A side-blog to celebrate E!'s The Royals, especially the lovely Ophelia Pryce! Sometimes I write things. I ship pretty much everyone with everyone, so feel free to send me requests!
I recently discovered The Royals and absolutely loved it. I was incredibly saddened by the lack of Ophelia x Liam fics, however, so, instead of whining about it, I decided to write my own! This is my first story for this fandom, so please let me know what you think! (I'm still looking for more Royals blogs to follow.) This is just a small ficlet that was inspired by the season 1 finale.
She really shouldn’t be calling him, knows he probably has about a million other things on his mind, but she selects his name and presses send before she realizes what she is doing.
“Hello?”
He answers on the fifth ring, just when she believes he isn’t going to pick up. She’s relieved that he has, although the weak, almost crushed, manner in which he speaks breaks her heart.
“I’m so sorry, Liam,” she whispers. She keeps her voice soft, hoping to ease the turmoil no doubt running through his veins. She knows he hasn’t let himself grieve since he learned of his father’s passing, far too preoccupied with watching over Eleanor to think about his own sadness.
“Hi, Ophelia,” he utters, but his breath hitches on her name. She listens as he inhales deeply before letting out a sigh of relief. “It is good to hear your voice.”
She’s silent for a minute as she processes his words, her eyebrows scrunching together in worry. If she closes her eyes, she can almost envision the defeated expression marring his magnificent features. She wishes more than anything to be there beside him. He swore to be selfless when it came to her, however, and he would never forgive himself if she gave up her dream for him.
“How are you doing, Liam? And tell me the truth, please,” she cuts him off before he can voice the well-rehearsed lie she knows he has used on everyone else. “You promised you wouldn’t lie to me.”
He sighs audibly, and a small smile lifts one corner of her mouth. He once told her that it exasperated him how well she understood him. “I am… concerned about Len. She nearly fell apart when Robert died, and now…. I don’t know how to help her,” he confesses quietly, ashamed of his apparent inadequacy. “Ophelia, just… tell me what to do.”
“Be there for her. That’s really all you can do,” she replies. “Now tell me how you are doing.”
“My father, who it turns out may or may not be my actual father, is dead; my uncle, who may or may not have killed him, is now king; and the woman I love is halfway across the world. How would you be?”
She ignores his ill-timed, snippy declaration of love and pauses briefly, considering her next question before throwing caution to the wind. “Do you need me to come home?”
She’s struck by the realization that she considers the palace (and him) to be her home, when she really hasn’t known him very long. One word from him, however, and she will be on the first flight to England, regardless of what her father would say. She holds her breath in anticipation of his answer.
She already knows what it will be before he speaks.
“No, don’t…. You need to stay in New York. This is your dream, and, besides, it is far too dangerous here at the moment.”
“Okay.” She understands his reasoning, of course, but she still feels a small twinge of regret that she will not be able to comfort him personally in his time of need.
“Anyway,” he interrupts her thoughts, “how is New York?”
She recognizes his abrupt change of topic as the avoidance tactic that it is, but she decides to go along with it. If he needs her to distract him from his life for a while, well, then she is happy to comply.
She regales him with tales of dance rehearsals and adventures on the subway, feeling a sense of accomplishment when she hears him chuckle.
“I miss you,” he breathes into the phone, so low that she thinks she may have imagined those three little words. Moisture wells up in her eyes, and the pang in her chest grows as she fights back tears.
“I miss you, too. You know I want to be there, right?”
He laughs, a broken, half-hearted attempt to dispel the tension. “I know. I wish things were different, but… this is for the best, Ophelia.”
“I know.” She repeats his words back to him, too lost in what-if’s and might-have-been’s to come up with her own.
“Someday, Ophelia. We will be together again.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for disagreement. She envies him for his conviction.
“Right. Someday.”
They stay on the phone for a few more minutes, until she reluctantly reveals she has to leave for rehearsal. Their farewell is long and bittersweet, his final words ringing in her ears long after the call has ended.
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