#I'm not a Christian I hope you can surmise

[our-lady-of-laurels]

Like- no it is not "The Greatest Story Ever Told" but the idea of Jesus, a simple and good man born to sacrifice himself is like- God, what a plot. What a character.

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hey, this is going to be long and wordy but I’m kinda desperate. Lately I’ve been having doubts about whether Jesus actually said what’s recorded in the gospels and whether those accounts are true, and the uncertainty there scares me, especially since I know the gospel writers almost certainly had their own agendas and that’s why accounts of the same event can sound different, why the birth narrative was skipped over or not, etc. On top of that I’ve seen posts from Jewish users outlining why Judaism typically doesn’t accept Jesus as Messiah/why you can’t be Jewish if you believe that, and their arguments seem pretty sound. So it all boils down to this big scary question of “What if this whole Jesus-as-Messiah thing was just the result of projection onto some random guy who seemed to be the real deal because the writers were so desperate to be rescued from the Roman occupation?” It sucks cuz I’ve been enjoying my renewed interest in church (for the most part) and while I’ve tried my best to learn not to take the Bible literally all the time (yay for growing up in an inerrantist doctrinal tradition 🙄), I still want to take it seriously and I still want to believe in Jesus as savior/Lord/etc. I don’t want to just be like, “Yeah I don’t buy the whole Messiah thing but I can still follow his example!” I want there to be meat behind why I follow, if that makes sense. So inasmuch as this could be my OCD being bored and trying to take hold of whatever it thinks would bug me the most (wouldn’t be the first time!), I would really appreciate any advice you have. I know there may not be any certainty or reassurance to be found here, but I still want to hear from someone who’s been there before so I can chart a path forward, and I think this is an important question to wrestle with. Plus I remember from one of your posts you said you have seminary notes on this exact topic so I’m curious lol.

"Gospel Truth": how do we know what Jesus really said and did?

Hey again! Sorry for the long delay on this one but I wanted to do some research before responding! You're right that these are important questions, and you're absolutely not the only one to feel doubt and anxiety over them. You're also right that I can't offer you certainty, but I do hope you'll find encouragement here, and places to go as you continue your journey.

This got super long (as always lol), so let's start with aTL;DR:

In this post, you'll find that there's a lot that we can surmise is very probable about Jesus' life story, but that ultimately we can't know much for certain — and that's okay. In Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions), Rachel Held Evans gets to the heart of the matter:

"I don’t know which Bible stories ought to be treated as historically accurate, scientifically provable accounts of facts and which stories are meant to be metaphorical. I don’t know if it really matters so long as those stories transform my life."

This is a time where scholarship & faith go hand-in-hand: using the minds God gifted us, we study and learn what we can; and we cultivate faith in the things we can't — a faith that doesn't deny doubt, but makes room for it, and calls us into community so that we can wrestle out meaning together.

A couple other notes before we kick off:

Please know that you don't Have To Study All The Things if you decide it's healthier for you not to go chasing those rabbit holes. You don't need to be an expert in Biblical studies to be a "good Christian" or to take scripture seriously or to get to know God deeply.

I trust you know yourself and how your OCD works better than I could. So I'm going to share the information I have, and leave it to you to determine for yourself how much information you need in order to feel reassured, without giving your mind new problems to ruminate over.

So here's a link to a Google doc that has A Lot of information — like, too much lol. But save it for after you read this post; I'm putting the most relevant & important info here! If you finish this post and feel satisfied, you never even have to look in the doc.

However deep you go, if you find yourself getting overwhelmed, know that whatever you are feeling is valid and probably pretty common, and take a break! Do a calming meditation or an activity you enjoy to help regulate your mind and body. If possible, have someone you can unpack this stuff with — or have a notebook ready to journal in. <3

Okay, all that outta the way, let's dig in!

Who wrote the Gospels?

Tradition goes that the authors of the four canonical Gospels are three of Jesus' closest disciples — Matthew, Mark, and John — plus a disciple of Paul — Luke. But academics have determine that this tradition is very improbable; it's much more likely that none of the four authors knew Jesus personally, and that the earliest of them (Mark) wasn't recorded till the 60s — decades after Jesus lived and died!

When people learn this, it often leads to something of a crisis of faith. If these writers didn't even know Jesus firsthand, where the heck did they get their information?? And come to think of it, why do their accounts differ? Is some of it made up? Is all of it made up??

The anxiety and fear that wells up is normal, and it's healthy to acknowledge that you're feeling it. But once that first shock abates, it's possible to discover a sort of freedom in the knowledge that the Gospel writers (and all the authors of the biblical texts) were human, with human biases and specific goals fitting their unique context; and that they didn't have all the answers!

This realization can free us to approach scripture without certain expectations (that it's all inerrant and prescriptive, etc.), and allows us to bring our doubts to the table with us. If something in the text seems questionable — particularly if it seems to promote bigotry and injustice rather than God's love — we can consider whether something in its author's cultural context might be responsible for that part of scripture.

So taking some time to learn the unique contexts of each writer can be quite enriching to how we engage the Gospels. For a chart that sums up the Gospel writers' unique contexts, audiences, and priorities, see this post.

For even more, you'll want a book that digs into that stuff — I recommend Raymond Brown's An Introduction to the New Testament (the abridged version!!). As you learn about the Gospel writers, I hope several things become evident:

First, that they weren't just making things up whole cloth, or relying on a game of "he said she said" telephone for their information! Each one drew from different primary or secondary sources, eyewitness testimonies or written texts (many of which no longer exist, but scholars have pieced together evidence of, like the famous "Q source" that both Matthew and Luke drew from).

Yes, each author does have an agenda in writing about Jesus, and in how they tell his story. But that's not a nefarious thing; it's true of any text, whether biography, poetry, novel, song — you don't take the time to write something without a purpose in mind! With variation between their specific goals, overall each Gospel writer's agenda was to persuade their audience that Jesus is worth following, and/or to offer encouragement to those who already believed.

Another thing that modern readers sometimes interpret as intentionally deceptive is that, yeah, the Gospels contain things that aren't strictly factual, and that the writers knew weren't strictly factual. This is because ancient ideas about history & biography are very different from our own. When we read a biography, we expect it to be all facts, with citations proving those facts. But the ancients were much less concerned with making sure every detail was accurate; instead, they were focused on making their specific point about whatever thing or person they were writing/reading about. So yes, they might embellish one detail or leave out another in order to fortify their desired message. They cared more about the Truth as they interpreted it than a purely factual account.

On a similar note, each Gospel writer understands Jesus and the meaning behind his story a little differently — hence why they all tell things in slightly different orders, and characterize Jesus differently, etc. This is also understandable — we all interpret stories differently; we all come to different conclusions even when we have the same or similar information. See the section in the google doc titled "each Gospel's essence" to learn more about the different ways each writer characterizes Jesus, and why they may have interpreted him the way they did.

On that topic, let's get to your question about...

Jesus — Messiah, or no?

If you read the Gospel of Matthew and take it as pure fact, you'll determine that Jesus is the Messiah his people were waiting for — that he did indeed fulfill various scriptures. But if you read Mark, you won't find that argument at all! To the author of Mark, Jesus clearly did not match the stipulations of the awaited-for Messiah — and for Mark, that's kinda the point: that Jesus is something new and surprising, unlike anything human beings expected, upturning our ideas of power and salvation.

...So how did they come to these vastly different views??

Well, Matthew was a Jew writing to persuade his fellow Jews that the Jesus movement was worth joining; to do so, he felt he had to "prove" that it fit into Jewish tradition. So he prioritizes showing how Jesus is a righteous Jew who abides by Torah, and that he is indeed the Messiah they've been waiting for.

(It's also worth noting that when Matthew writes, over and over, about Jesus "fulfilling" various bits of Hebrew scripture, that verb "fulfilling" doesn't mean what it might sound like to us — that a given text was always and only about Jesus, with the prophet having Jesus in mind when they wrote it. Rather, to Matthew "fulfilling" the text meant "filling it up" with more meaning — adding to its meaning, not replacing the old meaning. More on that, with citations, in the Google doc.)

Meanwhile, Mark's author was a Jew writing mostly to gentile members of the early Jesus movement. He knew they wouldn't care whether or not Jesus fit the Jewish expectations for a Messiah! (In fact, giving Jesus a bit more of a "Greek" flair would appeal to them more.) So Mark doesn't perform the mental and rhetorical gymnastics that Matthew does to try to make Jesus fit the Messiah requirements.

So which Gospel got it right?

For many matters of scripture, I say "it's open to interpretation!" or "Maybe both are right in different ways, conveying different truths!" But for this particular case, it is very important as Christians to accept that Jesus absolutely does not fit the Jewish requirements for their Messiah. To argue otherwise is antisemitic — it's supersessionist, meaning it claims that Christianity supersedes or replaces Judaism.

We might understand, as the author of Mark did, Jesus to be a messiah — which just means "anointed one" in Hebrew (the Greek counterpart is "Christ") — without making antisemitic claims that Jews "failed to recognize their own Messiah." (In fact, there are multiple messiahs in scripture, e.g. in Isaiah 45, the foreign king Cyrus is referred to as God's messiah; though later scriptures like Daniel do start talking about a specific Messiah who will usher in redemption & a new age for the Jewish people.)

We can understand why some of the biblical authors, like Matthew, interpreted Jesus as this specific Messiah as a result of their own specific context, without agreeing with their view. See this post about “Anti-Jewish Content in the New Testament: Why it’s there and what we should do about it” for more on this important topic.  (You can also find even further resources on supersessionism in this post.)

...Okay, so we've looked at the authors of the Gospels a good bit. We've learned that their idea of a "biography" is very different from ours — that they didn't consider it bad to rearrange, leave out, or embellish accounts — but what does that leave us with when it comes to knowing who Jesus "really" was?

What can we know for sure about Jesus?

Let's look at the facts. The first one is: we don't have any. Not any 100% certain ones, anyway. The guy lived before audio recorders and cameras; we're relying on written and oral accounts, which can be fabricated.

However, there are points about the Jesus story that are regarded as almost certainly historical by the vast majority of historians today, so let's look at those first:

Jesus almost 100% certainly existed. There is enough historical evidence (both inside and outside the Bible) to confirm this — even non-Christian historians almost unanimously agree that there was a historical Jesus. (Phew, am I right?)

Almost all historians also agree that several parts of Jesus' story almost definitely happened: that he was baptized in the Jordan; that he traveled around teaching and offering miracles (whether or not they agree he actually had the power to perform real miracles, of course); and that he was arrested and crucified by the occupying Roman Empire.

Some of these almost-irrefutable claims lend plausibility to others: if he traveled around teaching, what was he teaching? Why not the sermons, the parables recorded in the Gospels? And if he was crucified — the death of a criminal, an insurrectionist — what did he do to get himself crucified? He must have done something to cause Rome to see him as a threat to their Empire — why not some of the sayings and actions that are recorded in the Gospels, like his claim to be "Son of God" (a title used for Caesar); his protest march into Jerusalem satirizing Caesar; and his disruption at the Temple?

The attempt to determine which parts of scripture are "authentic," i.e. things that really happened / things Jesus really said," is often called "The Quest for the Historical Jesus."

Over the decades, scholars interested in this pursuit have developed various "criteria of authenticity," which they use to try to determine how probable any given bit of the Gospels is. In the google doc, I summarize the history of this "quest" and describe some of the most popular criteria. But what's important to understand is that these criteria have major limitations — they're often applied somewhat arbitrarily, for one thing, and ultimately they can't "prove" for sure whether something in the text is definitely historical or definitely not. So honestly, this is not a field of study that I recommend everyone go immerse themselves in! When I do, I have fun for a while, then kinda end up more overwhelmed by how much we can't know.

Still, sometimes these criteria of authenticity do yield some interesting points. For instance, the "Criteria of Embarrassment" (yes, that's what it's called lol) asserts that anything in the text that would have been embarrassing to its author is more likely to be historical fact — because why would the author have made something up that puts them in an unflattering light, or might be used to argue against their message?

For example, a lot of Gospel stories depict Jesus' disciples being kinda clueless, or saying petty things, or failing miserably (e.g. the denial of Peter). Why would the Gospel authors have wanted to make these earliest believers, who are meant to be role models for their audience, look so bad? This criterion says that wouldn't — that they must include those stories because they really happened, rather than being things the author made up to make their point.

Or take the Criterion of Multiple Attestation, which determines how many sources include a certain saying or event. The more sources contain a specific story, the more plausibly "authentic" that story is, since it means that different unconnected communities knew that story. Logical enough.

So yes, there are ways to consider the historicity of the Gospels — but not definitively. So the question becomes: is the historical knowledge we do have enough for me to feel some level of, I don't know, peace? stability in my faith?

And, at the end of the day, how important to me is it that every single thing the Gospels say is completely factual?

Back to what matters: the Good News

Facts are great — God gifted us our minds, and various scripture stories show God encourages us to wrestle with the text! — but we are called to faith as well.

Furthermore, taking the Bible seriously means accepting it for what it is — a collection of ancient texts compiled by humans, even if guided by Divinity — rather than insisting it be what it is not. For the Gospels, that means accepting that they are not biography, but story, and prioritize Truth over fact.

My pastor friend Roger puts it like this:

“For me, it isn’t about deciding which things Jesus really said or didn’t say. That’s a road that goes nowhere. As a pastoral response, I take scripture at face value and work to empathize with the people in and behind the text. Through that empathy, I can find some meaning that connects with what we’re facing here and now.”

When we acknowledge that the Bible includes human interpretations of the Divine, and that we bring our own human interpretations to our reading of it, where does that leave us?

It leaves us in need of conversation, of an expansion of our perspectives by talking through scripture in community. We do that conversing with friends, or attending Bible studies at church, or reading a variety of theological texts — getting as many unique understandings of Jesus as we can, joining our ideas together to get an ever broader glimpse of the Divine.

There's a reason Jesus taught in parables: he didn't want there to be one definitive answer to matters of life and faith! He wanted to ignite conversation, to draw us into community — because it's in community that we are the image of God, the Body of Christ.

So keep on wrestling, wondering, talking it through (taking time to rest when needed — there's no rush!). We discover scripture's meaning for us in our own place and time through the wrestling, together.

[karahalloway]

(Un)Common Attraction: Chapter 37 - Full Circle

Series: TRR (following the events of Book 1, with some changes)

Pairing: Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)

Rights belong to Pixelberry, most characters and some dialogue belong to them.

Book Synopsis: Harper Gale is a small-town girl working as a waitress at a seedy New York dive bar. After a chance encounter with nobility sees her jetting halfway around the world to compete for the hand of the Prince of Cordonia, her dream of seeing the world starts to come true sooner than she expected. But as the completion heats up, Harper quickly learns that life at court is a lot more than just pretty dresses and fancy balls, and that the polished aristocratic smiles often hide deceit. Does she have what it takes to rise above the gossip and intrigue of the social season, and beat the nobles at their own games? And, more importantly, does she actually want to become the queen of a small European country? Or will her heart have other ideas?

Masterlist: (Un)Common Attraction

Chapter Summary: It’s the eve of the Coronation Ball and Harper has a packed schedule... and a massive sense of déjà vu.

Word Count: 5,800

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing)

Please read: Author’s Note

Also available on Wattpad.

Chapter 36 - Full Circle

"Harper!"

"Huh?"

"Harper, have you heard a word of what I have just said?"

"Umm..."

"That's a 'no' then..." surmises Bertrand with a baleful glare.

"Sorry," I mutter.

I rearrange myself so that I am facing Bertrand, instead of staring whimsically out of the window of our customary limo, replaying in my mind the steamy kiss that I had shared with Drake on the balcony a few nights ago at the Beaumont Bash... and his decision to tell Christian about us.

"You have my full and undivided attention, Your Grace," I say with added emphasis on the last two words, hoping that a show of deference will help forestall a massive lecture.

Bertrand blinks in surprise. "Erm, yes. As I was saying, while we had managed – despite all the setback – to pull off a show-stopping Bash, we are not in the clear yet. There are any number of things that can go wrong tonight at the Coronation Ball, and we cannot allow ourselves to let our guard down this close to the finish line."

"Did you find out who was behind the mysterious power cut?" I ask.

"No," huffs Bertrand in annoyance. "The King's Guard informed me that someone had thrown the master circuit breaker, so luckily, it was a simple matter to turn the power back on. But, it could've been anyone."

"It must've been Madeleine... or someone working for her."

"We have no proof of that," he points out. "But that is why we must keep our eyes and ears open for anything and anyone that could trip you up tonight. If Mr Walker is correct and there is someone out there who does not want you to become queen, then we will need to be especially cautious, since you are very likely to be chosen by the Prince tonight."

Actually, I wasn't, given that I had told Christian back at Applewood that I had no desire to become queen. But I had no idea how to tell Bertrand that without landing him in the ER with cardiac arrest. Plus, he was actually in a good mood for once, following the success of the Beaumont Bash, and I didn't really want to take this small moment of triumph away from him. Therefore, I had decided that the best course of action was to just play along and pretend that I was still very much in the running, and then act surprised and slightly disappointed when Christian picked Olivia.

So, I simply nod dutifully.

"To that end," continues Bertrand, "I hope you have prepared a suitable coronation gift for the Prince?"

My eyes widen. “A what...?"

"Maxwell!"

"Oh, yes," smiles Maxwell sheepishly. "Did I mention that you will need to present a suitable coronation gift to Christian?"

"No," I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. "You did not."

I see Maxwell gulp visibly. "Not to worry! I'm sure the two of us can throw something together real quick..."

"Other houses spend months curating the perfect gift!" snarls Bertrand. "You can't just throw something together at the last minute!"

"We still have time before the Coronation Ball," I say quickly, before Bertrand goes into full meltdown mode. "I could have a browse around the shops in the capital when we get there."

"There will be no time for that!" exclaims Bertrand. "When we arrive, we are heading straight to Cordonia's most upscale beauty salon to rough you into shape for tonight's ball before rushing to the other side of the city to make your appointment with the country's top designer to get you fitted for your dress. And from there, it's straight to the Palace for the start of the Coronation Ball. We have a very tight schedule to maintain, one that simply does not allow for slippages or deviations!"

"But I can't just turn up emptyhanded!"

"No, you cannot," he concedes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It would be unspeakably uncouth, not to mention utterly unforgiveable."

"You could always write him a poem," suggest Maxwell. "Or perform an interpretive dance."

I arch a brow at him.

"I'll keep brainstorming," he offers hastily, seeing the look on Bertrand's face.

"I suppose I could visit an art dealer and find a suitable vase or painting..." muses Bertrand.

"No," I say. "He told me that the Palace is already bursting with more works of art than most national museums. If we're going to get him anything, it needs to be something that's unique and meaningful."

"What do you have in mind?" asks Maxwell.

"I don't know yet," I admit. "But when I think of something, I'll let you know."

"Well, don't think too long," warns Bertrand. "All the shops will be closing early tonight so the entire country can watch the Coronation Ball live on television."

"We-we're going to be on TV?" I gasp.

"Of course," replies Bertrand. "A coronation is a once-in-a lifetime event for most folk. And Prince Christian is extremely popular with the people, so naturally, the entire country is waiting with baited-breath to see who he will pick as his bride and queen."

"So...no pressure then?" I quip nervously. Being interviewed and having my picture taken was one thing, but being filmed live for the viewing pleasure of millions of people was a whole different ball game!

"Oh, there has never been more pressure!" declares Bertrand imperiously. "All eyes will be on you – quite literally – so if there was ever a time for you to put everything that we have taught you to use, it's going to be tonight."

"Great..." I mutter, sinking back into my seat.

I was going to be SO glad when this was all over...

* * *

"Bonjour, Demoiselle 'arper!" greets a thin woman dressed in a form-fitting sheath dress and 6-inch heels as I step into the high-end fashion boutique.

I had just arrived for my dress fitting after getting my hair, nails and make-up done – not to mention getting waxed to within an inch of my life! – at the poshest salon I had ever set foot in.

"Erm, bonjour," I reply, casting my eyes around the minimalist and very monochrome interior of the shop, wondering where all the dresses were supposed to be.

"Zis way, s'il vous plait," she gestures, ushering me deeper into the store.

Drawing back a heavy black brocade curtain at the back, she leads me into a large, well-lit room that was dominated by massive, gilded mirrors and a raised platform on top of which stood Olivia, in the process of delivering a vicious tongue-lashing to a terrified-looking seamstress.

"Are you colour-blind?" she snaps, thrusting a glittering gown out like a weapon. "I asked for blood red. Does this look like the colour of blood to you? It's a dark scarlet at best!"

"Hi, Harper," whispers Hana, appearing next to me as I watch the scene unfold, feeling sorry for the poor girl.

"Hi," I reply quietly. "Olivia's on a roll, isn't she?"

It seemed that it wasn't only Bertrand who had booked a slot with Cordonia's most sought-after designer before tonight's ball.

"What seems to be the problem here?" queries a nasally voice.

Craning my neck, I spot an anorexic-looking man with bleached white hair and the most comically ostentatious get-up I had ever seen outside of The Fifth Element.

"Oh, Pierre," gushes Olivia, changing from vicious viper to cuddly kitten in the blink of an eye. "I'm so glad you're here. You must help sort out this mess!"

"Of course, mon chérie," replies Pierre, planting a kiss on the back of Olivia's hand.

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to Hana. "So, I'm guessing you're here to be fitted for your dress as well?"

"Yes," she confirms. "The seamstress should be back any— Oh, here she is!"

An assistant appears, carrying a truly exquisite-looking dress in her arms like a precious child. Hanging it carefully up on a hook in front of a smaller raised platform in the corner, she beckons to Hana.

"Enjoy," I tell Hana as she makes her way over to try on her gown.

"Demoiselle 'arper," greets yet another girl with a heavy accent. Seemed like Pierre liked all his employees to be young, female and French, and as thin as stick insects. "My name is Colette and I vill be assisting you today."

"Hi," I respond.

Colette indicates that I should follow to another fitting area. Stepping onto the raised platform, she pulls a measuring tape from around her neck and proceeds to size me up.

"Un instant, please," she murmurs, disappearing off to one side, no doubt to bring through some dress options.

"Ah, Lady Harper!" chimes a voice from behind me. "I'm surprised to see you here..."

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I turn around to face Madeleine. "And why is that?"

"Oh, it's just that I heard a nasty rumour that apparently the Beaumonts' finances aren't in as good of a shape as they would like everyone to think. But if they are able to splurge on a one-of-a-kind dress for you for the Coronation Ball, then I guess those rumours must be false."

"Yes," I reply evenly. "They are."

Even though I was not going to be Christian's pick tonight, there was no way that I was going to ruin what was left of my sponsor's reputation by confirming rumours of their financial situation... least of all to the likes of Madeleine.

Because the fact that they hadn't been completely honest with me about all the particulars of this competition, and both of them had made me want to tear my hair out on more than one occasion — not to mention the fact that one or both of them may have tried to sell out Christian — over the past two months I had actually developed a kind of kinship with the brothers (especially Maxwell). And while Bertrand may put me to sleep with his etiquette lectures and Maxwell was more forgetful than a concussed goldfish, I would not have made it through even one day of the social season without their help. So, at the very least, I owed it to them to have their backs.

"Mes excuses, demoiselles," announces Colette, reappearing with an armful of dress options, which she proceeds to hang on the hooks in front of the mirrors.

I survey the selection as Madeleine sashays away with one last smirk. All three dresses that Colette had picked looked gorgeous. But one was calling to me in particular.

"I'll try the second one," I tell Colette.

It was a floor-length dress with a gauzy white skirt the fell in pleated layers to the ground, topped by a gold, open-backed bodice that would give the impression of autumn leaves falling over my body.

"Bien sûr," she nods, looking at me expectantly.

I stare back her uncomprehendingly until I feel the hot flush of realisation colour my cheeks.

She was waiting for me to undress... in the middle of the room with all these people about.

"Erm... right."

Taking a deep breath, I kick my flats off and undo the button of my jeans before shimmying out of them. Pulling my t-shirt carefully over my head, so as not to mess up my twisted chignon updo, or my expertly applied make-up, I drop it onto the floor as well, before reaching behind my back to unclasp my bra with one hand, holding my other arm around my chest to keep myself covered.

Looking up, I can see Colette was holding the dress open, so I could step into it. Lifting my legs over the material one at a time, Colette quickly pulls the bodice up to my chest before securing the hidden clips and zips to hold it in place.

"Marvellous!"

Glancing over my shoulder, I can see Pierre appraising me from behind.

"Thanks," I reply, twisting around to take in the open-back of the dress and admiring the way that the tastefully placed leaves of material just covered all the important bits, while leaving very little to the imagination.

I feel myself grin, knowing that Drake was going to hate me for wearing such a revealing number.

"Colette!" barks Pierre. "Apportez-moi des épingles!"

Stepping up to me, Pierre gets to work pinning the dress in various strategic locations to mould it to my body like a second skin. When he's done, he gestures to Colette to extract it off me.

Once I'm free of my dress, I quickly throw my t-shirt and jeans back on, not bothering with the bra and shoes, knowing that I'll probably have at least one more fitting ahead of me. While I wait for Colette to return, I wander over to where Hana was trying on her dress.

"Hana!" I exclaim. "You look stunning!"

She was dressed in a pale pink creation with a square neckline and a poofy tulle skirt decorated with floral lace and looked every inch like a modern princess.

"As though what she wears even matters at this point," snips Olivia haughtily.

Glancing into the mirror, I see her stood behind us in a jaw-dropping one-shoulder crimson dress. It sported a waist-high slit up a skirt that shimmered with what look like hundreds of miniscule diamantes sown into the fabric.

I roll my eyes. Did she really have nothing better to do than fling barbed comments at everyone all the time?

"Seriously, Olivia," I sigh. "Can't you just—"

"It's alright, Harper," interjects Hana, turning around. "I've got this."

Olivia snorts derisively. "Oh, how sweet... Has little Hana finally learned to talk like a big girl, instead of bursting into tears anytime someone says something mean?"

Hana narrows her eyes. "Olivia. I've been nothing but nice to you since we met and all you've done is deride and ridicule me. And you know what? I don't deserve to be treated like that."

"Did Harper tell you to say that?" asks Olivia snidely. "I know you're not bold enough to come up with it on your own."

"No. She did not," replies Hana. "This is my opinion. I know you had a tough childhood, but that doesn't give you license to treat everyone around you like dirt. Because if this is how you're planning on acting if Prince Christian chooses you tonight, then you really don't deserve him."

"Ugh, do you honestly, think—?"

"Sod off, Olivia," declares Hana flippantly, turning back to the mirror. "If you have nothing constructive to say, then I'm not interested in hearing it."

My jaw drops to the floor.

Glancing at Olivia, I can see that her face is white with shock as well. Pulling herself together, she throws her nose up into the air and stomps off, but not before I catch a glimmer of respect in her eyes.

"Oh. My. God," I breathe. "Hana! That was amazing!"

"I wasn't too harsh, was I?" she asks with a delicate blush.

"Hell no!" I reply with a grin. "She deserved all of that and more. But where did that come from?"

"I have been thinking a lot about what you said after I had that call with my mother at the Jamboree. And I realised that I have been letting myself get pushed around, not just by my parents, but by pretty much everyone else in my life. So, it was time to not only stand up for myself, but to let people like Olivia know that I was not going to put up with such treatment."

"Well, I am incredibly proud of you!" I gush, drawing her into a hug.

"Thank you, Harper," replies Hana with a smile. "You have been an amazing friend to me. I've changed so much since I met you. You helped me make friends where I expected to find only enemies and competitors, and you've convinced me to do things I never thought I was capable of doing. And no matter what happens tonight, please know that you will always be able to count on me if you need help with anything. Because you've helped me so much these past few months."

"Aww, Hana..." I say, feeling tears spring into my eyes. "You're gonna make me cry..."

"Oh, don't do that!" she admonishes with glistening eyes. "Because then you'll make me cry as well, and then we'll both ruin our make-up!"

"Demoiselle 'arper?"

Turning around, I can see that Colette has returned with my dress.

"Gotta go," I tell Hana.

"Harper?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering... Did you want to ride with me to the Palace tonight?"

"Of course!" I reply. "I'd pick your company over Bertrand's any day of the week!"

"Great!" confirms Hana with a grin. "I'll see you out front then."

About an hour later, after Colette and Pierre have finished fiddling with my dress, I step outside the boutique to find Hana already waiting for me, and my jaw drops in surprise for the second time that day.

"Is that...?"

"Yes," nods Hana. "My parents thought one last display of wealth would help the family name."

"That...that would do it..." I agree dazedly.

Standing in front of us was a dainty white carriage pulled by two matching snow white horses that looked like something Cinderella's fairy godmother would've fashioned from a pumpkin.

"After you," indicates Hana.

Stepping up to the carriage, the driver opens the door and helps me navigate up the narrow, wrought iron steps. Carefully arranging my skirts so they don't get rumpled, I sit down into the lush red velvet seat as Hana climbs in opposite me.

The driver closes the door with a click. Hopping nimbly up onto the raised seat behind the horses, he picks up the reins, and with a flick of his long whip, urges the horses onto the road and into a trot.

As we make our way across the city, people stop to wave, snap photos, and even honk their horns. I can't help but smile as I wave back.

Every girl dreams — at least once in their life — of being a princess, and here I was, dressed in a gorgeous ballgown, riding to a fancy ball at an actual palace in a horse-drawn carriage to dance the night away. And while my happily ever after was not going to be with a prince, I was still floating on cloud nine knowing that in just a few days' time, Drake and I would no longer need to sneak around stealing moments with each other... and for me, that was more than fairytale perfect.

After winding our way relatively briskly through the narrow streets of the capital and up the hill, our pace slows as we reach the long drive that leads to the front steps of the Palace.

"Sure is busy," I remark, as I take in the long queue of limos, hyper-cars and Bentleys that wait eagerly to deposit their fancy guests at the Coronation Ball. Things are not helped by the fact that a veritable army of reporters were thronging the Palace entrance, determined to photograph and interview all the attendees as they tried to make their way inside.

"Don't worry," soothes Hana. "We have plenty of time before the Ball starts."

"Yeah, I know," I reply. "But I was hoping to run to my room beforehand."

"Did you forget something?"

"No. I just need to grab my coronation present for Christian."

While I was being fitted for my dress, I had had plenty of time to mull over possible gift options, and had finally settled upon something that I had actually had all along, but I knew that Christian would appreciate.

We finally arrive at the steps of the Palace, and after answering the inevitable questions from the press and posing for photos, we manage to battle our way inside... only to find ourselves in yet another queue.

"Seriously?" I gripe, craning my neck to try and see the front of the tailback. But the human conga line seemed to wind on indefinitely.

"A lot of people are here tonight to congratulate Prince Christian," observes Hana.

"No kidding..." I mutter. "Hey, do you think you could hold my place? I'm just going to sneak up to my room real quick."

"Of course," replies Hana with a smile.

Stepping out of the line, I pick up my skirts and quickly make my way to the bedroom wing. Opening my door, I can see that the ever-industrious valets had already deposited my bags, as well as the clothes I had left at the boutique, so at least I'd have something to change into once the Ball was over.

I make my way over to my small wheely suitcase and unzipping the front pocket, plunge my hand in. My fingers locate the familiar feel of the item that I was searching for. Pulling it out, I smile, knowing that it was the perfect gift for Christian.

I hasten back to the receiving line and continue to shuffle along with Hana until we eventually reach the throne room. Christian is stood on top of a red velvet-covered dais decked out in full royal regalia, complete with honorific medals and a deep purple sash across his chest, looking every inch the prince that he was. The King and Queen are stood slightly off to one side, exchange polite words with the guests as they file past.

"What is Christian going to do with all this stuff?" I wonder out loud, surveying the groaning table next to him that was already piled high with gifts.

"Put it to good use, I'm sure," replies Hana tactfully, as always.

"Because every prince needs an extra set of diamond cufflinks" I quip, catching sight of gift that Madeline had just presented. "I wonder what Olivia got him."

"Some kind of plant, by the looks of it," observes Hana. "Maybe a cactus?"

I snort in amusement. "No doubt to serve as a reminder of her prickly personality!"

We finally reach the front of the line. Hana presents her gift, which is a red envelope containing some kind of rare Chinese gold coin, which is supposed to symbolise prosperity and good fortune. And suddenly it's my turn to present my humble token.

"Lady Harper," greets Christian, planting a kiss on the back of my hand as he takes in my dress.

"Prince Christian," I reply with a strange feeling of déjà vu as I sink into a curtsey. "How are you holding up?"

Christian chuckles. "You know, you asked me that exact same question on your first night in Cordonia."

"And has your answer changed?"

"Truthfully? No. I'm still feeling the same mixture of nervousness and excitement as I did on the night of the Masquerade. Maybe even more so, now that we are at the end of the social season and I am about to be crowned king. After tomorrow, everything is going to change."

"Hopefully not everything," I reply. "You'll still be you, after all. Just with a more impressive title... and your own country to rule."

Christian shakes his head. "You always put things into perspective, Harper. But, you are right, of course. Many things will change, but some things will hopefully stay the same."

"I hope so too," I say with a smile, handing him his gift.

Christian's eyes widen. "Where did you get this?"

"Off my keychain."

His eyes snap up to mine. "This is yours?"

"It was something I picked up the first week I moved to New York. But I know how much the Statue of Liberty means to you, so I thought it would not only be a little memento of the time that we spent together, but also a reminder that you do not always need to be a prince or a king... you can have moments when you are just you."

"Harper..." he breathes. "I... I don't know what to say..."

"That's a first," I grin.

"I will treasure this. Always," he says, placing the keychain into the inner breast pocket of his jacket. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome," I say softly, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

He brushes his thumb over my knuckles. "Will you save a dance for me?"

"I'll see what I can do," I reply with a wink, echoing my words to him from the Masquerade.

"Of course," confirms Christian with a grin as he drops a parting kiss on the back of my hand.

"Your Majesties," I say, dipping into another curtsey in front of the King and Queen after parting from Christian.

"Good evening, Lady Harper," greets the King. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine," I reply demurely. "I can honestly say that I had never expected that I would attend an event as grand as the Coronation Ball."

"Yes, you have certainly come a long way," says the Queen. "Though you aren't as well-established as Lady Madeleine or Lady Olivia, during your short time here, you have certainly become a real fixture at court, Lady Harper."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, inclining my head. "It has certainly been... an experience."

"And who knows?" adds the King. "If the rumours are true, you could very well become a permanent fixture."

"You make her sound like a painting," admonishes the Queen.

"Well, she is certainly looking lovely enough to be in one," winks the King.

"Thank you, sir," I reply with a smile, dipping into a final curtsey. "Ma'am..."

Making my way out of the throne room, I am led through various reception rooms and corridors into a vast dining room. The majority of the guests are already here, sitting at their assigned tables or chatting amongst themselves with crystal flutes in their hands. A footman escorts me to a table near the middle of the room, where I find Hana and the rest of the suitors engaged in conversation.

"...even though I know he's not going to choose me, I'm still so nervous," says Penelope, twisting a napkin around her fingers anxiously.

"One never knows, ma chérie," replies Kiara. "There's still a chance."

"Ha!" snorts Olivia. "You're delusional if you think that!"

"I could not agree more," replies Madeleine, taking a complacent sip of her champagne.

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with her presence," says Olivia as she catches sight of me. "Are you ever going to be on time, Harper?"

"Dinner hasn't started yet," I reply, sinking down into my seat.

"Lady Harper, your dress looks very... expensive," says Penelope, taking in Pierre's creation with an awed expression.

"Thank you," I smile. "You look very nice as well."

"Oh. Thank you," she replies, a blush rising up her neck.

"Oh, please!" snorts Olivia. "As if that dowdy frock would impress anyone... Though at least you were all smart enough to stay away from my colour."

"Your colour?" asks Madeleine with an arched brow.

"Yes," affirms Olivia. "Red is my colour."

"Oh, dear Olivia..." says Madeleine sweetly. "What would you have done if one of us had worn red? Stamped your foot and thrown a fit in the middle of the ball?"

"No," snaps Olivia, eyes flashing. "I would've thought of something. Ugh, I hope tonight is the last time we ever have to interact."

"You know that's unlikely," responds Madeleine. "We'll be summoned back for the engagement tour and the wedding. We'll all be called upon to show our support for whoever the Prince chooses."

I snap my head up. "We will?"

This was news for me!

"Of course," nods Madeleine. “I'm sure we can put our petty differences aside to support the stability of Cordonia, no matter who the winner is. Even you must appreciate that, Olivia."

"I do," declares Olivia smugly. "Because you will all be supporting me after tonight."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," murmurs Madeleine as the servers arrive with the first course. "The night is not over yet, and anything could happen between now and the end of the Ball."

"Now where have I heard that one before...?" I mutter, glaring meaningfully at Madeleine who simply smiles like an angel.

"What if he doesn't choose anyone at all?" asks Kiara. "What happens then?"

"He'll pick someone," Madeleine declares confidently. "It's his duty to do so. By law, Cordonian kings must be engaged or married at the time of their Coronation."

"Still think it's a bit of a stupid law..." I mutter. "I mean, this entire competition has been so contrived..."

"It is not 'stupid'," bristles Madeleine. "The law was put in place to ensure the stability of Cordonia's future by securing an heir. Or at least the means by which to make one. I can't believe you, of all people, don't understand that concept."

"I understand just fine..." I grit, spearing a forkful of salad. "And I'm so glad to see that Cordonia has embraced the women's liberation movement."

"Women's what?" asks Penelope, puzzled.

"Women's liberation," I expound surlily. "The idea that women are more than just wives and baby-making machines. It's only been around as a concept for the past 100 years."

"As progressive as that idea may be for the average women," says Madeline, "a queen has a duty to her king and country to produce an heir at the earliest possibility to secure the future of the Rys dynasty. Otherwise, the entire monarchy could collapse."

"Surely not," I scoff.

"Oh, yes," affirms Madeline. "If the king were to die without a named heir, the entire country would descend into chaos with all the noble houses vying to secure the throne. Not to mention the very real possibly that the neighbouring kingdoms would try to seize the opportunity created by the power vacuum to subsume Cordonia into their sphere of influence... perhaps even annex it completely."

"But this is the 21st century!" I protest. "Not the Middle Ages. You're can't just take over a country."

"Isn't that exactly what the United States did in Iraq?" points out Kiara.

I open my mouth to protest before closing it in annoyance, knowing that Kiara had a point. "That doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't," agrees Madeleine. "But very few things in politics and diplomacy are done for selfless reasons. Which is exactly why it is so important that Prince Christian chooses his queen tonight, before his coronation."

"Excuse me," a footman says suddenly, appearing at our table. "I have a message for Lady Hana Lee."

"That's me," says Hana, quickly dabbing her face with a napkin.

The footman hands off the message and after a quick bow, disappears again.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I don't know," Hana admits, opening the letter with a clean knife. As she reads the contents, I see her face fall.

"What's wrong?" I whisper.

"Oh, it's nothing," she replies quickly, folding the letter back up and stuffing it into the envelope. "Just instructions from my parents on what to do with the carriage at the end of the night."

"They...couldn't send you a text?"

"My parents can be a bit old-fashioned sometimes..." mutters Hana, picking up her fork again, but I could see that she was miles away.

I frown, knowing that she was not telling me the whole truth, but I didn't want to press her in front of the other suitors.

The rest of the dinner passes uneventfully, with Hana continuing to sit in silence while Olivia and Madeleine battle it out in some kind of mutual contest of wills to determine who could fling the snidest comment while smiling prettily.

As the waitstaff clear away the last course, Hana pushes her chair back abruptly and with muttered apologies, dashes out of the dining room, letter in hand.

"What's gotten into her?" asks Olivia with a raised brow.

"The fish course didn't agree with her," I snap as I rise from my own seat.

"Oh, I hope it's nothing serious," gasps Penelope. "The Ball will be starting shortly."

"Don't worry," I reply. "We'll be there."

Leaving the other ladies at the table, I hurry after Hana and manage to catch up with her in one of the corridors.

"Hana!"

"Harper?" gasps Hanna, spinning around. "What are you doing here? You should be on your way to the ballroom."

"So should you," I reply. "But whatever was in that letter has obviously made you upset, so I wanted to check that you were okay."

"That... that's very kind of you, Harper," mutters Hana. "But the letter... it's not important."

"Are you sure?" I ask meaningfully. "The last time I saw you this upset was when Olivia brought up your failed engagement at the Masquerade Ball. So, whatever was in that letter was definitely more than instructions on what to do with the carriage."

Hana glances up at me with a tight look on her face. "I... I don't want to bother you with it."

"Hana," I say firmly, taking her hands in mine. "If something is wrong, of course I want you to bother me with it! That's what friends are for! And even if I may not be able to help, at least I can give you a hug, or a shoulder to cry on, if that's what you need."

She twists her hands around the envelope before handing it over. "Here. Read it for yourself."

Taking the heavy parchment paper from her, I open up the envelope and extract the letter. I quickly scan the contents. "So, basically, your parents are asking you to go back home."

"More like ordering me," sighs Hana, taking the letter back from me. "They were paying for me to win the Prince's hand. The competition ends tonight and I won't be the winner. So they see no reason for me to stay."

"You could just ignore them," I shrug. "I mean, what are they going to do? They're in Shanghai, aren't they?"

"Yes. But they're rich, they're powerful and... they're my parents. I can't disobey them. They think I'm getting too headstrong out here... If I don't go back, they'll send someone to get me."

"But..."

"Harper, it's alright," interjects Hana, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. "I know you want to help me, but you can't. Not with this. I know you want me to stand up to my parents and become more independent, but they're still my parents and I care about them, even though I disagree with what they want. So, I can't just ignore their wishes."

I search Hana's eyes and see that she is serious. "Alright then," I concede with a sigh. "If this is going to be your last night here, then let's make it a night to remember!"

The story continues in Chapter 38 - And In The End...

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