to fix or not to fix
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A/N: challenge #7! THE LAST CHALLENGE TM THAT’S LIKE, A MONTH LATE OR SOMETHING LOL. I HAD A TEST ONE OF THOSE WEEKS IN MY DEFENSE,,, still waiting for results. and then other stuff and then writer's block and life,,, anyway, so sorry but here u have it. 4k of CROOKS. ngl it got ansgty. THANKS GRACE @brooks-schreave for the rp! the selection has come to an end and the winner has been announced (CONGRATS BRIANNA) so even if this isn’t my last fic, I feel the need to say some sort of goodbye. I’m glad to have participated in my fourth selection (#proud veteran). thanks grace&claire for all the organizing and rps and plans you made for us! and, well, i gotta add a THANKS FOR THE CROOKS RPS @ grace. i hope to bring more crooks to the ones of u who stay around for the later fics. this fic is the challenge for the caning. the day before it happens + the actual thing. the next fic to come is more crooks,, still kinda ansgty maybe. BUT HEY THERE IS CUTE STUFF TOO. enjoy the read <3 i kinda flash revised this one, so forgive typos/mistakes and if y’all got feedback i’m all ears
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I stared at the documents in front of me warily. Today was the day we decided what we were truly going to do. We had enough information to confront them, but it was undecided how we were going to do it. We’d only agreed we’d fix things from the inside to avoid making people more upset than they already were with the attack. It would be fine as long as we made things right.
I wiped my hands on my pants. I’d never been bad at public speaking or anything, but this would involve the people my dad worked with plus the King himself…and I had heard Dad was set to arrive at Angeles that night.
Things had been a weird mess since the attack on the palace. Thankfully, not many casualties happened and from the palace staff members I knew, only Rogers was hurt by the rebels that entered the Women’s Room after he rushed me, Venus and Fleur into the safe room. A flesh wound according to the doctor. Something easily fixed by a few bandages according to him.
He probably regretted getting hurt more because of Jacinda’s reaction to the news, rather than the actual wound. Turned out the sweet maid wasn’t as nice when she was angry. She’d spent the last few days going to the hospital wing, not bothering to hide their relationship anymore. After all, they didn’t really have a reason to hide it except being shy nerds.
Eloise had gotten a mild concussion she claimed wasn’t too bad. I wondered if me being around the music room that day would’ve avoided her the concussion, or made it worse for the both of us. Maybe the latter.
The group of Selected was getting smaller by the week; only me, Eloise, Camille and Victoria remained in the palace. Part of me wondered why Nate still kept me around. When we hung out it didn’t quite feel like a date, it felt like...well, hanging out. As friends. We’d never openly discussed it because it felt unnecessary, but I could tell we sort of silently agreed we wouldn’t go past being friends. Maybe he kept me around because he could tell I wanted to stay...or maybe he’d realized I was getting a bit closer than normal with one of his siblings.
Honestly, figuring out why I was still here, wasn’t at the top of my list. No news about who had organized the attack on the palace, or what the intentions were behind said attack had been revealed to the general public yet. Neither to the Selected, or the staff.
Still, some rumors made it through the cracks. Barnes mentioned they had someone in the cell rooms who was part of the palace staff. An inside job. He somehow sounded uneasy by the fact, however, like there was something he didn’t like about the situation. But he revealed nothing of who it was.
As I thought of that, Brooks stepped into the study. This was our meet-up place when we didn’t want someone to randomly barge in. He carried a ton of food in his arms and a bag of chips between his teeth. I smiled at the sight and he dropped it all on the desk, proclaiming, “I brought reinforcements.” I spared him a glance and rolled my eyes as I reached for the chips and opened them. “So glad you are the prince of junk food.”
As I looked down at the papers again, he placed his arm on the back of my chair and leaned down to read them too. “So, what're we doing here?”
“Well...I think we need to seriously discuss what we're going to say...” I trailed off after looking over my shoulder and realizing how close he was. Clearing my throat, I slightly pushed his face to the side so I could see him better. A smile tugged at my lips though. He had the cutest freckles. “We need to make them know we're serious about this and what we know.” “Intimidation? I'm not great at that.” “I didn't say intimidation, I just mean... you know... telling them the truth of what we've found,” I sighed, “I don't know, this part of the plan is harder.”
“It is a factor, though.” He grabbed some candy. “They'd laugh at us, otherwise.”
I tapped my nails on the desk, thinking. “Alright, what do you have in mind?” “We need our information organized,” he said in between chewing. “Then we need to come up with a game plan.” I ate some chips. “Well, we should start with the basics: Numbers, comparisons between elimination processes of the last two Selections, and percentages of higher castes of course.” I considered that for a moment. “We could actually use that as a way of intimidation—if we play our cards right, that is. Some basic numbers tossed around will make them think we’re a joke. Two teenagers with nothing better to do, reaching for strings, but then…” He gave me a wary look, sliding the papers towards himself. “Maybe I should do this alone…” I narrowed my eyes at him and leaned back in the chair. “My point is it'll take them by surprise when they realize we actually have more information than they think. That we could actually be a threat. But please, teach me your ways, Brooks.” “It's not that,” he hesitated, “I just don't think you should make your involvement known. It's dangerous, Clove.” I frowned a bit. “Do you really think so?” He nodded with an “I do.” “What exactly do you mean by dangerous?” I asked softly.
“Think about Levi.” “He was never specific of what he feared…” “It was enough for a man in his mid-20s to throw his career away.” Levi had admitted he resigned for his own safety--or at least that’s how he made it sound--so I knew Brooks was right. Still, I couldn’t imagine King Spencer going that far. I wasn’t even sure what ‘that far’ entailed when it came to him. How far would he even go with the seventeen-year-old daughter of one of his advisers? Gulping, I stared down at the papers. “So what then? You go in alone?” He didn’t seem too sure as he said, “I guess so.”
“I don't know if I like that idea.” “I don't know if I like getting you involved any further. I'm not going to let you ruin your future with your father.” “Brooks, what are you talking about?” “Do you really want him to know that you were in on this?”
With that response, I realized he was trying to spare me from ruining my relationship with my dad. It felt pointless, however, and I didn’t precisely want to step back. “Will it really make a difference? I still know about it. I can’t act like I don’t know.”
“You could…” he sighed, “I don't know, Clove. I'm just a bit worried.” I stared at my lap. “I kind of want to know how involved he is.” “I can find that out for you.” His voice was gentle as he slid his hand over mine. It sounded like a reasonable compromise, but I still had to convince myself of it. I had wanted to be involved. I really had...but if he feared what could happen, knowing his father would be involved, what was I supposed to think?
Picking a bad moment to joke, I asked, “This isn’t some elaborate plan to have me excluded from the investigation, right?” He rolled his eyes. “You're in too deep, darling.” I reached for the bag of chips and spun on my chair to face him fully. “Okay, but I want to see your speech then. Entertain me.” “My speech? I don't know…” “Come on. You’re going alone now. You have to make it good.” I lifted both feet into the chair, throwing a chip into my mouth. “Say something that’ll make me feel like you won’t screw this up.” He gave in, turning his face dramatic, slamming his hand on the desk with a voice equally dramatic. “We know your secrets, monarchy! And we will expose the truth! RELINQUISH-”
Without meaning too, I interrupted him by bursting out in laughter. He gave me a look. “I thought it was pretty good.”
“What is it that you're going to relinquish again?” “I'm not going to relinquish anything. I was telling them to relinquish, uh, the truth.”
I was amused by the way he didn’t even sound convinced himself, but I trusted he would pull it off when it came to it. “That's very 1800's of you. I'm sure they'll love the idea.” He flicked his eyebrow up then down. “I'm so sure.” I watched the freckled boy in front of me one last time, biting my lip at the thought of letting the dork stand in front of his father and all his advisers by himself. Those blue eyes, freckled nose and the hint of a smile. “You sure about doing this alone? Like, really, really sure?” “I'll figure it out.”
Our conversation had deviated as the hours passed. The food reinforcements Brooks had brought had been depleted and somehow, at some point we’d ended up sitting against a wall, talking about nothing and everything. We’d argued about movies and discussed which of us was most likely to survive on a deserted island alone. Obviously, I said myself, but he refused to accept the truth.
I wasn’t sure what drove our conversation topics, or which of us had fallen asleep first, but when I woke up, realizing I’d used his shoulder as a pillow, I smiled and rubbed my eyes.
Soon enough, he woke up as well and after some awkward ‘good morning’s’ we realized we’d have to sneak out together and then split up. We wouldn’t want false rumors to spread across the palace. We’d woken up pretty late though. Jacinda was so going to kill me too.
Brooks picked up the trash and threw it away while I quickly gathered the papers and put them in my folder. I gave him a wary a smile he returned and then poked my head out. The hallway was clear, so I reached for his hand and dragged him with me. It was a ridiculous moment to laugh, but ours was probably the weirdest reason to sneak around and I could feel the strain from holding back the chuckle in my throat.
When we heard voices, Brooks was the one to pull me behind a pillar. I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling, but I wasn’t being too successful. Brooks peered around the pillar, making sure we weren’t seen and then looks down at me. I could see the question in his eyes clearly, ‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’
I averted my gaze briefly, letting my grin break through and though he shook his head in fake disappointment, I could tell he was amused as well. That is until we heard a passing maid tell someone else, “Come on, hurry up. The crowd is already outside.”
We exchanged frowns. Crowd?
I had assumed maybe some sort of announcement was going to be made, but as Brooks and I exited the palace through the staff area, I realized the crowd of yelling people was not a good sign for that. We made our way through people as a voice echoed from the center of it all.
“Charles Flynn, a member of the palace kitchen staff was found attempting to bring down the monarchy with his fellow rebels.”
The crowd seemed to be feeding itself from the shared feeling of contempt in the air. It was kind of scary to see. Charles. The name rang a bell. The chef’s apprentice, was it? That didn’t make sense. I’d heard he was a kid. How was he going to bring down the monarchy?
Brooks held my hand tighter as he walked faster amongst the crowd. I let him guide us, taking the opportunity to look at the higher stage where the royal family was. The king seemed unfazed by the uproar of his people. I couldn’t make out the rest of the expressions that stood next to him.
“Mr. Flynn has broken his loyalty to the country and the monarchy. His disgusting actions have shown his real intentions. He is found guilty of treason against Illéa!”
People agreed with him and I felt a lump in my throat. Treason. Was conspiring against the royal family considered treason? Even if I’d done it with a member of the family in question? I pushed the thoughts away, realizing this still didn’t make sense. What was this crowd outside the palace gates for?
Suddenly the voice went quiet, but whatever the crowd nearer to the center was watching made them go wild. When I thought the situation couldn’t get worse without context, the announcements continued, “This is a crime punishable by death! But in his mercy, King Spencer has decided to spare this traitor’s life.”
“Death?” I asked over the crowd. Brooks spared me a brief glance before pushing through faster. The hundreds of Illeans were like a sea of restless humans. Like a Roman Colosseum in gladiator movies.
“Long live King Spencer!” Everyone bellowed the same sentence in a chant, but I felt my insides twisting. They were praising him? For what? For not killing a boy?
I could finally catch a glimpse of the boy. Blood stained his shirt as he looked up at the stage where the royal family watched. From this distance, I could see Mallory wiping tears and the unsteady expression on Nate’s face. He felt it too. He had too. The guy wore kindness like a banner half the time, he had to be able to see this was wrong. This kid, Charles, he couldn’t be older than Wilson.
Able to see the masked man motioning for the crowd to quiet down now, I could almost feel the blood draining from my face. Before the crowd and broken boy stood an executioner.
“Charles Flynn, you are hereby stripped of your caste. You are the lowest of the low. You are an Eight and sentenced to prison for further questioning!” More cheering. “And to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought upon this proud country, you will be publicly caned with fifteen strikes. May your many scars remind you of your many sins!” Strikes? Scars? Sins? Who conducted a questioning after the public torture? Were they not sure of his guilt yet?
Rods were pulled out from buckets of water and then true hell broke loose. My heart was in my throat as painful screaming left Charles’ mouth and was then joined by the piercing shrieks from the youngest princess as she hopped over a rail and slammed to the ground. She was running… to Charles.
Everyone was screaming. Mallory, her parents, the poor kid that seemed so innocent just kneeling there to be hit. Tears were in my eyes before I knew it and I didn’t even know why. I just deeply wished for it to stop. I noticed then Brooks and I had stopped moving. We were frozen in place, finally in plain view of what was happening. The Queen was yelling at her daughter and the striking didn’t stop. The cheering hadn’t stopped.
“Brooks…” I mumbled, but I wasn’t even sure it could be heard over the crowd. This isn’t right.
Mallory had almost reached the boy when an officer basically tackled her. Even I could tell he shouldn’t have done that. She was the only one doing the right thing here. Mallory put up a fight through shouts and tears, and the dots seemed to align. She knew him. “CHARLIE,” she cried out again, but the guard simply pulled her up like it was nothing.
Everything was a jumble of voices and they had become indistinguishable. Or maybe my head wasn’t registering them anymore. People booed at who they believed to be a traitor and havoc reigned. Not a king or civility, but blind rage.
Why was everyone acting like we were in the medieval era?
I felt Brooks squeezing my hand before he let go, focused on his little sister with clear worry in his eyes. Part of me wanted to stop him, but I knew that reaction made no sense and didn’t. All the yelling was messing with my head.
I tried to make my way through the crowd as well, the knowledge that this was wrong settling in the pit of my stomach. Why was something like this agreed on as the best solution? My muscles tightened as people bumped into me. There was no personal space in mob-like crowds.
When I looked up briefly, Brooks had already made it to the edge of the screaming people as Nate stood in the middle of the ground, no longer in the stage he was supposed to be on.
“Stop.”
Silence took over and the restless people slowly quieted down. Nate looked up at his dad and two simple questions left his mouth. “What's the point of this? Is this what's expected of a king?” The determination was clear his voice as he dared to add, “If that's the case, I don't want it.”
Everyone gasped and I saw Brooks breaking through the crow to rush over to Mallory. Again I couldn’t move, but I felt a small wave of relief when Nate confronted the crowd. “Why are you encouraging this. Why are you enjoying this? You’re literally watching a boy get tortured. He’s a kid.”
It felt like I could finally breathe again when he turned back to his parents and said with the authority any future king should have: “End this.”
I paced the hallway that led to Brooks’ room after meeting up with Jacinda to tell her I was fine. She’d been worried I hadn’t come back to my room the night before, and then, in the morning when she couldn’t find me to take me outside--to the caning--she worried even more. I knew she was rambling about her panic of not finding me because the nerve-wracking feeling of what we’d just witnessed filled her head the same way it did mine, but I couldn’t deal with more frantic speaking that day and cut her off. I needed to focus, know what was happening.
She knew very little more than I did, however. Some guard had caught Charles during the attack after he tried to fight him. That didn’t make sense to me though. Charles seemed old enough to hold his own, but go against a guard? He was either stupid, or there was something out of place.
After experiencing a mob like that, I knew Brooks would be busy finding out what he’d missed too and he’d make sure his sister was okay. I knew he’d be worried after she passed out, so I waited patiently on the sidelines so no one would see me near the area. I was glad I was wearing a bracelet the previous night since it was all I had to fidget with as I waited.
Eventually, I spotted him and walked over, asking, “Brooks, what’s going on?” He waved it off as if it was nothing. “Don't worry about it.” I frowned at him. “Don’t worry about it? They were caning a kid that was, what? A year younger than us at most? Nate was right to stop them.” In a lower voice, I added, “though maybe rather late.”
Still, it must’ve been hard for him to face his parents like that in front of everyone.
“Clove,” Brooks’ voice was stern, “this isn't your place.”
I could only stare at him for a moment. His demeanor was all kinds of wrong. “What?” “What do you mean what?” “What do you mean this isn't my place?” He sighed. “T-this just isn't a good time. I'm sorry.”
He began to brush past me but I reached for his arm. “Brooks, come on, talk to me.”
I tried to understand it was a lot to process for him. Heck, I was struggling to process it myself and such orders hadn’t come from my dad or anything like that. ’But in his mercy, King Spencer has decided to spare this traitor’s life.’ He’d spared it and traded it for torture. My attempts didn’t matter, however, as he pulled his arm back like it was inappropriate for me to touch him. “Back off.” My frown deepened as I retrieved my hand. His tone stomped most of my desire to be understanding. “What's your problem? I just want you to explain.” “You don't deserve an explanation. There are some things that are reserved for family, okay?” His harshness didn’t settle well in my mind. For some reason, it made me feel even worse. He was implying I was overstepping. That I didn’t deserve to ask him such questions. Had I been stupid to think I did?
He was saying I had no right to worry about this. Like we hadn’t been working on what could only be called a conspiracy against the way the country was lying to its people with something as simple as a dumb game to find the heir to the throne a wife. Like we hadn’t overstepped a million lines together.
A rebel attack had happened for reasons that hadn’t been disclosed, and suddenly a kid younger than myself was being tortured in front of everyone. I could understand that it was a delicate subject, that he was stressed, but so was everyone else. Everyone was on edge and out of the loop. Everyone was there hearing those screams.
I had foolishly hoped he would at least want to be honest with me. That he would tell me if things were okay. If he was okay, a random thought pointed out, but I pushed it aside. I was clearly wrong.
My voice turned sharp when I spoke again. It was the only way I knew to hide when I was upset. Act spiteful or angry over showing you are hurt. “Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that public caning with a crowd of yelling Illeans was reserved for family.” I could tell he was trying to calm himself down as he lowered his voice. “You have to understand, Clove. I can't.”
The problem was I couldn’t. Not now. Not without a reason, some reasonable explanation. Anything. So instead, I looked away. “Fine. You want to keep me off everything now? Perfect. Guess you don’t need me anymore.” Turning around to leave, I muttered, “So much for the dynamic duo.” That was intended as the end of the conversation, but he cut in with, “You're being dramatic” and I stopped, clenching my fists but not facing him.
“And you’re being unreasonable, acting like I have no right to care about what’s going on. I understood why you asked me yesterday to stay out of the conversation with the King, but this?” I paused with a sigh.
Why didn’t he get it? He was pushing me aside on everything we were trying to work on together. Maybe this wasn’t linked to our conspiracy, it was very likely unrelated, but I was around when it happened and that made me important in the matter too, just like everyone else that had been on the palace grounds during the attack.
The fact that I thought he would be more open with me was probably what made it worse. It was a bit dumb, of course, but I thought there was some sort of trust between us...even if we kept it as friends--which I knew a silent part of me hoped wouldn’t be as far as it would go. Just maybe... But again, I was probably wrong.
He was acting like every other adviser in the royal cabinet. He was withholding information because it was related to the ‘royal family.’ It didn’t matter that the information concerned more than just them.
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a random person or staff member--or maybe, it showed that to him I was just that. Maybe when it really came down to it, I was just someone else.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked off. “Never mind.”