Chris Evans attends the 89th Annual Academy Awards at Hollywood & Highland Center on February 26, 2017 in Hollywood, California.
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@halwestmore
Chris Evans attends the 89th Annual Academy Awards at Hollywood & Highland Center on February 26, 2017 in Hollywood, California.
Grand Entrance
lexwestmore:
She’d seen photographs of him on multiple occasions. Her mother had made sure she’d approved of him on a physical appearance first and foremost. Hilariously enough, her mother cared whether or not Henry was pretty enough to carry on the line, not whether he could politically steer the country. Her brother had been hellbent on carrying out their father’s plan for Alexandra, and that was to make her the duchess of one of the most profitable provinces in the country, to keep them as an ally to the crown. Whatever Edward wanted, Alexandra agreed too. She trusted him to make proper decisions. But looking at the man now, she had that sick feeling in her stomach. This was the man who was going to decide her fate from now on… not Edward, and not her father. She was being passed off from one man to another, having her life decided for her. Soon, she’d be nothing but a baby maker, then a mother. And that was when her life would just carry itself out, with no choice or excitement.
He stood like a duke, exactly as one would be. She smiled as if on command and gave herself the momentum to step forward to extend her hand. This would have been the moment for her to have the perfect response prepared, but nothing came to mind. All she could do was look at the man who was going to take the wheel and direct her life in whatever direction he wanted. “So,” she began with a small sigh. “What do you want to know about me? I’d like to learn about you. Other than what my brother’s said, of course.”
Meeting the woman who would soon be his wife felt no different than meeting any other important person did. He hadn’t exactly expected anything special, of course -- fiireworks and love at first sight were the things that fairy tales were built on, not political matches made with the intent of securing power. Still, he hadn’t expected it to be so awkward and anti-climatic. He felt as if he was being interviewed for a position rather than meeting the woman with whom he’d shared the rest of his life, but he supposed that the metaphor was appropriate. In many ways, this was little more than a job interview, gauging if he was fit enough to fill just another role in life. Henry would’ve complained if he thought it would make a difference, but it wouldn’t have and this was not something he was unaccustomed to.Â
“Henry Westmore,” he said taking her hand firmly in his. “But you already know that, I’m sure.” He motioned with his free hand to a couch. “I find that conversations are usually easier when you’re comfortable. I suppose we should start with the basics: your favorite color, what you like, how you feel about being a Duchess.”Â
Grand Entrance
Alexandra hadn’t wanted to be married so soon, but Edward insisted. Edward always insisted, and she dutifully answered as the younger sister of a monarch should do so. She’d spend forty-five minutes arguing with their mother, and finally she signed the papers assuring that she would go through with the marriage for her brother’s sake. Taking a deep breath, she checked the mirror before she stepped out into the hallway.
Henry was to be waiting for her in one of the parlors her mother kept for visitors. Lex didn’t really much care for entertaining company. If anything, she preferred to spend her time alone. That’s how most of her time was spent anyway, outside of her responsibilities of being visible to the public. The news of her engagement had broken before she’d even formally met her husband-to-be.
Her legs would barely take her through the hallway, wanting nothing more than to stall the encounter. Finally she had the doors opened for her as she walked into the large, somewhat tacky parlor and found the man standing alone, waiting for her. Her presence was announced, and she forced the smile onto her face. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Henry.”
It wasn’t the idea of a wife that he was against, per se, so much as the idea of being married. Henry didn’t have to meet his future spouse to know that she’d be like all the other women his mother had vetted -- dull, demanding of his time, and a padlock on the gates of his freedom. Granted, Alexandra was the King’s sister so she was marketed as slightly more desirable than the others. Still, he wasn’t much in a rush to meet her.Â
Henry stood as Alexandra’s presence was announced. He felt as if he’d been sitting in this parlor for decades, though not even a half an hour could have passed. He straightened his back, forced his shoulders to relax, and offered a smile in response to hers. He’d been preparing for this since he was a child -- a Duke needed to know how to carry himself if he was to be of any influence. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Homecoming | Hal + Millie
@duchessxemilia​
There was something intensely gratifying about coming home. It had been weeks since he’d spent any sort of quality time with his sister; what with the chaos that had arisen out the near assassination, and the increased security measures in the months that followed his healing process, he simply needed a few days to sit with someone who wouldn’t treat him quite as delicately.Â
”Raise your hand if you’ve missed me,” he shouted into the seemingly empty house before setting his bags on the floor. Time to locate his sister.Â
The Oscars 2016 | 88th Academy Awards Countdown: Chris Evans at the 87th Annual Academy Awards at Hollywood & Highland Center on February 22, 2015 in Los Angeles, California.
“I’m afraid so.”
“This is why we shouldn’t allow virtual strangers access to palace grounds, I say, but who really listens to the Crown Prince around here.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself, then?”
Childish || Henry & Alexandra {Independence Day Ball}
“I’ll get you out as soon as possible, my love. I’m sorry, Henry. I’m so sorry.” She ran her fingers through his hair, letting the emergency professionals surround them and begin to take him away from her. At first, she wanted to scream and have her husband back in her arms, but  it wasn’t in his best interest. “Alright, darling,” she began, standing next to the gurney as they lifted Henry up and began to cart him toward the emergency vehicle. “They’re taking you to the hospital. I’ll be right behind them, alright? They’ll take good care of you, I’m sure of it. If you need me, just have them call me.” She turned toward the technician and felt her heart dropped in her stomach.
“If anything happens to him, I swear to the gods… Please do not publicize anything until I arrive.” She was pulled away by her own security detail. “I’m not changing anything. I want a car now, and I will follow him to the hospital. I’m not waiting for anything.” She had a whole new level of rage in her voice, something she’d never experienced before. Even Edward’s death hadn’t brought anger, it brought pain and sorrow. Someone wanted her husband dead, and that was unacceptable. He may have been an insufferable ass, but he was hers, her insufferable asshole.
As soon as she arrived at the hospital, she immediately was by Henry’s side. “Darling, I’m here. The doctors will be putting you in surgery in twenty minutes. How are you doing? Anything I can do for you?”
All he knew was that he hurt. Somehow, the ride to the hospital had made him aware of each and every rut. All he wanted to do was sleep. He’d been overtaken by a bone weary tiredness shortly after the medical professionals had arrived but they’d done everything in their power to keep him from sleeping, constantly checking his vitals, rearranging him, terrified that the Queen would have their heads should anything more happen to him. A part of him understood. Not that it made him feel any better towards them.Â
All Henry wanted was to close his eyes. Not permanently, as they worried, but just for a few moments. A few seconds of quiet and he’d be fine. Good as new. After all, he’d only taken a bullet to the shoulder. He was more or less certain that he’d live and if he didn’t... Well, he didn’t really have time to worry about that now.Â
He tried to fight it - the sluggishness that started in his bones and made it nearly impossible for him to open his eyes. The constant prodding and incessant yelling above him helped, but not nearly enough. He wanted to wait for his wife’s arrival. Something in him needed to know that she was okay, but a sudden wave of weariness washed over him and Henry found that he could no longer hold on. So, rather gently, he allowed the weariness to pull him under.
Childish || Henry & Alexandra {Independence Day Ball}
She could hear the medical professionals nearing. Shaking her head, she held her arms around him until they grew close. It was absolutely amazing that he still could act like his usual self despite a hole in his shoulder. “Good. You should be fine. Nothing to worry about. Just a small paper cut, really. Didn’t even phase you. Still the prettiest prince in the country.” She smiled, but she felt tears running down her cheek. It was her fault this happened. “Don’t tell my brother that I said that. Or you’ll get me in trouble. He won’t like the bitter truth that he’s not the prettiest anymore.”
Henry hated hospitals. He hated everything about them - the way the smell of surgical cleanliness attempted to mask the cloying smell of death, the fact that there was never any privacy with the constant stream of medical personnel poking and prodding, and above all, he hated the fact that he had to relinquish control of his life to someone else. He wanted to tell his wife that; he made a move to take her hand - to simply wrap his fingers around hers - and insist that she have them take him home, but it was nearly impossible. Moving hurt. Laughing hurt. The clear worry on Lexi’s face hurt. He was most surprised about that, he realized.Â
“Victor never stood a chance,” he muttered, closing his eyes against the sudden wash of pain. The noise and panic levels in the room did very little to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes and the constant throbbing radiating out of his shoulder. “Get me out of here.”
Childish || Henry & Alexandra {Independence Day Ball}
“I wonder why I would think that, Henry. Perhaps if I died and you can have all your dreams come true. Marry Charles and ride off in the sunset on two beautiful ponies. I can’t believe I’m the ball and chain that’s keep you from achieving the dream.” She held his hand with a small smile, a real one. “Come on, we’ll dance and maybe you can pretend I’m Charles.” With a small laugh, she raised his hand to her lips and gave him a small kiss before turning and walking away.
Then it happened far too fast. A woman screamed, a shot fired, and Lex whipped around just in time to feel Henry push her out of the way. Blood splatted on her shoulder up to her face, and her heart raced. “Henry!” she screamed, wrapping her arms around him as he sunk to the floor. The bullet had hit his shoulder, almost in line with her head. The guard swarmed immediately, and the gunman was both shot and disarmed.
Screams filled the ballroom, but Lex had no idea. Her direct focus was on her husband, now bleeding in her arms. Everything happened in slow motion, and the pair fell to the ground. The guard surrounded them, trying to pull her away. “Henry,” she breathed, trying to help him in anyway she could. “Henry, it’s going to be okay.” Her heart was in her throat. He couldn’t die, that was out of the question. “Henry, what did you do?” It should have been her who’d taken the bullet, not him. “Henry, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Henry cocked an eyebrow at his wife’s words. Really, she was being quite dramatic, all things considered. “I cannot understand your irrational jealousy, Lex. How many times must I defend my relationship with Charles?” He sighed. “You’re an idiot if you think I’d prefer you dead,” he said as he followed her.
The words were barely out of his mouth when he heard a woman in front of them scream and a shot ring out. There was no time to think, barely any time to move out of the way, so Henry did the next best thing - he pushed his wife away roughly. At first, there was nothing. Just chaos and a strange emptiness before he crumpled to the ground. A few seconds later, though, it felt as if he was being burned alive, the pain radiating out of his shoulder.
He felt oddly disconnected from the situation. It was clear he’d been shot - there was a wound in his shoulder and blood splattered across his suit. Some part of his brain was annoyed at that. He’d only just gotten this suit made and it had fit so well. It was also clear that no one truly knew what was happening. "I’m fine,” he muttered, making a move to push his wife back again. “I’m fine.”
Childish || Henry & Alexandra {Independence Day Ball}
“Yes, you must. Because until you’ve convinced me otherwise, that’s what I believe. And you aren’t exactly the best at reassurance.” Lex took his hand and smiled wide as she caught a camera out of the corner of her eye. As they moved on, she sighed. “It’s pathetic that I have to bargain to get you to cooperate.” She nodded at the dance floor. “Do you think you could muster up a dance for me? I won’t keep prodding you. What do you think? Throw some of that charm my way instead of everyone else? You know I’m selfish.”
“Has anyone ever mentioned that you have quite the pessimistic streak?” Henry smiled, lacing his fingers with his wife’s. It was more for the benefit of the people present than for anything else, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. “I’d hardly call this a bargain. More like some sort of manipulation.” He chuckled. “Of course. Anything for you, wife.”
Childish || Henry & Alexandra {Independence Day Ball}
Alexandra’s eyes narrowed as she watched Henry. She knew exactly what he was up to, and it work flawlessly. In less than five seconds, he’d made her so flaming angry she could have thrown her glass across the room. But no, he wouldn’t get that rise out of her this time. She set her glass down and let the death grip on her dress go as she walked toward her husband. The lady in question he was speaking to saw the queen immediately. “Henry, my love,” she called, smiling as he turned to face her.
He knew exactly what to do to make her angry, and she was rather tired of it. The young lady darted out of the way, and Lex let her eyes follow her before returning to her husband. She stepped close and took a hold of his suit jacket, pulling him close. With a smile on her face and a hushed tone, she looked up at him. “Why must you insist on infuriating me every chance you have when we’re in public together? You’re acting like a child, Henry. I’m very much tired of it.”
These events were all the same. Laugh at the correct moment. Appear to be engaged. In truth, Henry was bored to the point of death. Five more minutes of this and he’d be forced to feign an emergency of some sort in order to simply escape the woman standing in front of him. She was nice enough, Lady something or the other - he couldn’t be bothered to remember the particulars - but she’d, for some reason, latched on to the topic of fashion. As if he cared.Â
He had just thought up an excuse when he heard his wife’s voice. Smiling, he turned to face her. “Sweetheart,” he responded, allowing himself to be pulled closer, the grin growing as he watched the woman slither away from the apparently vengeful Queen. “Pleasant night, isn’t it? I was just talking to Lady whatshername about that new designer.” He shrugged, leaning in close, voice dropping. “Is that jealousy you’re wearing tonight, my Queen Wife?”
Childish || Henry & Alexandra {Independence Day Ball}
“Jealousy? I don’t know. How would you like for me to flirt with half the Council and see how you feel? Actually, for it to be equivalent I’d need to go flirt with one of the butlers, don’t you think?” Her smile and tone were still sweet and kind, just as her husband’s had been. “I don’t like the fact that you take every single opportunity that could possible annoy me as an open invitation to do so. All I want is one night where you aren’t either sulking in the shadows with Charles or schmoozing with someone else. Do you think you could do that for me? I don’t care if you hate me. Fake it. It’s the Independence Day ball, and the last thing we need is the press catching us acting like we hate each other.”
She leaned up and gave him a small kiss and a smile. “Give me just one night and I’ll leave you alone for the next month. How does that sound? Compromise enough?”
“Sometimes, darling wife, speaking to you is incredible circular,” Henry muttered. His tone was jovial, friendly even; the smile plastered on his face was a reflection of the one on his wife’s face. “Must I continually insist that I do not hate you? Though, the idea of you flirting with your Council is one that I find entirely amusing. By all means, if you’d like to, I won’t stop you.”Â
There was something about getting under his wife’s skin that brought him a sort of pleasure. She played along so well. “One night for an entire month of freedom? Of course. Now, where should we begin?”Â
“I’d rather not be the idiot. I’ll take whatever that comes with. It’s funny, we read in history books and hear from our parents how our ancestors got the job done, and yet here I am crippled by women who have no say in my policies or how I govern. But that’s what I’m dragged across the pavement for, like a dog who’s too tired to get up. I don’t understand, Hal. I don’t get it. You haven’t had that yet. I hope you don’t.”
“Crippled is an oddly dramatic word, wouldn’t you say?” Henry ran a hand through his hair, a slight grin on his face. It was a poor attempt at lightening the mood. “I’m not entirely certain I’m following.”