Yan G!P Princess x fem reader
Part XIII ➺ Prev
⤷ Series m.list
Warnings/MDNI: mentions of alcohol.
taglist: @nayykura @hopingtocleaemedschool
Kade stands tall beneath it all, draped in tailored navy, her posture carved from stone and certainty. Regal. Composed. The very image of power made human.
After two fucking hours.
Two hours of stylists and aides tugging at seams, straightening cuffs, aligning medals, and debating over whether her gloves should be dove grey or ink black. Two hours of her shoulders being squared, buttons being re-fastened, someone nervously steaming the trousers for a second time while Kade stood silent, patient only in appearance.
You sit just behind her, hands folded in your lap like a well-trained pet. A duchess-in-waiting. A trophy gleaming beside the throne.
Across the room, it had taken even longer for them to settle on what you were supposed to wear. Kade had dismissed the first four dresses without blinking, too plain, too fussy, too "Wednesday Addams goes to Ascot." Her words. The stylists under Katie's supervision, once polite, now moved with military tension, whispering amongst themselves like you were a security risk.
And then Kade started in with the damn suggestions.
First at you, more like targeting you.
"Of course you don’t know how to wear a sash. Why would you? Let them see how I fix you."
"Stand still, Deniz. You're fidgeting like someone dragged you here in chains."
Oh, so you fucking didn't?
She looked at everyone with a tight smile. "She's still not used to people dressing her. Are you, sweetheart?"
And then the poor stylists....
"Add buttons down the back," she said, not looking up from her phone.
"No, no, pin the waist higher. She looks like she's drowning in it."
"No shimmer. I said no shimmer. It cheapens her."
"Undo that clasp. I want her collarbone visible but not to the extent of showing cleavage, just not hidden like a nun's."
You almost choked on your juice. "You're not the one wearing this, Kade."
"I am," she said coolly, tapping her screen. "By association. What you wear, reflects me."
"No--wh---It doesn't!" What the fuck were you supposed to reply to that. "I am ME. Just me."
Are you?
At this point you were just consoling yourself.
Everyone gulped, praying not to witness some couple fight and feeling the sharp sting of second-hand embarrassment. The stylists froze. The assistant holding your shoes looked like she wanted to vanish into the carpet.
Thankfully, Kade let your childish response slide....
Perhaps not...
She stepped forward, slow and graceful, like she wasn't even touching the floor. Her gloved hand rose, not to scold, but to cradle your jaw, thumb pressing lightly just beneath your lip. You barely had time to flinch before she leaned in and kissed you , not hard, not soft, but with the kind of deliberation that made it clear who was in charge.
Fucking asshole-
Then, her lips brushed your ear.
"You can sulk later," she murmured, voice like velvet stretched over a knife. "Right now, you smile and let them see how blessed you are."
And just like that, she stepped back, unreadable again, smoothing down her cuffs while the staff exhaled in unison.
Eventually, they landed on something in ivory silk, with sleeves till wrists, because she likes the wrists open, and with of course a good modest yet hot neckline that Kade had insisted on, then adjusted herself with a practiced tug. She circled you once, brows low, before smoothing the hem like it offended her personally.
"There," she murmured, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. "Now you look expensive and noble enough. You look like you will outshine me on that day, darling. Also guys, make sure her hair is styled in a way that her earrings aren't hidden that day, they are very special as well as the necklace," She pinched your cheek with a stupid grin, and you had to resist the urge to slap her-
Stupid royal stuff, stupid traditions and stupid rehearsals-
Your head automatically played that King Julian's meme "HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE!??" on loop.
The room is now hushed, heavy with gold leaf and expectation. High windows cast fractured light across the polished floor, dancing between velvet banners and the silent, watching portraits of monarchs long dead. The cleric speaks low, reciting ancient words, not in prayer, but tradition. Duty dressed in reverence.
"…and you shall swear to serve the realm, to uphold its honor, to protect-" the cleric intones.
Kade repeats each word with precision, clipped and clean. Her voice carries through the chamber like a blade, steady, unwavering, practiced.
You don't look up.
Your gaze stays fixed on the marble floor, on a faint crack near the cleric’s robes. A hairline fracture, small, almost invisible.
Just like your discontent.
There, but ignored.
You can feel Kade’s presence even now, a subtle pressure wrapping around your ribs. Every word she speaks seems aimed at you, not the state. Her loyalty doesn’t lie with crown or country.
It lies with you. On you.
And every vow she takes is just another link in the chain, polished with affection, gilded in obsession, fastened neatly around your wrists.
The cleric turns toward you next. His voice softens.
"You'll have your turn too, your Highness" he says, smiling in that way people do when they want you to obey. "A shorter oath, of course. Support. Honor. Obedience."
Dumbass.
Of course.
Obedience. You mocked his voice in your head and rolled your eyes without shame not caring if he saw or not.
Because what else would a duchess be, if not the final jewel in her wife’s polished crown? A well-behaved accessory. A perfectly silent yes.
Support, honor, obedience. My arse.
You watch Kade from behind, broad shoulders, posture carved from ice and ambition. She's perfect, isn't she? Every inch of her tailored suit and the velvet cape, the badges... says I own this room. Every glance she spares says I own you too.
And you're just… here. Dressed like something plucked from a glass cabinet. Lips glossed. Spine straight. Heart somewhere in your shoes.
You wonder if the cleric can tell. If he notices how Kade's eyes flick back too often. How her gaze lingers not with affection, but something else.
Victory.
Maybe they all think this is normal. That this is what love looks like.
Maybe they're all used to women like her being trotted out beside power. Trimmed, pressed, and silenced.
Maybe you should be used to it too.
But you aren't. Not yet. Not ever will be.
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The applause still echoes in your ears hours later. The bright lights, the cameras, the endless parade of smiling faces in the pediatric ward, all a blur now, like a fever dream wrapped in soft white coats and rehearsed gratitude.
You smiled too, of course. Stood beside Kade as children handed you crayon drawings and nurses whispered praise. The princess played her part. Flawlessly.
Now, finally, you breathe.
Steam curls lazily from the edge of the en-suite bathroom. Your skin is still warm from the bath, flushed from lavender salts and the rare, precious silence you soaked in. You towel your hair with slow, lazy fingers, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.
The suite is quiet. And, for once, blissfully empty. No instructions. No fingers curled possessively at your waist. No Kade. You let out a long held breath. You’re not sure when being alone started to feel like a stolen gift. You should feel guilty for enjoying it.
But you don't.
You move to the vanity, humming softly under your breath, wrapped in a silk robe and damp contentment. A moment just for you.
The door opens, unannounced.
Kade steps inside, shoulders taut, phone still clutched in one hand like she hasn’t realized she’s holding it. Her jaw is set. That faint crease between her brows, that isn’t for show. Whatever polished mask she wore earlier has cracked clean through.
You freeze, hand hovering mid-air above the serum bottle. She doesn’t speak right away. Her eyes drag over you, tracking the damp skin at your collarbone, the way your robe clings to your thigh. For a moment, her gaze softens.
And then it hardens again.
"You took your time," she says, clipped and cool.
You raise a brow. "Sorry," you murmur, not even pretending to mean it. "Didn't realize I had to book alone-time now."
The door clicks shut behind her as she slips the phone into her pocket. Whoever she was talking to, it's over.
But something else isn't.
It’s still here. Coiled in the corners of her mouth, in the sharp stillness of her limbs.
You already know it wasn’t good. But not your problem. As long as it's not related to you or makes her say some type of bullshit, you're fine.
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The room is still, wrapped in the kind of darkness that feels padded, thick, quiet, expensive. The only light is the faint gold glow of the bedside lamp, left on for you. You sleep deeply, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm beneath the duvet, your cheek pressed to the pillow, lips slightly parted. A rare peaceful sight, but a good bath does that sometimes, after a hectic ass day.
Beside you, Kade doesn’t move. She stares at the ceiling like it’s mocking her, eyes wide open, jaw locked tight. Her chest rises in clipped, shallow breaths. Her phone is face-down on the nightstand, screen black, but her mind hasn’t stopped spinning since the call.
Juniper.
The ex.
That name shouldn’t mean anything anymore. Model-turned-parasite, always knew how to smile through venom. Daddy’s spoiled darling, wrapped in silk and strategy, with perfume that clung for days and a voice tuned perfectly for backroom persuasion. Obsessed with idea of an union, a marriage, a ring on her finger. Kade always felt that it wasn't only her that attracted Juniper but rather the idea of her, the title, the power, the inevitability of a match approved by old men in old rooms.
Like...they would have made a good Vogue cover as a couple. Pretty sure that was her aim. Probably the only ambition she held in life.
When Kade's family started whispering about legacy unions, strong ties, old money, model bloodlines, Juniper had been thrilled. She slipped into the idea like a glove, brushing fingers down Kade’s arm at garden parties, speaking sweet poison into her ear behind marble pillars.
"We'd look good together, wouldn’t we, baby? You and me... Emsworth and Smith."
But Kade wasn’t a fool. Because Kade... was in love. Not with her, though.
She saw it, the glint behind the smile, the push behind every word. And Kade, even then, even when she was young and furious and halfway in the dark, she knew she didn’t want that.
Because her heart was already spoken for.
By you.
And now, now Juniper dared to call. Dared to laugh, drunk and smug, whispering twisted things about the woman Kade chose. The woman she took.
As if history could be rewritten by a single late-night call.
As if Kade would ever regret you.
It was after they returned from the hospital trip, Kade had been getting crypted messages all the way home, it pissed her off so much that she turned her phone off. Only to get missed calls when she turned it on. Thinking it might be a serious situation, she decided to answer the next one with a sigh.
The corridor is long and hushed, dressed in moonlight and marble. Kade walks it alone, her footsteps muffled by the Persian runner underfoot.
"She looks like a bird in a cage," comes the slurred voice, smug through the speaker. "Pretty, though. Rough around the edges. You liked them, didn’t you? The sporty and… mid ones?"
"No you're wrong. I like people who didn’t try to crawl into my title like a dress rehearsal. And mid? She was , is and always will be beautiful to my eyes even if she's drowned in fucking mud."
Juniper laughs again. It’s not real. It never was.
"Oh, come on, Kade. Don’t tell me you've gone soft."
"You’re drunk."
"Mmhmm," Juniper hums, syrupy sweet. "Drunk on nostalgia. Don’t flatter yourself."
"You shouldn’t have called."
"And yet," Juniper coos, "you answered."
That earns a pause. A sharp inhale through Kade’s nose.
"So as to tell you, politely may I add to not do it again. And I won’t make that mistake twice."
Juniper sighs, like a theatre actress feigning heartbreak. "Don’t worry, I won’t tell your precious princess what you used to whisper to me. She already looks terrified enough."
Juniper laughed and giggled on the call, hoarse and slurred, the kind of laugh that curled around one’s ears and made everything sound like a joke, even when it wasn’t. Especially when it wasn’t.
"Get help Juniper, you need it. And perhaps a new partner because you sound desperate. Desperation never looks good on anyone."
Silence crackles on the line for a beat too long.
Then Juniper scoffs. "Still playing Queen, I see."
"No," Kade murmurs, eyes now on you. "Just stating facts. Goodbye."
*BEEP* and BLOCK. Kade sighed in peace after finally doing it.
Good riddance.
Now, hours later, she’s still awake. Still furious. You shift slightly in your sleep, murmuring something incomprehensible. Kade doesn’t glance your way.
She’s still staring upward, motionless, fists clenched beneath the covers. It’s just the sound of your soft breathing, the steady tick of the antique clock on the wall, and Kade's thoughts, loud, clawing things.
She turns her head to look at you, her eyes dark and unreadable in the low light. You look peaceful. Trusting. Vulnerable.
Foolish.
Because you’re not the one in love here... you never learned how to.
Her gaze flickers down your arm, to your wrist lying half-exposed on the sheets. Slowly, she reaches for it. Two fingers press lightly to your skin, checking your pulse, maybe. Or claiming it.
She doesn’t know why she does it. She just needs to feel that you're still here. Still hers. A sigh leaves her lips. Now she’s calm, cool, and satisfied.
Her hand stays there, unmoving, gently caressing, even lifting your wrist up and pressing soft kisses to it.
No one has the damn right to get between you, not her fucking ex, not your doubts, not even your own fear.
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The garden is quiet, manicured to a fault, perfect hedges, clean stone paths, white roses blooming like porcelain secrets. The kind of place that’s meant to soothe.
It doesn’t.
Kade sits back in the wrought-iron chair, legs crossed neatly, a porcelain teacup balanced between long fingers. The tea has long gone lukewarm, but she hasn’t noticed.
Reece sprawls in the seat across from her, legs wide, a cricket cap pulled low over her forehead. She tosses a grape into her mouth, eyes squinting at her friend. Both relaxing after some fun horse riding.
"You’re brooding," she says. "Again. What is it now? State affairs? Did the corgis bite someone?"
Kade exhales through her nose, not amused. "Juniper called."
Reece pauses mid-chew.
"You're kidding, dude."
"I wish I were."
She lifts the cup to her lips and takes a slow sip, as if the taste might drown out the voice still echoing in her head.
"She was drunk. Or pretending to be. I can never tell with her. Said some shit about Deniz." Her tone turns brittle.
Reece lets out a low whistle. "Well. That’s rich, coming from her. The girl who once threw your passport in a pool to keep you from flying out for a summit."
"Exactly," Kade mutters, setting the cup down with a sharp clink. "And yet, somehow, she still thinks she gets to make comments about my marriage."
"Blocked her?"
"Of course."
Reece leans back, studying her. "You sure you’re not rattled?"
Kade doesn't answer immediately. Her fingers drum once against the rim of the saucer. Then she glances sideways, past the trimmed hedges, toward the windows of the estate.
"She said Deniz looks... terrified."
Reece raises a brow. "Is she?"
"No." Kade’s voice comes out flat. Final. "She’s tired. Confused, maybe. But she’s safe. With me."
"That’s not what I asked."
Kade shoots her a look sharp enough to slice through bone.
Reece holds her hands up in mock surrender. "I’m just saying. Don’t let Juniper mess with your head. You’ve got what you wanted, sis, haven’t you? She’s yours now."
Kade leans back into her chair, eyes drifting up toward the grey sky.
"Yes," she says, soft and low. "She is."
But something about the way she says it makes the tea taste bitter.
Reece leans back in her chair, one arm draped over the seat, lazily spinning her sunglasses between two fingers. Always one foot in sport, the other in scandal. The press adores her for it.
"Juniper should move on now," she says, voice light but firm. "She had her drama. Her chance."
Kade exhales through her nose, slow and sharp. "I don’t care what she does with her life. I want her out of mine. If she contacts you, or anyone else in our group, I need you to understand something. Don’t," Kade says, low. "I repeat, don’t assist her in any way. No replies. No half-answers."
Reece smirks. "You got it, bro. Chill tight."
Kade doesn’t smile.
Reece watches her for a moment. Then she flicks a grape at her chest.
"Oi. You've already got the girl. Don’t let a ghost eat your brain."
Kade catches the grape midair, crushes it between her fingers, and wipes her hand on a napkin.
"No ghosts," she murmurs. "Just people who need to remember they’re not welcome in my world anymore."
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The studio lights are blinding. Laughter echoes, bright and easy. Juniper crosses her legs in that effortless, old-Hollywood way as the crowd simmers down. Then they talk about all the stuff, from her guest appearance in a movie to modelling career and thennnn...
The host , Timmy Mallon grins. The kind of grin made for late-night viral moments.
"So, Juniper, the dress looks absolute regal and um" he says, leaning forward, cards forgotten. "Word on the street is you almost became royalty yourself-"
The crowd oooohs. Juniper’s smile falters just a breath, then comes back bigger.
"Oh God," she says, laughing. "Where do you even get your rumors, from Timmy?"
The host chuckles. "Hey, I don’t start 'em, I just ask the questions. But for real. What do the youngsters call it these days--oh yeah--spill the tea, pun intended for all our brit watchers."
She hums, mock-embarrassed and waits for the laughter to die down before speaking up. "Uhh well, we were close. Haha. The press... got excited. Like always. That's all I’ll say." The room erupts in a few cheers and hoots but Timmy wants to fish moreeeee...
"So what happened? Did you know, the current one, steal your crown?" Juniper laughs too with everyone this time, but it's more teeth than humor.
"I wouldn't say that," she says sweetly. "But I do believe some people settle. And some people... get chosen."
Beat.
The crowd quiets down as Timmy blinks with a smirk. "...Wow," he says. "Okay, that’s going to be a headline."
And Juniper? Well, she doesn't let the chance go to wink at the camera.
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The morning light pours in like molasses through the tall windows. heavy, gold, undeserved. You're seated at the little breakfast table by the balcony, untouched toast on your plate, tea cooling in a porcelain cup that costs more than your rent used to.
Across from you stands Katie, reading the daily itinerary from her sleek little tablet like this is normal. Like you're normal. As usual.
"...And the charity lunch at Wrenford Hall has been pushed to 1:30. Her Grace will meet you at the garden stairs by 1:20 sharp. The press will have a ten-minute pool access window, no direct Q&A."
You nod faintly, eyes on the butter knife you’re not using. Katie scrolls again.
"...The school board meeting for York's primary initiative is now remote, you'll be joining from the East Wing parlour. Princess Kade will join later with you, after her other meeting....And there's some light chatter online following last night’s Mallon appearance by Juniper-"
You blink once. Katie does too And then the color drains from her face.
"I-I wasn't supposed to mention that, your Highness!" she says quickly, eyes wide now. "I mean, it's nothing. Just noise."
"It’s fine," you say.
Even your voice sounds flat. Paper-thin. You set the knife down. "What did she say?"
Katie’s lips part. Then close. Then part again.
You don't repeat the question. She gulps and takes a deep breath.
"Just...don't tell Your Grace I-I told you. Um Ms. Juniper... joked. Said something along the lines of 'some people settle, some get chosen.' The people laughed like they do in these stupid rehearsed shows. Excuse my language but that's what these are. Mutual benefit for both parties type thing."
You nod once. Of course they did. You look down at your untouched tea. Chosen. Settled. Neither felt like you. You were taken. You were picked.
And now? Now you were a punchline.
"Pft....it is kinda funny.."
For the world, anyway.
Katie’s voice lowers. She looks like she might cry from guilt.
"I’m sorry, ma'am, please, please-- I really-I just thought you might want to. And of course not everyone is siding with her, majority of people-"
"I said it’s fine," you repeat, cutting gently through her panic.
She nods quickly, backing away and gulping. "I'll tell the others. No more mentions."
'Some people get chosen.'
And you?
You just got caught.
But then-
By: H. Ballard
Your brow twitches.
That name. Ballard.
Ballard. Your eyes zoomed in on the name. On the initials.
Clara used to talk about someone named Ballard. She'd swoon dramatically over this friend who'd "gone off to London to become a real journalist, imagine that."
She called her "brilliant," "surgical with a headline,"
"the kind of woman who makes empires nervous."
You'd never met her. Never thought to ask.
But now, now something twists in your gut.
Harley Ballard. Because you remember, Clara never said what paper this woman worked for. And you never got to meet her in person. Just that she believed in causes. That she hated PR fluff. That she once said: "When I get my shot, I’m going to burn a palace down. With words."
You stare at the byline again.
H. Ballard.
It’s not confirmation.
But it doesn’t need to be.
Clara and her pity for you regarding this whole situation. "Media is a great power tool, Deniz. Especially for slow poisoning.
Your pulse ticks a little faster. Clara...you fucking beauty-
I knew it.
Ballard is.....
.....Clara herself. Someone is still watching from the outside. Waiting. Helping.
And maybe-
Just maybe-
This article wasn't about gossip. Maybe it was a warning. Or a match, flicked deliberately toward dry grass. You don't smile. Not yet. But it makes you sit up straighter and reread every line like it might open a door. Because for the first time in weeks-
You don't feel powerless.
You feel like someone still remembers who you are.
"Well. Katie. Do you...really, really want...." You stood up, not believing even yourself what you were about to do. Katie backed a step hearing a slight different tone in your voice. Something never heard before.
There is venom.
"To have your job safe?"
"Um...Y-yes, ma'am...Of course. I love working here and for you."
"Then...you gotta do something for me. I want your phone. Want to make a call."
"B-but-"
"Kade would absolutely wreck a havoc in here if she so much so sees a tear in my eye regarding all this...and you know whose fault it would be?...Mhm? It's not just about the job, If I were you, I'd worry for myself too becuase knowing her...
"Ok! You can use it ma'am. Here."
"That's my girl."
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The study is silent except for the soft tick of the antique clock above the fireplace. Morning light seeps through the tall windows, painting thin gold lines across the desk, her desk. Stacked with briefing documents, bound charity reports, and a half-drunk espresso cooling beside her hand.
Kade leans back in the leather chair, flipping through pages on trade agreements she’s not truly reading.
Her phone buzzes.
1 New Message - Reece 🏏
you’re gonna want to see this dude. sorry.
Her brows knit faintly and she taps the screen. The video opens.
"I think some people settle. Some people get chosen."
The audience howls. A sharp whistle. Laughter.
What the actual fuck-
Kade doesn't blink as she watches, the espresso sits untouched beside her as the clip ends. She taps the screen again. Playing it back.
"---some people settle. Some people get chosen."
A lie. And bunch of bullshit, nothing else.
Her jaw tenses. Not because it hurts. Not because she didn’t expect it. But because Juniper knew exactly what she was doing, and who she was aiming it at. Kade's thumb lingers over the pause button before she finally locks the screen. Her reflection stares back from the dark glass. Unbothered. Too calm.
What a hung up bitch-
She places the phone down with calculated care and rises from the chair. Her movements are precise as she walks to the tall cabinet beside the hearth, pulling out her blazer, slipping it on. Every breath measured. Every thought aligned.
This was war. Not a heartbroken girl doing an innocent interview.
1 New Message Sent - Kade E. 👑
Tell Clarence House to issue no comment. I’ll handle this myself.
1 New Message Sent - Assistant Team
Revoke the Mallon Show’s access to all royal charity events for the next quarter.
1 New Message Sent - Reece 🏏
"She wants attention? I’ll give her fifteen minutes. Then I’ll make sure she never gets fifteen seconds again."
And her team not informing her...oh they're going to fucking get it.
════∘◦❁◦∘════
The walls of the East Wing briefing room are lined with centuries-old oil paintings. Kade doesn’t look at a single one.
She stands near the wide bay window, back straight, hands clasped behind her. Her suit is tailored to war. Midnight blue. The pin on her collar bears the crest of House Emsworth.
Across from her, Elliot Thorne, her lead press secretary, stands stiff in the dim light, tablet clutched like a shield.
No one else is in the room. Kade doesn't look up.
"You saw it?" she asks, voice flat. Elliot swallows. "The Mallon segment? Y-es ma'am, and we wanted it handled before informing you. We’re running clean-up across socials. Trending tags are being filtered through redirect campaigns-"
"And?"
"And… public sentiment is split. Some are laughing it off. Some think Juniper's still in love with you. Some think-"
"Say it, idiot."
"...That the Princess Deniz is the one who settled."
Silence. The kind that makes you pray for noise.
"But there are also people who are saying that her behaviour was giving home wrecking."
Kade turns icily. Her eyes lock on him with all the grace of a guillotine.
"You don't fucking get to hide things from me until they are solved. They get solved my way. Your job is to have me informed PRONTO! And I gave one instruction," she says. "Protect Deniz from media distortions. I don’t care if it’s gossip, satire, or satire pretending to be gossip. She’s not to be dragged into that circus."
Elliot fumbles. "W-we issued statements when her name was trending last month-"
"And yet," Kade cuts in, "I woke up to the image of her, my wife, reduced to a punchline on national television."
She steps forward, enough to make him straighten like a wire pulled tight.
"You had Mallon's production team vetted. You approved his press access to our charities. You let her name end up in that man's mouth like it was just another joke for ratings. UGH!."
Elliot swallows again. "It was unscripted. They went off-cue. We couldn't have-"
"You should have known better. I don't want any fucking dramas before my coronation, it should be a clean road."
The words aren't shouted. But they hit harder than anything screamed.
Kade steps back and straightens her sleeves.
"From now on," she says coldly, "if a journalist so much as implies a connection between Juniper Smith and this household, I want their access revoked. Events. Panels. State dinners. Weddings. Funerals. And MY FUCKING CORONATION!. I don't give a FUCK! You dimwits!" She threw a vase at the wall, making Elliot back away in horror.
"And if I ever see Deniz's name trending for something she didn't choose, Elliot… I will assume you've lost control of the narrative. And I don't employ people who fucking lose!"
He nods, white-faced. "U-understood, Your Grace."
"For your sake, I hope so."
She turns on her heel and as the doors close behind her, not even the oil-painted ancestors dare look smug.
AN:This is giving… when you're so obsessed and toxic with someone that you actually circle back to being a green flag😭 cuz...damn Kade, you were hot for once here-nothing is hotter than loyalty, that too by a royalty?! sign me up-☠