health records of his children—

An uncalculated risk. The only one he’s made in his life, and it’s about to cost him. 

Clutching the wound in his side—the damage has ripped his recent c-section stitches open, he can feel it—and trying to ignore the blood dripping down from the gash on his forehead, Hux crawls back along the length of the security chamber, hoping to reach his fallen comlink to call for some form of back-up but he feels a hand around his ankle before he can get there, and he’s pulled back suddenly, dragged along the floor and onto his back, looking up into the dark eyes of the scavenger.

“You’re coming back to the Resistance, Grand Marshal,” Rey spits, holding him down with the Force to stop his squirms, moving the tip of her lightsaber to his neck. Hux instinctively lifts his chin, fearing for his life but the sneer manages to stay on his face. “You’re going to answer for your crimes, you murderous snake.”

“Murderous?” Hux forces an extravagant laugh, turning to look at the bodies of the three stormtroopers that lie around them, armour scorched with lightsaber marks. “Look around you, Rey of Jakku. You’re just as much of a monster as the rest of us. You won’t kill me. You couldn’t kill Kylo Ren. You couldn’t even kill Snoke. You’re a coward, girl. You’re nothing. You, and FN-2187. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kylo was on his way up here right now with his head.”

The mention of Finn sends fire into Rey’s eyes and she snarls at him, moving to push her lightsaber closer to his skin until he can feel the heat of it, and his heart quivers. Rey screams in pure rage then, lifting to swing her lightsaber down at him, and Hux holds his breath, closing his eyes, knowing that this is his time.

‘Ren. I’m sorry, I—’

But the strike doesn’t come. He waits, expecting to be split in half by the girl’s blade, but instead, he’s startled by the sound of her body hitting the far wall and her subsequent groan. He opens his eyes and breathes hard, looking in shock at Rey’s body on the floor, though he can’t dwell on her for long; his bones shake with fear when he hears the terrified calls from his children.

“Mama!”

Free from Rey’s hold, Hux sits up as best as he can and turns, seeing his six year old daughter and three year old son running to him, both looking terrified. Hux gasps at the sight of them both in their pyjamas and blood dripping down from his daughter’s nose—though, he’s well aware that an over-exertion with her powers can cause her nose to bleed.

“Ava. Luca,” Hux gasps, taking both of them into his arms for a quick embrace before pulling them away to assess. “Are you hurt? Where’s Papa?”

“We’re okay,” Ava says, wiping her bloodied nose on the sleeve of her purple pyjama shirt, her dark hair falling out of her messy pony-tail.

“Papa with the bad people,” Luca says, albeit a little muffled from his thumb being in his mouth.

But before Hux can stand and get them all to safety, Rey groans from across the other side of the room as she stands back up, igniting her lightsaber again and taking a tall stance over the fallen Grand Marshal and his children.

“And whose children have you stolen now, monster? Is taking them to fight your war for you not enough!? Must you poison them yourself?”

“Stop being mean to Mama!” Ava shouts, toddling to stand between Hux and Rey, spreading her arms out wide. “Leave him alone!”

“Ava—” Hux reaches out for his daughter but his lapse in attention on his son means that Luca makes a dash to stand beside his sister, copying her defiant stance.

“Hux is a bad man,” Rey says, her voice suddenly soft, yet she doesn’t lower her lightsaber. “He’s hurt a lot of people. He has to come with me so he can be punished for the evil things he’s done.”

“Stop it!” Ava shrieks, throwing her hand up to push Rey away again but she retaliates this time by copying the young girl’s position. The two stand opposite each other, hands outstretched, and the two seemingly rival each other in their invisible tug-of-war.

“No!” Hux shouts.

“Impossible,” Rey mutters, frowning. “She’s not strong enough to stop me.”

“But I am.”

Hux gasps and turns, seeing Kylo standing in the doorway with his hand stretched out, unphased by Rey’s advance. His strong silhouette blocks out the light as he approaches, sweat sits high on his cheeks as though come from a physically tough battle with whatever soldiers the Resistance have sent to back-up Rey’s mission, but all Hux can focus on is their week-old daughter held gently in the yellow sling around his chest.

“Ava, Luca,” Kylo says, gritting his teeth as Rey’s powers obviously grow. “Go back to your mother.”

The children do as their Papa asks and dash back to Hux’s side to sit beside him and cuddle in as close as they can to him. He grits his teeth, though, as his wound pulsates with an almost-unbearable pain and he’s forced to lie back down, vision blurring.

“Ren,” Hux says, still conscious enough to see Kylo stepping past him and igniting his lightsaber. “Kylo Ren, put our baby down this instant before you—”

But Kylo and Rey are already duelling, and it’s the only time that Hux is thankful for Kylo’s over-confident, one-handed form because his free arm is wrapped around their baby, stopping her from moving—or being harmed—as he begins to duel with Rey.

“Cleo is fighting like Papa!” Ava claps, having already decided before her little sister was born that both of them were going to be strong Knights like Kylo.  

“Ren!” Hux yells but it turns into a groan, fighting against the pain that’s radiating through his entire stomach.  

“She’s fine!” Kylo shouts back, parrying Rey’s blows, keeping his attack to a minimum and staying mainly on the defensive, making sure that Cleo remains unscathed.

Their blades meet in a clash, an unstoppable force and an immovable object, rivalled in strength, keeping their lightsabers at a standstill.

“Ava,” Kylo turns his head to look back over his shoulder, and Hux frowns. “Seven.”

“Seven!” Ava repeats and she’s suddenly standing, arms out like they were before, and Kylo copies her, dropping his lightsaber, and Hux stares.

As though a gust of wind is blowing through the room, Rey cries out as she’s sent flying backwards at such force that the crack of her head upon impact with the wall even makes Hux flinch. She falls, completely unconscious, and no sooner has her body dropped is Kylo over to Hux’s side, smoothing through his bloodied hair to kiss his forehead.

“Cleo,” Hux says, reaching for the sling, desperate to see his baby.

“She’s alright,” Kylo says, taking the little girl out and showing her to her mother.

The baby stares at her parents with her big, green eyes, her dark hair messy and still slightly damp from her bath. Hux strokes his finger down her cheek, smiling.

“FN-2187 and Dameron got away,” Kylo says. “They were a distraction. They tried to get into the nursery, I had to get to Cleo before they did so I sent Ava and Luca to you—”

“I know,” Hux replies, noting the shallowness of his own voice. “It’s alright, Ren. They saved me.”

“Seven,” Ava says, clinging onto Kylo’s arm and smiling.

“All the moves and tricks I’ve taught her have numbers,” Kylo tucks Cleo back into the yellow sling and kisses the top of Ava’s head. “Code. For times like this.”

“Ava hurt the bad guys!” Luca says, “But Mama is hurting too.”

The boy—like young Ben Solo was, Hux has been informed—is attuned to his parent’s feelings, and is almost on the verge of tears as he clings to Hux, his blue pyjamas dotted with blood.

“Mama is alright,” Hux says, ruffling Luca’s light hair. “But Papa is going to have to carry Mama to see the doctors so do you think you can be brave and stay by Ava?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“That’s my boy.”

Hux hears Kylo hum contently as he fixes Cleo’s sling around Ava’s chest before kissing her and Luca on the cheek, telling them how much he loves them and how proud he is of them.

“But you, my Grand Marshal,” Kylo says, hoisting Hux up into his arms. “Going after a Jedi alone? You’re an idiot.”  

“Says the man who just duelled with our week-old daughter in his arms,” Hux retaliates.

“It’s good practice for her,” Kylo shrugs.

Hux rolls his eyes and groans, annoyed, but can’t find the strength to argue. He’s overwhelmingly happy that all of his family are safe, and smug that the scavenger/Jedi is now their prisoner. The Resistance are on their way to being obliterated and, more importantly, the galaxy is becoming the safe haven that he and Kylo promised to create for them.

The Supreme Leader, his Grand Marshal/consort, and their three little treasures.

It’s the future that young Knight Kylo Ren and Lieutenant Hux dreamed of.

[ladywolfmd]

We don't need no letter at all (We've got a thing that's called radar love)

Summary: Jon Targaryen is the son of Prime Minister Rhaegar Targaryen but he is more famously known as "The Ghost" in the racing world by being three-time champion of the Sprint Cup when he was younger, to going for his sixth-peat for the F1 Grand Prix. In the middle of a race, he was lead to an unauthorized detour as part of a kidnapping scheme that was quickly thwarted but was actually a ruse when the real attempt was when he was en route back to the Red Keep. Lucky for him, his beautiful PA who he's been secretly pinning for has secrets of her own as, to his surprise, Sansa Stark takes charge in leading him to safety as she reveals she's been his bodyguard all along.Title is from Radar Love by Golden Earring taken from the "Baby Driver" OST.

AN: Just a little action packed ditty to vent my frustrations with Season Seven Hells. Bodyguard!Sansa AU.

Also up in AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11877483

39/51 Lap

"Jon, keep going, you're almost there. The gap between you and the Brat-theon prick is still there at 9/5th of your time but you can lose him on the 4th turn."

"Copy that Edd."

Jon started slowly decelerating to prepare for the turn, to bait Joffrey Baratheon into charging full speed ahead of him at the sharp turn that curved right then left, wishing he was conceited and stupid enough to take it and lose traction to steer away once he makes the turn.

"The Brat is falling for it! What a dipshit! Make him eat your dust, Jon."

In Jon's peripheral vision, he smirked as he saw the bane of his existence on his Golden Tooth toeing side by side with him when they neared the turn and just as he expected it, just as Jon slowed down, Joffrey's car roared as he pushed it ahead of him to take the curve.

Also as expected since Jon's slow wasn't just anyone's definition of slow, so Joffrey wouldn't be able to turn left in time and he'd head straight off track with the speed he tried to match with his.

Jon grinned when he did exactly that while Edd whooped over the team radio as he started flooring it.

"Wow will you look at that? The Brat's car spun around and--seven hells he's back on track, climbing back from P6 - P5 - Seven hells he's on P3 now and passing Royce for P2. Royce needs to block him so we'd take top two for the Night's watch."

Jon was impressed. The little shit was stubborn and, he hate to admit it, good enough to survive one of the oldest tricks in out-racing. Thank the gods his team-mate Waymar Royce gained speed for P2. He won't let Joffrey pass. There was no way their team was going to let the Gold cloakswin, not after the Crag debacle which was still up for debate.

But this wasn't the time to think about anything other than finishing this race. If he wins this, this would be his sixth consecutive Grand Prix win. He felt the second wind of adrenaline rush through him then as he drove over the mark signaling his completion of his 40th lap.

"Eleven more to go. You and Waymar got this! Joffrey is now down to P5 while Trystane and Daemon are tailing you both at P3 and P4 - wait, oh no Martell just passed Royce. He's hot on your tail - oh for the love of all things holy, where did that little shit come from? Royce and the Bratt are neck-in-neck behind you. Lose them now!"  Edd screamed over the radio making Jon cringe but he did as he was told, drifting to gain some more speed to widen the gap.

He can't afford a pitt stop right now, not when the race was so close to ending.

41/51 Lap.

The roar of his engine and the smooth skid of his tires spurred him to move  faster as he stepped on the gas again, his fists gripping on to the wheel just so. Only ten more laps to go and Jon was feeling pretty confident since the Snakes were keeping Joffrey busy while Waymar sailed back to P2 behind him.

He had just made the fourth turn again when he saw a marshall waving a detour flag at him.

What the hell?

"Edd? Edd? What's going on? Why is there a detour? Edd?"

But the airwaves remained static which was very odd.

Jon had no choice then but to follow the detour and into a track that lead to one of the abandoned practice tunnels. Something must've happened ahead of the track but he didn't see or hear anything unusual.

But what was unnerving was the team radio line dying on him.

This never happened before and he started slowing down because he wasn't familiar with this track and he was starting to suspect there was no car trailing behind him anymore.

As he went further, so did the darkness but he couldn't turn back because the track was too narrow and was obviously a one-way.

His heart raced and it wasn't from excitement anymore.

Finally, he saw the light and there were people wearing the race officials uniforms waving him over to stop and Jon thought that maybe this wasn't a race thing but more of a Prime Minister's son safety issue.

He stopped the car and hopped off cautious of his surroundings. He didn't completely remove his helmet, just lifted the visor as he greeted an approaching official but when he saw Arthur Dayne and Larence Snow, both of which were part of his security detail, he relaxed a little.

He removed his helmet, pulled down his balaclava and ear plugs, then and met them halfway. "What's going on?"

"You were almost kidnapped sir."

Jon turned sharply to the voice he'd recognize anywhere on the planet and beyond and he was greeted immediately by red flowing hair and bright blue eyes of his personal assistant and love of his life though she doesn't know it yet, Sansa Stark, who was holding up a phone and her tablet while her smart watch kept flashing on her right wrist, looking at him with concern.

"C-come again?"

"Hang on," Sansa held finger up while she took a call from her headset. "Yes, he's safe Robb. Arthur and Larence as well as some of the staff are here with us. I'll brief him and we can rendezvous back to the Keep from the Dragonpit. Arthur already talked to Barristan. Mmhmm. Yes. Okay."

She tapped the mic off and walked over to him calmly, nodding at Larence to go ahead. "There was a plan to lead you here off track and take you. We're heading over back to the Keep," she explained.

Jon's blood froze. He knew about several kidnapping attempts done on his family but this was the first time that he was the sole target and he was barely listening as Arthur started explaining what happened while they escorted him into one of the Targaryen safe cars.

"It was the Blackfyres and their Golden Company. We got an anonymous tip to watch you closely when you reached your fortieth lap. When Sansa saw your car disappear off track, I had my men go ahead from the other end of the tunnel you entered. Before that we've already blocked off all the exits when you reached your twentieth lap. Long story short, my men apprehended ten company members and their getaway car."

He tried to concentrate and process but he was definitely shaken up. He knew there was something he wasn't telling him but then he felt a warm hand on his arm and saw Sansa's small dainty hand on him before meeting with her eyes.

"Hey, you're safe now, sir," she said softly, her eyes as warm as her touch that Jon visibly relaxed, even offering a weak smile.

"I thought I told you to call me Jon."

Sansa just smiled up at him and waited for him to slide in the car while Arthur held the door open for him. He went in automatically, sliding inside to make room for Sansa to sit next to him as part of the safety drill they've practiced numerous times of having no two doors open at the same time.

Jon was still uneasy. "It's too...easy," he said once Arthur rode shotgun and Larence started the car.

"It is, that's why we're bringing you home for now while the rest secure the Dragonpit," Arthur explained, nodding to Larence to drive once the front escort car rolled away. Jon looked behind them and saw the rear escort car tailing them.

"Why me?"

"We don't know yet," Sansa answered and Jon looked at her then and noticed her tapping away in her phone and tablet that was balanced on her lap. She paused what she was doing to look at him fully then, her eyes filled with determination. "But we'll find out."

He nodded and leant back, setting his helmet on the floor and not bothering to remove anything else yet since his overall wasn't only fireproof but bulletproof and his hands still shook enough for him to remove his gloves.

"So...who won?" he tried not to sound too bitter knowing that his streak ended.

Sansa looked at him sadly before giving a tiny smile and Jon appreciated that she once again, stopped whatever it was she was doing to concentrate on him. His heart started racing when she slid closer and settled her hand on his arm again. "Waymar then Trystane, Daemon, Joffrey, Arys" in that order. Sorry sir, but it's still a win for the team. And if anything, you would've won it hands down if it weren't for this," she started frowning then.

Jon was touched that Sansa cared - what was he saying? She always cared. But he didn't want to see her frown. He wanted nothing but to see her smile so he cracked a grin and ran a hand through his hair. "Hey at least the Night's Watch is still on top and you guys did a fantastic job stopping my abduction."

Sansa smiled a little then but got distracted when she started taking calls again and checking emails, giving him an apologetic look that he waved off with an understanding smile.

He realized then that this kind of thing would drain her from the shit storm of the media, his team, the whole F1 organization, and of course, the whole of Westeros wanting to know about this. Seven hells, Sansa will be completely swamped, communicating with the Palace lawyers and PR staff.

Seven hells, it probably started minutes ago - right at the moment he disappeared off track, but with Sansa as his PA, he'd never know the difference. She was incredibly efficient and not once did he see her as nothing but a picture of grace under pressure over the six months that she started working for him. Father did a good job of handpicking her and her twin brother Robb to work for him. The Stark twins worked with Sansa being in charge of internal affairs while Robb handled the external ones, often representing him politically as well as legally as his personal lawyer.

They were actually bargains if he wanted to continue his career as a professional racer, his father, or rather, Prime Minister Rhaegar made that clear. You can't just run off and leave your responsibilities on the track. Especially now with talks of the Blakfyres trying to overthrow his father's rule.

He sighed but then, at least he gained a friend in Robb and most importantly, he met Sansa.

Sansa.

She was the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on with her creamy alabaster skin, her bright blue eyes, that fiery mane and those incredibly long, long, legs she often displayed under those tight pencil skirts she wore and the fuck me heels that often left him helpless and wanting when it made her tower over him an inch.

But she wasn't just another beautiful face. Sansa was a sweetheart. Kind. Courteous. Sweet. But what drove him mad was how intelligent she was. She was incredibly smart and witty and so in charge that - that turned him on more.

It wasn't really a secret that he was attracted to her. She was working to serve under him but everyone saw that he was putty in her soft delicate hands. But as professionalism goes, they couldn't date.

His father made sure to remind him of that. She was too valuable an asset for the Targaryens with how efficient she worked that sometimes Jon thinks Rhaegar wanted to adopt her, especially with Rhaenys eloping with Willas Tyrell, and Aegon faffing around the world on Jon Connington's boat, his uncle Viserys being an insufferable prick in Dragonstone and his aunt Daenerys galivanting the Free Cities.

It was clear to Rhaegar that once his rule has ended, none of his issue would follow after him.

Really, the Starks cleared their messes with their father Ned Stark often acting as his right-hand man. Ned, like Robb, was a lawyer and had been appointed as the Attorney General of the regime. He then offered the twins' services. Sansa, he learned, had a degree in Diplomacy and International Relations. Truly, if anything, Rhaegar wanted to adopt either her or Robb to continue his platforms.

Jon asked them if they wanted to run for office one day but they both humbly declined saying that they were fine with what they were now, and that there were more important matters. Jon never understood what could be more important than holding office? Surely there were more things they could accomplish than fixing his messes or refraining him from making them.

They slowed down suddenly and the scratch of the radio broke the silence.

"This is Arthur. Hmmm. Copy that."

Jon held his breath as he saw Arthur's eyes go to his from the mirror. "We've been compromised. We're moving you to the safe house. We're being followed," he explained quickly while he punched on the GPS and continued talking to someone on his two-way.

Jon froze then and gripped his knees hard.

"Yeah, Robb. Turning off all comms except the untraceable. I'll update you."

His head snapped to Sansa and saw her turning all her gadgets off and extracting a slim black phone he's never seen before and syncing it with her head piece. And by the Seven, why was she so calm?

"How are you doing it?"

She looked up at him confused. "Hm?"

"How are you not freaking out?"

She blinked. "Oh. Nerves of steel, I guess," she shrugged before she studied him. "Hey you're shaking."

He was?

He looked down at his hands and saw that he was. He knew part of it was still the adrenaline from the race, the attempt, and now this. "Sorry."

Jon sucked in a breath when Sansa slid right next to him that her hip was touching his and leant a bit to take his hand in hers as she carefully pulled on the velcro straps and tugged his gloves off one by one.

"Why are you sorry? For being scared?" she said in a low voice without looking at him, concentrating on her task.

"Yeah, not exactly manly of me," he chuckled nervously.

"Hmm, well my father always said that the only time you can be brave is when you're afraid," she said soothingly before holding both his hands in hers and looking up at him with those vivid blue eyes of hers.

Jon could only look at her and their hands before he closed his eyes and took deep breaths and once he was calm enough he opened them and saw her still looking at him, giving him a half-smile when their eyes met again.

"You'll be fine, I promise. I'll protect you," she winked at him.

He couldn't help but smile at her joke. "Sure. You just bat your long lashes at them and they'd be wrapped around your cute little finger. Easy."

She blushed then and Jon realized what he just said. "Er, I mean-"

The car lurched as Larence made a sharp turn, causing Jon to press against Sansa when they got thrown to her side.

"Sorry about that, we're here," Larence muttered.

Arthur went down first to check while the rest of them waited inside the car.

Jon then realized he was on top of something soft and he bolted to the other side in a flash when he realized his head was pressed against Sansa's torso. "Sorry."

Sansa was flushed too but offered him a weak smile as she smoothed down her black twin-set with red details and that was when he noticed that Sansa was wearing his team's colors.

Arthur opened Sansa's door then while Larence helped her out and quickly ushered her inside the safe house in Fleabottom with him and Arthur following behind and flanked by two more men.

Once they were inside, Jon was whisked into the eleventh floor and into a suite. The safe house was actually an intel building.

"This is actually not the safest but it was the closest and we need to keep you safe," Arthur met his eyes.

"Tell me the real danger, I can handle it," Jon said determinedly, knowing there was something they were keeping from him.

Larence and Arthur as well as Sansa exchanged looks. "The order was to capture you. Dead or alive," Arthur laid it out then and Jon stared at him baffled.

They heard a crash then and running followed by shots outside.

"Fuck," Arthur pulled his gun out then and so did the men as they went for the door and formed a perimeter around Jon. "They're here."

Arthur then looked at Sansa. "We'll hold them off. Get him out. Larence will come as far as he can with you. Get the brief and head to the garage with the service elevator." He threw a set of keys to Sansa who caught it in one hand, her eyes hard, and her jaw firm. "Your card will work fine on everything. Get him out and rendezvous at Wolf Den."

"What? Why Sansa? What's going on!" Jon shifted from Arthur and Sansa and his eyes bulged when he saw Sansa toss the painting over the headboard and opened a hidden safe, pulling out a steel briefcase.

"Jon."

He turned to Arthur who wasn't looking at him but at the door where he was aiming his gun at. "Go with Sansa. Now."

Before he could react, Jon was being dragged by Larence towards the closet with Sansa walking briskly ahead.

He saw Larence shut the closet door and bar it then back to Sansa who placed her key card over a panel she revealed and a secret door opened just as they heard shots being fired from the other room.

"Shit, go, go, go, I'll lock behind you," Larence pushed Jon just as Sansa tugged at him.

"Larence but-" Jon felt the reality finally sinking in.

Larence Snow, who he played poker with, had pulled him out of his drunk ass more times than he could remember, being an actual friend more than a guard was going to die for him.

"Come with us," he pleaded.

Larence smiled at him grimly. "It's been fun, Jon. Now go with your girl. She's the Ace." He said before the door slid down between them.

"Jon, come on," Sansa urged as she continued to tug at him. "He knew what he was doing," she whispered hurriedly while dragging him towards another room that she locked after them.

Jon was still in shock until he felt hands on his face and blue eyes steadying his frantic ones. "Jon. Listen to me. You're going to be fine. I'm going to get you out of this. But I need you to do as I say. Do you understand?"

He blinked at her.

"Jon," she said more firmly.

He nodded and swallowed while Sansa let out a relieved breath before she started kneeling as she opened the silver briefcase.

She pulled out another bulletproof vest and handed one to him while she shrugged off her black coat and wore one of her own and that was when Jon saw the twin gun holsters strapped to her lower back.

"You-you're-"

She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled tightly. "Yeah," before securing her headset and taking out two more handguns. He watched as she slid the magazine in, pulled the slide release, and clicked the glock into place like she was doing it all her life.

"Do you know how to use this?" She looked at him then and he saw the first sign of worry on her face with the tiny furrow between her brows.

"Not well," Jon admitted and cursed himself for not taking those shooting lessons to heart.

Sansa stood in front of him then and took his hands, placing a glock in his right hand and positioning his hand properly. "It's easy. This is a semi-automatic and I've released the lock already. All you have to do," she raised his hand and made him point it straight forward while she used both hands to keep him in position. "Is point and shoot."

She placed his finger on the trigger with hers on top of his. "You don't need to shoot fancy. Just go for the easy targets - the biggest space so you won't miss. Hit the chest or the back. Don't hesitate. It's your life or theirs. These men will not hesitate to shoot. You got it?"

Jon swallowed. This was really happening. "Y-yes."

She released him then and helped him tighten the vest. She placed a radio on the holster of his vest explaining quickly. "If we get separated, use this and go to channel one and shout "Winter is coming," then follow the voice."

He nodded again.

"Okay," she walked in front of him then. "Jon. We're going to use the service elevator. Beyond this room, there is a short hallway we have to pass and we'll encounter men. I need you to stay behind me at all times. Don't be a hero. I'm trained for this. You aren't. You'll get in the elevator first and I'll try to follow. You'll be immediately brought to basement 2 but you'll have to climb out the escape hatch and climb to basement 1 where they won't expect us. Get a car. Any car and drive the hell away and use the radio for directions."

He grabbed her by the arms then and bore at her. "What about you? I can't let you--"

She cut him off with a hurried kiss. "Jon. I'm just telling you the plan in case I can't follow you. But I'm telling you, I'm trained at this. I'll see you through until you're safe. I promise. Now, we need to go."

She fixed him a look that had a hundred different promises swirling in those baby blues and all he could do was keep nodding at her repeatedly, hoping she'd see his own too.

Sansa gave him a firm nod and released him. Strapping on ammo belts over her and setting her own gun.

She tapped on her headpiece then just as she switched her smartwatch on. "Red Wolf to Grey. Do you read? Over."

Jon could hear from his own radio strapped to his chest where Sansa must've kept the line on just in case.

"This is Grey, I copy. Over. I've locked in your position. Is Rhaegal undamaged?"  Robb. He recognized the voice. So he was part of this too? Was Ned Stark one too?

"No. I sent you our coordinates. I need surveillance and possible backup," Sansa checked the windows before hovering over the door.

"Locked in on your coordinates. Activating Warg mode. I'm your eyes Red."

"Good. We're heading out to the hallway. How many men are there? Positions?"

"Seven and four waiting at the left intersection, three guarding the chute. They can't call for backup as I've denied all access to the chute but I can see they're working on override."  

Sansa pursed her lip but was still relatively calm. "How much time do I have?"

"Sixty-five seconds. Go."

"Jon, do you trust me?" She looked at him then.

"With my life," he answered right away and Sansa's eyes glinted with something before she placed her keycard over the lock and opened into the hallway.

"Then let's run," She ran ahead and he followed as they sped off into the narrow hallway, spotting the left intersection where four men appeared from, blocking their way while pointing guns at them.

"Stop. Drop your weapons and come with us quietly now and no one gets hurt," came the burly man with an eyepatch.

Sansa stayed Jon with a hand behind her back indicating to stand down. "Funny, I was going to offer you the same courtesy Greyjoy."

Greyjoy?

"Ah. What a delight you are. But no girl, hand over the boy and I promise to make it good for you when I take you back with me. Be a good girl now and I'll return the favor when I let you suck me off," Greyjoy taunted and Jon saw red but Sansa stayed him again with her hand.

"Ooh, so you're the dragon spawn's bitch, I see. All the more sweeter to mount a dragon's moun-Fuck you bitch!"

Sansa shot him straight to the crotch and fired another to his leg, bringing him down while she pushed Jon to the ground, shielding him with her body when Greyjoy open-fired.

Jon heard Sansa fire another shot and watched the lifeless eye of Greyjoy, a bullet lodged in between his eyes.

"Stay down!" Sansa yelled at him as she strode forward and pulled another gun from behind her and began shooting from both sides, taking down three men straight to the head while she aimed at two others but Jon saw the last of the men aiming behind her.

Jon didn't think then, brought himself up, aimed at the man's chest and shot.

Jon watched as the man clutched at his stomach that was starting to shoot out blood before dropping his weapon and collapsing.

He was still heaving and holding the gun with wide eyes when he heard more shooting from behind him and his name being called.

"Jon - Jon."

His head snapped to Sansa and he saw another guy aiming at her. "Sansa!"

Sansa was too quick as she dodged and lunged at the guy, elbowing his chest while she leant across that guy's shoulder and shot at the other guy straight to the heart when he saw him aiming for Jon but in a second she was caught in a headlock with the first one, a gun pointed at her head.

Jon's eyes locked with Sansa's then and she urged him to run. Pleaded with her eyes as she mouthed "Go!"

But Jon couldn't leave her. He won't. And Sansa saw that he wouldn't but tried to shake her head at him anyway as she clawed at the arm that was holding her back.

"Don't make another move. Drop your weapon or I blow her brains out!" The lone henchman spat at Jon.

Jon raised his hands and dropped the gun slowly, his eyes never taking them off of the attacker. He kicked the gun towards him and took a step back. "Take me. You can let her go. It's me you want."

Sansa was about to shout her protest when a hand clamped over her mouth.

"You have thirty seconds left Jon or you won't make it to the chute in time," came Robb's voice over the radio. "Sansa knows. We have to get you out. Let her go Jon." He could hear the pain over the controlled voice of his lawyer who quickly became his confidante at letting his sister go. But Jon wasn't raised this way.

He had to fight for the people willing to risk their lives for him too.

"Jon."

Sansa's eyes softened at Jon then and she gave him a nod that the attacker noticed when Jon saw him grin. And that was all the signal he and Sansa needed - his sudden arrogance as he saw Sansa escape from the man's loosened grip, kicking the gun out of his hand before she pulled his arm and threw him over her shoulder where he landed roughly on his back with Sansa's knee digging on his spine while he pulled at his arm making him scream.

Jon ran to them, picked up the gun and threw it to Sansa who caught it and shot the man in the back before quickly grabbing her two other glocks and nodding at Jon to run as fast as he could to the service elevator with only ten seconds left.

Sansa quickly placed her keycard over the monitor and the doors slid open. She pushed Jon inside quickly while they heard Robb bark at them that there were a dozen men going their way.

Just as the doors were sliding close, Jon pulled Sansa all the way inside before repeatedly pressing the door button close as the men started appearing. Sansa shot a few rounds until the door finally shut close and they were both panting and splattered with blood and sweat as the elevator went down.

Sansa looked up at Jon as she wiped her brow. "You oka-mmph

Jon cupped her head and kissed her fiercely then before pulling away. "Seven hells, woman! You almost died!"

Sansa chuckled. "So did you, sir. Thank you sir." She smirked.

Jon was about to retort when Robb's voice came through.

"Well done. Both of you. But remember to get off B1. I'll open the doors for you. All of them are expecting you from B2 so you'll only have a window of thirty-five seconds before they catch up to you on the street. You have to shake them off as best as you can. Do you copy?"

"Roger," Sansa answered just as she observed the ceiling. They were now at the 8th floor.

7th.

6th.

"Jon, I need you to boost me up," Sansa tilted her head at him.

"What?"

She pointed to the escape hatch. "That's our exit. The faster we're up there, the easier we can go. Help me up?"

Jon looked from the ceiling to her and understood, crouching down so she could climb up his back. He felt Sansa's hands on his shoulders then before a leg hitched over his shoulder, and then another on his other side that made him suck in a breath as he felt her skirt against his nape and heard a rip.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I had to rip it because it's too tight to move freely," she muttered. "Um, Jon, I need you to steady me because I'll be reaching up."

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled back as his arms held on to her thighs where he felt garters that made him pause again.

"They carry my gun and a knife. Boost me up?" she said hurriedly.

Jon nodded and stood straight, trying not to think of Sansa's gartered and stockinged legs were around his neck and focused instead on the sounds of Sansa tinkering with the hatch as they descended to 4th when suddenly the elevator lurched to a stop, the lights flickering on and off until darkness then the emergency light.

Jon kept Sansa steady while he braced against the wall with one hand.

"Grey, what the hell?"

"Hang on Red. I'll hook it back. I had to terminate an attempt. Sorry, hold on."

Sansa cussed for the first time and that was when Jon felt that shit was real. He didn't know how much his sanity depended on her cool.

Sansa noticed him stiffening and worked faster before urging him gently to let her down.

"We're still good. I'll protect you, I promise, didn't I?" she smiled up at him as she cradled his cheek.

Jon grabbed her wrist and looked straight at her. "What exactly did you promise when you took the job? You promised your life?"

She didn't back down and leant forward that their noses were touching. "Yes."

"Fuck, Sansa-"

"Don't. Not now. Tell me later," Sansa said before she backed away, then sprang on the elevator rail before pushing her body upwards to catch on the opened hatch where she dangled for a moment before hoisting herself up and disappearing into the ceiling just as the elevator started moving again.

4th.

3rd.

She appeared again and offered him her hand. "Jump up Jon. You can do it. Grab my hand."

Jon did and it took three tries before his hand clutched at Sansa's where she pulled him up with both arms, grunting while he saw her teeth clenching until finally they were both holding on to the top of the elevator as it sailed down.

2nd.

Sansa closed the hatch.

"This is our stop. When I say jump, jump okay?" She took Jon's hand in hers and Jon squeezed it tightly. "Yes."

Sansa looked to her left then where the doors where and slowly she stood up with one hand bracing Jon's other arm and nodding at the direction.

1st.

"Jump!"

Hand in hand they jumped towards the ledge of B1 level. But Jon slipped if not for Sansa's iron grip on his arm.

Jon could see the strain heavy on Sansa as she struggled to pull him up. "I'm too heavy. Let go."

Sansa shook her head. "Don't you dare. Now try and swing your hand to grab on to my arm. Try."

Jon tried and missed and Sansa winced. "Try harder."

He did and this time he was able to grab ahold of Sansa's arms with his other hand and they both hoisted themselves up over the tiny ledge, with Jon collapsing on top of Sansa, both of them panting.

"Gods be good, Jon! Just do as you're told!" Sansa scolded as she slapped his back. Jon didn't know why but he started chuckling while shaking his head.

"Yes, yes it's all very amusing. Now get off me and let's get our car."

Jon quickly got off her and offered her a hand and helped her up.

"Grey, Alohomora this bitch," Sansa tapped her headset.

"Opening the portrait. Good job you two."

The elevator door opened and Sansa stepped inside first, gun out and gestured for Jon to stay low behind him.

"All clear. Proceed." Robb's voice broke through.

Sansa chose the nearest car then, a Porsche Panamera, and Jon should've known that of course there would be armored sports cars in every safe house.

On instinct he went inside the driver's side but was quickly shoved over to the passenger side by Sansa who gave him a look that said seriously going to fight me at this point?

He raised his palms as Sansa started the car, syncing her smartwatch to the comm at the dash where Robb's face came to view. "Hey guys. Let's get you out, shall we?"

"You okay?" Sansa demanded as she received the coordinates Robb entered on the GPS split screen.

"What?"

"Sit tight," she said instead while she backed out the parking space. "You're not the only one who can drive fast."

Jon obeyed at once while Robb chuckled from the screen. "Better do as she says, sir."

"You two have been saving my ass, I think it's time you called me Jon," Jon grumbled.

"Oh heads up sis, you're going to be met with a lot of resistance once you reach the gate. There's a shotgun at the back and two more pistols on the glove compartment. Godspeed. I'll keep surveillance and get back to you."

Robb's face disappeared then while the GPS zoomed out.

Sansa peeled out of the basement and up the exit where probably thirty armed men were waiting, shooting at them right away.

"Keep down," Sansa drifted to let her side face the onslaught while they heard the bullets pelt against the car that aside from a few cracks, held.

Sansa was able to escape the firing squad and onto the street.

"Fuck!" Sansa cursed again when they were flanked both sides by larger cars where men were shooting at them.

"Robb! Where do I go? We're surrounded!" she glanced at the rearview window where another car was gaining on them.

"You gotta take them out and speed up towards the backstreet then through the Muddy Way and we can come get you on the Street of Steel."

"Shit," as the car shook after a few more rounds at them. She looked at Jon then. "Jon, I have to take them out."

Jon held on to her look, not liking where this was going but she pleaded trust from him and he was going to give it. "What do you need?"

"I need you to take the wheel and let Robb guide you while I try and take them out. Do you understand me? Can you do that?" she used the full force of her gaze at Jon as she took a large swerve to the right, still pressing the gas to the floor.

Finally, something he could do. Something he was good at. He started to slide in to her space as he nodded. "Yes. Leave it to me."

Sansa smiled at him softly then before she lifted her body up so he can slide under her. Quickly Jon's hands replaced hers on the wheel and on the pedals while she started clambering off his lap but before she could do so, the other car slammed at them from behind that Jon almost hit a pole if he hadn't turned swiftly to the right to avoid it, but he was able to right them immediately.

"Jon. I'm going to take out the left car first, okay? So I'm going to open the door and shoot and I need you to keep driving straight, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Don't be scared," and then she opened our door catching the assailants by surprise as she shot at them straight, hitting both the driver and the passenger with one shot each and Jon pushed the car so fast ahead to avoid colliding against the now spinning car to the left.

Sansa shut the door right away and started climbing to the back where he could see her taking out the shotgun and loading it from the mirror.

"Jon?"

"Robb?"

"I can help you two escape. I found a route. Follow my directions. Go straight for three kilometers then turn right."

"Gotcha."

"I'm going to take out the back now," Sansa declared. "Just keep driving, you're doing fine." She said while she opened up the sunroof and climbed up. "Sansa! What the fuck?!"

Sansa was now on the roof, shooting at the back and depending on him to keep the car steady or else she'd fall.

Okay, calm down Jon. Calm down. You've driven worse tracks at faster speed. You can do this. He mentally cheered himself and gripped on the wheel like his life depended on it, sighing in relief when Sansa dropped back inside from the sunroof. The car behind them hitting another car, turning over before crashing on a sidewalk, catching fire at once.

"Seven hells, Sansa at least warn a man!" he glanced at her.

"Just keep driving Targaryen," she tore at her sleeves and that was when Jon saw that she was shot.

"Sansa-"

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Just a bullet graze." She started wrapping the giant gash it left on her right arm with her torn sleeve. "Keep driving. Our turn is near."

And she was right, Jon could see the turn and he made it just as Robb started ordering again.

"Good. Now you just need to keep going straight until you see The Hook. Take the sharp left then immediately the next right exit then go the roundabout to Street of Steel. It's not that far now."

"Okay." He shot a worried look at Sansa who was reloading the shotgun when they were hit with a big blast from her side that shattered the glass.

Jon kept the car from spinning around and ducked when he saw a car going straight for them from his left.

He let go of the wheel then and allowed the car to spin before he drifted off the path and watched the car collide against the new one tailing them at the back. Just how many were there?

Once he was able to get them back on course, he noticed that Sansa was quiet and saw that she was unconscious with a big cut against the side of her head.

"Sansa - Sansa" he hissed and he breathed out when her eyes fluttered open as she winced but started going for her shot gun again.

A motorcycle with two people sped up to her side again and they were so near her side. Jon tried to bump them off but they were too quick and Sansa aimed the shotgun at them from the broken window and fired but missed.

"Shit," she cursed and before Jon knew it, Sansa opened her door, shot the rider at the back and jumped on the motorcycle, kicking the one at the back off while pointing a gun at the driver's head and firing. She pushed him away then and Jon saw Sansa now driving towards the back.

"Sansa no! Get back here!"

But Sansa didn't and open fired behind her, targeting the wheels of the two cars that were following before she drove back to the still hanging passenger door.

Jon glared at her horrified. "Get in, now!" He reached his hand as far as he could stretch it, leaving the wheel on straight lock as he frantically reached for Sansa's own overstretched hand.

"Come on!" He shouted and finally he was able to grab Sansa's hand and pull her in, smiling in relief when they heard a shot fired with Sansa collapsing on his shoulder, her arms falling from his body as she slid down his.  

"No, no, no, no!" Jon quickly assessed her and there he saw it, Sansa got shot at her left shoulder from the back. She took a shot meant for him.

Jon saw red then as he quickly shut the door, buckled in an unconscious Sansa who was still breathing heavily from the pain, and got back to driving.

"Robb, Sansa's been shot at the back. Shoulder but she's still breathing. Only one more car is tailing us. Where will we go?" He said completely clear headed now and focused on the drive.

"Fuck. Okay, change route. On the next right exit, take it and head straight to River Row. There's a medic bay there. Drive the fuck over there and save my sister."

"Roger."

He saw it then. Two cars toeing in on either side and he slipped into his racing mode.

This is just another race.

You've never lost a race in years.

The last one didn't count but this would.

Sansa's life depended on it.

They all know me as a dragon, Rhaegal they named my mount in court.

But in the track I'm only known by one name.

And that's Ghost.

It's time to vanish on the streets.

He gripped the wheel and started letting on the gas, breaking a little, making them think he was slowing down for them as he eyed the curve.

They roared beside them then and Jon smirked as he lead them to the narrow curve, stopping abruptly and watched as they vainly tried to turn but ended up crashing against each other.

Jon started the car again, roaring it to life and steadily started backing up, gaining speed, before pushing forward full throttle as he used the piled car as a ramp and let the car fly over them and back into the street with a loud screech and a jolt, moving as fast as he could away as the cars exploded behind him, pushing his car forward from the impact.

But he didn't relent.

He drove and drove until finally he reached River Row where he immediately saw Robb Stark get out off a car and ordering a team to get them.

Jon slowed to a stop. Hands still tight on the wheel as he heaved in and out, his pulse throbbing in his ears. And he heard his door and Sansa's being opened but he couldn't move, or let the voices register. Not until he heard a familiar whimper.

His eyes shot to Sansa now who was being held by her brother then. Her eyes fluttering open and searching his, offering a weak smile at him. "You okay?" she said through gritted teeth.

Jon felt all the tension slip away from his body then only to be replaced with exhaustion and relief as he returned her smile, reaching over to move her hair off her face. "Never better. You?"

"Just another day," she grinned.

"Okay, that's enough for now." Robb carried Sansa then and looked at Jon gratefully. Jon could only nod at him. Of course.

Jon stepped out the car and shook off the paramedics fusing about him, going instead to Sansa still in Robb's arms as he carried her towards the medic bay himself.

"Thank you, Jon," she grinned up at him.

Jon snorted. "No, thank you."

"Well, the jig is up, I guess," she giggled then winced after, earning a frown from Robb.

"Who would've thought my sweet and pretty assistant could be lethal. Hiding knives and guns under her skirt," he joked earning a glare from Robb but didn't comment.

"A skirt, you've been trying to chase," she winked.

Jon blinked but laughed instead. "Well, you did say the jig is up."

"I hope you're not too betrayed."

"Stark, you took a bullet for me. You killed for me. Betrayed is the last thing on my mind," he scoffed.

Sansa closed her eyes then and smiled. "I'm just doing my job. Pretty smooth driving though. World class."

"I'm just doing my job," he shot back at her.

Sansa reached up and took his hand then, looking up at him. "Jon, now that we're out of the woods. Do you know yet? Did they tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

She tilted her head. "Where will you go?"

He bid Robb to stop walking a minute so he could lean down Sansa. "Where will we go?"

Sansa grinned up at him then though she looked pale and worn but still fucking beautiful. "You're my bodyguard, right? You made a vow to me. You promised you'd protect me," he winked.

"I guess I did," she said before closing her eyes and surrendering to her exhaustion.

Jon leant down again and kissed her forehead. "I'll protect you too."

And they started walking again.

"You know she can't be your bodyguard anymore, right?" Robb eyed him.

Jon just grinned. "Of course not. But she'll still be obligated to stay by my side."

"Oh, is she now?" Robb raised a brow at him.

"Yes. When she runs for office after my father, naturally, the first gentleman's place is beside her," he said matter-of-factly.

Robb burst out laughing. "Rhaegar will be pleased."

Jon snorted. "Rhaegar will shit bricks when he finds out Sansa's finally going to run and then he'll throw those bricks at me when I tell him I'm going to marry the daughter he never had that he specifically told me not to date."

"I'm sure Sansa will make him come around," Robb grinned at him. "You've seen how demanding she is."

Jon grinned wickedly. "Yeah, yes she is."

"Oy, get that filthy thought away from my poor incapacitated sister or I'll kick your ass. We're not known as Stark Protection for nothing."

"Yikes."

"Oh, yes, yikes. Wait until you meet our mom. She's the one who taught Sansa how to fire guns and arrows."

"Double yikes."

"Will you two shut up. I just got shot here," Sansa mumbled, squinting an eye at them. "And it hurts like the seven hells. I think it's lodged in my scapula."

Robb laid her down the stretcher and stepped back, dropping a kiss on her forehead as the staff went over her. "See you later Red Wolf. I'm proud of you pumpkin."

Sansa rolled her eyes and looked at Jon then who was looking at her tenderly.

"So, first gentleman, huh? The Palace is the cart before the horse there or what?"

Jon chuckled and kissed her gently then to the sigh and grumbling of the medics. "Yes. And that's after we have three children. One mini-you, one mini-me, and one a combination. Oh and a dog too."

"Awfully sure of you," she winced a little.

"Take it easy, and yes. Yes, I've never been more sure. I should've said it earlier but I love you."

Sansa closed her eyes and smiled serenely. "I love you too."

"I'll see you later," Jon squeezed her hand.

"You'd better,"  she muttered before looking at him then.

Jon watched as they wheeled her off, raising a hand in a wave and watched as Sansa smiled at him and lifted a hand, though a little weakly, back at him.

Sansa's been following him around and cleaning up after him as he went on his races but starting now, he'll be chasing nothing but her.

It was his turn to follow.

Professionalism be damned.

It was time to rip out her contract and give her a new one while he planned just one more race.

The race to the altar.

No way in seven hells was he wasting any more time.

Not when speed was all he knew.

When you knew, you knew.

And seven hells they both almost died today.

She was it.

She was the goal.

And speed...not necessarily a bad thing.

He smirked.

Not a bad thing at all.

[ifloremthenipsum-blog]

I Know Everybody On This Island Has A Role On This Island (So Maybe I Can Roll With Mine)

Natalie and Caspar marry first.

It’s a glorious, extravagant occasion with freely flowing champagne, drawn out toasts and smiles from everyone. It doesn’t matter that so many of those cheers and smiles are fake from Natalie herself or even strained from Caspar. They’re celebrated all the time. The newlyweds have secured peace between Thames, Vltava and Loire all in one incredible occasion.

They smile, they laugh, they cut the cake together and feed each other bits off of their forks, they pose for pictures, have a first dance. Natalie dances with her father. Eventually Caspar cuts in and the entire crowd of onlookers wildly snap pictures of them in their wedding clothes, arms around each other, sharing a kiss. Those photos will circulate for months to come.

(Zuzana is the only one to look blatantly unimpressed.)

It’s not long before the two lovebirds leave for their honeymoon. Natalie only just makes eye contact with her for a moment before vanishing into the limousine with Caspar. That’s the last Danielle will see or hear from Natalie for several months.

That night Danielle and Lucien leave the palace to make their one-way trip to Loire.

It’s been planned to be this way. While she’s mentioned it to Caspar, she honestly hadn’t spent much time with Natalie in the time that had remained leading up to the wedding. She doesn’t know whether or not it’s even crossed Caspar’s mind to mention it to Natalie but at some point it stopped being her place to do so. They’d stopped visiting each other late at night and while part of it was that because neither of them slept alone, the other part was... Danielle wasn’t sure. Natalie didn’t come to her. She didn’t go to Natalie.

Their friendship couldn’t remain just at friendship, they’d proved that time and again. Wasn’t it ultimately for the best that they’d... drifted?

Regardless, by the time Natalie returns from her honeymoon she’ll no longer have to deal with the shadow of Loire in her home. And Danielle, selfishly, won’t have to see Caspar’s excitable face as he relays everything that he saw and experienced with his new wife. Thankfully there’s more than enough to keep Danielle occupied in the next month.

Loire is as excited for her marriage to Lucien as Vltava and Thames were for Natalie’s to Caspar. It’s something of a culture shock but it seems that the people of Loire and Lucien seem to have that effect on her. She’s hardly free from criticism but the support flat out overwhelms it. She’s interviewed and invited onto talk shows that she isn’t nearly as adept at handling as Natalie would be but it doesn’t seem to matter too much.

When her marriage comes around, it’s grand. Her heart doesn’t shatter as much as she expects. It aches, there’s pain and loss, but it isn’t all terrible. She wonders if it’s in part because she doesn’t have to be faced with the what-if of Natalie’s presence since they’re still on their honeymoon. Henry is there right with her. It isn’t ideal, he’s the only one to acknowledge that to her, but his support means the world. It makes breathing a little easier.

Lucien’s friends and brother give speeches for him while Henry, her mother and father give their own for her. She shares a first dance with her father because he doesn’t give her the choice but grins during the second with Henry. She shares the cake with Lucien, dances with him, finds herself even laughing, and, when they finally leave, she thinks that she can accept it if she just pushes herself.

Maybe.

(Or she’ll just force herself to accept it because there is no undo for this.)

Time goes on. Arroux, the capital city of Loire, becomes more home than Thames. She gets acquainted with the city with her small host of bodyguards. She visits the orphanage that she had been taken to a lifetime ago so that she can play with the children and get to know them. She tries different restaurants, walks through the gardens and parks, visits animal shelters and libraries. When she comes home with a sheepish grin and a 130-pound five-year old mutt named Bernard, Lucien takes it in stride.

She thinks it’s then that she realizes that they’ve become something like friends. Partners, tentatively. The pain of loss and ache of the situation doesn’t disappear but it fades slowly. It’s not constantly at the front of her mind because there’s so much else to occupy herself with. She speaks with her brother only once every week or two which takes some getting used to. She doesn’t speak with Natalie and wonders if that’s a decision that Natalie’s making, that she’s making or that they’re both making.

It’s several months after their honeymoon but she does eventually sleep with Lucien. Maybe it’s because she wants some reassurance in their partnership, maybe she’s lonely, maybe she’s just desperate for some kind of human connection, she’s not sure which. It happens though. Just like that, it’s part of how they interact with each other. Soon enough, Danielle’s unable to keep anything down. They visit the physician of the royal family for confirmation of the pregnancy.

Caspar almost sounds a little put-off when she gives him the news but quickly rushes into excitement. Danielle doesn’t ask about his tone or hesitation. She doesn’t want to know. She worries still about Natalie’s alcohol consumption, about that false front she puts on, about just her. But Danielle wants her moment, this moment, without worrying about whatever’s bothering him or whatever might be happening.

Gemma Angeline is born nine months later and Danielle doesn’t think that she’s ever seen a more beautiful creature on earth. Lucien’s pride is almost tangible. His brother holds her like a fragile doll. They don’t give photographs to the media at Danielle’s request. As far as she’s concerned, Gemma can have a least a couple of months before her public debut.

Caspar and Natalie arrive to meet their niece at the end of that month. It’s a surprise visit planned by Caspar and Lucien. Danielle, exhausted and still getting settled into her new role as mother, is in the middle of cooking with Lucien when they arrive.

As much as she’s encouraged to use a baby monitor, she wants to give it another few weeks before she just flat out leaves Gemma in the crib in her own room. Maybe it’s not the best method but she’s learning as she goes. So what if she’s brought a little crib in the kitchen so Gemma can safely nap within eyesight while she and Lucien cook? (Okay, so Gemma already has her own bodyguards but still Danielle feels safer seeing her for herself.)

Caspar’s the first one into the kitchen. He grins, extends his arms to his surprised sister, and eagerly heads over to the crib. Then she sees Natalie. Beautiful, regal Natalie who’s smiling at her. It’s been a little over a year and Danielle finds that she can’t really tell if it’s fake or genuine anymore. It’s easy to assume the former but she says nothing of it. Just the sight of her is like a punch to the stomach. Heats rushes through her chest only to be chased away by an unpleasant chill since she doesn’t know what to say.

Natalie’s still much better at maintaining appearances.

They stay for a few days. Then they leave. 

Her life with Lucien (Lucien, not Natalie) and Gemma is back to normal. Without Lucien there wouldn’t be a Gemma. She doesn’t love Lucien, she hasn’t been able to fool herself into thinking she does yet. She does, purely and unconditionally, love their daughter. She can’t say that she would trade her daughter for being in love (she was, is, could have been in love). The ache in her chest fades again as she gets further away from that visit with Natalie.

She isn’t in love with Lucien but at least they’re decent partners in parenting. It’s hardly idyllic. They fight plenty. There’s always a part of her that knows that Lucien isn’t quite telling her everything despite ruling the country together. Maddeningly, she doesn’t know what it is that he’s keeping from her or why he’s so secretive about some things. He dances around answering some of her questions so adeptly that she sometimes doesn’t realize he’s done it until later. She drops it because, really, who is she going to turn to to talk about it? He’s the only one she really has here.

But he still shares her bed, kisses her forehead, offers kind gestures and support in the ways that she needs it. He clearly loves their daughter. They have a goodhearted competition about trying to encourage Gemma to say ‘mama’ or ‘papa’ first. (Danielle wins that competition when Gemma enthusiastically waves her arms and says, “Mama! Mamamama!”). They do get along. They have fun. They share laughs.

His parents step down from their throne just after Gemma begins to walk at just over a year old. Lucien and Danielle are officially coronated within the month as King and Queen of Loire. The people cheer, break into an uproar of delight at the sight of their princess holding her parents’ hands and walking a short way with them before she’s scooped into her father’s arms.

Danielle wakes up one morning later that week to Joel, her bodyguard, quietly saying, “My Queen, I believe you’ll want to see this.”

This, it turns out, is Lucien holding a press conference on television with their daughter in arm, “...and the future I want for my daughter and yours is a just one. My wife had her birthright stripped from her as a child by archaically sexist, neglectful parents preferring to have their heir be a son rather than a daughter. Thames should renounce its false King to support its and proper Queen and princess since our daughter, Gemma, is by right, the crown princess of Thames.”

Cheers. Roaring cheers as Danielle’s heart sinks further and further.

He smiles, waves, continues with his obviously planned out speech, and leaves Danielle wondering just how long this has been his plan.

“Where is he?” Danielle is rushing to get dressed in the bare minimum for public.

“My Queen...”

“Joel, I’m getting my daughter back from being a prop. Now where the hell is he?”

She would go in front of every camera to take her daughter back and then... Danielle falters just by the door to their bedroom. And then what? In one fell swoop he’s made her an enemy of Thames and Vltava, of her brother and Natalie. Is she just going to renounce Lucien, her husband and King of Loire, and then leave? She’s the Queen. Their daughter is the princess.

A Queen isn’t allowed to just leave a King.