These characters will be played throughout most of what I write and at some point end up in my stories
Meet the couples
ENVY.
Summary: This take place 2 year’s after meeting Riley, Liam meets 24 year old Amelia Ramos and starts a new relationship.
Blended Lines
Summary: Alinia finds herself in love with her boyfriend's best friend, not wanting to hurt anyone but someone bound to get hurt.
Crossed
Series Summary: this book starts off in book two before the engagement tour, the Beaumont’s don’t have financial issues Bertrand and Savannah are already married their son is three, this Maxwell is not canon.
Through hell and back
Synopsis: Olivia falls in love with a successful businessman, everything not as perfect it seems.
Word Count: 643 <-- not me overshooting my self imposed 500 word limit. 🤷♂️
Rating: PG13 lol
Warnings for this chapter: none
My other stuff: Master List.
Max slumped against the wall at the back of the ballroom, watching as Liam twirled his wife around the floor…. again.
It was the fifth time in as many weeks that they had been invited, personally, to a palace event. He knew it wasn’t his company that Liam wanted. And that wasn’t counting the time Riley had been spending with Liam outside of these social gatherings.
Museum tours, dinners, and one overnight trip to Paris. Paris! Who takes another man’s wife to fucking Paris?
The goddamn king that’s who. He banged the back of his head against the wall with a sigh.
“Hey, Beaumont, what’re you doing back here?”
Max’s head jerked forward to find Drake Walker standing next to him, whiskey in hand, gaze piercing through him to his very soul. “Oh… I… ah…” he fumbled over his words. “I just needed a break… um… from all…. That.”
“Huh.” Drake lifted his glass to his lips as he turned his gaze out toward the dance floor. His eyes scanned the room until they fell on the source of Max’s discomfort. Understanding washed over him as he watched Riley glow under Liam’s attention.
His best friend did tend to have that affect on women.
Lowering his drink, he turned back toward Max. The younger Lord Beaumont was known for his gregariousness, extroversion and love of a good party. The fact that he was moping at the back of the room told Drake all he needed to know about the answer to the question he decided to ask anyway. “So, how’s the Cordonian Agreement going?”
Max shrugged. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Drake lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “Have there been a lot of takers?”
“She’s had a few.” None of the others had gotten under his skin the way Liam did though.
“I meant for you.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Me?”
“Yeah, you.” Drake watched him intently over the rim of his tumbler as he lifted it for another drink.
“Oh…uh… I’ve…had a couple,” he confessed with a shrug.
“Just a couple?”
His gaze dropped down to focus on the toe of his well polished shoe. “I’m just really not interested in other women to be honest.”
“Other women?” Drake snorted. “What about men?”
“I…what?” Max’s head jerked up to find the other man standing closer than he had been a few moments ago. “I mean I haven’t….I’ve never….uh….what?”
Drake leaned closer, “I was under the impression that you liked both. Am I wrong?”
“N…no,” Max stammered as his heart thudded in his chest and his palms were suddenly inexplicably sweaty. “I mean… I just haven’t… er, I mean, I haven’t really pursued…. Where did you hear that?”
It was Drake’s turn to shrug. “Things get around.”
Max and Riley may have started dating at fifteen, but before Riley, there had been a boy. A boy that Drake had briefly dated a year later.
Max wanted to fall through the floor. Not because he was embarrassed to be bisexual, but because he was mortified at how flustered he was.
Drake Walker was a dream. Tall, athletic, handsome, and confident in a way that Max just wasn’t. There was no way a man like that was into him…. Was there?
“So…” Drake propped an arm on the wall and leaned in, putting his mouth close enough to Max’s ear for his breath to send goosebumps cascading down the other man’s back. “Do you wanna keep staring at them, or do you wanna get out of here and have some fun of your own?”
“I…” Max gulped as he slowly lifted his cobalt blue eyes to meet Drake’s gold flecked copper ones. He wasn’t sure he trusted his voice or his knees at that moment, but he managed to croak out, “I want to get out of here.”
Choices – The Royal Romance, Book 3, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)
Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?
Marabelle Series Masterlist
Main Pairing – King Liam Rys x F! OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor
Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M! OC Daniel (NYC), Drake Walker x F! OC Riley Brooks, Leo Rys x Katie Rys
Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence, minor character death
Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement with sprinkles of Canon
Chapter Summary –As the Coronation Ball continues late in the evening, Drake continues his pursuit of Riley Brooks, a newcomer from America, which was a breath of fresh air in his world. Leo arrives with his wife, Katie, to celebrate his brother. Madeleine takes the opportunity to confront her former betrothed. Hana recognizes a connection with Madeleine.
Words: 10k
A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.
A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.
A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series.
A/N4: Thank you @selina012 for pre-reading
The splendor of the Cordonian Royal Palace was on full display tonight, reaching its zenith on the night of King Liam Rys's coronation ball.
The very air itself seemed thick and sweet from the grand celebration, filled with a heady fragrance woven from high-end perfumes, century-old antique wood wax, and the thousands of white roses air-shipped from the royal greenhouses. Massive crystal chandeliers hung like a frozen, falling river of stars from the vaulted ceiling, which was painted with myths of creation. They cast millions of soft, brilliant rays of light onto the gleaming white marble floor below, illuminating the magnificent attire and glittering jewels of every guest.
This evening, Cordonia’s elite—those with influence, riches, and noble heritage—assembled together. As the orchestra performed, guests exchanged hushed conversations about politics, commerce, and upcoming ambitions before heading to the dance floor.
In the centre of the ballroom, Liam stood tall and confident, but his composure softened instantly when he glanced at the woman beside him.
Sophia Taylor, his newly betrothed fiancée and the future Queen of Cordonia, stood charmingly at his side. Her auburn hair was swept up into an elegant yet slightly informal chignon, with a few wisps framing her face and accentuating the swan-like grace of her neck. She wore no overly extravagant jewels with her exquisite scarlet ball gown ... only the diamond engagement ring Liam had given her. It glittered on her finger, quiet yet resolute, as if announcing her new status to the world.
Sophie listened to the opening strands of the next waltz, her hand warmly enveloped in his. She could feel his fingers give her a gentle, reassuring squeeze whenever a guest's gaze lingered on her for too long. It was his silent way of telling her, "Don't be nervous. I'm here." She would return a soft smile, and in that silent exchange lay a bond of love and understanding more eloquent than any grand declaration. One possessed a dignified and composed nature, whereas the other embodied grace and resolve; together, they made an ideal match when the king chose his queen.
Sophie had to admit, as she glanced up at her handsome fiancé, that she felt a sense of pride as the center of attention ... but her heart still fluttered in her chest. Her reality forever changed from this day forward.
How could anyone live up to these expectations? She knew everyone was looking to her to make the right impression, but what if she couldn’t?
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘You can do this and know what needs to be done.’ Sophie chided to herself silently.
"If I may say, your majesty," a voice said, drawing Liam's attention. A distinguished-looking older man bowed his head to Liam. "We all look forward to your, and the future queen's rule."
"Thank you," Liam smiled, nodding graciously.
"If I may, your Majesty..." A young, attractive woman spoke up. "It would be my honor if you saved a dance for me tonight." She batted her eyes, smiling sweetly at him.
Sophie's heart skipped a beat, but she stayed calm. She could tell that the woman's intentions were nothing but professional and was not a threat to her relationship. She knew how to read people, and the woman was simply a politician with aspirations for the crown, and that was nothing new.
Liam glanced at Sophie. "I would, but I've promised all of my dances tonight to Lady Sophia," he said, giving Sophie's hand another squeeze. "I'm sure you'll find many other eligible suitors, though."
"Ah, of course, your majesty. Congratulations on your engagement." She turned to Sophie, giving her a polite smile and bow.
Sophie returned with a polite nod and responded, "Thank you."
As soon as the woman had left, Liam leaned closer and whispered into Sophie's ear, "She's married, by the way."
"I had a feeling," Sophie replied dryly.
Liam gave her a wry grin. "She's also a member of the royal family in a neighboring kingdom, which might cause an incident. Not to mention, her husband is the prime minister. It would be political suicide."
Sophie couldn't help but laugh. "Then, it's a good thing you're a one-woman man," she replied, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.
Liam grinned. "Always."
"Your Majesty," another man spoke up. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but do you plan on taking an official engagement portrait together soon? I'd love to get a copy for my own collection."
"I do, yes. We've got a photographer coming to the palace soon. I'm sure we could get you a copy."
"Thank you. That would be wonderful. You two make such a fine couple."
"You're too kind," Sophie said, giving him a smile.
On the other side of the ballroom, near the long tables laden with exquisite desserts, Maxwell Beaumont, a camera in one hand and a bubbling cocktail in the other, weaved through his circle of friends.
"...So, I told him, if you have a problem with my taste in party music, you are more than welcome to go listen to classical symphonies in Bertrand's study all night. I guarantee the atmosphere there is sufficiently 'solemn'!" he recounted with dramatic flair, making everyone around him roar with laughter.
Daniel stood beside him, shaking his head in mock exasperation, though his lips were curved in an affectionate smile. He wore a chic black suit, an interesting contrast to Maxwell's slightly ostentatious suit with its silver embroidery. "Max, I'm willing to bet Duke Bertrand's study does not contain a weeping violinist who's sad because he can't comprehend your 'avant-garde' electronic music."
"Hey! That's art!" Maxwell protested, before leaning closer to Daniel and lowering his voice. "But seriously, when the old-fashioned band takes a break, would you care to try a real dance with me?"
Daniel looked into his sparkling, hopeful eyes and laughingly stuffed a macaron into his mouth. "Talk to me again when you've convinced His Majesty to turn the royal ball into a disco."
Their playful banter and laughter were the most genuine and vibrant notes in the grand symphony of the evening.
Meanwhile, near the entrance to the terrace, Drake Walker and Riley leaned against a massive Roman column, watching the glittering world before them with the detached air of outsiders. The orchestra's music rose and fell, its graceful melody filling the air around them, but their thoughts were elsewhere.
"Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you'd never come to the palace?" Riley asked softly, glancing up at Drake. "I try not to."
"Why not?"
"Because I might have spent my life thinking the grass is greener somewhere else. Only to come back and realize the grass was green where I left it all along."
"Is that the truth?"
Drake turned his gaze away, "I only care about what's real," Drake said, taking a sip of his whiskey. The pungent liquid slid down his throat, leaving a bitter aftertaste. This coronation of King Liam, as his best friend, he should have been joyous, but his straightforward temper and candid nature made him feel out of place. Watching Liam and Sophie's tender affection, Maxwell and Daniel's flirtatious banter, he thought of Melanie and that extremely undignified breakup. He had once believed he had found someone to stand by his side, only to find out it was all a carefully calculated ruse. Only with Riley did he feel a sliver of ease. This woman from America, like him, had eyes that saw through pretense.
Riley sighed and looked down at her heels, the same pair she'd worn to the last event at the palace. She could feel Drake’s dark gaze lingering on her and felt the warmth creep up her neck.
"You should care, Drake," she said quietly. "Because no matter what, you're real. You're here, and I don't know what I'd do without you."
He paused, the words catching in his throat, then nodded. "And I don't know what I'd do without a certain smart, snarky, stubborn New Yorker."
Riley smirked. "Careful, Drake. Your heart's starting to show."
"Not much," he shrugged. "Just the part that's grateful."
"Yeah, yeah," she said, nudging his shoulder.
"Come on, Brooks. Let's grab another drink and a bite to eat."
"Lead the way."
A waiter walked past with a tray of champagne glasses, and they each took one, clinking their glasses together.
"To the new king," Drake said, raising his glass.
"To Liam. Long may he reign," Riley replied, and they both drank.
Riley watched Liam together with Sophie, who appeared comfortable in his presence.
"I was afraid it was going to end badly. But here they are, together. It's like she was born for this life." Drake responded.
"Maybe she was," Riley shrugged.
"Maybe."
"Are you alright, Drake?"
Drake shook his head and looked away. "No," he replied honestly.
"Well, I'm here for you, Drake," Riley said.
"You don't know what it means for me to hear that."
"Oh, please," she laughed.
"Brooks," Drake began, turning to her. "I think it's time we-"
Suddenly, a hush fell over the room, and they both turned their attention to the entrance.
...Except for one person.
"His Highness, Prince Leo Rys, and Lady Katie Rys."
Countess Madeleine Amaranth stood in the shadows of a grand column in the least conspicuous corner of the ballroom, nursing a glass of red wine she had barely touched. The light here was dim, the crowd sparse. It allowed her to keep a presence while avoiding, as much as possible, the probing eyes of certain members of the court.
She felt like a phantom, an anachronistic ghost from a bygone era, forced to attend the grand celebration of her own burial.
The expensive, custom-made hunter-green velvet gown she wore felt like a heavy shroud. The emeralds dotting the fabric glittered coldly in the dim light, mirroring the state of her heart.
All of this should have been hers.
This ball, this celebration, the coveted spot beside the King. She should have been the heroine of the evening, accepting congratulations and envy, planning her magnificent life as the future queen. But now, she was nothing. She was merely the "former" fiancée of the "former" Crown Prince. A joke. A discarded, obsolete symbol.
Her gaze then shot like a poisoned arrow across the crowd, landing on the scarlet figure. Sophia Taylor. The orphan from America, the girl who, with a bit of luck and a pretty face, had stolen the spotlight from her. Madeleine watched the happy smile on her face, saw the undisguised love in Liam's eyes as he looked at her, and felt a fire ignite in her stomach.
She didn't love Leo, not ever. Their engagement had been a transaction from the start, an alliance for family glory and political gain. What she craved was everything the title "Queen" entailed—power, status, and supreme honor. Leo had merely been the ladder to that throne. But now, Leo had kicked the ladder out from under her and pushed her off the cliff for good measure.
What she couldn't bear was how those who once flocked to her now avoided her like the plague. She could feel the stares of the other noble ladies. They would glance over nonchalantly; their eyes filled with a pity that reeked of schadenfreude. Their whispers, even from across the vast ballroom, seemed to reach her ears with perfect clarity.
"Look, it's Countess Madeliene...poor thing."
"Yes, I heard Prince Leo found some commoner girlfriend abroad and gave up the throne for her."
"Tsk, tsk, and she was so magnificent then, and now..."
These words were sharper than any blade.
Her eyes fell on Penelope and Kiara. Her former "friends," her most loyal "ladies-in-waiting." They were now laughing merrily with another, as if they had never known her. Madeleine remembered the month she'd locked herself away in her estate in Krona, refusing all visitors. She had thought they would worry, that they would persist. But they hadn't. After a few rebuffed attempts, they had given up completely. Their friendship, it turned out, was as fragile as her engagement.
Madeleine gripped her wine glass, the cool liquid doing nothing to quell the fire in her heart. She downed the crimson liquid in one go. The harsh alcohol burned her throat and ignited the last, desperate fuse of her sanity.
Just then, the orchestra's music shifted, and a slow, emotional waltz began to play. The herald announced in his magnetic voice, "And now, let us welcome with the warmest applause our esteemed King Liam, and his beautiful fiancée, Duchess Sophia Taylor, for their first dance of the evening!"
The chandeliers dimmed, and a single spotlight found Liam and Sophie in the center of the dancefloor. Liam gave Sophie an elegant bow, and she responded with a perfect curtsy. Then, they danced.
Their steps were flawless, every spin, every glance filled with love and a seamless connection. Sophie's red gown bloomed in the air like a vibrant, blossoming rose, and Liam's eyes never left her. The world seemed to stop just for them. They were the prince and princess from a fairy tale, the very embodiment of perfect love in everyone's eyes.
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and murmurs of admiration.
But for Madeleine, that applause was the death knell of her own tragedy.
She watched the perfect couple in the center of the dance floor, blessed by all, admired by all. That piercing spotlight illuminated not only their happiness but also her own inescapable, monumental failure and humiliation.
Leo Rys.
The name was like a rusty key, shoved brutally into her heart and twisted. Why was he here? Hadn't he abandoned the throne, abandoned all of this, for his ridiculous pursuit of freedom? By what right, what audacity did he show his face at his brother's coronation ball?
Madeleine instinctively turned her head toward the dancefloor. And then, saw him. And the clothes he was wearing.
In that instant, her breath caught in her throat.
That uniform. She knew it to her bones. It was the very deep blue, gold-trimmed formal attire standing for the highest authority of the Cordonian Armed Forces. The golden sash was slung across his broad chest, the tasseled epaulets glittered with authority under the chandeliers, and the medals of honor pinned to his breast—she had straightened every single one of them for him herself in the past.
For the last five years, every time they had attended a major court event together, every time they had stood side-by-side as the future King and Queen consort to receive the fealty of their subjects, Leo had worn a uniform exactly like this. That uniform was the symbol of their status, the very embodiment of their shared future, the vessel for all of Madeleine's ambitions and dreams.
But now, he was wearing that uniform, which symbolized duty and tradition, and the woman beside him was not her.
His companion, this Katie, was a stark contrast to Cordonian court fashion, dressed in a deep yellow ballgown. Her face was lit with a brilliant, guileless smile, one hand linked naturally through Leo’s arm. And Leo himself wore a genuine, unprecedentedly relaxed smile.
It was a bitter, classic proverb come to life: the setting was the same, but the players had changed. He was wearing their uniform, but for another woman. He had already abdicated, he was no longer the Crown Prince, yet he chose to wear this specific attire, turning it into a grand, personal farce directed solely at her. Was he mocking her? Was this his way of showing everyone that even without the throne, even with a new woman at his side, he could still command this world, and that she, Madeleine, was nothing more than a disposable accessory?
In Madeleine's eyes, that uniform was no longer a symbol of honor. It was a costume, the most vicious costume, worn for the sole purpose of her humiliation.
She watched Leo lean down to whisper something to Katie, and Katie threw her head back and laughed, even playfully swatting his chest—her hand landing directly on the Star of the Holy Cross medal, the one she had once believed would forever signify her status as his consort.
That happiness, that casual intimacy, was a red-hot poker pressed against Madeleine’s heart. She felt the blood freeze in her veins.
How dare he? How dare he wear that uniform, with that woman, and come here, to this stage that should have been hers, to attend his brother’s coronation.
It was a complete repudiation of the last five years of her life, a cruel trampling of all her pride.
Madeleine’s rationality was being devoured, bit by bit. She watched them walk casually into the hall, heading not for the main table, but straight toward Drake and Riley, as if drawn by a magnet. She saw Drake’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he greeted Leo with a brotherly slap on the back. She saw Riley embrace Katie warmly, as if they were old friends.
So, everyone knew.
Everyone accepted it.
Only she, Madeleine, was kept in the dark, cast out. She had become a complete and utter outsider.
Her breathing grew ragged, her chest heaving. Something inside her snapped. The string of reason and pride, stretched taut for so long, had finally broken. The storm was about to break.
To Madeleine, the spotlight on Liam and Sophie felt like public judgment. Each illuminated moment was a reminder of her defeat. Watching them dance, Sophie’s red dress stung her pride, and the applause echoed her loss.
Madeleine’s body stood rigid in the shadows of the column. The cold marble was the only thing that felt real. She forced her gaze away from the nauseatingly perfect couple, searching for an escape. She saw, in the distance, Penelope and Kiara chatting and laughing with several other ladies of the court. Kiara even gracefully covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed at some joke. They didn't look at her, not even once. It was as if she, Madeleine Amaranth, the woman who had been their inseparable companion, the one who had co-reigned over the core of the court's social circle, had simply become invisible air.
A familiar, acidic taste of betrayal rose in her throat. She remembered the month she had locked herself away in her manor, refusing to see anyone. Their visits had ceased after the third refusal. So, this was the shelf life of their friendship, its end date engraved on the back of the title "The Queen-to-be."
She took a deep breath, ordering herself to remain calm. She was still the countess of her duchy, she told herself, her bloodline still noble. She could not be defeated so easily. She needed to re-engage, to prove to everyone that even without Leo, without the title of Queen, she was still Countess Madeleine Amaranth of Fydelia, a woman not to be trifled with.
She straightened the non-existent creases on her hunter-green velvet gown, squared her shoulders, and plastered a well-rehearsed smile of detached elegance onto her face. She took a step, intending to join a circle of barons and viscounts discussing the safe and tedious topic of horses and hunting.
"Good evening, Lord Arnault," she began, her voice steady, trying to merge with their conversation.
The young baron she addressed started, as if spooked by a sudden phantom. "Oh—oh, good evening, Lady...Countess Madeleine," he stammered. The others in his circle shot her awkward, fleeting glances, and their conversation died. A suffocating silence descended upon the small group.
They were pitying her. Or rather, they were savoring her predicament.
Madeleine felt her cheeks burn. She tried to think of something to say to break the dreadful impasse, but her mind was a blank. Just then, a slight commotion at the grand entrance, followed by the herald's voice, rescued her from this invisible pillory.
She could bear it no longer.
She felt like a volcano about to erupt, the magma of her rage churning within. She set her wine glass down, the heavy crystal making a dull thud against the marble tabletop. Gathering her gown, she pushed through the crowd, step by step, making her way towards Leo.
Her gait was steady, each step landing on a shard of her own dignity. The surrounding guests sensed the unusual atmosphere, parting for her as she passed. The music seemed to fade, and all eyes focused on her, filled with curiosity, surprise, and anticipation.
She reached Leo. He had his back to her, laughing about something with Drake.
"Leo."
Madeleine spoke in a quiet, cold voice that immediately silenced the conversation.
Leo’s laughter died. He turned around slowly. When he saw Madeleine's face, twisted with fury, the smile vanished from his own, replaced by an expression of weary annoyance, as if he had been expecting this.
He said nothing.
He glanced at her briefly, his expression uninterested, then resumed talking to Drake as if Madeleine wasn’t even there.
This utter dismissal was more lethal than any vicious words could ever be. It was like an invisible hand, closing around Madeleine's throat, choking off the accusations and condemnations she had prepared.
"How dare you!" After a moment of suffocation, she finally found her voice, but it was made shriller by the humiliation of being ignored. "How dare you show up here dressed like that! At his—at your brother's coronation ball, wearing that uniform, with… her!"
Leo still did not look at her. He even turned his body slightly, shielding Katie more completely by his side, and continued his hushed conversation with his friends as if Madeleine's shriek were just an irritating bit of feedback in the background music.
"Countess Madeleine," he said simply, his tone implying, "what are you doing here?"
"How dare you," Madeleine's voice began to tremble, but she fought to control it, her eyes fixed on the medals on his chest. "How dare you show up here dressed like that. At his—at your brother's coronation ball, wearing that uniform, with… her." She used all her strength not to lose her composure on the last word.
Katie's smile faded, and she looked with confusion at this hostile woman, instinctively moving closer to Leo.
"I thought you would have at least a shred of shame, Leo," Madeleine’s voice grew louder, drawing more attention. "You abandoned your duty, your kingdom, your family… and your betrothal! You've turned the uniform that stands for Cordonia's highest honor into a costume to entertain your new lover! You've made a mockery of everyone, and then you stroll in here as if nothing happened, to celebrate your despicable 'freedom'?"
Leo's brow furrowed tightly. Not from guilt, but from sheer annoyance. "I suggest you lower your voice, Madeleine. This is Liam's coronation ball. Don't make a scene."
"A scene?" Madeleine laughed, a hysterical sound that was sharp and mournful. "I'm making a scene? Isn't my very existence right now a scene of your making?! You have turned me into the biggest joke in all of Cordonia! You have reduced me from the future queen to a cast-off woman whispered about behind cupped hands! And now you have the gall to tell me not to 'make a scene'? What right do you have?!"
Her voice echoed in the grand ballroom. Even the distant orchestra had stopped playing. The entire hall fell silent, and everyone held their breath, watching the epicenter of the royal storm.
Sophie and Liam had approached, Liam’s face grim. He started to step forward, but Sophie gently held him back. She shook her head, signaling him not to interfere. This was a reckoning between Leo and Madeleine, one that had to be seen through.
Madeleine’s chest heaved. She stared at Leo with bloodshot eyes as if she wanted to tear him apart. "You ruined everything! You never even gave me a formal apology, not a single explanation! You just vanished, and then you show up with her! Tell me, is watching me suffer, watching me be pitied and ridiculed by everyone, the most thrilling part of your 'grand adventure'?!"
Faced with her desperate accusations, Leo's expression remained utterly blank. He watched her without anger, without guilt, only with a deep, profound weariness and detachment, the way one might watch a stranger having a tantrum.
He finally spoke, his voice so calm it was cruel.
"This was never about you, Countess Madeleine."
"It was never about you. It was about me. About the person I refused to become, and the life I refused to live. You were simply a part of that life. A symbol I had to shed. And now, I have."
He paused, then delivered the final blow.
"Now, if you are finished, please step aside. We have friends to greet."
With that, he didn't spare her another glance. He put a gentle, firm hand on Katie's shoulder and guided her around Madeleine, as if she were nothing more than a pillar in his way, an inconvenient piece of furniture.
In that instant, Madeleine felt her entire world shatter.
Leo's indifference was more wounding than any vicious words could ever be. It was a complete and utter dismissal from the very core of his being. He couldn't even be bothered to argue with her, because wasting emotion on her was, to him, a superfluous effort.
She was left standing there, all alone, under the collective gaze of the entire court. Those stares were like a thousand needles, piercing her from every direction. She heard the stifled gasps, the snickers of schadenfreude, the silent looks of pity.
All her pride, all her pretense, was annihilated in that moment.
The wine glass in her hand, which she hadn't realized was empty, trembled. She tried to set it down on a passing waiter's tray, but her hand slipped.
The wine glass in her hand, which she hadn't realized was empty, trembled. She tried to set it down on a passing waiter's tray, but her hand slipped.
A choked, guttural sob, like that of a wounded animal, escaped from the depths of her throat.
She couldn't take it anymore.
She clapped her hands over her face and turned. Gathering her heavy, hunter-green skirt, she ran, heedless of her grace, bolting for the ballroom's grand doors, leaving all the glamour, all the stares, and all the humiliation behind her.
----------------
The sharp, crystalline sound of the shattering glass seemed to hang in the air, a final, jarring note that had abruptly silenced the magnificent symphony of the celebration. The entire grand hall plunged into an eerie, suffocating silence. The lilting waltz had stopped mid-bar; the musicians looked at one another, instruments in hand, then glanced helplessly at their conductor. The sounds of a successful party—the chatter, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—had all been vacuumed out of the room in an instant.
All that remained was silence. An awkward, heavy silence, thick with shock and curiosity.
Every eye was instinctively drawn to the small scene of devastation. On the mirror-like white marble floor, the scarlet wine spread like a startling pool of blood amidst the countless glittering fragments of crystal. It wasn't just a broken glass; it was Madeleine's dignity, shattered on the floor.
A quick-witted palace attendant, his steps nearly soundless, glided over. With a silver dustpan and brush in his gloved hands, he swiftly and professionally cleared away the debris. Another attendant knelt on the floor with a soft white cloth, carefully wiping away the red stain, trying to erase this unseemly drama from the very floorboards that symbolized royal glory.
King Constantine's face was an unreadable mask, but his narrowed eyes and tightly pressed lips betrayed his deep displeasure. Queen Regina sighed softly, a complex, almost pitying emotion flickering in her eyes. In the end, it was Liam, the new King, who gave the conductor a calm, reassuring nod.
As if granted a pardon, the conductor at once raised his baton. A new piece of music, more subdued and cautious than before, tentatively began to fill the hall.
The tension in the room eased, and the guests resumed their conversations in hushed tones. Their attention shifted away from the future of the new King and turned instead to the recent developments involving the former crown prince’s fiancée.
The scandal had now replaced Liam and Sophie's perfect dance as the evening's most talked-about 'entertainment.'
"Oh, my goodness..." Penelope whispered, her voice trembling. "That... that was just dreadful! I've never seen Madeleine like that. She looked... she looked as if she was going mad."
Beside her, Lady Kiara Theron, the diplomat's daughter, was far more composed. She simply raised her champagne flute and took a delicate sip, her gaze indifferent as she watched the spot where Madeleine had disappeared, as if seeing the predictable conclusion of a play she had seen many times before.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Kiara said, her voice as placid as still water. "When one's entire world is built upon the status and promises of others, a collapse is inevitable once the foundation is removed."
"But... but she was our friend!" Penelope's tone was full of a naive urgency. She tugged at Kiara's sleeve. "Shouldn't we... go and see if she's alright? She ran out all alone. What if... what if she does something foolish?"
At this, Kiara finally turned her head, fixing Penelope with a look that was almost clinical in its appraisal. "A friend?" she repeated the word, a sarcastic curve to her lips. "Penelope, have you forgotten? Who was it last month who shut herself away in her manor like an oyster, refusing even our visits? Who was it, just a few days ago in the royal gardens, who informed us in that haughty tone that she didn't need our 'pity and compassion'?"
Penelope was left speechless by the questions, stammering, "But... but she was in a bad mood then..."
"When she was in a foul mood, she pushed us away. Now that she needs comforting, are we supposed to run back to her with our tails wagging like loyal pets?" Kiara's voice remained calm, but it was edged with an undeniable sharpness. "With all due respect, Penelope, she closed that door herself. We are under no obligation to knock on it for her again."
Penelope looked into Kiara's rational, almost cold eyes, then at the crowds in the ballroom who were, indeed, resuming their chatter and laughter. The small spark of kindness and hesitation in her heart was finally extinguished by the tide of reality. She let her shoulders slump in defeat and nodded. "You... you're right."
"My word!" exclaimed Maxwell as he fiddled with his camera. "I've organised parties that caused less commotion than what's happening now. I wish I'd gotten a better shot—this is sure to be front-page news in Cordonia's society columns."*
"Max!" Daniel nudged him with his elbow, exasperated. "Can you not be so gleeful? I know that Madeleine woman isn't exactly pleasant, but she looked genuinely miserable."
"Miserable? That's called reaping what you sow," came Drake's voice from the side. He was leaning against a column, arms crossed over his chest, his expression as grim as ever. "She treated marriage like a business deal and Leo like a tool to become queen. The tool is no longer hers, so the business has gone bankrupt. There's nothing to pity."
Their analysis was cool and objective, but Sophie couldn't bring herself to be so detached. She looked at the spot on the floor, now clean but still seeming to hold an invisible stain, and said softly, "But it's just... something wrong. To want a title so badly that you lose yourself completely. To lose all your friends, and yourself..."
Her words cast a brief silence over the group.
It was then that Hana, who had been quiet all this time, suddenly spoke. Her voice was soft, yet startlingly clear.
"I think I'll go find her."
Everyone turned to look at her in surprise.
"What?" Maxwell was the first to react. "Hana, are you kidding? Why would you do that? She's like a grumpy lioness right now; she'll bite the head off anyone who gets close."
"He's right," Drake added with a frown. "This isn't your problem. You don't need to get involved."
But Hana shook her head. Her eyes, which usually held a timid light, were now shining with an unprecedented, determined glow. She turned to Sophie, as if seeking her understanding.
"Sophie," she said softly, "I have to go."
Sophie looked at her, her expression filled with concern. "Why, Hana? She's in a very unstable state of mind. I don't want you to get hurt."
Hana took a deep breath, as if summoning all the courage she possessed. She looked at Sophie, and at the other friends gathered around her, and said, word by word, "Because when she was standing there, shouting... I saw something more than just her."
Her voice trembled slightly but was incredibly sincere.
"I saw myself. A possible version of myself."
"I saw my parents, far away in Shanghai, planning my future like a precise map, telling me I must become part of the court, telling me I must pursue a wealthy man I don't even know. A business transaction. They call it the family's glory, my duty. They never once asked me what I wanted."
"I look at Madeleine, and everything she did—wasn't it also to meet her father's expectations, for the glory of the Amaranth family? She turned herself into a tool, a beautiful, polished tool for acquiring power. And now that the tool has been discarded, she is in so much pain, so desperate."
"I'm afraid," Hana's voice dropped lower, tinged with a real, undisguised vulnerability. "I'm afraid that if I keep obeying, one day, I will become just like her. So," Hana's gaze grew incredibly firm, "I want to go find her. Maybe... maybe she just needs someone to talk to who understands. Not someone who understands her failure as a 'former fiancée,' but someone who understands her pain as a 'daughter,' as a 'tool.'"
After Hana finished speaking, everyone fell silent. For the first time, they saw in this quiet, introverted girl such profound insight and such immense courage.
Sophie was touched; she didnt know Hana's background, but hadn't expected Madeleine's crisis to reflect Hana's own fate. Feeling sympathy for Hana, Sophie was also proud of her courage.
"Alright," Sophie finally said, her voice full of support and trust. "Then you should go. But promise me you'll be careful. If she's still very emotional, or if she makes you feel uncomfortable, you come right back, okay? Call me. I'll come find you immediately."
Hana nodded emphatically, a grateful, relieved smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Sophie, and everyone. all of you. I will."
She gave her new friends one last look, then gathered her gown, turned, and walked without hesitation toward the golden doors through which Madeleine had vanished. Her figure was small, but her steps were uncommonly firm.
In the ballroom, the soothing music continued to play, and the guests had resumed their elegant chatter, as if the storm had never happened. But Sophie and her friends knew that tonight, something had quietly, irrevocably changed.
Hana slipped a shawl over her shoulders, raised her gown, and slipped out of the ballroom through the ornate doors, choosing the quiet nighttime palace gardens over the lively music and lights indoors.
Silvery moonlight streamed through the windows, casting light across the gallery and onto the gardens outside. Hana hurried past, adrenaline and resolve coursing through her, while the serious expressions of royal portraits watched her every move.
She feared confronting Madeleine, whose pride intimidated her. Yet, staying silent meant remaining trapped by her own timidity. Inspired by Sophie's courage and seeing Madeleine break down, she realised what she could become if she didn't change. This fear finally pushed her to face conflict.
She descended the marble steps. The night air, carrying the damp scent of roses and night-blooming jasmine, brushed against her face, cooling the nervous heat on her skin. The garden was much darker than the ballroom. Massive hedges, trimmed into geometric shapes, cast vast, deep shadows like silent beasts. In the distance, a three-tiered fountain tirelessly tossed jets of water into the air. The droplets shattered into a million glittering diamonds in the moonlight before falling back into the basin with a crisp, monotonous sound, like the echo of weeping.
Hana's gaze searched the winding paths paved with white gravel. Finally, behind the fountain, in the shadows of a row of Grecian statues depicting mythological figures, she found her.
Madeleine was huddled on a cold stone bench. She had kicked off one of her high heels, which lay abandoned at her feet. The magnificent hunter-green velvet gown was now wrinkled and crumpled in her lap, its hem stained with dirt and bits of grass from her desperate flight. She was no longer the lofty Countess, no longer the radiant queen-to-be. At this moment, she was just a helpless woman, abandoned by the world. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her shoulders shaking violently with silent, suppressed sobs that were somehow more heart-wrenching than any loud wail.
Hana stopped a few paces away. She looked at Madeleine's back, at the spine that was once held so straight but was now bent in sorrow, and a powerful, aching sympathy rose in her heart. She took a deep breath. The cool garden air filled her lungs and solidified her final resolve.
She took a step forward. The gravel crunched under her foot, a sound that was faint, yet startlingly clear in the stillness.
Madeleine’s body went rigid. The sobbing stopped instantly. She was like a startled, wounded animal, whipping her head around.
Her face was pale in the moonlight, her makeup smeared by tears into dark streaks. Her eyes were red and swollen, yet full of stubborn hostility and alertness.
"Who's there?" her voice was hoarse, as if scraped raw by sand.
Hana's heart leaped into her throat. She took a few more steps forward, out of the shadow of the hedge, letting the moonlight illuminate her own face.
"Madeleine... Countess Madeliene?" Hana ventured, her voice lighter, more tremulous than she’d intended.
Madeleine squinted, taking several seconds to focus on the newcomer. A flicker of confusion crossed her features, as she clearly didn't recognize this Asian face, but it was at once replaced by a sharper, more piercing anger of being intruded upon.
"Who are you?" she demanded, as if Hana's very presence was a crime. "No matter who you are, get out!"
"I..." Hana was pricked by the thorns in her tone and instinctively took half a step back, but she didn't leave.
"Didn't you hear me?!" Madeleine's voice rose sharply. She struggled to sit up straight on the bench, trying to reassemble the shattered pieces of her pride. "Were you sent to laugh at me? Was it Sophia Taylor? Or that fool, Penelope? Go back and tell them that even in my ruin, I, Madeleine Amaranth, am not a spectacle for commoners and traitors to pity! Get out!"
The word "commoner" stung Hana for a moment, but strangely, she felt no anger. Because in Madeleine's furious, defensive roar, she heard a desperate whimper.
"My name is Hana Lee," Hana said, not leaving. She simply stood there, her tone so calm it was almost stubborn. "I wasn't sent by anyone. I'm not here to pity you, or to laugh at you."
Madeleine let out a cold, shrill laugh that sounded jarring in the quiet garden. "Oh? Then what are you here for? To admire a discarded antique as it decays in the moonlight?"
"No," Hana shook her head. Her gaze drifted past Madeleine to the fountain, endlessly repeating its cycle of rising and falling. "I'm here because... when you were in the ballroom tonight... doing what you did, I think... I understood how you felt."
"You understood me?" Madeleine sounded as if she had just heard the world's most absurd joke. "You? A girl whose name I don't even know, who appeared from God knows where, you say you understand me? What do you know of five years? Do you know what it's like to be groomed from birth for a single purpose, for your life to be a single path leading to the throne of a queen? Do you know what it feels like when that path suddenly crumbles beneath your feet? You know nothing!"
Her emotions flared again, her voice turning sharp. But Hana didn't argue. She just listened quietly, waiting for her to finish.
Only when Madeleine paused, panting from the outburst, did Hana speak again. Her voice was still soft, but it carried an undeniable force.
"Perhaps I don't know what five years is like, or what it feels like to be a queen in waiting," she said slowly. "But I do know what it feels like when your parents look at you, and see not you, but their own unfulfilled ambitions and the glory of their family name. I know what it feels like to have a price tag put on your life, to be told that your worth is measured only by the benefit you can bring to your family."
Madeleine's ragged breathing stopped abruptly.
Hana did not look at her. Her gaze remained on the distant fountain, as if she were telling someone else's story.
"My parents sent me to Cordonia not because I love its history or its art, but because they felt this was the best market where I could realize my 'value.' They told me to study court etiquette, to befriend the powerful, to… to catch the eye of Prince Liam."
She gave a self-deprecating smile. "They believe that if I could become the king's consort, the Lee family name would shine in Cordonia, even across all of Europe. They planned everything for me, just as your parents planned everything for you. They told me it was my 'opportunity,' my 'destiny.'"
Madeleine was completely silent now. She sat rigidly, the hostility and anger draining from her face, replaced by a deeper, dazed sorrow. She looked at Hana as if into a mirror—a mirror that reflected the most pathetic, unacknowledged truth of her own soul.
"I'm afraid," Hana's voice dropped even lower, filled with a real, raw vulnerability. "I'm afraid that if I fail to meet their expectations, they will be disappointed in me. I'm afraid that if I mess up, I will become worthless. And I'm even more afraid that... even if I succeed, that life is not the one I want at all."
She finally turned her head and looked directly into Madeleine's eyes. Her own dark eyes, usually so timid, were startlingly clear.
"So, when you were standing there tonight," Hana said, enunciating each word, "shouting those things at Prince Leo, what I heard wasn't the anger of a jilted fiancée. I heard the cry of a soul that had been imprisoned for too long, using all its strength to condemn the shackles of 'expectation' and 'glory' that had pushed it into the abyss."
"You weren't grieving a lost love. You were mourning a life that was manipulated, planned, and ultimately, turned to dust."
The garden fell into a long silence once more. Only the sound of the fountain continued its tireless splashing.
Madeleine slowly lowered her head, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders no longer shook violently, but began to tremble with a silent, more hopeless kind of shudder. Hana's words, like a precise scalpel, had cut through the layers of pride and fury she had wrapped around her wound, exposing the deepest, most painful source of her agony.
She had always believed she was unique, that her suffering was singular. That she was a tragic victim chosen by fate. But now, this insignificant commoner girl, whom she had never even deigned to notice, had used the plainest language to voice the most secret, unacknowledged truth of her heart.
It turned out they were the same. Both just pawns on a board, moved by forces beyond their control.
It was unknown how long had passed before Madeleine's sobs gradually subsided. She neither raised her head nor spoke, but just sat there quietly, like a soulless statue, exuding an overwhelming sadness that seemed impossible to dispel.
Hana knew that she had said all she should. Any more words would be superfluous. She made no attempt to comfort her or get closer. She just stood there motionless, quietly watching her.
She knew she had done all she could. At this moment, Madeleine needed not more words but a space where she could face the ruins of her own heart alone. She silently gave her a barely perceptible curtsy, then prepared to turn and leave quietly.
Just then, a night breeze blew through the garden.
The wind was colder than before, carrying the damp chill of the late night, howling from the depths of the garden. It whistled through the hedges, ruffling Hana's gown and sending the mist from the fountain, like a thin, icy veil, lashing against Madeleine's bare shoulders and back.
Her expensive dark green velvet dress, though sumptuous, was not warm. After a long period of sitting still and emotional exhaustion, her body had turned cold. This sudden chill made her shiver involuntarily. She instinctively hugged her arms, trying to draw a little warmth.
And then, a sound so utterly common and undignified, shattered the night's quiet.
"Achoo!"
It was a loud, unguarded, even slightly pathetic sneeze.
Madeleine herself froze. She lifted her head abruptly, her face a mask of astonishment. It was as if the sneeze had come from a stranger inhabiting her body, a stranger who was mortal, vulnerable, and susceptible to the cold. It instantly shattered the last vestiges of her tragic, self-important pose.
Hana, who had been about to leave, stopped. She turned back and saw Madeleine’s face, a mess of tear-streaks, shock, and utter mortification. In that moment, Hana no longer saw the lofty Duke’s daughter, nor the humiliated former fiancée of the Crown Prince. She just saw a miserable lady who had been crying for too long in the cold and was about to fall ill.
Hana said nothing. She simply, silently, slipped the beige shawl from her own shoulders. It was woven from soft wool, a gift from her nanny before she left for Cordonia. It still carried the faint, warm scent of home.
She walked to the bench and gently held out the shawl, its warmth a tangible presence in the cool air.
"Put this on," she said softly, her voice full of an undeniable concern. "It's cold out. You'll get sick."
Her tone was so plain, so matter-of-fact. There was not a trace of pity or charity in it. It was the simple, primal kindness of one person seeing another in need and offering a piece of warmth.
Madeleine's eyes were fixed on the shawl.
Her first instinct was to refuse. To lash out with the sharp, proud cruelty that was her last line of defense.
"I don't need your pity!" — the words were already on the tip of her tongue. Her pride, the fractured, shard-like remnants of her pride, were screaming at her to slap away this common girl's offering. She, Madeleine Amaranth, even at her lowest, did not need charity from a nobody.
But somehow, the words wouldn't come out.
Because another gust of wind blew past, and her body, beyond her control, shivered again. She was truly cold. A cold that seeped into her bones, mixed with sorrow and dampness. It was a truth so real that her pride could no longer deceive her.
She looked at Hana. The girl's eyes were so clean in the moonlight. There was no curiosity in them, no calculation, no sympathy. Only a calm, clear concern.
Madeleine's lips parted, but the scathing refusal she had intended to utter was swallowed back down. Her hand, after a fierce internal battle, finally, slowly, hesitantly, reached out.
Her fingertips touched the shawl. The soft, warm texture was a stark contrast to the cold, smooth silk of her own gown. That warmth felt like a strange magic, traveling up from her fingertips, bit by bit, toward her frozen heart.
She took the shawl, her fingers so stiff they were clumsy.
"...Fine..."
The words were forced from her throat, so quiet they were nearly inaudible, raspy with a reluctance she couldn't hide. But she had said them.
Seeing that she had taken it, Hana lingered no longer. In that brief moment, she had keenly noticed the change in her: a barely perceptible softening at the corners of Madeleine's tightly drawn mouth. She knew that for someone like Madeleine, acceptance was already the most difficult concession. She realized that a tiny crack had appeared in the icy fortress of Madeleine's heart.
"You'd better go back inside and rest soon." She simply gave a small nod and said softly, then, she turned and left. Her light footsteps receded down the gravel path, until they vanished completely into the garden's darkness.
The entire world was silent again, and Madeleine was alone.
She sat on the cold bench, clutching the shawl that still held the warmth of another person's body. The warmth felt so foreign, so... bewildering.
Slowly, she draped the shawl over her own shoulders, which were trembling from the cold and from her weeping.
The moment that simple, rustic warmth enveloped her, Madeleine's tears, without any warning, began to stream down her face once more.
But these tears were completely different from before.
They were not tears of anger, of bitterness, of hatred. They were not tears of self-pity for her lost title or for being abandoned by Leo.
This was a new feeling, something she had never experienced.
It was... a flood of tears born from immense confusion and a faint, flickering warmth.
___________
The fire in the king’s study crackled low, the scent of smoke mingling with the sharp bite of aged scotch. Liam and Leo were each sprawled in the oversized high back chairs like two boys who had raided their father’s liquor cabinet.
Leo tipped the bottle dramatically, filling their glasses to the brim. “To the shiny new king,” he said, raising his glass.
Liam lifted his in reply. “To you, and the fact that someone actually agreed to marry you. Miracles do happen.”
Leo barked out a laugh. “Careful, little brother. I’ve still got years of embarrassing stories I could share at your wedding. Don’t tempt me.”
They drank, and for a while the room was filled only with the clink of crystal and the easy stretch of silence that belonged only to brothers.
“You ever think about how different things could’ve turned out?” Leo asked, swirling his drink lazily.
Liam shot him a dry look. “Different, how? You as king and me burning down the palace by accident?”
“Exactly,” Leo said with mock seriousness. “History’s greatest missed opportunity.”
Liam chuckled, shaking his head. “The world doesn’t run on what-ifs. Only on what comes next.”
Leo leaned back, grinning. “Then promise me one thing—we don’t let the crown turn us into grumpy old men with no sense of humor.”
“Fine,” Liam said, smirking. “As long as you promise not to make my advisors cry at every council session.”
“No guarantees,” Leo shot back, raising his glass again. “Making them cry is half the fun.”
Liam laughed, finishing the last of his scotch before setting the glass aside. He pushed up from his chair, stretching.
“Leaving already?” Leo asked, raising a brow. “The night’s still young.”
Liam’s smile turned sly. “Not for me. Sophie’s waiting.”
Leo groaned, tossing a cushion at him. “Of course she is. Go on then, Your Majesty. Don’t keep the future queen waiting.”
Liam caught the cushion, grinning as he headed for the door. Behind him, Leo’s laughter chased him into the hall, warm and familiar.
The halls of the palace were quiet at this hour, the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses from the evening’s banquet fading into memory. Liam moved with purpose, his steps light despite the weight of the crown.
He paused outside the chamber door, the golden handle warm beneath his palm. For a moment, he let the tension of the day roll off him—the speeches, the endless congratulations, the heavy scotch with Leo. Then he pushed the door open.
Sophie was already there, curled up on the edge of the bed in a silk gown the color of moonlight, her hair tumbling loose around her shoulders. She looked up as he entered, and the tired lines of responsibility melted from his face.
“You’re late,” she teased, though her smile gave her away.
“Leo kept me hostage with scotch,” Liam said with a laugh, closing the door behind him. “You should be grateful I made it out alive.”
Sophie arched a brow. “Hostage, hmm? Judging by your grin, you didn’t fight too hard.”
He crossed the room in a few strides, sinking onto the bed beside her. “Maybe not. But I had a better reason to escape.”
Her smile softened, her hand finding his. “And what reason is that, Your Majesty?”
Liam leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You.”
Meeting her lips, Liam’s kiss deepened, no longer careful but hungry, as though he’d spent the entire night waiting for this one moment. Sophie melted into him, her fingers sliding up into his hair, pulling him closer. The silk of her gown whispered against his skin as he drew her into his arms, holding her as though he’d never let go.
“You don’t know what it does to me,” he murmured against her lips, “coming back from a day like this… and finding you here.”
Sophie smiled breathlessly, her hands smoothing over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Maybe I do,” she teased softly, before kissing him again—fierce this time, claiming him as much as he claimed her.
The fire cast a warm, flickering glow over the room, but it was nothing compared to the heat rising between them. Liam’s hands traced the curve of Sophie’s waist, pulling her closer, feeling her heart pound against his chest. Every brush of her skin ignited a fire he hadn’t realized had been simmering all day.
“Liam…” Sophie’s breath caught as his lips traveled from hers to her jaw, lingering, teasing, claiming.
He looked at her, his eyes dark with desire and tenderness. “I need you,” he whispered, voice low and raw. “I’ve waited all night for this.”
She smiled, hands tangling in his hair as she pressed her body into his. “Then don’t wait any longer.”
Their lips met again in a kiss that stole their breath, deep and insistent. Liam’s hands roamed over her back and shoulders, pulling her silk gown aside, revealing the warmth of her skin. Sophie’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, down his chest, feeling the strength beneath the kingly exterior, the steady heat that belonged only to her.
Every touch, every whispered word, made the world outside disappear. The crown, the court, the palace—all of it faded until there was nothing but Liam and Sophie, tangled in the sheets, in the firelight, in the sweet, desperate need of each other.
Liam’s lips trailed down her neck, across her collarbone, eliciting gasps and soft moans that made his own pulse race. “You’re everything,” he murmured against her skin. “Everything I’ve ever wanted… everything I’ve ever needed.”
Sophie pulled him back up, pressing herself against him, her mouth claiming his in a kiss that was fierce, tender, and unrelenting all at once. “And you’re mine,” she breathed, “completely.”
Series Summary: The young Cordonian King Liam and his queen, Aurora, are the perfect royal fairytale. But their peace is shattered by a secret organization, "Via Imperii." In a calculated plot, Aurora and her daughter are imprisoned abroad, while a woman named Cassandra appears in Cordonia with a boy proven by DNA to be Liam's "secret son." Attacked from all sides, Liam and Aurora must fight from worlds apart, relying on their absolute trust to uncover a centuries-old conspiracy and save their family and kingdom.
⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: This series will contain Heavy Angst, Political Intrigue, Psychological Themes, Depictions of Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Situations, Violence, Characrer Death, and sensitive subjects including implications of Fertility Ethics. Please read with discretion.
(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship series
A/N Sorry for the delay. My life is still in an uphill battle with everything, LOL. I'm so sorry for being silent. It's, well, it's been a lot. I'm going to do my best to finish this series along with requests and my other series. So, without further ado, here's the next part in this crackship.
Masterlist
Chapter 8
**************
What did I do wrong?
Maxwell stared up at the ceiling as he lay sprawled on his bed. Moonlight cast his room in shadow, allowing his mind to focus on the events of the past few weeks.
He was still in a state of disbelief. Not only did his own burgeoning love life end without warning, he'd had to stand by and watch two of his best friends be denied their own happily ever after.
What happened?
As he'd done for countless hours since the coronation ball, he relived every second of that fateful night. The anticipation of all his dreams coming true was followed by them actually coming true and then ending with his entire universe falling apart. None of it made any sense.
How had things ended so horribly and so quickly?
Why did Olivia disappear before the announcement? Why didn't she at least say goodbye to him? She seemed to enjoy their one moment of passion. Why was she ghosting him?
Where is she? Is she back at Lythikos and telling servants to refuse my calls? Or is she truly not there?
Does she hate me?
He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands and released a frustrated groan. His thoughts were going to be the death of him if he didn't focus on something else. He knew he should concentrate on helping Riley with her return to Cordonian society instead of his own wretched love life. He should also be trying to find out who took those photos of her.
Snorting softly, he began to think that maybe she and Liam were like him, destined for a blink and you miss it, painful romance. Nothing was ever guaranteed that love would last. He'd certainly witnessed his fair share of those disastrous relationships within his own family. Why shouldn't he follow suit?
Flopping onto his stomach, he buried his face into his pillow and did his best to forget all about that fateful night. It obviously didn't mean as much to Olivia as it did to him. So why should he torture himself with questions that would probably never be answered nor any chance of fixing them?
Cursing, he flipped once again onto his back.
Why do I love her so much?
Reaching over to his nightstand, he swiped up a bottle of sleeping pills and popped one into his mouth. Like many of the previous nights, he knew the only way he'd ever get any sleep was with medicinal help. He'd always struggled with turning his mind off late at night. Complicate it with more personal problems and he would become a permanent insomniac.
"Things have to get better." He mumbled while waiting on the pill to take effect.
As he began to drift off to a dreamless sleep, he silently prayed that he'd wake up with everything somehow being miraculously fixed.
**************
Lythikos, a few weeks later...
Olivia could hardly believe what her mind was telling her. The damning evidence was right there and yet her heart, that traitorous organ, was refusing to accept it.
Maxwell couldn't be the one to set us all up, could he?
The photos from New York that'd been sold certainly pointed to him being the photographer that ruined Riley's chances. He'd known what room she'd been assigned. He might have even been the one to lure Tariq there.
But why ruin her shot with Liam?
He seems ridiculously fond of Riley, she thought with a quick burst of jealousy. She still didn't like how close he'd gotten to the American.
"Damn it." She whispered. "How dare he make me care about him."
If he betrayed Riley and Liam with those first set of photographs, and possibly with the new ones...why wouldn't he also betray me?
Could he have sent the letter? Granted, if he did, then it was with the express purpose to insure Riley winning Liam. So, if he sent it, why would he then turn around and have damning pictures of Riley for all the world to see?
Snatching up the paper that had the power to end the world as she'd once known it, Olivia ignored the content and simply studied it. The handwriting didn't match up with the poem he'd once written along with all the other notes throughout the years. That still didn't mean he wasn't capable of creating the story about her parents. Given how over active his imagination was proven just from the things he'd written her in the past, she could easily see him fabricating this mysterious past of her parents.
What was even worse was that he or whoever did write it was right. Her parents weren't the heroes she was raised to believe. They were traitors to not only their country but also to herself.
How dare they leave her all alone in the world? No guidance. No chance to know how to lead a normal life with normal relationships with others. Nothing except a few scraps of memories and lies to keep her warm at night.
"Your grace?" Her butler cleared his throat. "There was another phone call from Lord Beaumont."
"And?" Olivia snapped. "Didn't you tell him I'm not here?"
"I did." He paused. "He asked me to give you this message when I next saw you."
Olivia stiffened as he handed her a folded slip of paper. A part of her wanted to throw it into the fireplace and not even see what it said. Her heart though forced her fingers to unfold it.
I won't call again and bother her. I get it. She doesn't want to be with me. I just want her to know that I miss her. I love her. Always have and always will. I want her to be happy and if it isn't with me, then I understand.
Unwanted tears filled her eyes. How dare he make her feel anything other than hatred? Crumbling the note, she threw it into the flames and watched the edges begin to blacken.
"Your grace, is there anything I can--"
"Leave me." She ordered.
Once alone, the tears began to slowly slip down her cheeks. Cursing Maxwell to the deepest pit of hell, she sat down and began to plan what her next moves should be in order to find her blackmailer.
She knew she needed to prepare herself for Maxwell to be the cause of everything that happened. If it was him, she would unleash a series of torture that only those of her bloodline could imagine. She would make him regret ever playing with her heart.
Wiping her cheeks, she got to her feet to go pack.
There was an engagement tour she needed to join.
***************
Venice.....
Maxwell could hardly believe that not only was Olivia helping Riley, she was also sitting across from him and having dinner like nothing had ever happened.
He did his best to not stare at her. He barely spoke to Francesco much less anyone else. His mind raced with the questions he longed to ask Olivia. He knew that he couldn't since he'd promised he wouldn't bother her again.
Picking at his food, he focused on her voice. She didn't sound like anything was wrong. Her tone held the usual confidence with a dash of sarcasm he'd heard his entire life. Her smile was still a touch smug as if everything was a private joke. Her body seemed relaxed.
The only time anything different occurred was when she glanced his way. Her fingers tightened momentarily on the stem of her wine glass before she refocused upon Francesco. If Maxwell hadn't been staring, he would have missed it. He doubted anyone who wasn't as attuned as he was to Olivia would ever have caught that slight action.
Does she feel anything for me, he wondered. Am I destined to be nothing more than a one night stand with the one person I actually want to spend my life with?
Gulping down his wine, he motioned for the waiter for a refill. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bertrand frowning over what he knew would be deemed, mannerless overindulgence.
Surely thanking the waiter made it simple overindulgence, he thought with a snort.
Olivia glanced once more at him when he wasn't paying attention. She hated that he drew her focus away from her mission. She could tell not only was he stunned with her appearance but that he also was not going to ask her why she did what she did.
Her heart was softening from the expression on his face. She knew him too well. She knew his smiles, his body language, even the way he looked out of those eyes of his. He wasn't attempting to paste a fake smile or even feign interest in the conversation. He slouched in his chair while drinking yet another glass of wine.
Her eyes dropped down to his plate. He hadn't even bothered to pretend to eat the courses that followed the first.
He's depressed. Maybe he didn't--
"This has been a pleasure." Francesco rose from his chair. "I look forward to speaking with you again Lady Riley."
He bowed to Olivia and Bertrand stating how good it was to see them and hoped they enjoyed their time in Venice.
Once he was gone, Riley's relief was shared by all at the table.
"I think that went well." She said.
"Of course it did." Bertrand bragged. "After all the work we've put in, you are more than ready for dinners with dignitaries."
"You did amazing, Blossom." Maxwell added. "Just like you always do."
Olivia grit her teeth to keep from making a snide remark. She loathed that he had a nickname for the woman beside her.
Bertrand cleared his throat while standing. "If you ladies will excuse us, I need to speak to my brother for a moment."
Maxwell looked up and mentally groaned at the expression on his brother's face. Of all the times Bertrand could give him a lecture, it would be on a night like this. Pushing back from the table, Maxwell staggered to his feet and reluctantly followed him across the room.
Once out of ear shot, Olivia produced an envelope and set it in front of Riley. "I think you should--"
"I thought they'd never leave." Drake interrupted as he took over Maxwell's chair.
Olivia narrowed her eyes at him as he and Riley teased each other over boring nobles.
Drake met her gaze with a suspicious glare of his own. "What's going on? Why are you here?"
"Why? Because I'm the only one doing something to fix the mess that we," she gestured to herself and Riley, "are in."
Drake snorted in derision. "How are you involved in all this? No pictures were released of you caught in some nobleman's arms."
Olivia hesitated. She could very well have been captured multiple times being kissed by a particular noble. Now that she thought of it, it was strange that none had been taken of her and Maxwell given how swiftly it made Riley an ineligible party for the Crown. It would have done the same for Olivia.
Maybe Maxwell didn't--
"She's being blackmailed, Drake." Riley argued. "She and I both were targeted the night of Liam's coronation."
Drake's face revealed his shock. Olivia felt a spurt of satisfaction in seeing it. Nothing brought a smile faster to her face than seeing him knocked down a peg or two.
"You're being blackmailed?" He asked.
"I am." Olivia declared. "I received a letter that, let's just say it has some rather damning evidence that would destroy the Nevrakis name along with my ability to care for the people of my duchy."
Drake slowly nodded as he stared off past her shoulder. His brow furrowed the longer he considered all that happened that night.
"You were both Liam's top choices." He stated. "Everyone knew it would end up being between the two of you."
"Exactly." Olivia responded. "Which is why I believe we were attacked by the same person."
Drake grimaced as he gestured towards the envelope in front of Riley. "What's that?"
"Pictures of Liam's getaway in New York."
Riley gasped. "Drake, I thought you said you and Bastien got those back?"
"We did." He took the envelope from her and looked at the pictures. "How did you get these?"
"Please." Olivia flicked her fingers as if it was nothing. "I'm the Duchess of Lythikos. There's rarely any information I can't get my hands on."
"But I destroyed these pictures!" He exclaimed.
"Those are copies of the originals." She pointed out. "I think whoever took and sold these photographs might be connected to my letter and Riley's scandal."
Olivia mentally winced at her use of might. Why couldn't she condemn Maxwell? If anyone looked at those pictures, they'd know he'd been the photographer. Why was she determined to-- she realized an argument was forming at their table
"It can't be." Riley broke into her thoughts. "This is Maxwell we are talking about!"
Drake shoved the photos back into the envelope. "Look Brooks, I know you're friends with the guy, but he had to have taken these."
"He's your friend too!" She snapped, surprising both Olivia and Drake. "He's done nothing but encourage and help me. I know he's innocent."
"Then why isn't he in any of the pictures?" He shot back. "Why were they sold?"
Olivia quietly watched the two. What surprised her the most was how adamant Riley was in Maxwell's innocence.
"Fine. Let's confront him." Drake slammed the envelope down. "See if he's as perfect of a friend as you claim he is."
The trio walked over to where Bertrand and Maxwell were talking. The Duke's frustration mounted with this particular interruption.
"Maxwell," Riley began, "we need you to explain yourself."
"How could you?" Drake snapped when Maxwell tried to joke about being an enigma. "We trusted you and you betray Liam like this?"
"Betray?" Maxwell stuttered. He glanced at Olivia and wondered if she'd let it slip that they'd attempted to get together before Liam officially chose a suitor. "I don't--"
Drake shoved the envelope into Maxwell's chest. "Did you take these?"
Maxwell opened it up and began to flip through the pictures. He paused at one where Riley and Liam were sitting close together at the bonfire on the beach.
Flipping it towards Riley, he said, "I thought this was the best one."
Olivia felt her heart drop. She knew he took them, but a part of her had ridiculously held out hope that he'd convince her with his denial.
"You sold these!" Drake accused, cutting off Riley's calm questioning. "Then you turned around and set Brooks up with Tariq!"
Maxwell jerked upright at that. The little bit of tipsiness he felt with dinner disappeared.
"I would never do that to her!" He waved the envelope. "These were going to be a gift for Liam and Riley, a wedding gift, of their first night falling in love."
"You're just like all the other nobles." Drake got in his face. "Only concerned with--"
"Stop!" Bertrand pleaded. "It was me."
Olivia gasped.
Hanging his head, Bertrand explained that he'd been the one to sell the photographs. He explained his lack of faith in Riley being able to actually win Liam in the end and how he'd needed the money to help keep his duchy afloat.
Riley reached out and stopped the apologies, saying she forgave him and understood the pressures he'd been under.
Bowing to her, Bertrand left.
Maxwell rubbed his hands over his face. With all that happened, he either needed a very strong drink or dessert. Maybe both.
Brushing off Drake's attempt at an apology, Maxwell walked alone back to their table. He couldn't help but wonder why Olivia was the one to be part of his accusers. She hadn't said anything, just listened and observed.
Was it some kind of test? Or did she really think I'd do something like that?
His empty stomach churned in the midst of ordering both a drink and some tiramisu. He needed something to soothe him if he was to help Riley corner the real photographer. So far, this night was right up there with the worst of his life.
****************
"Liam?" Olivia lowered her voice as she glanced about at the mingling nobles. "Do you have a moment?"
Liam doubted he'd ever have a moment to actually talk to the people he cared about. His gaze lingered on Riley as he debated what he could do to be alone with her. Just as he was about to say no to Olivia, he noticed she was visibly upset.
"Of course." He murmured, gesturing for her to follow him to a dimly lit aclove.
"What's wrong?" He whispered.
She told him everything, leaving nothing out, including her mistaken doubt in Maxwell and her parents actions.
She hated seeing the pitying look he was directing towards her.
Glancing over to where Maxwell was approaching a group of ladies to retrieve Riley, she asked the all important question.
"How do I fix this?"
Liam folded his arms while his brow furrowed. He knew it took a lot for Olivia to share so much, especially when it revealed her mistakes and anything that could cast a shadow on her family name. He also knew that her coming to him with this meant that his answer was one she not only fully trusted but also depended on.
"I think we need to address what it is you are most hoping to repair." He began.
Liam watched as she once again looked over in Maxwell's direction. He wondered if she even realized she'd done so.
"I, surely I should..." She trailed off, eyes widening with the commotion forming.
Photographers were exclaiming and snapping pictures as quickly as their cameras allowed.
Liam's jaw dropped at the sight of Maxwell kneeling on one knee and gazing up at Riley as if he absolutely adored her. His love was also looking down at his friend as if he were her own prince charming.
Neither he nor Olivia could think of how to stop their worst nightmares coming to life.
****************
A few hours later...
Maxwell boarded the train after making sure Riley went to meet Liam. He couldn't help but smile over the delight that had flooded her face when he told her a certain king was waiting for a romantic moment or two at the beach.
He hoped they enjoyed themselves. Other than finding another clue, his own night felt like a bust. He was hungry, tired, and terribly depressed from all that had been revealed.
Groaning softly, he decided to raid the train's bar for some snacks. He bent down, opening up a cabinet, and stuck his head in there while rummaging around the packages of peanuts and chips in the hopes of finding something a bit more substantial.
"How did it go?"
He bumped his head when he heard Olivia. Yanking it out of the cabinet, he clumsily became upright and faced her.
Just like at dinner, she was casually sitting at the bar as if nothing had ever happened between them.
He felt a rare spark of anger. He knew he didn't deserve someone like her, but to be given a glimpse of how it could be between them then just to be denied nothing with no explanation, no care for how he might feel, no anything; it hurt worse than anything anyone had ever done to him.
"What are you talking about?" He asked in a cold tone.
Olivia decided to persevere. She owed him so many explanations. Apologies. She wasn't exactly certain where to start. She only knew one thing.
Seeing Maxwell's fake proposal to Riley made her realize that he was more important to her than clearing her family name. For one brief moment, she'd been struck with what she was losing. The thought of never being with him again, hearing the crazy declarations of his feelings, seeing him look at her in a way no other man had ever done so; it hurt her worse than anything she'd ever felt.
Swallowing, she lowered her eyes.
"Were you able to catch the photographer?"
"You mean the one who actually took the photos of Riley and Tariq? The one who then ruined Riley in the public eye?" He taunted. "That one?".
Olivia nodded. She wondered if he'd even allow her to apologize.
Maxwell scoffed. He reached for a bottle of vodka and poured himself a glass. He didn't bother looking for a mix to make his usual tropical cocktail. He felt he was deserving of a night of strong liquor.
After dropping a few ice cubes in the glass, he took a long sip.
"We caught her." He responded. "It's only led to yet another mystery to uncover."
"Do you want some help?" Olivia hesitantly offered.
He snorted in his glass as he downed the rest. Slamming it down on the bar, he leaned over on his elbows until he was eye level with her.
"I would honestly have loved having your help from the beginning, but you refused to answer or return any of my calls."
She bit down on her lip, her eyes never leaving his. An unnerving silence stretched between them.
"Why?" His voice cracked. "Why did you--"
Penelope, Kiara, and a few other nobles entered, talking about the upcoming plans in Venice.
Olivia caught Maxwell's hand when he attempted to leave from behind the bar.
"Take a walk with me." She pleaded.
His eyes narrowed. Why should he? Why go somewhere else to continue to have his heart stomped on.
"Please." She added.
I'm so weak, he thought to himself. Why can't I ever say no to this woman?
He wanted to say no. His lips parted, yet he couldn't get the damn word out. Those eyes of hers, the softness that he'd only seen one other time on that amazing night of theirs, was there in the green depths. While he couldn't deny her, he also found himself reluctant to say yes. His heart was so battered, so bruised.
Why add more pain?
"I need to talk to you." She lowered her voice when she noticed some of the nobles lingering near the bar.
Taking a deep breath, she gently pulled him towards the exit.
"I need to explain," she hoped he believed her, "and, um, I need to tell you how sorry I am."
His eyebrows lifted.
Olivia saw his hesitancy and gripped his hand. If he was going to refuse to go with her, then she'd keep him here until everyone else left and force him to hear her out. If he decided he wanted nothing more to do with her after that, well, then she'd do whatever it took to change his mind.
If there was one thing she knew about herself, it was that she would never go down without a fight.
(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) In a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship Series
Song Inspiration Is It Love by Fitz and the Tantrums
A/N Picking up directly from the end of the previous chapter.
Masterlist
Chapter 6
If there was one thing Maxwell learned from his many dreams, it was that one never wastes time.
Once the words, kiss me, registered, he surged forward and did as she requested. He grasped her hips, pulling her as close to his body as he could. He never knew when Bertrand or his alarm or some other random noise would yank him from these perfect moments spent in a dream world. He only knew he needed to horde every single second with the woman who ruled his mind.
And then...
He realized he wasn't dreaming after all.
Breaking away took every single bit of willpower that he lacked when it came to Olivia.
"What?" She asked when he merely stared at her.
"I-" he swallowed, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was really in his bed and was wanting him to kiss her. "You..."
He'd never questioned things before in his life, so why start now?
"Max-" Olivia sank against him when he captured her lips in another long deep kiss.
Her own mind seized with victory. The feel of his arms around her already sent delicious desire pulsating throughout her body. His lips, how had they gained such power to make her almost senseless? Why did they feel like they were made specifically for her?
A few stray thoughts that her experiment was going better than planned drifted through her mind. She had been certain that Maxwell would have questioned her to the point of her walking away in frustration. She'd been prepared to shut him up before he could draw her into a needless discussion. Kissing seemed the best way to curb his talkative self and she decided early on that showing him a little skin would be another effective method if the kiss didn't work.
She knew she'd shocked him by being in his room and even took a bit of evil glee in it. His reaction to thinking it was all a dream was actually, as much as it galled her, quite endearing.
Plus, it didn't hurt that he immediately did exactly as she said. It was a sign that a future together could be possible, especially if he never questioned her on it.
But...
Why wasn't he questioning her? Was he not the least bit curious over her decision to not only spend the majority of the evening waiting for him in his room nor the fact that she insisted he kiss her? Did he take it for granted that someone like her would want someone like him?
Olivia broke away from his mind numbing kiss to glare at him.
Maxwell began to silently curse himself.
How have I already screwed up a kiss?
The look on her face made him feel like he was thirteen years old again. That spin the bottle game had been his first chance to kiss Olivia and he'd ended up giving his first kiss to a disappointed Kiara. That particular event led him to avoid ever taking part in that party game again.
Bracing himself for a critique on his lip maneuvers, he asked what was wrong.
"Aren't you curious as to why I'm here?" She asked.
"Yeah." His eyes searched hers. "I am."
She sat up, still straddling his waist. "And?"
"You told me to kiss you." He shrugged. "I'm not going to waste time asking questions when I can kiss you instead."
Granted that was what Olivia wanted, yet she also knew they needed to discuss what all this meant before things got a little too carried away.
Maxwell stared up at her, waiting to see what she wanted of him.
"We need to talk about boundaries." She began.
"Boundaries?" He mumbled, utterly confused.
"Yes." She snapped. "We can't just jump on each other whenever we want."
His eyes widened over her use of the word, jump.
She huffed in irritation. "This must be planned out until we figure out what this is."
"Okay." He slowly nodded. "Do you know what this is?"
"Of course I do." She folded her arms. "It's a test."
"For what?" He prodded.
"For whether or not we can be together." Olivia huffed.
Honestly, could she be with someone so clueless?
Maxwell shot up so quickly, she had to grasp his shoulders to keep from slipping off his lap. His nose bumped into hers causing her to look directly into those incredible blue eyes of his.
"Together, together?" He asked. "Like what I've been wanting?"
She nodded. "Why else would I be here?"
"Hold up!" He gripped her waist. "You came here tonight, waited, to see if we can be a couple?"
"Yes." She hissed, eyes narrowing upon his. "I wouldn't wait on you for anything pointless."
It didn't matter that she looked like she could easily strangle him without feeling a shred of guilt. Maxwell was on cloud nine, scratch that, cloud nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine, in hearing her say the very words he'd longed for. He could hardly believe that his rotten luck in life had somehow allowed this miracle of all miracles to come into existence.
"Are you going to listen?" Olivia demanded when he did nothing but stare at her in awe.
"Yes!" He relaxed back against the headboard. "I'll do whatever you want."
That cooled her temper to hear his ready agreement.
"Now then," she cleared her throat, "until Liam officially picks Riley, we can't be seen openly together."
Maxwell nodded. "Okay."
"Once that's taken care of, we meet when and where I decide." She declared. "Got it?"
"Got it." His smile grew.
"Why are you smiling over that?" She snapped.
"Because I'm happy." He admitted. "We get to be together!"
"When I say so." She reminded him.
"Right." He couldn't stop smiling. "When you say so."
She eyed him.
"Can I still ask you out?" He asked. "It will still be up to you, but I would like the chance to let you know how much I want to be with you."
Having her ego stroked in such a manner brought a slight smile to Olivia's lips.
"You may." She deemed with a regal tilt of her head.
His dimples deepened with his smile.
"Anything else you want to ask?"
Maxwell shook his head.
"Really?" Olivia wondered how the most persistently curious person on Earth could be silent during something like this.
"I just want to be with you." Maxwell admitted. "I don't care how or in what way."
He reached up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed against her porcelain skin while he marveled at being able to feel any part of her.
"I'll do whatever I have to, to be with you." He vowed.
"So you don't mind being told what to do?" She asked, still not quite trusting him.
"Nope." His grin caught her off guard. "I think it's kinda hot."
"Hot?!" She exclaimed.
"Yeah." His hand dropped from her cheek. "In most of my dreams you tell me what to do and it's a definite turn on."
Olivia blinked at him.
"You are so sexy telling me how you want it." He admitted with an unrepentant grin.
She didn't know how to respond to that.
If he found her bossing him around sexy, then a life together would make her the sexiest woman to ever exist.
Olivia cleared her throat. "Then, I think you should kiss me again."
She expected him to slam his mouth on hers in wild excitement. Her breath caught when he instead took his time.
His hooded blue eyes began to trace her features while his hands moved along her curves. With parted lips, he inched forward to press a lingering kiss to her neck.
The gentle brush of his lips against her skin sent goose bumps everywhere.
He dotted a few more kisses before sucking against her pulse point.
She didn't know which she liked more, that kiss or his hands touching her. She only knew she didn't want it to stop.
A moan she'd never made before in her life slipped out.
He jerked away from her.
"Did I hurt you?!" He cried out.
"Hurt me?" She repeated. "What are you talking about?'
"Your daggers?" He pointed towards her torso. "It hit me that I might be digging them into your skin."
Her eyes widened. "You know about my hidden daggers?"
"Well, yeah."
Still in shock that he knew something that she kept secret from even Liam, she gestured towards his desk.
"I removed them when I first came in."
Maxwell stilled. He looked over at his desk, all the way across his room.
"You left them over there?" He asked.
"Yes, what of it?" Olivia prodded.
He wondered if she knew what she'd done. Not only was she here, proving she felt something for him, but she also just revealed that she trusted him. Olivia leaving her daggers out of reach spoke volumes.
"Maxwell?" She moved back into his line of sight.
He wondered if he should tell her what she'd done. He thought it might embarrass her, which was not at all what he wanted to happen tonight. Deciding to keep that reveal to himself, he refocused on her.
She really is crazy about me.
In one swift move, he reversed their positions.
Olivia whimpered in shock to find herself under him. Normally, she would fight against having some man having the upper hand, even in bed, over her. She'd never liked being pinned down. She made certain to always be on top in both sparring and bedroom activities.
Something about having Maxwell in the dominant position made her heart race. The feel of his body pressing her into the mattress made her want more. She might even like him to hold her wrists above her head while he--
His lips captured hers in a ravenous kiss. Olivia slipped one hand behind his head while the other drifted down his back. The way his muscles tensed at her touch made her long to feel even more of him.
"Take your shirt off." She demanded.
He immediately whipped it over his head and tossed it across the room.
The smile upon her face caused his heart to slam into his chest.
Her greedy hands traced over his arms and pecs before dipping down to his abs.
"Is that a bruise?"
Maxwell stilled. In the dim lamplight, his tattoo he'd kept hidden for years was now on full display.
"It's not a bruise."
He knew his brother would kill him once he found out that a member of the Court had seen the, as Bertrand put it, the most shameful desecration one could do upon one's body.
"It's a tattoo!" Olivia exclaimed after closer inspection.
"Yep." Maxwell muttered, closing his eyes against the teasing that was about to ensue.
"It's for your mother, isn't it?" She asked softly.
His eyes popped open, searching hers for understanding.
"How'd you know?"
Olivia traced the baby hippo with her fingers. "I remember her nickname for you."
Maxwell stilled her fingers with his hand, pressing her palm flat against the tattoo.
She looked up and saw the vulnerable emotion flooding his features. She searched for something to say and came up empty. Not knowing why she felt the need to hurry and wipe such a mixture of sadness and worry from his face, she tugged him back down for a tender kiss.
It was the first time in her life she'd ever wanted to comfort someone.
Maxwell sank into her embrace.
She knows me, he thought. She knows me better than any woman, anyone, I've ever known.
Unable to put into words what her remembering that precious part of his past meant to him, he deepened the kiss.
Their movements became frantic once more as they fought to get the other out of the remainder of their clothes.
"Wait!" Olivia cried out when her top got stuck. "It has a zipper on the--"
The two froze when they heard her phone ring.
Olivia groaned while yanking her top back into place. Leaning over, she swiped it up to answer.
Maxwell tried to get his breathing under control. He could tell by the look on her face that he wasn't going to like what this call was about.
"Right." Olivia grumbled. "I'll be right down."
She huffed in frustration while pushing Maxwell off of her.
"What was that?" He asked.
"That," she got up to search for her shoes, "was my driver telling me it's time to leave for the airport."
"What?!" He cried out, flopping back against the pillows. "Why are you leaving so soon?"
"Because I have meetings and a dress fitting in the Capital." She told him while placing her daggers in their many holsters.
Olivia glared at him when he said he wished she didn't have to go. "You shouldn't have taken forever to come to your bedroom?!"
"I didn't know you were waiting on me!" He pointed out. "If I'd known you were, I'd have been here as soon as everyone sat down for dinner."
Her irritation dimmed some at that.
"Next time, go to your room." She told him.
"I'll never stay out late again." He vowed.
After she smoothed her skirt back into place, she hesitated at his door. She wanted him to kiss her goodbye but didn't want him to know she did. It seemed silly after what they'd done in his bed to want something sentimental like a farewell kiss.
"I suppose I'll see you in a couple of days." She muttered.
Maxwell sprang up off the bed and took her back into his arms. He pressed a tender kiss on her lips.
"Any chance we can find some time alone during the Coronation Ball?" He asked.
"Perhaps." She smiled at him. "It will have to be somewhere secret."
"How about the hedge maze?" Maxwell offered. "Nobody is going to take a chance on missing out on whoever Liam favors with dances and all before the big announcement."
Olivia considered that and knew it to be true. No one would dare venture away from the ballroom until they knew who would be the new queen.
"Hedge maze it is." She decided. "I'll let you know what time to meet me out there."
Reluctantly easing out of his arms, she quickly darted out of his room.
Closing the door behind her, Maxwell leaned his forehead against the wooden barrier.
I was super stoked to stumble across these asks specifically for polycules!!
I saved these asks two months ago and am just now finding the time and energy to sit and answer them.
I haven’t been that active lately but suddenly tonight I had a bit of free time and started reading through these and got so excited to answer them!
There are 65 questions and I tend to be long winded, so I’m going to do them a few at a time so you’re not reading a book by the time I’m done.
Ok, let’s dig in!!
I’m answering for my Bad Romance gang, obviously. Here are the first ten questions.
How many members are in the polycule? How are they related to each other? Feel free to draw a flowchart. I think that I already answered this here in depth, so I’ll try to stay brief. There are five primary members: Liam, Drake, Max, Riley, and Rashad. Six if you count Siobhan, an OC I made up that in my mind is still around, but I haven’t really written much about her. Riley and Liam are married and they are the king and queen of Cordonia. Riley, Max, and Liam are a throuple. Max is officially Riley’s personal assistant and top royal advisor. Drake is only with Riley romantically. Drake and Liam are best friends and have been since childhood. Drake is the head of Riley’s Queen’s Guard. Rashad was originally Liam’s friend but is now Riley’s lover and her personal lawyer. Liam and Rashad are still friendly, but Drake and Rashad do not like each other. Siobhan is Riley’s friend with benefits. Siobhan and Drake have been intimate with each other in a threesome with Riley. I might expand on that relationship, eventually. Hana is Riley’s best friend. They slept together once, but it didn’t affect their friendship. Hana is aromantic. She and Liam actively dislike each other, but try to get along for Riley’s sake.
Did the relationship start polyamorous, or was it a monogamous relationship that eventually opened? Oh, it started monogamously with Riley breaking up with Max to date Liam, then descended into a toxic hot mess when Liam broke her heart but then refused to let her go (there was an iron-clad marriage contract involved).
If it started monogamous, how did the process of opening the relationship go? Well, basically Riley just did whatever she wanted and tried her best to push Liam away. He refused to be pushed though and eventually agreed to a Cordonian Arrangement (a clause added to the marriage contract that legally opens it). Once he developed his own feelings for Max, and realized that you can, in fact, love more than one person at the same time, he chilled out a lot with the jealousy.
Are there any mono-poly relationships in the polycule? Aaaghh! Yes!! Drake remains mostly monogamous (he has engaged in a threesome, but he doesn’t think that counts since Riley was one of the participants; it was her idea, and she chose the other person).
What “shape” is the polycule? A triad, a “V”, a straight line of metamours, or incomprehensible? Listen. It’s complicated lol. Again, I went into great detail here. Basically63, Liam, Max, and Riley are a triad and they are nesting partners. But since Drake is also a nesting partner, even though he’s mono and only with Riley, I count them as a quad. Rashad is Riley’s lover and he is solo-poly with lots of other partners, so he is not a nesting partner but part of the extended polycule.
Where do each of the members land on the “solo poly” to “entwined” spectrum? As stated above, Rashad is solo poly. He dates very casually but is married to his job. His only deep emotional entanglement is Riley but even for her, he wouldn’t change his lifestyle. They work because she would never ask him nor want him to. After all, she has (functionally) three husbands already. Riley, Drake, Liam, and Max are about as entangled as it gets. They live together, work together, and often share a bed.
Where do each of the members land on the “free agent” to “community oriented” spectrum? Rashad is a free agent. Siobhan too. Riley, Max, and Liam are very community oriented. Drake is just there for Riley.
How did each member realize they were polyamorous? Did they always know, or was there some sort of epiphany? Max always knew… he was poly before he met Riley. He’s the one who told her about it when she asked him what was wrong with her for having feelings for more than one person at a time. Riley figured it out quickly. Liam took a little longer, but he got there eventually. What started as a one-time threesome with Riley and Max turned out to be a potent combination of physical attraction and a lifelong friendship that ended with him falling hard and fast for Max, with Riley’s enthusiastic blessing.
Do any of the current members practice hierarchical polyamory? Who are the primary partners? Oh, yes. I understand that a lot of people find hierarchy unethical but if you ask Liam, he will tell you that he is Riley’s husband and furthermore, he is the king and Riley is his queen making their marriage and the ruling of Cordonia the first priority. Mostly everyone is on board with that and it works. Not always though. Riley would say she loves each of them differently but she does not love one more than another. Max is pretty submissive in personality, and since he’s in love with both Riley and Max, he would not dispute that Liam and Riley’s relationship is primary, he’s just happy to be part of it. Drake’s biggest issue in the beginning was seeing himself as NOT primary. Being monogamous, he saw her marrying Liam as her choosing Liam over him, and it took him leaving for a while to come to terms with it. He still struggles with it from time to time, but now they have open communication and are always able to work through it.
If the polycule is hierarchical, what differs in the boundaries set for primary vs secondary partners? Tertiary partners? Drake doesn’t have other partners. Liam does casual hookups when he travels. Riley occasionally does. Protection is a huge thing that everyone must use if they are going outside the primary quad. I haven’t explored this issue much but I have thought about writing some one-shots around this issue. Since they are pretty closed, catching feelings for someone outside the established polycule might be an issue. This question is making me think I need to explore this in some one-shots.
Saw this on my feed, and I decided to give it a go, because I’m a sucker for online personality quizzes! 😆
Which type of love interest would you be in a dating simulator?
Result: The sweetheart with an enigmatic dark past
You’re always polite and kind with others. That makes people feel comfortable around you and many would consider you a close friend. However, you seldom feel connected with those around you. You feel like they don’t know you, the real you, and they never will because you’ll never allow them. It takes a great amount of time and trust for you to show yourself as you truly are, because you repress most of your feelings and desires, and mask them with a calm and collected personalty. It just seems easier that way, safer. But remember that if you bottle everything up, it will explode one day, maybe in ways you aren’t proud of.
Now, who does this remind you of…? @aussiegurl1234 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @nestledonthaveone 🤣
Would explain why I fell for Drake. Though I swear I was not picking ‘Drake’ answers in the quiz (I mean… for ‘Where would you be at a party?’ I picked ‘In the middle of the dancefloor’!💃🏻)
Not tagging anyone specifically, but you can take the quiz here if you want: https://uquiz.com/quiz/btrNYY?p=1296213
My result: The sarcastic fuckboy who secretely has a heart of gold
Upon first meeting you might seem insufferable, but it’s only because you don’t have time for what others might think of you. You’re independent, confident, and you know what you want. That intimidates people, and you know it. But deep down you know it’s all a show. You desire to be loved as much as any other person, but you don’t want to get hurt and thus it’s difficult for you to appear vulnerable to others. You’ll try to mask your feelings with humor and aggressiveness when you feel someone might be getting too close to home. But those who have the patience to endure your cold exterior will be rewarded with the most caring and loyal person in their lives. You’re the ride or die kind of type, and once you fall in love, you do it deeply and unconditionally
Any Questions about why I write Drake, Riley, Olivia or Leo the way I do? 😂
For the @choicesficwriterscreation Top Five Event. Here are my favorite things that I’ve written in 2024.
5. The De Facto Queen Chapter 5: I have almost always written my OT3 with Riley married to Liam. I flipped the script in this one and I have really enjoyed exploring a universe where she marries Drake but the triad still happens. In some ways it changes everything, in some ways, it changes nothing. I still have one chapter left in this series and hope to get it finished soon.
Cordonia needs a queen. Liam needs a ruling partner. Riley has been thrust into the role of queen in fact if not in title. Engaged to his be
4. Staking a Claim (Cordonian Royal Airlines): Because who doesn’t love an insecure, jealous and protective Drake?
Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings for series: Various
Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake
Word Cou
3. Single Again: This one-shot was based on the song She’s Single Again by Janie Fricke and it was just a lot of fun to write.
Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairing: Riley x Liam (end game)
Rating: G
Warni
2. The Defiant King (To Catch a Killer): An open ended follow up to Heir Apparent. I seldom write Liam with such a dark edge, but I honestly love this no holds barred version of him. In Heir Apparent, Riley married Drake but had Liam’s baby (via the Vegas fling). After a traumatic birth, the realization that Riley and he aren’t meant to be after all, and the revelation of his mother’s killer, this king is out for blood and laser focused on finding his mother’s killer no matter whom he has to run over in the process.
Series: The Defiant King
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings: None in this chapter
Word Count: 1,620
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapte
1. The Stabbing (A Bad Romance One-Shot): I always love returning to the Bad Romance universe and this one showcased that Bad Romance trademark loving toxicity and humor. Riley stabbing another country’s king while on a diplomatic visit? What’s the worst that could happen?
Series: Bad Romance Continues
Original Series: Bad Romance
Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir
Pairings for series: Riley x Liam x M
Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairing: Drake x Riley
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: Not canon Drake or Liam. Darker. Be prepared for everyone herein to be selfish and underhanded.
Word Count: 456
My other stuff: Master List.
I’m shirtless in her bedroom. The woman of my dreams is concerned about my injuries. It feels fantastic.
The fact that I am about to steal her out from under my best friend is a small detail.
I grew up in the palace, witnessing the backstabbing and underhanded dealings of the nobility. Do I hate them? No. But it’s why I find it hard to trust.
I came back to this hellhole for Liam. He was never supposed to be king. That was never part of the plan. But shit happened, and he needed me.
It doesn’t matter. I left a lucrative military career to head up the royal guard for him. I would do almost anything for him. I never saw his betrayal coming.
I was on the fast track to becoming the youngest major in Cordonian history. But the promotion never came. It never came because the crown prince blocked my application.
I didn’t know that at the time, of course. He wanted me to head up his royal guard, so he made sure his offer was the best one out there.
Do I hate the nobility for their scheming and manipulation? No. But I did learn from them.
Her fingers probe gently at the bruise blossoming across my ribs. I wince. Fucking Tariq. I told him to make it look real, but did he have to punch me that hard?
He was lucky this was working out for me. He might be a member of the aristocracy, but he was a gambling addict, and I had some pull with local organized crime. I keep my ear to the ground. You never know when you might need some good blackmail material.
I paid his latest debt in exchange for his help tonight. Tariq was broke because his father had cut him off financially. Me? The elitist bastards at the palace might look down on me as common born, but my bank account doesn’t give a fuck about that. Captain of the Royal Guard pays well, and my living expenses are almost nonexistent.
The palace provides everything I need. A room, food, electricity, access to the royal fleet. I’ve been banking my paychecks for years.
And now my place in Liam’s orbit has delivered up this woman.
He might actually love her, but he’ll never marry her. I’ve made sure of that.
He took something from me to get what he wanted. Now I’ll take something from him to get what I want. Do I feel bad about that? Not even a little. I gave up everything to come back home and give him what he wanted. He can give me this one thing. And he will.
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Series: What If but more specifically Maximum Damage (the alternate ending)
Original Series: Bad Romance
Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir
Pairing for this chapter: Liam x Max (now), Liam x Riley (past), Riley x Max (past)
Rating: MA
Warnings for this chapter: character death mentioned.
Word Count: 812
A/N: This was written in response to an ask from @kyra75 for the angstgiving event hosted by @choicesprompts. The request was for the prompt "What could have been" and was specifically for the Bad Romance gang. Since BR had a happily ever after, I couldn't come up with a good, angsty what could have been until the alternate ending popped into my head. Once it did, this just suddenly existed in my head and I had to write it.
My other stuff: Master List.
The crown princess of Cordonia was getting married to the love of her life. It was a watershed moment in her life. All of Cordonia would be watching as she walked down the aisle.
The king was sure that there had never been a prouder father in the history of the world. His little princess was all grown up. She was happy. She was radiant. She looked just like her mother.
He turned his head to observe his queen. The years hadn’t dimmed her beauty one bit. She was as beautiful as the day he’d first lain eyes on her in that bar in New York.
Liam had been born into wealth, and raised to rule, but the greatest privilege of his life had been raising their daughter. It didn’t matter that biologically speaking; she was Drake’s daughter. Her DNA didn’t matter.
Drake. The best friend he’d ever had. His childhood companion. His partner in crime. His closest confidant. His brother.
“Don’t get too sentimental. You promised her you wouldn’t cry.” Drake smiled at him from the seat on the other side of Riley.
“How can I help it?” Liam responded as tears slipped down his cheek. “You’re here. You’re both here for her big day.”
“Liam.” Max’s voice intruded on the scene.
Not yet, Max. Just a few more moments.
Riley leaned over and touched his hand. “She’s so lucky to have you. You’ve done a wonderful job. You and Max both. Thank you.”
“Liam. Liam.”
Not yet, Max!
But it was too late. They were already fading.
“Wait! Don’t go!”
“Liam, come on, it’s time to get up.” Max shook him gently by the shoulders. “We don’t want to be late for the wedding.”
Liam blinked against the onslaught of brightness flooding into the royal suite. “Max?”
“Yeah, who else would it be? Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep.”
“I was dreaming, but Max, it seemed so real! I was at the wedding, and Riley was with me! Drake too!”
“Oh, babe.” Max climbed back into the bed and wrapped Liam in his arms and tears sprang into his own eyes. “I miss them too.”
Twenty six years later and he still blamed himself. If only he hadn’t dropped the damn cell phone that day. If only he’d pulled over to the side of the road before trying to call 911. If he’d done that, then Riley and Drake would both still be here. Hope would have her biological parents. Liam would have his queen. He would have his everything.
But that’s not what happened and now all they could do was dream about what could have been.
Liam looked up into his husband’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. It was a tragic accident.”
Max smiled through his tears. Of course Liam knew exactly what he was thinking. Liam was the only reason he was alive. Liam had willed him to live and pushed him to walk again.
Getting out of that wheelchair had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Not because of the grueling months of physical therapy, but because he had felt like he deserved to be there. He would never understand why he had Liam’s love and forgiveness when he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he was grateful for it. And he was grateful for the daughter they shared. The one whose heart stopping smile was the spitting image of the woman they had both lost.
“I know,” Max lied. Today was a happy day, not a day to wallow in recriminations. “We both promised Hope that we wouldn’t cry today.”
Liam laughed, a bit of sunshine returning to his life. Max had a way of doing that. “We all knew that was a lie when we said it.”
“Oh, a bald faced lie! She’s our baby girl. Of fucking course we’re going to cry!”
Liam laughed again as the last vestiges of the dream wisped away.
Riley and Drake would be there in spirit. Hope had left two reserved seats empty to represent them.
Hope was what they had left of their lost loved ones. And she had brought exactly that into their lives. Hope was what they had clung to in those early days of grief. She had brought sunshine and joy, laughter, and beauty back into the world.
Drake had certainly named her appropriately all those years ago.
Four hours later, they watched her say I do. They both cried copious amounts, but they were happy tears.
And while they both wished that Riley and Drake were there with them, they were thankful to have each other.
The king glanced at the two empty seats. He swore he could feel them there. Maybe, somehow, in some other existence, they were.
Deep in his heart, Liam believed that somewhere out there, in an alternate universe, what could have been, was.
