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livingthroughchoices-blog · 6 years ago

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The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 2.5: International Impressions)

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Author’s notes: Hey guys! This is angstier and more… meditative than usual. I hope you still like it! As always thanks to everyone who reads, comments and reblogs, it really means the world to me! Special thanks to: @starstruckzonkoperatorbat, @notoriouscs, @simplyaiden-blog, @snyggflicka, @asprankle, @speedyoperarascalparty, @mirivalencia, @mymandrake, @asobigokoro2018, @krisnicjack, @fabi-en-ciel, @gotmanychoicesyo, @redwaygal, @zorjastar-blog,@emceesynonymroll and @thewalkerway for asking me to tag them! Please lmk if I miss anyone or if you want me to remove you.

Also, idk if Read More tags are working on mobile again, but if they’re not, you can block the tag “the marshmallow chronicles” and you should be good (:

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 5,211

Drake’s eyes lingered on Riley’s retreating figure. He wrenched them from her and stormed into the manor, sweating more than the day warranted. He was on the point of throwing all acceptable social conduct out the window and taking his shirt off when he bumped into someone.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, you–”

“I’m certain that was going to end with Your Highness,” said Liam with a teasing smile.

“It was more along the lines of moron, actually,” he replied, though judging by Liam’s chuckling he knew Drake didn’t mean it.

“Tired of the country picnic already?”

“As tired as the word picnic. You know, from doing such heavy lifting in that sentence.”

“Granted, it is a very loose definition of a picnic, but it’s still outdoors. I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Yeah, well,” Drake trailed off. “How about you? Hiding from your eager suitors?”

“Quite the opposite. I came into the manor to refresh myself before spending some time with Lady Riley.”

Drake’s vision clouded.

Nice going, idiot. You pushed her right into Liam’s waiting arms.

He scoffed mentally at that. Like she wasn’t already there to begin with.

“Drake, are you okay? You look parched.”

As soon as Liam said that, he realized his mouth did indeed feel like he had cotton lining it.

“‘M fine,” he muttered.

Liams dark eyes were full of concern. “Are you sure? I don’t just mean physically. I have noticed you’ve been acting strange lately… Especially around Lady Riley.”

If Drake’s mouth hadn’t been bone dry, he would’ve choked on his own saliva. As it was, he made a weird wheezing noise, like he got the air knocked out of him. That had been the last thing he would’ve expected Liam to say. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted Liam to say. At that moment he legitimately would have preferred him to announce that Drake had to share a train compartment with Olivia.

“I…”

Liam took his silence as an opportunity to continue. “Drake,” he put an arm on his shoulder and waited until he made eye contact, “you know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what it is, we’ll figure it out. I want you to be happy.”

Drake took a deep breath and swallowed. His mouth was still dry yet he felt like it had flooded with guilt. He stared at his best friend straight in the eyes and lied to his face, “No, man. Everything’s okay. You know me, I can be a bit of an asshole to everyone, including Addams sometimes. But everything’s good.” He clapped Liam’s back and released himself from his grip. “I gotta go drink something. I’ll see you at the station.”

He sprinted to his room to get his bag before heading down to the station. He knew he’d be early, really early, but he couldn’t face staying here stewing in his anger and jealousy towards Riley, his guilt and resentment towards Liam, all his suspicions and paranoias and feelings of inadequacy. Everything was too much in Cordonia and he was exhausted.

He got one of Bastien’s men to take him to the train station where they would all meet an hour or so later to catch their train to Italy. The thought made him even more upset. Going to Italy with Addams… That sounded like a dream. He’d been lucky enough to visit the country before and he’d found it beautifully timeless. He couldn’t help thinking, even back then when he hadn’t had anyone to think about, that it would be a great place to visit with someone special.

Well, that’s life for ya. Gives you what you want in ways that make you not want it anymore.

He strode into a perfunctory café which they hadn’t even bothered naming. Its drab, straightforward sign said only that: “Café.” A few of the tables were occupied by travellers laden with luggage and shopping bags. Drake thought he could pick out the tourists from the locals by the amount of stuff they had with them and level of enthusiasm. Locals tend to look much gloomier or at the very least pensive than visitors just passing by. He was sure he looked thoroughly local.

He ordered a black coffee and sat down at an empty table facing the window. He had an unimpeded view of at least two platforms and everyone hurrying to and from them. As he sat there trying to guess their stories and sipping his coffee, he felt eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a vaguely feminine shape staring at him. He turned his head slightly towards her and she averted her eyes, blushing. She was cute, with a blond bob that accentuated her fine features and glasses that framed her green eyes. She slowly raised her eyes again and gave him a shy smile, no more than a quirk of the corner of her lips. He smiled back.

She seems nice. Lives here, definitely.

The girl had only a small purse with her and had none of the excitement of someone traveling for pleasure. Nor did she look sad, though. She seemed like a nice girl with no baggage. A girl who wasn’t marrying his best friend.

You could go up there, say hi. She clearly wants you to.

The girl had been stealing glances at him while he studied her, the small smile still on her lips as she pretended to read a book. She hadn’t turned the page since he’d sat down.

He looked back out of the window, more to keep himself from getting flustered than anything else. The sign above the platform closest to him announced the next train’s destination: Paris.

He allowed himself to entertain the idea then. That he’d go up to that girl and talk to her. That they’d hit it off and start texting. Maybe even throw caution to the wind and go to Paris together, ‘cause why not. She’d try to read her book and he’d keep distracting her. He’d show her all the best places to eat and she’d be his guide for museums – she seemed like a girl who knew about that sort of thing. They’d laugh and kiss and decide to stay there, leave Cordonia and its court behind. She’d get a job as a curator and he would maybe apply to the police academy. Of course he’d have to learn French for that…

French. Savannah was learning French.

With a profound sadness he sighed and got up, avoiding the girl’s eyes. He threw away the rest of his coffee on the way out and picked a bench on which to wait for everyone else.

I was never gonna talk to that girl.

A voice inside him was yelling, Why?! Why wouldn’t he let himself be happy? Why not leave everything that hurt him and made him feel small behind?

Because she’s not Addams.

He put his face in his hands and did his best to clear his mind. He did not relish the idea of sitting here for however much longer it took to get everyone here with no company except for his tortured thoughts. He lifted his head as he remembered the park in front of the station. Maybe he could go there, run some laps, anything to keep his mind as blank as possible.

Exercise usually did the trick for him when it came to blowing off steam or avoiding dark thoughts. Picturing Riley’s reaction when she saw him shirtless at the barn raising, he couldn’t help thinking, Heh. Maybe being a grumpy fuck ain’t so bad.

Thankfully, this time was not an exception. The thirty-odd minutes he spent in the park were as close to pleasant as he’d had all day. He hadn’t even really broken a sweat, but he’d successfully outrun any thoughts of, well, anything. His brain was blissfully empty the entire time, so that as he ambled back to the station, his mood had improved a lot.

And lucky it had, because who knows how he would have reacted to his self-described “cabin buddy” if it hadn’t.

“CABIN BUDDIES FOREVEEER!” Maxwell was jumping on his bed when Drake slid the door to the compartment open. “Drake!” He landed on his butt and leaped towards him with such uncontrolled force that Drake had to catch and steady him. “Are you super excited or what? We get to travel all over Europe! Together!”

Drake took a deep breath, trying to return to the zen place he’d been in just moments ago. He tensed his arms in preparation for pushing Maxwell off him, but then he caught his friend’s eyes and the huge grin on his face and softened. He still nudged Maxwell away, but he was much gentler than he’d originally planned on being.

If there was something he needed right now, it was a friend, and he couldn’t afford to drive the only uncomplicated friendship he had away. Liam was like a brother to him, but right now there was too much pain and guilt and unsaid truths between them; although he’d come to really appreciate Hana, he didn’t actually know her that well, not to mention they were both into the same person; as for Riley… he had no idea where he stood and he’d rather not think about it at all. So that left Maxwell: annoying, yet loyal and – he hated to admit – fun Maxwell.

He allowed himself a small smile. “Sure. It’s gonna be fun.”

Maxwell looked stunned for a fraction of a second. Then he fist pumped and squeezed Drake tightly, lifting him a few inches off the floor. “Yaaaay! It’s Fun Drake!”

“Put me down right now or I swear to God you’ll sleep with Bertrand.”

Maxwell almost dropped him in his haste to obey.

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

What proceeded was a long-winded argument, with Drake insisting he was going to bed and Maxwell alternating between coaxing and pleading, and finally complaining that he wasn’t really “Fun Drake.”

“IMPOSTOR! WE WANT FUN DRAKE!”

Realizing his friend was dangerously close to chanting, Drake promised he’d make it up to him at some point during the trip. Only when he swore on all the whisky in the world did Maxwell let him go to bed.

When he woke up the next morning, or rather, afternoon, he was relieved to see no sign of Maxwell. He assumed most people in the entourage were in the dining carriage having lunch, so it was easy to dodge them all and go off on his own. He was in no mood to sightsee – it would only serve as a reminder of the fact that Riley was not with him, so he decided to go in search of a good gelato instead. The task ended up being more difficult than he expected; he wasn’t looking for a tourist trap, he wanted authentic gelato, the kind the locals would get.

He walked further into the city and away from the more obvious spots, finally stumbling into a tiny gelateria that seemed to have every flavor he could have wished; there were creamy chocolates ones and chunky nut ones, countless colorful fruit-based sorbets and even some smooth alcohol flavors. In the end, he got two scoops of a dark espresso one in a cup, which he then took with him to sit outside in the sun.

It was a cute little plaza, enclosed by vibrant buildings that somewhat insulated it from Rome’s perpetual noise. He could just make out the sound of cars and people in the distance, but it was more like white noise. Sitting next to a stone bench next to an old-fashioned water pump, left behind from some bygone era, he enjoyed himself more than he thought possible. He sat there long after his ice cream had gone, taking in the colors of the Roman sunset and the snippets of conversation that drifted his way, spoken in melodious Italian.

He looked down at his phone and groaned. Back to the real world. He threw away his cup and spoon and felt as though he were shedding this peaceful, content persona with it.

By the time he made it to the fancy, baroque building which housed the incongruously modern restaurant in which they were all having dinner most everyone else was already there. He got a peek of Riley wearing a skin-tight red dress that did him no favors in the Not-Thinking-About-Addams department and hastily chose a seat where he could still glance at her if he leaned forward, but wouldn’t have to if he’d rather not. He stood behind his chair, hands gripping the back of it, only now realizing he’d had nothing but an ice cream all day.

Madeleine’s mom – he thought her name was Adeleide or something equally ridiculous – welcomed them. She was one of the few important nobles that Drake didn’t mind. For one thing, she was not a stickler; she could party with the best of them. Even better though, she didn’t look down at him the way her daughter did. He noticed Madeleine was glaring at her mom as she spoke and felt a pang of sympathy for the older woman. Yet another reason to dislike Madeleine.

There was the sound of several scraping chairs as they were finally asked to sit down. Drake couldn’t help but remark that a handsome older man had sat down next to Riley, giving her a smarmy smile, which she returned. He huffed and focused on the fancy entrée he’d just been served.

Most of his meal was spent either leaning forward to see if the man was still talking to Riley or restraining himself from leaning forward to see if the man was still talking to Riley.

I’m going insane.

He’d never been a jealous person before this. He was convinced, though, that this jealousy was a direct consequence of the circumstances; if he were in a normal relationship, there is no way he’d be reacting this way to a perfectly innocent conversation.

As it was, he still felt himself getting hot around the collar of his shirt. He had absolutely no idea of what the dinner had consisted of, focused as he was on trying to psychically convince the man to leave. Drake was out of his chair the very second he did, rushing to grab the empty chair next to Riley.

“I thought you’d never stop talking to that Italian guy,” he said, sitting down.

“Awww, did you miss me?” Riley’s voice was playfully pouty, but there was a sarcastic edge to it that he hadn’t heard since the early days of knowing her.

He stiffened and said, “You’re preferable to standing alone in a corner.”

“Clearly a high bar.”

This was getting dangerously close to escalating, so Drake chose to be honest rather than scathing. “Yet so many fail to clear it, except you of course.” Despite – or maybe because of – the truth behind these words, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her as he said them.

“Just adorable, you two,” came a snotty voice from behind them.

Impeccable timing. It was like this woman had an internal clock that told her just when to cause Drake maximum annoyance. “What are you even doing here, Olivia?”

He hadn’t seen her since the engagement. It had been blissful.

“Helping Riley.”

Drake scoffed. “I’ve seen your kind of help. We’re better off without it.”

“It’s good to see you too, Drake,” she said, her voice bored.

Riley touched Drake’s forearm briefly. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed her touch. “She’s actually helping. She’s sincere, Drake.”

He wasn’t going to give in so easily. “Sincere in her cruelty.”

“We met up earlier because she’s looking for the blackmailer too,” Riley explained.

Drake glanced at Olivia with real curiosity for the first time in his life. Her face was impassive, except for her lips, which had tightened with fury.

“I was targeted just like Riley. We have the same enemy.”

He hadn’t known that. He resolved to ask Bastien the first chance he got.

“If Addams is okay with it, then fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I’m watching you.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Olivia sneered.

“So, did you find anything?” Riley interrupted hastily.

“I’ve been following a lead. During the social season, someone tried to sell a pack of photos with Riley and Liam in New York to the tabloids.”

He couldn’t have been more taken aback. “How do you know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m the Duchess of Lythikos. I get what I want,” she smirked.

“But Bastien and I bought the photos back before they were published. How did you find them when no one else did?” To his surprise, he didn’t really feel suspicious of Olivia. He was curious about where she had heard that, but the fact was that as Duchess she definitely held sway and could therefore get her hands on just about anything.

Olivia waved a dismissive hand. “The details aren’t important. We’ll leave it at that.”

“So, does this mean the person who sold Drake the photos is the same person who had the photos taken of me and Tariq?” asked Riley.

“Don’t be dense, Riley. If I knew the answer to that, we wouldn’t be here having this pointless discussion,” Olivia replied.

“No need for insults here, Olivia.” Drake glared at her. “We want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.”

“I think that whoever sold the photos could have a connection to the person who blackmailed Riley and me.”

Drake gave it a moment’s thought, unsure of how much to say. “That’s… a possibility. But unless you have something to show us, we’re no further in this investigation than we were before we started talking to you.”

“Funny you should mention that. As a matter of fact I have a copy of those photos with me. And I think I have a hunch about who took them. But I want you two with me on this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this on the train?”

Drake raised an eyebrow at Riley; she hadn’t told him she’d met Olivia. Then again, they hadn’t done much talking since yesterday…

“Because somebody forgot the meaning of ‘come alone’,” Olivia said, scowling.

“And I don’t count?”

“You’re not a threat.” She gave him a nasty smile.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“Besides,” Olivia turned to Riley, “I said I’d find you when I had more information to share, and here we are. Are you going to help or not?” She shot Drake a sharp look at this.

Am I gonna help? Hell, I’m the one that’s been looking into this all along! “I’ll look into it with you. Riley doesn’t have to get her hands dirty with this.” As much as it pained him to spend time alone with his nemesis, he was more than willing to do so to protect Riley.

“Please,” Olivia snorted. “Riley’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“We don’t know where this lead will take us, and Riley could still be a target,” Drake argued.

Riley’s voices was soft but steady as she said, “The dignitaries can wait. If she has new evidence, then I want to be there to see it.”

For the first time, Drake actually looked at her. “I don’t want people going after you because we overturned the right rock.”

“I think I’m good, but I love the concern, Drake.” She gave him the first real smile since yesterday and he felt his shoulders sag in relief. Somehow, he’d needed that, needed her to smile at him to know that they could get through this, that it wasn’t all over, even if he still was upset about what happened.

He sighed. “Alright, there’s not much use protesting.”

To Drake’s dismay Olivia sat down. He couldn’t deny that her help might be useful – they weren’t in any position to deny her aid, in any case – but why did it have to be her. He’d have even taken Penelope and her poodles at this point. At least she was harmless, whereas Olivia might stab him as soon as help him.

She said, “Good,” and laid out the bachelor party photos on the table. There were about 8 or 10 of them. They seemed to have been taken at the beach cove and they were all pretty decent quality. “These are copies of the images that were sold to the tabloids.”

“So what’s your hunch?” asked Riley.

“Look.” Olivia pointed to a photo in which Drake and Liam stood laughing together. Under any other circumstances, Drake would have wanted to have that picture. “In this photo, you can see Drake and Liam.”

She pointed to another; this one showed Riley and Liam in the water, smiling at each other. “Here’s you and Liam.” Olivia moved her hand around the others, clearly looking for a specific one “Blah, blah, blah. What’s interesting is in this photo,” she found the one she wanted and pointed, “way in the background, you can see Tariq. So you know what that means? There’s only one person who’s not in a single photo. Maxwell.”

Drake’s heart felt like it was somewhere in his stomach. “No way… I thought Bastien screened all the photos.”

Riley sounded choked. “That means the only person who could be the photographer is…”

“Maxwell,” he completed.

“Maxwell?” Riley shook her head like she was trying to get rid of the idea itself. “We’re jumping to conclusions. Maybe there’s an explanation.”

“There’d better be.” Anger was boiling in Drake’s stomach. He felt like a bomb ready to blow up at any second, his rage and deep disappointment making a powerful combination.

Maybe it’s not him. This is Maxwell we’re talking about.

He tried to cling on to that shred of doubt. But if it wasn’t him then why wasn’t he in any of the pictures?

“Whatever you think of him, he needs to be questioned,” Olivia said.

“Agreed,” he said grimly. He glared towards the end of the restaurant, where Bertrand and Maxwell were engaged in what seemed like an intense conversation, possibly regarding their dwindling funds.

“Let’s get him,” he said, already standing up. He stomped towards them.

Bertrand seemed shocked that he’d be so bold as to dare interrupt them. “Excuse us, we’re discussing important matters here.”

“I know I’m holding up the tiramisu, but we’re almost done here.” Maxwell’s carefree tone did not quite convince him, and his worried expression couldn’t match it. “Oh, hey, are we bringing Olivia with us too?” he added as she joined him with Riley.

A stony silence descended on the group. Maxwell’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Why are you all looking at me funny? Is it a staring contest? I’m game. Grr… I’ll beat all three of you.” He frowned and stared at all three of them in turn.

“Maxwell,” Riley’s voice was soft but unwavering, “explain yourself.”

“I’m an enigma. I’m beyond explanation.” Maxwell waved his hands around and wiggled his eyebrows in what he surely thought was a mysterious expression.

Olivia help up the photos and accused him, “You took these.”

“Thank for citing your sources,” he grinned. “Those are my pictures from the bachelor party in New York. I actually like that one. I’m not much of a photographer, but I gave that one a nice Dutch angle.” He framed his eye with his fingers, giving Drake a strong urge to smack him.

Drake still believed that Maxwell wouldn’t knowingly hurt his friends, but that was precisely the problem: Maxwell’s obliviousness could border on selfishness and so the end result was the same. It didn’t matter if he didn’t mean any harm; what was done was done and it was incredibly frustrating to Drake that even now he couldn’t see how he’d screwed up.

“I can’t believe you,” was all he could say.

“Did I do something wrong?”

How can he not realize!

“You’re connected to the blackmailer,” Olivia stated.

Maxwell’s eyes widened. “What? I would never betray Riley.”

“Maxwell, I believe that, but we need an explanation,” said Riley. “These photographs didn’t end up in the tabloid’s hands without some help. Telling us what you know will help track that person down.”

Maxwell glanced at the floor and grimaced. “This is serious… I can’t hide it any longer. I took the pictures because I was going to make a scrapbook of all our time spent together…” He sighed in defeat. “There, the surprise is ruined.”

I can’t believe he’s talking about a fucking scrapbook right now. “Then why sell them to the tabloids!” he shouted, rapidly losing what patience he had left.

Maxwell put his hand up. “That wasn’t me! I could never do that.”

“You can and you did!” insisted Olivia.

Drake had completely lost his composure at this point. If Maxwell was capable of this then he truly couldn’t trust anyone. “You betrayed Liam! You betrayed Riley! You betrayed all of us!” He poked Maxwell’s chest, then in a low, sad voice he admitted the worst part of it all, “We trusted you.”

Maxwell was shaking his head so vehemently, his cheeks were shaking with it. “No! I… I…”

“Stop!” Bertrand was standing a few steps behind Maxwell. Frankly, Drake had forgotten he was still there. “Please. Stop. If you would please direct your ire away form Maxwell. The indiscretion in question is mine and mine alone.”

“Meaning…” Drake urged.

His usually pompous manner had lost all its self-importance. Bertrand sounded pathetic and ashamed. “I was the one who sold the photos of the bachelor party to the tabloids.”

Maxwell wheeled around to stare at his brother. “Bertrand! No! Why? How could you do that to Riley and Liam?”

“Explain yourself,” Drake said coldly.

“There is no excuse for what I did, but the reason enough was simple… money.” At this, Bertrand looked down at his shoes. It was hard to tell whether he was more ashamed of his actions or of being broke. “Most nobles didn’t think Lady Riley would last a week… I was one of them. Here I was facing the terrible reality of having agreed to sponsor a failure of a candidate… House Beaumont’s last chance at being restored to its former glory would be ruined, and it would be on my shoulders.” He squared them then, as if adjusting the weight of all his responsibilities. “I decided to salvage what I could and sell any material related to you, the photos in question being the only thing I could find.”

“Bertrand…” Maxwell couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice, “you went through my phone”

“I was doing research, all in the name of saving House Beaumont,” Bertrand’s eyes were pleading, yet as he looked at his younger brother, he seemed to realize none of his excuses would be enough. “But… I betrayed you, Maxwell, my only brother, my own flesh and blood. Father would be ashamed if he knew.” He hung his head.

“Bertrand, I understand why you did it.” Riley said sadly. “You’ve been struggling to scrape every cent together to support your house.”

Drake gaped at her. Here was that trusting nature that he’d been so worried about when she first arrived. How can she forgive him so easily? Bertrand would have sold her out for like $5! “Riley… he sold private photos of you and Liam…”

And then there was the fact that this was not just about her. Liam would’ve been more harmed by those images by Riley, after all. She had only been some random girl then; Liam was already the heir to the throne.

“That doesn’t mean I approve of it,” she said, more harshly.

“Nor should you,” said Bertrand. “If it means anything at all, and I don’t suspect that it does… Please know that I’ll never forgive myself for this. For what I did to you.” Bertrand gazed out of the window, his lips a thin line and his face red. “If it’s any solace, I can only say that this was before… Before I knew you. Before I saw that you had a chance here at court. Before I… before I began to believe in you.”

Perhaps that hit a little too close to home for Drake, for he found himself fuming. How dare he have assumed so much? But more than that, how can he have acted on those assumptions?

“Another mistake by the oh-so-illustrious Duke of Ramsford,” he sneered, his nostrils flaring.

“It would appear so,” Bertrand muttered. “Lady Riley, I do not believe my actions are worthy of your forgiveness… Even so, let me extend to you my most sincere apologies.”

“Mine too,” said Maxwell.

Bertrand put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “No, Maxwell, you had nothing to do with this. The blame is mine to shoulder. I know it’s too much to hope for your forgiveness, but I’d at least like to offer my continued services. My misconduct has no relation to the cretins who so wrongly hurt you. I may still be of some use in helping you uncover your true enemies here.”

Drake had not expected Bertrand’s voice to harden as he talked of the conspiracy. Huh, he might actually care about Addams. Not that it matters, he’s still and opportunistic dickwad.

Riley took a deep breath. “I forgive you,” she exhaled.

Bertrand could not have looked more stunned if she’d revealed herself to be the Queen. “I… You never cease to surprise me, Lady Riley. You have my heartfelt gratitude and eternal loyalty.” He bowed to her, a hand on his heart.

“Thank you.” Riley’s face was still serious, but Drake thought he could detect the hint of a smile on her lips.

“I promise I shall do what I can to prove my worth.”

“I guess at least we know the truth.” Drake shrugged.

“Yes, and now that it’s clear this little revelation isn’t related to either of our blackmailers, I’m leaving. Hopefully the next lead I find will be more fruitful,” said Olivia.

“Olivia,” Riley took her hand, which made Olivia look down as if she were holding something gross, like a toad, “we couldn’t have done this without you.”

Riley glanced at him meaningfully. “You were actually… helpful,” Drake said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t make much of it.” Olivia yanked her hand back. “We’re allies of convenience.”

“We’re still allies,” said Riley, smiling fully now.

“Yeah, we are,” she admitted, returning the smile.

Ahhh! My eyes! He didn’t think he’d ever seen Olivia smile before. It was surreal.

“I think it’s best if I also take my leave now,” said Bertrand, bowing and walking away more stiffly than usual.

I would guess the stick up his ass just grew more than a few inches.

“I’ll take that tiramisu now. A lot of it,” said Maxwell. He looked like he needed it. Drake put his arm around his shoulders, feeling guilty for having yelled at him and sorry that his family was such garbage. Now that, he could understand.

“Let’s go get you the biggest tiramisu they have, buddy.”

#trr #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #king liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #bertrand beaumont #olivia nevrakis #pb #pixelberry #choices #playchoices #fanfic #ch 2.5 #the marshmallow chronicles #long post #angst

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livingthroughchoices-blog · 6 years ago

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The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 2.4: Flirting With Disaster)

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Author’s notes: Hey guys! This one’s a little shorter and a little angstier. Hope you like it! As always thanks to everyone who reads, comments and reblogs, it really means the world to me! Special thanks to: @starstruckzonkoperatorbat, @notoriouscs, @simplyaiden-blog, @snyggflicka, @asprankle, @speedyoperarascalparty, @mirivalencia, @mymandrake, @asobigokoro2018, @krisnicjack, @fabi-en-ciel, @gotmanychoicesyo, @redwaygal, @zorjastar-blog,@emceesynonymroll and @thewalkerway for asking me to tag them!

Also, idk if Read More tags are working on mobile again, but if they’re not, you can block the tag “the marshmallow chronicles” and you should be good (:

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 3,991

A country picnic. Never had two words been so deceiving. Two words for things Drake loved separately, and even more so together, stripped of their meaning and turned into a frilly, fussy, canapé-filled circus.

He plodded downstairs, feeling as excited about the event as he would having his entire body waxed.

“There you are!”

Uh oh. Throughout his life he’d found that those words almost never preceded something enjoyable. Worse, although he could only make out the person’s silhouette, framed by the light streaming in from the open door, he recognized Maxwell’s voice immediately.

“What d’you want?”

“We’re having a dance-off!”

Maxwell had barely got the words out when Drake replied, “Absolutely not.”

“I’m just kidding, Hana’s having a dance-off with Madeleine.”

“Okay, is this a really weird dream? Is Bertrand about to barge in riding a giraffe?”

“First of all, I’m definitely going to have to hear about that dream later, but no, it’s all part of our genius plan.”

The sense of foreboding was back, but Drake’s brain seemed to think it was too early to try make sense of Maxwell’s hijinks. “Explain.”

“To find out who framed Riley! Hana’s challenging Madeleine as a distraction so she can slip away from the party and investigate!”

“Okay… I guess it’s not the worst thing you could come up with. I’m surprised you’re not upset that Hana’s doing the dancing, though.”

“Drake, I am ADULT. Why would I be–?”

“You already had a tantrum about it, didn’t you?”

“I wanted to do iiit,” Maxwell pouted.

Drake put his arm around his friend’s head and pulled him down for a noogie. “I know, I know, shhh, shhh, shhh…” he cooed, still holding a struggling Maxwell.

With his friend’s punches coming hard and fast, Drake finally loosened his grip on him and Maxwell managed to extricate himself, glaring at him. He hmphd and straightened his shirt, looking remarkable like his uptight brother for a second. Drake bit his tongue to keep himself from saying it; that would probably cause Maxwell to have an identity crisis.

Laughing quietly, Drake put a relaxed arm on Maxwell’s shoulders, who tensed for a moment, fearing a second attack. “Come on, I’m sorry. Let’s go see Hana’s moves.”

Maxwell clapped his back – perhaps a bit more forcefully than usual – and walked out to the garden with him.

It looked much like Madeleine’s had on Riley’s first day back. It really struck Drake how homogenous nobles liked things to be; it was always some slight variation on the same thing: white ornate tent with pastel-colored accents, elaborately set tables with towering stacks of tiny food that looked more suitable for photographing than for eating, colorful flowery dresses and ridiculous hats for the women and elegant suits for the men.

And yet, to Drake, among the sea of sameness, one person stood out, as always. He knew logically that there wasn’t anything particularly different about Riley; she was beautiful, of course, but she was by no means the only beautiful woman in attendance. Her dress was bright and flattering, but so were many others. Even her smile, pretty as it was, could be compared to others there.

But that was not how he felt. Every move of her hands as she talked, every small gesture of her face made her infinitely more interesting than anybody else there. He’d familiarized himself with everything about her so thoroughly that at this point, he could guess what she was talking about just based on the way her hands and her mouth moved. As he came closer and started being able to catch snatches of what she was saying, he found that he could even predict the kind of movements she’d make as she told a story of a night out back in New York.

What the fuck have I become.

It was almost routine to ask this question of himself now, and he realized he was dangerously close to not caring at all. In fact, he was smiling as he approached her and tapped her shoulder, sorry to interrupt her story, but excited to be the one talking to her.

As she turned, he leaned in a little more appropriately than he had the day before and muttered, “Hey, Addams. Hana. Maxwell, er, caught me up on the plan. Now might be a good time...”

She nodded and took his hand to lead him away from the crowd. He took a second to acknowledge Hana, which he had forgotten to do in his scrutiny of Riley. He could always count on Hana to understand, though, as she smiled at him as sweetly as usual.

“Oh! Right! I’ll... be right back. I just remembered something I really must speak to Madeleine about.” Hana winked at them, although her cheeks were looking rather pink.

The things we do for this girl.

Riley gave her a thumbs up and started making her way out of the tent with Drake in tow. Trying to follow her in her haste, Drake bumped into someone, making him let go of Riley’s hand. Seeing Drake stuck behind, she tried to make her way back to him, but she was being blocked by a couple deep in conversation.

Lady Kiara’s smile lit up her graceful face. “Drake, I’m surprised to see you here.”

It was the kind of event he would customarily have skipped…

Things really have changed these past few months, he thought, catching a whiff of Riley’s perfume as he joined him.

“Me, too. But I try to support Liam when I can.”

Ha! Is that what we’re calling it?

Kiara took a step closer to him. “You’ve always been such a good friend to him.” She reached out and let her hand rest on his arm. He noticed Riley’s eyes dart down at Kiara’s hand. “It’s part of why I always liked you. It’s such a shame what happened to your sister.”

With a flash of guilt, he realized he hadn’t been thinking about Savannah much lately, and as much as he tried to justify himself – I need to find out who’s framing Addams! – he couldn’t deny that he had practically given up on finding her. Still, it had been a while since anybody else mentioned her; even Liam hadn’t asked anything lately, so he smiled at Kiara with a swell of affection.

Riley, on the other hand, was not smiling. In fact, her eyes had narrowed and she’d crossed her arms defensively. “Wait... You’ve always liked Drake? Could have fooled me.”

Kiara’s face was stony. “Not all of us wear our hearts on our sleeves.”

For once, Drake could not be any less interested in their interaction. Savannah now at the forefront of his mind, he cast his memory back, trying to remember any friendship shared between her and Kiara. He furrowed his brow in concentration. “Back up a second... I didn’t know that you and Savannah spent time together.”

Kiara’s face took on a more neutral expression, but there was still something guarded about it. “Not much, really. It’s just she was so friendly. And she was coming along so well in her French lessons, and I was surpri–”

“French lessons?” Drake interrupted, “Savannah didn’t speak French.”

“I was teaching her before–”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a loud, thumping bass, which had replaced the gentle string music coming from the speakers around the tent.

Drake vaguely heard Hana’s flute-like voice and Madeleine’s clipped tones and knew the challenge was being issued. He could not have cared less, his eyes had not left Kiara’s for a moment, silently urging her to go on and make herself heard over the din. She opened her mouth to speak, but something behind Drake seemed to catch her attention; it was only then that Drake felt his arm being tugged at. Riley was heading back through the crowd, trying to exit the tent.

She turned her head back and whisper-shouted, “Pssttt. Drake, that’s our cue.”

Drake remained immobile, although Riley was using her entire body weight to pull on his arm, which felt like it might dislocate. “Wait, I need to talk to Kia–”

“There’s no time, we have to go while no one is looking!” With an unexpectedly powerful tug, she made him stumble, leaving him no choice but to follow her.

Before he could even process what was happening, they were out in the garden, and they’d caught a security guard’s eye. Riley’s hand took off, along with the rest of her. With one last regretful look back at the tent, he followed her behind a hedge.

“Lost him,” he panted. His relief was short-lived, though, as he registered what had happened. “Hey, what the hell, Addams?”

He couldn’t remember ever being this annoyed at her, not even when they’d first met.

Riley’s exhilarated smile was instantly wiped from her face, a blank look on it instead. “What?”

“You heard me. I was talking to Kiara and you just–”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you were talking to Kiara.” Her voice dripped with venom as her face reddened. “I really should be more considerate, huh? Just watch as you two flirt right in front of me.”

Drake’s mouth fell open. He was so outraged he couldn’t form words. “Wh–? How–? I can’t believe you–”

“Look, if it makes you feel better, you can go right back to your mademoiselle as soon as we’re done here. I’m sorry helping me is such an inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?!” Drake roared, fiery anger shaking him out of his speechlessness. “What the fuck! You know better than anyone how committed I am to figuring this out.” He lowered his voice; it became deceptively calm, though it trembled slightly. “And as for flirting, you’re one to talk, Lady Riley.”

Riley’s nostrils flared. He noticed her eyes becoming watery with a savage satisfaction that he knew even then would come back to bite him in the ass later, yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret his cruel words.

How could his so-called flirting with Kiara – he wouldn’t even call it flirting – be more important to her than his sister? She knew how much Savannah meant to him. He’d been certain if anyone could understand, it was Riley. And if he’d been mistaken about that…

The idea of Riley not being who he thought she was proved too painful to contemplate for long, so he brought himself to look at her. Hot tears were spilling from her eyes and she stared at the ground fixedly enough to bore holes in it. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him defiantly. It was clear they weren’t sad tears, or at least not entirely. She was the picture of fury. She opened her mouth and he flinched in anticipation, when Maxwell poked his head around the hedge and motioned for them to follow him.

Through a brief look, they agreed to put this fight – I can’t believe we’re fighting – on pause. They followed Maxwell around the garden to a spot just below Riley’s window.

“Where’s Bertrand?” she asked.

Maxwell nodded towards her room. “I sent him up to your room to stand in for you. I relayed everything that happened, so he’ll know where to go.”

“Bertrand is going to stand in for me?” Despite her red-rimmed eyes Riley sniggered.

“Little known fact, before he was Duke Ramsford, Bertrand was an accomplished human statue.”

At any other time, Drake would’ve been the first one to appreciate a good old-fashioned Bertrand-is-not-a-human-being joke, but he was not in the mood.

“What?” Riley also seemed a bit exasperated with Maxwell, which was unlike her.

Thankfully, Maxwell’s poor observational skills kept his feelings intact. Or maybe he was just used to people being annoyed at him. “Kidding! But he will do almost anything to clear your name.”

“Alright Addams,” said Drake, looking everywhere but at Riley, “where do you think we should start?”

Gazing up at her window, she replied, “We should try to line up the shot.”

Maxwell handed Drake a professional-looking camera – not that he knew anything about photography – and checked his phone. “Looks like Bertrand is ready.”

Drake put the camera up to his left eye. He instantly came to the conclusion that they were too far away; he could barely make out Bertrand’s silhouette in Riley’s window. “This angle doesn’t look right. I think we’d have to be standing over there to get the right view.”

He pointed to the small garden that framed the manor’s entrance, and the other two followed him there.

Looking up at her bedroom, Riley said, “I can see right into my bedroom from here!” Momentarily forgetting their argument in her eagerness to confirm her theory, Riley turned to him, extending her arm, “Drake, hand me the camera.”

She stared through it, craning her neck, then lowered it with a grimace. “Too low, Even someone seven feet tall couldn’t have taken this.”

The answer came to Drake in a flash, “They must have climbed the tree!” A tall tree stood almost directly under Riley’s window. It looked perfect for climbing, too, with its thick limbs and scarce foliage.

Riley let out a resigned sigh, “I guess that means I’m climbing a tree...”

She whipped the camera around her neck, pulling her hair up then letting it cascade down so that Drake caught a whiff of her perfume.

Why does she have to smell so good when I’m mad at her?

She climbed the tree with ease, as if this was something she did every day although in all likelihood she hadn’t done it in months, if not years. Drake allowed himself to be begrudgingly impressed.

At one point, her right foot slipped off a branch, but before he had time to freak out, she’d hauled herself up with disproportionate upper body strength.

Fuck me. Can she stop being cool for a second?

He deliberately kept his face as blank as possible, willing himself not to show any hint of a smile or even approval. He was mad, goddammit, and he was going to stay mad.

Maxwell made no such effort to hide his enthusiasm, yelling up at her, “Go Spider-Riley!”

Riley’s self-satisfied smile made Drake roll his eyes.

She reached near the top of the tree and installed herself on a stable branch before raising the camera to her face. “It’s a perfect match!” She let the camera hang from her neck and turned to look down at them thoughtfully, “This is really close to the Manor...”

Drake nodded, “Whoever did it must have been at the party.”

“More than that, it means whoever did it must have been waiting around for the right shot. I mean... I’m literally up a tree. Whoever took those pictures wasn’t just standing around and happened to see... they were waiting.”

The implications of what she said dawned on Drake. “They knew Tariq would be in your room, which means it was definitely a set up and the photographer was in on it. And whoever hired the photographer must have known the manor pretty well to know about the view from this spot.”

The suspect list was getting smaller and smaller; it had to be someone who met all of those criteria and was high enough on the food chain to make Bastien uneasy. Short of Liam, Drake couldn’t think of anyone else who fit that description and had something to gain out of this, so he figured the other suitors would have to remain suspects even if there was something that wasn’t entirely convincing to him about that hypothesis.

His musings were interrupted by Riley asking, “Maxwell, didn’t you say that a reporter snuck into the party that night?”

“Yeah. A bold move, considering it was a private event...”

“We need to confirm if the reporter you saw is the same one who climbed the tree and took the photo,” said Drake.

“Right. Now I’ll go get Bertrand and meet you back here.”

Maxwell made to leave when Riley called out, “Can’t you just text him?”

Drake wondered if she was as desperate as he was not to be left alone, just the two of them.

“Think, Riley!” Maxwell tapped his temple with his index finger. “What if they’re monitoring the airwaves?”

He ran off without another word, not giving Drake a chance to point out he’d texted Bertrand only a few minutes ago. A heavy, charged silence descended on them.

We might as well get this over with. Fuck it, let’s fight.

He didn’t really feel like yelling his arguments up at the tree, though, so he prompted her, “You coming down, Addams?”

Riley had been gazing at her window, and when she turned to him, her face had softened, “Yeah, just thinking about how you came to my rescue that night.”

So, she was extending an olive branch.

He allowed himself a low chuckle. “I think I remember you coming to my rescue.”

She shrugged with a tentative smile. “Maybe a little.” Her smile faded, but her face remained open. “Drake I… I just wanted to say thank you.”

Before he could harden his heart, he’d blurted out, “It was nothing, Addams. Really.” Because it was. It was nothing compared to what he’d do for her. She didn’t even have to ask.

She shook her head vehemently. “It wasn’t nothing. Not to me.” Her voice was thick with tears and Drake felt himself teeter on the edge of letting his anger go.

But no. He couldn’t. How could she be so grateful for such a small action and yet not show him the same decency when it came to something that mattered so much to him? How could she have such a double standard when it came to his flirting with Kiara and her flirting with Liam? Did she really care so little about his feelings? Was she just using him to play with? To have some fun before becoming queen? Everything inside him rebelled against the idea of Riley being a selfish, careless person. He hadn’t known her for that long, but he knew with a certainty that shocked him that he hadn’t been wrong about her. That she absolutely was the amazing person that had changed his whole perspective on life. He knew this at his core. But then why?

He cleared his throat and turning his back to her he said, “Well... uh... get down from there, before you hurt yourself.”

He resisted the urge to help her hop down and walked towards Maxwell and Bertrand, who were hurrying out the manor. He had only refrained from helping Riley because he was positive she wouldn’t need it in the first place – even if he normally would have offered anyway. A couple of beats went by, however, and he hadn’t heard her come down, so he turned to check on her in spite of himself. She was staring intently at something stuck on a branch. Feeling his eyes on her, she took whatever she found and landed gracefully on the ground, clutching it. He hastily continued walking, not wanting her to catch up, although she was obviously avoiding that, too.

“I might have found something. Look,” said Riley as she joined the group.

They all looked down at black security pass encased in protective plastic. They could read Mansingh in sleek white letters.

“Mansingh?” He knew he’d heard the name before, but he couldn’t place it.

Maxwell snapped his fingers. “It’s the company they used for security at the party. Super high-tech.” Of course! Drake remembered Bastien mentioning them a few months ago, when he was considering hiring them for another event. “Turn it over!”

The other side was caked in dirt, but the faint outline of the badge’s owner was visible. Maxwell promptly wiped it off with his sleeve.

Bertrand was outraged. “Maxwell, you’re making a mess! What would father say?”

Maxwell let out a mirthless laugh. “The great Barthelemy Beaumont always had a lot to say about me.”

Putting a hand on Maxwell’s arm, Riley gave him an encouraging smile. “In this case, I think he’d at least be pleased that we’re making progress towards clearing the house name.”

“Perhaps,” Bertrand conceded. They examined the pass; a cool, professional-looking woman stared back at them, expressionless. “That must be the reporter! How did she get her hands on a Mansingh security badge?”

“She must have had help from the inside. Someone who could get her security clearance to a private party,” said Riley.

“Probably whoever hired her,” chimed in Drake, his brain in overdrive. “This badge must’ve given her access to the grounds, but when she was spotted taking pictures at a closed event...”

“Her ruse was uncovered and she was ejected,” Bertrand said.

“She could’ve lost the badge in the branches here, or tried to toss it away so no one knew how deep the conspiracy ran. Does it say who she is?” Drake asked.

“There’s something written beneath her picture, but it’s damaged…” Riley brought the pass closer to her eyes, peering at it with a concentration Drake normally would have found cute… Okay, he definitely still thought it was cute, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I can’t read it.”

“But at least we have a real clue. We’ll investigate further. Good work…” Bertrand gave them what, to him, qualified as a smile, yet his lips barely moved. “With the picnic ending, we should get packed for our departure on the engagement tour tomorrow.”

Bertrand and Maxwell strode back to the manor. As Riley turned to leave he recalled his theory from the day before. He hesitated; he didn’t really feel like to talking right now, but this was bigger than any fight they could have and two heads would be better than one.

He jogged up next to her and planted himself in front of her. Her eyebrows knitted and her arms crossed, her expression guarded; she clearly thought he was there to argue.

“Wait, do you have a minute? I just thought of something important.”

Her face relaxed. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking, Addams... this isn’t the first set of photos someone has tried to turn against you.”

“You mean the ones from the bachelor party? The ones you and Bastien kept from going to print?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s a coincidence either.”

Riley nodded. This they could agree on, at least. “Did you ever find out who did it?”

“I have hunches, but nothing conclusive.” It was stupid not to tell her what he suspected, he knew it was, but he didn’t want to give up all his information just yet. If he was honest with himself, he withheld it out of spite. Though if he was even more honest – and he definitely did not care to be – a deep, pathetic part of him was hoping he could solve it himself. Be her hero in a way that Liam, who was too close to the scandal, couldn’t be. Good thing he wasn’t feeling honest.

Riley frowned, deep in thought. “A maid from the manor revealed that a disguised noble lady told her to pull a prank on Tariq the night the pictures were taken.”

“Hmmm…” So one of the suitors was involved. Well, his theory took that into account… maybe a suitor and some other, higher-ranked noble? Hell, some of the suitors’ parents were pretty important, though he didn’t really understand the hierarchy.

“There might be a connection between the noble lady, the bachelor photos, and this photographer. Either way, this conspiracy goes deeper than we thought. Just…” He took one step closer to her, momentarily forgetting his irritation and let his hand ghost over her cheek. Her thunderstruck eyes shone with relief. Did she think I could just stop caring about her? The thought was enough to bring out a grim smile. “Be careful, Addams.”

#trr #the royal romance #drake x mc #drake walker #king liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #pb #pixelberry #choices #playchoices #fanfic #ch 2.4 #the marshmallow chronicles #long post

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