#CRACK!Raiding the Royal Treasury | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zelenacat · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1- When We Were Young- An Obitine Story

She was dressed from head to toe in ivory. Her voluminous gown glimmered in the sunlight, emanating a pearly sheen on the marble floors of the palace. The aureate doves and shields on her hem reflected their golden threads onto the shiny golden flats that caressed her heels. Clinched at the waist was a slim glimmering belt that rested nicely on her hips, bejeweled with citrine and opal stones interlocking with pearls. She was slightly uncomfortable with the tightness of her corsetted bust and how it accented the shoulders her maids had rubbed with oil.

“Your Grace?”

Satine straightened at her title, pushing her shoulder blades back and raising her chin. She stared at her face in the mirror, crystal blue eyes ablaze with righteous fire, slim cheekbones painted a pale pink, and with her hair in a low bun, Satine was about to face her destiny.

“Your Grace?”

Those words shook her from her revelry.

Satine swallowed, addressing the lady that had just appeared in the doorway, “Yes, Fesma?”

“Your train, Your Grace.”

Satine gasped, Mandalorians were not ones for frivolity, but this cape, the royal coronation train, was the most glorious thing she’d ever seen. Fesma stepped forward, Khaami, her other lady appeared in the doorway just as the purple velvet was draped over her shoulders and tied along her collar bone.

“Your Grace, the carriage has arrived.”

Satine placed her hands on her stomach and inhaled, steadying herself, this was it, the day.

“Let us go then.”

Satine rode in a covered aircraft that slowly crawled through the city of Sundari, headed to the glorious Jaru Cathedral. She’d been nervous all morning, but now it was real. The people, so many of them, cheered as they tried to get a glimpse of her behind the veiled windows. In the car behind her rode four of her coronation maidens, only Fesma and Khaami were with her now.

“You will excel, Your Grace,” Fesma spoke up.

Satine turned to her.

“Are you sure?” slipped out her mouth before she could stop herself.

“Quite,” Fesma answered firmly, “you are the Duchess.”

“It is true, Your Grace,” Khaami agreed, “it is your birthright.”

Satine tried to smile, “I thank you, ladies, for your kindness.”

Fesma and Khaami had been natural choices for her ladies, they were the daughters of powerful counts, and she had known them since girlhood.

As they arrived at the Cathedral, the trumpets blared. Satine’s sister, Bo-Katan, dressed in light blue with a violet sash, opened the car door.

“Here we go, Bine,” Bo-Katan held out her hand, “it’s time.”

Satine took her sister’s hand and climbed out of the carriage, the crowds roared. Satine looked up at the camera, and it was then she truly smiled, her people, they loved her.

“Ready, Your Grace,” Khaami whispered from behind.

Satine turned around to check, her ladies were holding the sides of her cape, it wasn’t allowed to touch the ground. Behind them, her coronation maidens were waiting. Steeling herself, Satine walked forward, with Bo-Katan on her right as her coronation maidens fell in line, she looked every bit as regal as she felt.

At the Cathedral entrance, Bo-Katan was given a sword, she held it upright and stepped in front of Satine, the trumpets blared again. Slowly, the nobles in the stands stood and Bo-Katan stepped forward. Satine knew that her sister had practiced for this moment, as she was not one for royal engagements, and for that Satine was grateful.

As they made their way to the end of the aisle, Bo-Katan stepped off to the side and Satine turned to sit on the grand throne center stage. Her ladies spread her cape around her off to one side, elegantly accentuating her posture.

“The Archbishops of Sundari.”

Slowly, two ancient men made their way from Satine’s sides, one on the right the other on the left. One carried a knife, the other carried a bowl, they stopped in front of Satine and bowed deeply. When they rose, Satine watched as one Archbishop held out his hand to her, Satine tried not to shake as she took the knife.

“Do you solemnly swear,” droned the other Archbishop, “that you are as pure and as holy as warrior King Korkyrach the First?”

“I solemnly swear.” Satine spoke.

“Do you solemnly swear” began the other one, “that you will lead Mandalore to greatness as the Queen Mara the First once did?”

“I solemnly swear.” Satine said sternly.

The Archbishop held out the bowl, and Satine made a shallow cut on her wrist. Gingerly, she poured some drops of blood into the ancient artifact.

“The Gods have accepted your blood,” the Archbishops stated together, “the Gods have proclaimed you worthy.”

Trumpets blared and the Archbishops moved to stand at her sides. Down the aisle came the High Justice, carrying a scarlet pillow with the most decadent crown upon it. Satine was conscious of her eyes widening, but she didn’t realize the rapid rising of her chest.

“Calm, little one,” whispered the old High Justice when she was in earshot, “this is your birthright.”

Satine straightened. One of the High Justice’s attendants took the pillow from him and the High Justice raised the crown above Satine’s head.

“As Jaru the Divine blessed the first Dukes of Mandalore, she now blesses you, Satine Kryze, as you are officially crowned, Duchess of Mandalore!”

Satine felt the weight of the heavy crown on her head and she closed her eyes.

“Long live the Duchess!”

Satine opened her eyes.

“Long Live the Duchess!”

Straightening, Satine focused on her breathing.

“Long live the Duchess!”

The High Justice and his attendant stepped to the sides of the throne as Bo-Katan walked forward. Just in front of the throne, Satine’s sister got down on one knee and took Satine’s hand in hers.

“I, Bo-Katan Kryze of Clan Kryze, declare myself to be your liege of life and limb, your sister in battle, and your servant in peace. May Mandalore prosper under your reign.”

One by one, the clan leaders came up and pledged allegiance to Satine, their new duchess, declaring that her reign would be a glorious one. When it came time for her to leave, Satine’s ladies and coronation maidens encircled the throne and Satine stood. The crowd surged forward as she appeared on the steps of the Jaru Cathedral, Satine smiled and waved as she got into the carriage. After a few minutes of her ladies arranging her cape, the coachman closed the door.

She made a speech on the balcony of the Summer Palace, facing all of Sundari as she repeated the practiced words she’d been preparing for weeks. The people cheered when she finished, the nobles clapped politely.

“Long live the Duchess!”

Satine didn’t expel the breath she was holding until after their backward march, when the panes of the palace balcony closed.

“Congratulations, Your Grace.”

Satine choked on a giggle.

“Your Grace?”

Satine sighed and turned to face her ladies and coronation maidens, “Thank you all.”

“Come, Your Grace,” Fesma held out her hand, “let us help you to your quarters.”

In her quarters, Satine took off the ceremonial crown and set it down on her toilette, then went her gloves, her diamond choker and pearls, and finally, her cape.

“Fesma, Khaami?”

“Yes, Your Grace?” the ladies looked up.

“Please return the ceremonial regalia and my jewels to the royal treasury.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Satine placed the crown in Fesma’s hands and draped the cape over Khaami’s arms.

“Hm,” the Duchess stood back to admire her handiwork, then cracked a smile, “I think you should wear the jewels to transport them, don’t you think?”

Khaami’s mouth dropped open and she coughed on a gasp. Fesma’s eyes went wide, but she recovered.

“Are you sure, Your Grace?”

“Yes, Fesma.”

Khaami squealed. Satine placed the necklaces on her ladies.

“Be back quickly, I have to change.”

After her ladies left, Satine sat down in her toilette chair, staring at herself in the mirror. She’d done it, a proud expression crossed her face, she was the Duchess of Mandalore. Yet, something felt...wrong.

Satine inhaled sharply, she wouldn’t think of him. Satine wouldn’t think about how she felt when he’d taken harpoons for her, or how he made her laugh with her belly, or how she’d given him her body without a second thought. Where was he now? Did he remember her? Had he moved on?

“Your Grace?”

Satine looked up, she hadn’t realized she’d been crying.

Clearing her throat, she answered, “Yes, Fesma?”

Fesma frowned when she saw the Duchess, “We must get you dressed for the banquet.”

“Yes,” Satine wiped her eyes, “I am the guest of honor after all.”

Standing, the Duchess did not miss the look of concern that passed between her ladies.

“Your Grace, are you-”

“I’m alright, Fesma,” Satine interrupted, “but we must get ready.”

The coronation had been held at around 11 o’clock in the morning, but Satine had barely eaten breakfast; she'd been so nervous. So while Fesma prepared a bath, Khaami went to fetch food.

“Fesma,” Satine’s face darkened suddenly, “what was it like the year I was gone?”

The lady froze, swallowed, shook her head, and continued on with her task.

“Not even us nobles fared well, our houses were raided, food became scarce-”

“I’m sorry.” Satine confided.

“What about you, Your Grace,” Fesma asked, “what was your year away from home like?”

So many memories came back to Satine, dancing with Obi-Wan under a dark sky with stars as their only light, learning how to climb trees just so she could watch her Jedi protectors meditate, and learning how to swim with Obi-Wan’s hands guiding her.

“Your Grace?” there was a curious edge in Fesma’s tone this time.

Satine sighed, “It was an adventure.”

After Satine had washed herself, she ate while Fesma dried her hair.

“You’re late.” Fesma had observed when Khaami returned.

Khaami blushed, “I ran into Yorge.”

Satine grinned, “Is that why there’s extra cakes?”

Khaami returned her smile, “That and because it’s a special day, Your Grace.”

Satine offered some cakes to Khaami and Fesma before they continued getting ready. She never liked painting her face, so Satine waved it off, but Fesma did insist her hair be done the way her foremother’s had worn it, in braids for battle.

“They frame your face, Your Grace.” Khaami observed Fesma’s handiwork.

“Call me Satine,” the Duchess said suddenly, “like you used to.”

Khaami looked down.

“My father said that it's different now,” she said, “because you’re the Duchess.”

“Well as the Duchess,” Satine straightened, “I decree that you shall call me Satine.”

Fesma grinned, “I guess that’s that, then.”

By the time it was four o’clock, Satine was fully dressed. Her gown was a deep royal purple with golden embroidery on the hems. She had a golden belt with amethysts that hummed softly against the dark stone on her bust that connected to her layered pearl necklace. Satine ran her fingers along the navy sash across her body, clipped with all sorts of medals and regal symbols.

Khaami came up behind her, “And to finish it off.”

The Duchess smiled, Fesma took the tiara from Khaami’s hands and placed it on Satine’s head.

“You look lovely, Satine.” Khaami clapped.

“Thank you,” the Duchess turned to her ladies, “now go get dressed yourselves, the reception starts in an hour.”

Squealing, Satine’s friends ran from the room. The Duchess smiled sadly, it had been a month since Obi-Wan left, and it had been a month since she last giggled like a girl. Now, she was no longer a girl, but the Duchess of Mandalore.

Satine sighed, Obi-Wan was like a crushing weight on her chest everytime she thought of him, and her corset currently wasn’t helping. Why did he half to command such a power over her, the charming padawan with his roguish smile and twinkling eyes. He’d said he’d loved her, and she’d confessed the same.

Inhaling and trying to hold back her tears, Satine made her way out of her personal quarters and into the sitting room that adjoined it. There she would find something to do, but bookshelves and a piano didn’t hold any interest for Satine at the moment. Over her year on the run, she’d learned to appreciate the little things, unfortunately, the Duchess couldn’t seem to pull herself out of her sadness.

Finally, after running her fingers along book spines and fiddling with piano keys for an ungodly amount of time, Fesma and Khaami returned to Satine’s chambers.

“Satine,” Fesma whispered quietly as they took their places in the hall, “remember to smile.”

When her name was announced, trumpets blew and the grand double doors swung open, Satine smiled as politely as she could and descended the stairs, arms clasped in front of her. The crowds parted, ladies curtsied and men bowed as Satine walked by, making her way to the throne in the back of the room.

“Your Grace.”

Satine admired her subjects, they all seemed so radiant.

“Your Grace.”

And she was Duchess of them all, a great responsibility.

“Your Grace.”

Satine must earn their respect. Turning, she sat on the throne as Fesma and Khaami took their places beside her. The mingling began. Satine watched for the first five minutes, making connections in her mind as to who connected with who. Then she stood and took a turn about the room, she graciously greeted the clan heads and dignitaries from foreign courts who had come to witness her coronation. By the time it was announced that dinner was served, Satine felt like her brain was melting. So many back-stabing compliments and veiled unpleasantries, the Duchess wasn’t amused.

Satine picked up her spoon and took the first bite, the court followed.

“What a splendid performance, Your Grace.” the man on her left, Tarrei Vizsla commented.

“Thank you, Count Vizsla, that is most kind.”

“Have you considered what your first act as Duchess will be?”

Satine smiled, “Likely it shall be opening the new parliament.”

The Count’s lips twitched, and Satine wondered for a minute which side of the war he’d been on. The New Mandalorians, a peaceful sect, had just taken over the government and were picking their cabinet members, Satine had alluded to being a pacifist in her speech earlier in the day, but she hadn’t outright said it. Count Vizsla was probably seeing where she stood.

The Count nodded politely and returned to his food, Satine wondered if she had just made a huge mistake.

When Satine finished her meal, she allowed the man on her right, an ambassador from Onderon, to lead her into the ballroom. For the first hour, she danced with all the high-ranking dignitaries who asked to take a spin with her. Afterwards, she sat with Fesma and Khaami, claiming she needed a refreshment.

“This is quite the spectacle.” Khaami whispered, leaning into Satine.

“I agree,” the Duchess frowned, watching her people dance, “the last time we threw a ball my father was the Duke.”

“He would be proud of you, Satine,” Fesma placed her hand on Satine’s, “I’m sure of it.”

The Duchess grimaced, “I don’t know if he’d agree with my political views.”

Fesma shrugged, “Children have to rebel somehow.”

The Duchess danced a couple more times in the next two hours before bidding good evening to the guests that approached her before leaving. Finally, when Satine was free to leave the party herself, she practically ran back to her room.

“Thank goodness that’s over.” Khaami sighed.

The Duchess huffed in agreement, taking off her tiara and jewelry.

“I’ll take those downstairs if you like, Satine.” Fesma offered.

“Yes,” Satine smiled wearily, ”thank you.”

As Khaami began to help the Duchess shed her many layers, Satine felt a queasiness in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it quickly. Just as her dress fell to the floor, she ran to the fresher.

“Satine?”

Expelling saliva infused chunks of her coronation meal, the Duchess began to choke.

“Oh, Satine!”

The Duchess heard Khaami run over to her and begin to smack her in the back.

“Khaami, what-”

“Satine’s ill.” Khaami explained to Fesma.

The Duchess regurgitated a chunk of meat into the fresher.

“Well hold her hair up, then!” Fesma ordered.

When Satine’s stomach had calmed down and she was able to speak again, she asked for a cup of water and to be left alone. Fesma and Khaami had shared a look.

“Alright,” Satine sighed, “I need you ladies to do something for me.”

“What?” Khaami wondered.

Satine turned to her earnestly, “Something that you can’t tell anyone you did.”

“It’s not illegal, I hope.” Fesma took a step back.

“No, no, it’s just,” Satine paused, “a lot happened while I was away.”

“Like what?” Khaami asked, still confused.

“I,” Satine’s hands began to shake, “I don’t think I have a cold.”

Fesma crossed her arms, “We should get you down to the medical wing to check.”

“No!” Satine roared, outstretching her hand.

“Satine?” Khaami questioned.

“I need you to get me a medical droid to examine me, in here,” Satine clarified, “and if my suspicions are correct, then we’ll have to wipe its memory.”

Fesma gave her Duchess a querying look.

“I still don’t understand.” Khaami confessed.

“Duchess,” Fesma began, “are you, I mean, do you think you might-”

“Yes.” Satine answered firmly.

“Khaami,” Fesma turned, “fetch a medical droid from the med wing, but take the servant passageways and let no one see you.”

The lady did as she was asked, and the medical droid confirmed Satine’s worst fear.

“You,” Khaami gasped, “you’re-”

“Expecting.” Satine finished.

“How-”

“The Jedi who protected me,” Satine looked down, “the padawan and I grew close.”

“Satine,” Fesma’s face paled, “Mandalorians aren’t fond of the Jedi.”

“And my enemies could use this against me.” agreed Satine.

“What will you do?” Khaami worried, coming back to herself.

Satine bit her lip, “Do you think I should tell him?”

“Are you going to keep it is the real question.” Fesma frowned.

Khaami covered her mouth.

Satine was silent for a long time, “I want a piece of what I can never have, this baby is my way around the rules.”

“But, Satine, how will, who will-”

“In secret,” the Duchess answered, “and I will.”

#satine x obiwan #duchess satine #satine kryze #obi wan kenobi #korkie kenobi #korkie kryze #fanfiction #fanfic

36 notes · View notes

jovialyouthmusic · 6 years

Text

Charlotte’s Choice

A Royal Romance AU Fanfic

25 Retreat to Ramsford

The Court assembles at Ramsford. Charlotte remembers her fist kiss.

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite @boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity @darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @katurrade @livingthroughchoices @likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo @silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @annekebbphotography @tabithacarlisle @furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234 @wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater @noey718-blog

There’s a bit of everything here (except smut, sorry) - there’s comedy, a tearjerker and pure fluff, in that order. So pretty much a rollercoaster, hang on!

25 Retreat to Ramsford

The Court assembled at Ramsford, ancient seat of the Beaumont dynasty. It was an impressive manor, brick and timber built unlike Valtoria’s stone edifice. It had seen better days, and Charlotte noticed the stables were empty. Maxwell had already told her they were in a bad state financially, and it was sad to see that was indeed the case. However, she had made sure that they had enough contractors to fulfil all that was needed – caterers, decorators, entertainers – all had received a little boost from the Royal Treasury, though that was a one off and she hoped that next years’ affairs would improve.

Again everyone took the rest of the day settling in, finding their rooms and unpacking, sending to the kitchens for food and making sure outfits were ready for the Ball. The kitchens were chaos and contractors were busy preparing the ballroom and dining room. Despite the stables being empty, some nobles had sent their own horses and staff to fill the space, and some went riding whilst the house was busy. Charlotte had purposefully not sent her own horses to Valtoria, instead choosing to have them ready at Ramsford. The riding was not as good, but it was preferable to being in the house whilst it was in uproar.

Charlotte made her way down to the stables to see Phoenix, and found Drake grooming Sultan in the next stall.

‘Hey Charlie’ he smiled ‘I’m so glad to see you here. Valtoria’s a lovely place, but it would be lovelier without Anton, don’t you think?’ Charlotte looked around surreptitiously to see if they could be overheard. He understood and reassured her ‘It’s okay, most of the other horses have gone out, there’s just us here.’ Her heart skipped a beat.

‘Just us? Truly?’ she asked. He nodded, and she was by his side in an instant. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

‘I am so, so happy to see you here’ she murmured. ‘I feel more normal around the stables, it’s like none of the circus of the social season exists.’ He closed his eyes and felt her curves melt into him. How could he be so lucky? At last she knew that he wanted her, and she wanted him. He couldn’t believe that they had finally admitted their feelings, stopped denying it all – and they were so close to being together for good. He held her tight, wanting the moment to last forever. But they must be careful, it hadn’t happened yet. He gently let her go.

‘We should go for a ride’ he said, looking deep into her eyes ‘Just you and me, and then we can get a good night’s sleep ready for the Ball.’ Charlotte sighed.

‘I still think it’s not right for me to let go, it doesn’t seem proper. I don’t want to cause a scandal by doing something silly’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get Bastien to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself. We’ll set up in a corner of the manor – just me, you and our close friends. How does that sound?’ The Princess nodded

‘Okay, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Thanks, Drake. Now let’s get these horses ready and go out and get some fresh air’ Charlotte didn’t tell him that riding out with him was what she wanted to do more than anything else at Ramsford, just them and the horses and the fresh air and the grass, the trees and the sky. Just simple honest closeness to nature, nothing complicated or official or Royal. The next hour or so felt like heaven to her. After that, it was time for dinner and off to bed to rest.

Drake woke the next morning, starting out of a deep sleep to the sound of unearthly screams. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding, then remembered where he was. He groaned and picked up his pillow, throwing himself back down on the mattress and pulling the pillow tight over his ears. Of all the times to forget to wear earplugs…

‘Damn Maxwell and his damned peacocks’ he cursed.

An hour later he dragged himself into the breakfast room, head pounding and in a bad mood. Olivia was the first to see him.

‘Oh dear, I think someone forgot their earplugs’ she grinned, and Drake gave her a dismissive gesture.

‘Save it Livvie’ he grumbled, and looked at Brad sitting next to her, looking refreshed and alert ‘It’s your first time here and you managed not to fall foul of the – well the fowls’ he grumbled.

‘Actually, I used to live next to a park in Edinburgh…’

‘Don’t tell me, they kept peacocks and you just love waking up to them, it reminds you of home’ he groaned, and Brad shrugged.

‘Got it in one, my friend. Max wanted to meet up with us after breakfast – do you want to come find out why?’

‘The only reason I want to see Maxwell right now is to strangle him’ he snapped. Olivia rolled her eyes.

‘For goodness sake get some coffee and eat something.’ She sighed ‘I’ve not seen grumpy Drake for a long time, and I’d be happy not to see him again’ Drake gave her a dismissive gesture and went to serve himself with coffee and toast and order a cooked breakfast. He went back to sit with the other two, but concentrated on loading up with caffeine and buttering his toast, hunched over to lessen the likelihood of either of them engaging in conversation with him. He finished his toast and looked over to see the dreaded Maxwell approaching with his order. He glowered at him.

‘Well if it isn’t the lesser Lord of the Manor’ he said ‘I’m honoured to get personal service. Any chance Peacock is on the menu tonight?’ Maxwell winced as he put the tray down. He looked pale and tired, and Drake felt slightly guilty for being short with him – but not enough to delay himself from demolishing the plateful of food.

‘Don’t joke about the peacocks Drake. I’ve named every one of them’ He sat down heavily, and Drake was dismayed to see his eyes were red and watery. He had the feeling he was going to need all the strength he could get, so he carried on eating. Brad patted the younger man on the back and waited for Drake to pause in shovelling food into his mouth. Drake was first to crack, as Maxwell fidgeted in his seat.

‘So what gives, Beaumont? He mumbled around a mouthful of bacon ‘You’re not your usual annoying self’ He really didn’t want to know, but it seemed the young man needed to unload.

‘I – was going to talk to you three alone’ he said ‘Some of the contractors withdrew at the last minute, and it’s chaos in the kitchens. That’s why I’m serving you, and not the staff – everyone’s busy prepping for the banquet’

‘And you think we can help – how?’ Drake asked, wiping his lips with the napkin and not really wanting to know the answer.

‘Weeeell’ started the young man, nervously tugging on his earlobe ‘The settings for the tables and the flower arrangements need to be done – and I’m sure with a couple of hours or so, we could do it some justice’ Drake snorted

‘Me, arrange flowers? In your dreams’ He looked over at Brad, who had that look on his face. Olivia put her hand over her eyes and dragged it down over her face.

‘This is where Brad tells us he worked as a florist in the school holidays’ she groaned. He grinned sheepishly.

‘Not quite, but I had a girlfriend…’

‘Who was a florist and you used to help her with the orders so you cold get some quality time with her’ Drake finished, and Brad pursed his lips apologetically.

‘More or less’ he said ‘It’s really not that difficult. I can make up an small arrangement for the centrepiece and all you have to do is copy one for each table’

‘I’m sure you know your dessert fork from your fish fork, Drake’ added Olivia ‘You’ve attended enough fancy dinners over the years’ Drake scowled.

Pleeeeease guys?’ said Maxwell ‘I’ll be so grateful, you can’t imagine’ He looked at Drake ‘I might be able to raid Bertrand’s whisky collection’ Drake sighed and downed the rest of his coffee.

‘Well okay, if there’s a decent bottle in it for me’ Maxwell’s eyes lit up and he leapt up to throw his arms round Drake. He warded him off.

‘Don’t push your luck Beaumont’ he grumbled ‘I can still change my mind’ He went back to finishing his breakfast while Maxwell arranged when and where to meet up, then almost skipped off to finish his kitchen duties.

An hour or so later they gathered in the dining room and Brad demonstrated his floristry skills. Drake proved to be too clumsy with the flowers so was put to arranging the cutlery and napkins, which Maxwell had swiftly folded into the shape of a peacock. Brad and Olivia were left to the flower arrangements, and after an hour or so were nearly done when Bastien entered. Drake was relieved as he was almost seeing double with all the forks and spoons he had carefully placed.

‘Walker, I have news for you’ he announced, and he gratefully took a break to go over and talk to him. The older man smiled and squeezed his shoulder ‘You’ll be glad to know that smear has been to be untrue – your mother was taking a friend to meetings and is not receiving treatment herself. You’re in the clear, and the Press have been forced to retract their article.’ Drake let out a sigh of relief.

‘Well that’s good to hear. Thanks Bas, for arranging to have that cleared up, it’s a weight off my mind’ The other three had overheard and came over to congratulate him, clapping him on the back and Olivia planting a kiss on the cheek. Bastien stood back.

‘I’ll go and tell the King and the Princess, I’m sure they’ll be glad to hear’

‘Where is Charlotte?’ asked Drake ‘She didn’t come down to breakfast’

‘The Princess is spending some private time with her Father after their ordeal at Valtoria’ answered Bastein. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me…’ and he left the others to survey the dining room.

Meanwhile Charlotte had indeed spent time with her father. He had slept late and she sat by his bedside until his eyes opened.

‘My love, have you come for me?’ he started, then a look of pain crossed his face. He turned his head away wearily ‘I’m sorry my dear girl, you looked so like your mother, and I thought…’ Charlotte thought her heart would break from the loneliness etched into his face. He struggled to sit up, and she went to his side to help him.

‘How are you, father?’ she said gently

‘Weak’ he said. ‘My strength was badly affected by Anton’s efforts to sway us. I fear I will not be able to take part in the Ball tonight – you must take my place’ he squeezed her hand ‘God willing I will be strong enough to hand over the Crown.’ His aide came in and asked if he wanted anything to eat, but Charlotte took charge and ordered food for both of them. She fetched him water and helped him to the bathroom and they ate quietly when the food came, Charlotte noting that his appetite was small but he ate enough as far as she could tell. Geoffrey came to take away the tray, and she settled into the chair next to his bed.

‘My dear, tell me what you thought when you tested Lord Bradley and Duke Walker’ he asked ‘As you know, we saw one of Anton’s aides tampering with the papers’ Charlotte smiled

‘They would both do very well as Consort’ she said ‘Brad was very astute and understood it all very well, and Drake knew how to share out the workload, pass on things he wasn’t certain about on to those who had more expertise – which I think is a better way of running the country than piling it all on to one person’s shoulders’ she smiled apologetically. He reached his hand out to her and she gave him her hand, which he squeezed gently.

‘I may not have much time my dear’ he said heavily ‘I’ve watched you grow into a wise young woman, and I’m sorry I’ve had to push you into your role so fast. You have seen all the candidates and you must make your choice – I will not be there to see how it all turns out, but I trust your judgement’ Charlotte bowed her head to kiss his hand.

‘I promise I will do my best for Cordonia’ she said and he patted her hand.

‘I’m sorry I pushed you so hard toward Severus – that man is a monster and would ruin the country in no time. He is still dangerous, so don’t drop your guard.’ He paused, sounding tired again ‘Please don’t cry for me my dear Charlotte, I’ve led a good life and have found love. I hope you do too, despite everything’

‘Thankyou Father’ she said, pulling herself together. ‘I still can’t bring myself to tell who I want to choose – it feels like revealing my hand too early’ He nodded

‘I understand, and hopefully I will find out in due time like everyone else.’ He coughed weakly ‘I must rest – go and enjoy yourself my dear, I know how these parties go – Bastien will be watching over you, he’s no reason to be watching a dying old man on a night like this’ Charlotte leaned over him to kiss him on the forehead, and remembered an occasion long ago when Bastien had watched over her and her friends.

After Drake had shown Charlotte how to make ‘smores, she had asked her father again and again if she might be allowed to go camping in the palace grounds, and finally he had relented one summer when she was close to sixteen.

‘You must have a security detail close by’ he had said sternly. ‘I don’t know why you want to do this Charlotte, it does not seem fitting for a Princess’ Nonetheless, he had seen how happy it made her, and he thought perhaps it would be okay while she was still young and innocent.

Excitedly she had invited Drake, Olivia, Maxwell, Penelope and Tariq. There were to be two tents, the boys and girls sleeping arrangements segregated. Drake was the one who took charge, and Bastien stood guard watching him organise the others, setting out the fire and putting up the two tents. Maxwell was like an excited puppy, eager to help but constantly getting in the way. Tariq was changing into a boor, unwilling to help and remarking on how common the whole thing was until Drake drew him aside and threatened to punch him if he spoiled Charlotte’s outing, after which he was silently sulky.

Olivia was a little puzzled by the idea of sleeping outside but went along with it for Charlotte’s sake and Penelope was bemused but willing to give it a try.

It was a warm summer night and as it grew dark they sat around the fire Drake had built, baking potatoes in the ashes and making smores, which they all agreed made the experience very enjoyable. Charlotte wasn’t sure why she was so excited to be outside in the fresh air with her friends, but she was loving every minute of it. They progressed to telling ghost stories and sat shivering with fear, the campfire holding back the monsters – that, and Bastien’s security detail just out of earshot and with their own brazier to keep them warm.

After they had scared themselves silly, it was Tariq who declared a game of spin the bottle. Charlotte looked at him blankly.

‘No’ she said firmly ‘Father would not like that’ Tariq rolled his eyes

‘You don’t have to kiss anyone, you can take a forfeit instead’ he explained haughtily, but Charlotte felt uncomfortable. She didn’t like to complain again and spoil everyone else’s fun so she kept quiet as Tariq ignored her objection and picked up a water bottle, all the time Drake glaring at him but saying nothing.

‘Come on, who’s in?’ he cajoled ‘I take first go’ and he grinned at Olivia in the firelight. She was never one to turn down a dare and glared back at him. Charlotte looked around the group, wondering who already had their first kiss. Olivia, she knew, was most definitely not unkissed, and she thought Tariq probably had a few under his belt. Penelope? No, she was far too innocent, and Max – too young. That left Drake, and she looked at him across the fire. They locked eyes, and she knew in an instant that she wanted him to be her first and didn’t care if she wasn’t his first. She thought back to when they first shared smores, and Bastien had interrupted.

Still she couldn’t take her eyes off Drake, and the chatter of the others was like buzzing in her ears. She heard a harsh laugh, and Tariq and Olivia had locked lips. Drake tore his eyes away from hers.

‘Guys, get a room’ he exclaimed as the kiss went on far longer than it should have. Penelope was blushing furiously and Maxwell was grinning. The two kissers separated, smirking, and Tariq handed the bottle to Drake, who swore he heard a cough from over by the guard’s brazier. He jumped violently, and dropped the bottle. It spun, glittering in the firelight, and Charlotte watched it, mesmerised. It passed her and stopped, pointing at Maxwell, and Tariq hooted with laughter. Drake coloured and swiftly said.

‘Dare!’ Max, I dare you to go over to the guards and ask if they’ll read you a bedtime story’

‘Sure thing Drake, I don’t care’ cried Maxwell, and trotted off to the brazier. They all strained their ears to hear, but only caught a blast of laughter before Max came trotting back, slightly dejected.

‘Bas said that’s enough now, we should call it a night’ Drake snorted.

‘We’re old enough to make our own decisions’ but Penelope spoke up.

‘I’m pretty tired and I can’t get that ghost story out of my head, I’m going to go to the tent – coming girls?’ Olivia yawned and offered to go back with her, and Tariq smirked, hand indicating his crotch.

‘I don’t know how I can sleep with this b…’ Drake cut him off short with a loud cough, nodding toward Charlotte. Tariq rolled his eyes ‘Whatever. With the girls gone it’s not worth stopping up’ Drake nudged Maxwell and he looked at him like a deer in the headlights

‘Oh! I - err, I’m pretty bushed’ he yawned exaggeratedly and followed Tariq to the tent, leaving Drake alone with Charlotte.

‘I should probably join the girls’ said Charlotte ‘Thanks so much for doing all this for m – for us’ she corrected herself. Drake smiled as she stood to go but his mind worked overtime thinking of a way to get her to stay a little longer,

‘It’s fun isn’t it’ he paused, locking eyes with her ‘Charlie – what would you have done if the bottle had pointed to you?’ she blushed furiously, and sat down again, and he bit his tongue.

‘I’ve never – you know. Father wouldn’t allow it.’ she swallowed ‘I can’t see me ever – that is – we’re being watched, Drake.’ She looked up at him ‘Always’ She shifted away from him slightly, and his heart went out to her. She looked down at the grass and back to him. ‘You’ve kissed a girl, haven’t you?’

Her voice was small and the distance between them was unbearably far away and uncomfortably close all at the same time. Drake nodded, feeling miserable too. The flickering firelight played across her face, shadows shifting.

‘Yes Charlie, more than one’ He thought he saw a tear roll down her cheek and desperately wanted to wipe it away but daren’t. He looked back at the brazier, seeing a shadowy figure standing next to it. Straining his eyes, he saw Bastien exaggeratedly turn his back, and swiftly scooted close to the Princess.

‘What are you doing?’ she hissed, and he put his finger to his lips.

‘He’s not looking right now. Bas knows, Charlie, and he’s giving us a moment. Now or never, Princess – do you want me to kiss you?’ She nodded, caught up in the moment, and Drake leaned in, taking her chin in his hand and supporting it as he brought his lips close, seeing her eyes softly shut and closing his own. Her lips tasted of chocolate and marshmallow, soft and pillowy, unlike any girl he had kissed before. She parted her lips with a little moan, and he gently pushed his tongue past them and their tongues danced for a moment before he felt her pull away. She gazed at him, happiness written in her eyes.

‘Thankyou Drake.’ She breathed ‘That was perfect, just what a first kiss should be like’ He grinned

‘Mine was not so good’ he said ‘Neither of us had a clue, and I missed’ Charlotte laughed

‘Oh that’s actually quite sad’ she said. She looked back toward the brazier. She saw movement, and sighed.

‘I should go and join the others’ she said. ‘Thankyou Drake – for everything’ and she squeezed his hand before she got up to go to the tent.

#charlotte's choice #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr drake #trr choices #trr fanfic #trr

17 notes · View notes