#Maxwell Beamont | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steves-on-a-plane · 5 years ago

Text

Cordonians On Set: Brothers, Actors & Allies.

Words: 3426 Pairing: Maxwell Beaumont x MC/Riley Brooks Timeline: The Royal Heir Book 2 Chapter 12 Summary: You and your friends are on the set of your husband’s big movie when you start to realize Maxwell’s made more than a few “minor” tweaks to the events. Mostly notably he’s made himself the star of nearly every scene. Your father-in-law Barthelemy isn't helping matters much either. Can you help smooth things out between the brother’s Beaumont and bring Maxwell’s head down from the clouds? Author’s Note: Basically I read Chapter 12 this weekend and was less that thrilled about it. (My MC is married to Maxwell.) So I tried to fix it. I know it’s a bit on the longer side for a one shot, but hopefully it’s worth the read.

“Wow!” You gasped as you stepped out into the soundstage with the rest of your friends. It was the first day of shooting the movie based on Maxwell’s memoir and you’d all been granted access to watch the filming. The first set you’d been taken to was an impressively accurate recreation of the Cordonian Castle’s ballroom. You, Hanna, Drake and even Liam were stunned by the craftsmanship and detail that had gone into creating the set. Maxwell and Bertrand would have also been impressed if their attention hadn’t been captured by a familiar figure standing in the center of the faux ballroom. It was their father, Barthelemy Beaumont.

“Ah, King Liam, Duchess [Y/N]! My two sons!” Barthelemy greeted everyone with a practiced smile.

You adjusted your grip of the princess in your arms. It had become a bit of a nervous habit at this point to make sure that your daughter was snuggled close to you around people you didn’t trust. Sure, technically Barthelemy was family, but he didn’t quite feel it. You hadn’t mentioned this aloud to anyone but there was just something about your father-in-law that felt off to you. Maybe it was the fact that all of Cordonia had acted like he was dead until a few months ago. It might have been the way he always seemed treated Bertrand as if he were still a child.

“Father? What are you doing here?” Bertrand asked the question you really wanted an answer to yourself.

“I know I arrived a bit early,” Barthelemy sighed dramatically. “But the crew was very accommodating of Maxwell Beaumont’s father!” There it was again, that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Barthelemy had name dropped Maxwell and didn’t seem the least bit apologetic. You wanted to call him out on it, but you looked at Maxwell who was positively elated that his father was there. You decided to take a page from Bertrand’s book and offered your father-in-law a stoic but slightly critical remark instead.

“I think he means what are you doing in LA.” You commented.

“I wanted to show my support to my sons!” You fought back the urge to scoff as he continued on. “To see the set of Maxwell’s movie firsthand and to offer my assistance to Bertrand once again. Whether that be with House Beaumont duties or lending a hand with Bartie. I still regret that you had to shoulder so much in my absence. This is a chance to make amends.”

“I assure you, I have everything well under control.” Bertrand replied coldly. It was the sort of calm displeased tone you were used to Bertrand using with you back when you were vying for King Liam’s hand. The tone that implied Bertrand was upset but willing to forge ahead.

“Are you certain?” His father frowned. “I would…” But Bertrand wasn’t hearing another word on the matter.

“I said I don’t need your help!” The Duke of Ramsford hissed indignantly. For anyone else it would have been upsetting enough to see them snap at their parent like that, but for Bertrand? It was practically shouting. It was worse than the time you almost used a dessert fork during the salad course.

“Well I…” Barthelemy took a beat to compose himself. Much like the rest of you, he wasn’t used to Bertrand lose his temper.

“Come on Dad, let me help you find a good seat!” Maxwell suggested. He guided his father away to a collection of chairs slightly offstage. You weren’t sure if Maxwell finally decided to intervene for his father’s benefit or his brothers. The others moved off to find their seats too. You reached out and touched Bertrand’s arm causing him to stop and look back at you.

“Bertrand, are you okay?” You questioned.

“Just as I told my father, I’m fine.” He grumbled. He was still irritated, but clearly not with you.

“Actually, what you told him was that you didn’t need his help. And honestly, you seem pretty not fine, to me.”

“Pardon me if I’m offended by my father following me to the far side of the earth to tell me that I can’t handle my affairs.” Bertrand cast a forlorn look in his father’s direction. You sympathized with Bertrand because you knew how import family and the legacy of House Beaumont were to him. All Bertrand had ever wanted was to build something that would make his father proud. And all Barthelemy did was criticize him. “Maxwell and I got along perfectly fine without him all this time.” He added still seething with anger.

“Maxwell seems pretty happy to have him here.” You said, not able to think of anything else to comfort him. You both watched as Maxwell sat next to his father and animatedly told the story about how he convinced you to come to Cordonia in the first place.

“He was rather young when our father got sick.” Bertrand recalled.

“Let’s let Maxwell and Barthelemy have their moment, they can sit up front together and we’ll sit in the back. We’ll blame it on Maxine. We can say that she should sit in the back so she doesn’t make too much noise. I’ll even let you hold your favorite niece slash Heir to the Cordonian Throne.”

“Very well.” Bertrand agreed. He held out his arms expectantly. You passed your daughter off to him the two of you claimed two open seats in the back row.

With everyone seated and the set cleared, the actors arrived and took their places. The first scene filmed was your debut at the masquerade ball. You watched as quietly as possible from behind the cameras. Truth be told you weren’t entirely interested in watching the filming. You all knew from the book reading awhile back that Maxwell had stretched the truth in some instances when it came to his novel and you certainly weren’t expecting the Hollywood adaptation to get much more factual. It also didn’t help that the actress cast to play you appeared to be a weirdly dedicated method actress with little regard for personal space. You’d mostly come to LA to support your husband and to meet the mysterious former Queen of Rivala.

While everyone else was focused on the actors in front of them, you were still thinking about Bertrand, Maxwell and Barthelemy. Things couldn’t go on much longer the way they’d been since Bertrand’s wedding. You wondered if Maxwell could sense the tension that Barthelemy had brought into the family by behaving the way he did; he must have. Maxwell was carefree and optimistic, but he wasn’t stupid. He had to know that on some level Barthelemy was toxic. After all wasn’t he part of the reason House Beaumont had needed Bertrand’s saving in the first place?

“That’s it?” You heard Bertrand remark suddenly. “Aren’t I in this scene?” He asked, looking directly at the back of Maxwell’s head. Maxwell turned and looked back at his brother.

“Well, you weren’t actually there when [Y/N] was introduced at court.” He reminded his brother.

“No.” Bertrand frowned. “That can’t be true. I wouldn’t have missed such an occasion.”

“I’m afraid it is.” You told Bertrand regrettably. “I didn’t even meet you until after the Masquerade was almost over and then you, Max and I all went to bed early. Our first real conversation was the next morning in the car ride to the Derby.”

“I remember now.” Bertrand sighed. “I was working on House finances that evening.”

“Don’t worry.” Maxwell smiled. “I’m sure you’re in some scenes coming up later.” Maxwell turned back around while the director ordered everyone to reset and shoot the scene again. As if she could sense her Uncle’s discomfort, little Maxine reached out and wrapped her had around one of Bertrand’s fingers. For a minute at least, this managed to crack through his mask and Bertrand smirked. He wrapped the rest of his fingers around her tiny hand.

As the day went on the filming moved to shoot the night of Anton Severus’s attack. The same night you were officially recognized as the Duchess of Valtoria. The scene started out much the same as everyone remembered. The actors were placed around the ballroom set all listening to the actor who portrayed King Liam give a rousing speech and welcome you as Cordonia’s newest Duchess. The creative liberties started when the Maxwell character stepped forward to thank Liam instead of you. It felt out of place because, well why on earth would Maxwell be giving a thank you speech in that moment?

Then the lights on the set flicked off before turning back on. There was a loud pop. The Drake character had a line about there being “More fancy fireworks for the fancy party.” And then the Maxwell character was ordering the guards to usher King Liam to safety. He had a corny line about it being “time to unleash the kraken!” before confronting an extra who pointed a gun in his direction. The Drake character then sprinted in out of nowhere and knocked Maxwell to the ground. You didn’t pay attention to what happened next. You looked away from the train wreck of a scene until the director called out for everyone to take a break.

“That was just how I envisioned it when I was writing this scene!” The real Maxwell announced proudly.

“Maxwell, that’s not at all what happened.” You told him. “I knew you made a few minor tweaks here and there in the story but you kind of made everything about you.” Maxwell seemed to take what you said to heart. He looked at the set and back at you. Maybe he had changed things too much.

“I thought it was very heroic!” Barthelemy announced. You wanted to comment that no one had asked what he thought, but you remembered Bertrand seated next to you. You imagined what advice he might give you and, in your head, you recalled Bertrand’s best lecturing voice.

“You’re not just a scrappy waitress from New York, Lady [Y/N]! You’re a Duchess. The Duchess of Valtoria, and a Duchess can’t be seen shouting and ranting to her Father-In-Law on some backlot in the middle of Los Angeles.”

So, you let the subject drop for the moment. There would be plenty of time for you to speak to Maxwell later when the two of you were alone in your hotel room. The director motioned for everyone to follow him to the next set so that production could continue. As Maxwell and Barthelemy lead the charge to the new set, you and Bertrand wandered slightly behind everyone else. Hana hung back too. She had been reading the troubled expressions on your face since the last scene.

“I heard the director say that the next scene is the Beaumont Bash.” She told you. “I’m sure there’s not much Maxwell could have changed there. I remember it being a pretty crazy party.”

“Ah yes, that’s when I was first introduced to the Champagne Sword Trick.” You recalled fondly. “Or as it’s better known now, the champagne and the closest weapon to Maxwell trick. I guess it will be fun to see the actors attempt that.”

“Yeah.” Hana nodded with a smile. “Plus, Bertrand I remember you being there that night, so you’ll finally see your character in action!”

“Thank you for reminding me, Lady Hana.” Bertrand smirked. “I do seem to remember having a lot of fun that night.”

“How about you let me hold Maxine for this one?” She offered. “Then the two of you can sit upfront next to Maxwell.”

Bertrand was less enthusiastic about being in close proximity to Barthelemy again, but he did want a good view of the Beaumont Bash. You were also not happy about being near him again, your urge to call him out on his behavior was still strong. However, you let Hana take Maxine and float off to the back row of chairs. You sat next to Maxwell who was taking to his father about what a fantastic success the Beaumont Bash had been that year. Bertrand sat on your other side and quietly commented what a good job the set designers had done.

“It almost feels like home.” He whispered to you.

You agreed that the set was yet another remarkable recreation, this time of the Ramsford Estate. As the filming begins the actors playing you and Maxwell were positioned at the top of the staircase. When the director called “Action!” Your character welcomed everyone to the Beaumont Bash. While the Maxwell character leapt up onto the banister. He shouted his own line of welcome before effortlessly sliding down the bannister and uncorking a bottle of champagne with a sword. It seemed more dramatic and coordinated than anything the real Maxwell could do, but that was the magic of the movies.

As champagne spilled from the bottle in the Maxwell character’s hands, horses were led onto the set with acrobats riding atop them. Some background music began to play and extras dressed as waiters and servants walked the set with trays of drinks and Hors d'oeuvres. The cameras gather footage of all the actors mingling and partying before a door onset opens. A new actor you haven’t met yet steps into frame with a scowl on his face.

“Did I miss the sabering of the champagne?” The actor sighed. “Not for the third year in a row.” The actor looked dramatically into a nearby camera as it wheeled in for a close-up. “If only my dukely duties didn’t keep me so indisposed. I hardly have time for anyone or anything of late.”

It didn’t register with you at first, but this actor was meant to be portraying Bertrand. He wasn’t by any means a bad actor, but they way he’d been written was awful. This version of Bertrand almost felt like he’d been written as a parody, a joke. You wanted answers from Maxwell and you wanted to comfort Bertrand, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the set when the Bertrand character uttered his next line.

“I wish I could be as fun and carefree as my wonderful younger brother, Maxwell.” The camera held on the Bertrand character moping for a few more seconds before the director ended the scene. He ordered everyone to take their lunch, promising they would return to the scene again after the break. While the actors and crew dispersed around you, it seemed the real Bertrand couldn’t hold his tongue any longer.

“Maxwell is that really how you see me?” He asked his brother looking genuinely hurt. “As some sort of fun deprived sad sack?”

“What?” Maxwell looked shocked, as if he hadn’t predicted this reaction from him at all. “It’s just…you weren’t there for some things. Liam’s bachelor party, a lot of [Y/N]’s debut, a lot of Bartie’s first…”

“Is this meant to be comforting?” Bertrand huffed.

“Yeah.” Maxwell struggled. “I mean you had House Beaumont stuff to do. I get it. And I’m sure Bartie and Savanah get it.” That was when you decided to step in.

“Maxwell, I don’t think you’re being fair to Bertrand.” You told him. “He didn’t willingly miss any part of Bartie’s life. In fact you and Savanah decided on your own to keep Bartie a secret for so long so it’s hardly fair to throw that back in his face now.”

“I wasn’t trying too…” Maxwell started to say but he could tell that you weren’t finished.

“I’ve been trying to keep quiet today because I wanted to make sure that today was about you, but you made sure of that on your own.” You said. “Not including your brother in events that he wasn’t there is fine. What’s not fine is rewriting everyone else’s lives to make yourself out to be the hero in every single situation. Drake didn’t run across a ballroom to take a bullet for you so that you looked like some big action star. He jumped in front of gun for me because he happened to be the closest person and I was in real danger. Bertrand didn’t mope around and complain through the entire Beaumont Bash either! I remember him laughing and having fun with us.”

“Now, [Y/N] I think…” Barthelemy tried to jump in.

“I think I wasn’t talking to you.” You huffed, not looking away from Maxwell. “Maxwell, your brother has always supported you. Think of all the times he thought you’d wasted family money on things like Jet skis. Lesser people might had kicked you out or cut you off, but Bertrand never did that. Instead he worked harder to manage the house. He sacrificed so many things for himself to keep you happy and to keep House Beaumont in good standing. He has stood by every questionable decision you’ve made since I’ve known you. He stood by you when you told him you brough back a New York waitress as the hopeful future queen. He stood by you when you then told him that you fell in love with said waitress and she was no longer going to marry the King.” You breathed out and sucked in another deep breath. You hadn’t expected so many words to come flowing out of your mouth.

“And lastly, I love you Maxwell. I love that you’re a carefree, optimistic, lovable guy. You don’t need to invent some other version of you where you’re a suave action hero just to impress people. The people closest to you already love you just the way that you are. So I don’t care what you have to do, I’ll pay for the re-writes myself if I have to, but you fix this script so that we all get to see the Maxwell and Bertrand Beaumont that we know and love. Because the rest of the world deserves to see who you really are too.”

“Well, that was certainly some speech, [Y/N]. I had no idea my daughter in law was such a peacemaker.” Barthelemy said. You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Maxwell and Bertrand are my family.” You told him, your tone just a hint icy.

“I’m going to check on Hana and Maxine.” Maxwell decided. He placed a gently kiss on your forehead before adding, after that I’m going to talk to the writers and see what we can do about the script. With Maxwell gone Barthelemy mumbled something about joining the others for lunch. You were about to do the same when Bertrand called out to you.

“[Y/N] wait,” You turned back to him. Bertrand’s expression was blank and unreadable. “Thank you, for speaking with Maxwell.”

“Bertrand, I know you don’t need me to defend you.” You added. “But I also know from your courtship with Savanah that sometimes you’re not the best at articulating your feelings. I’ve been boiling about Maxwell’s behavior all day and I was going to wait until we were back in our hotel room to say something but that last scene…it sent me over the edge for some reason. You worked hard and took care of Maxwell most of his life. He should give you more credit.”

“Be that as it may, perhaps it’s time to admit that I have taken on too much between Duchy Ramsford, my family and my duties to the crown.” Bertrand explained.

“Bertrand, I know I didn’t grow up in Cordonia and I don’t know every apple related historical moment,” You smirked. “But I’ve seen quite a bit of recent history and I know that you single handedly pulled House Beaumont and your Duchy from the brink of financial ruin. No other Cordonian is as dedicated to their Kingdom and if anyone can juggle a family and a Duchy it’s you. But it is okay to ask for help sometimes too. Asking for help isn’t admitting defeat. It’s adding in allies to the battle.”

“How could I ever be defeated with the great Duchess [Y/N] Beaumont of Valtoria, formerly New York, as my ally?” Bertrand questioned.

“Exactly.” You smiled.

“For the record, [Y/N], I am eternally pleased that you chose to marry Maxwell.” Bertrand confessed. “While I am glad to have you as an ally on the battlefield, I’m much happier to call you my sister.”

“Right back at you. I meant what I said Bertrand, you’re family and I’m happy to help you in any way I can.” You assured him. “Now I have an important question for you, what is the royal protocol for eating with plastic utensils?”

#TRH #The Royal Heir #The Royal Heir Fan Fic #The Royal Heir Fan Fiction #The Royal Heir FF #Bertrand Beaumont #Maxwell Beamont #TRH Book 2 Chapter 12 #TRH Book 2 #I Fixed It #Fixed It #They did my boys dirty #Bertrand did nothing wrong

7 notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 5 years ago

Text

ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part two: champagne brunch]

Part One if you want to catch up

I’ve been up since 6am. In that time, I have had three coffee’s, worked out, showered, wore my new kimono around the house (a la Bertrand Beaumont in my HC), watched two episodes of Singapore Social, lunch, and written this. It’s only 1.45pm. Isolation drags man. I’m going to drink wine now.

@moonlightgem7 @emichelle @ibldw-main @mskaneko @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @burnsoslow @addictedtodrakefanfic @simplymissjulia @kingliam2019 @oofchoices @saivilo @pug-bitch @notoriouscs @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @katedrakeohd @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @rainbowsinthestorm @burnsoslow @flowerpowell @argylemnwrites

********************************************

Bertrand and Maxwell Beaumont both loved a party. For as long as the citizens of Applewood could remember, the Beaumont brothers would find any excuse to throw a party and make it into an event that would be talked about for months afterwards. They were partial to fire throwing, circus performers and flash mobs. If you were invited to a Beaumont event, you had officially made it.

As Camille had been Maxwell’s close friend in school, he went to great lengths to ensure that her welcome home brunch would be a brunch she would compare all other brunches to. He and Bertrand had created vision boards and hired a team to pull off the brunch in spectacular Beaumont style.

They had decided on a Marie Antoinette theme. Their manor was decorated to resemble Versailles with gold mirrors, twinkling chandeliers and candles lit on every surface. The dining room was big enough to hold twenty round tables that were decorated with platters of macaroons and bottles of champagne. They had hired waiting staff that wore Marie Antoinette inspired outfits, complete with powdered wigs that towered high on their heads. To complete the theme, a six tiered sponge cake decorated with tiny figures of the Eiffel Tower was placed in the centre of the room as a nod to the ‘let them eat cake’ quote that Marie Antoinette apparently declared.

‘Why have they settled on a theme that involves the woman getting her head cut off?’ Bianca muttered to Drake, her eyes wide like saucers as she surveyed the room.

Drake shrugged. ‘Are you really asking if the Beamont’s follow logic in their party planning?’

Bianca sniggered and helped herself to a champagne flute, tossing it back. Drake looked around, hoping for an open bar. He assumed there would be an open bar because the Beaumonts adored alcohol and he would be damned if he was going to drink champagne all morning.

‘Bianca and Drake Walker, welcome!’ a grand voice came from behind them. They turned to see Bertrand striding towards them with his arms outstretched. Drake stepped back in alarm; Bertrand was wearing a Versailles inspired brocade gold coat, complete with matching trousers. He wore navy suede loafers on his feet adorned with tassels.

‘Thank you for inviting us, very kind,’ Bianca said warmly, clasping his hands. ‘This is my first Bash!’

‘Oh darling, this isn’t a Bash!’ Bertrand laughed. ‘This is merely brunch! But, I will be sure to invite you two to our next Bash.’ He leaned close, conspiratorially. ‘We’ve decided on a casino theme!’ he whispered.

A waitress dressed in a pink flouncy dress and violet wig passed with a tray of more champagne. Bertrand reached out to take two glasses and handed them to the Walkers. ‘Enjoy, mon cheries!’ he said cheerfully, before turning swiftly to welcome more guests.

Drake sighed and swallowed down the champagne. God, it tasted awful. But it was free alcohol so he really shouldn’t complain. Bianca took him by the arm and together, they found their table near the front. Drake smiled. This made a change from always being put near the back. He pulled out a chair for his mother and she thanked him as she sat down, self consciously patting her hair.

‘You look great mom,’ Drake murmured in her ear. ‘Have fun.’

Bianca smiled gratefully and looked around the room, taking mental snapshots of everything gone around her. Drake looked around too, before his eyes settled on Liam and Camille coming back inside with Maxwell. He saw Liam point to Drake and Bianca’s table; Camille kept a smile on her face as Liam guided her towards them. Drake swallowed hard and drew himself up.

‘Looks like we’re at the same table!’ Liam said cheerfully. ‘Fantastic. Camille, darling, would you like some champagne?’

Camille smiled. ‘Yes, please.’

She sat down opposite Drake and watched as Liam poured her a glass. Maxwell sat down beside her, eyeing the macaroons. He reached out to take a pink one and shoved it in his mouth.

‘Oh my god, this is heaven,’ he groaned, spraying pieces of macaroon on the table. ‘Oh sweet Jesus..’

Camille giggled and passed him a napkin. Maxwell took it, rolling his eyes, and then helped himself to another macaroon. Drake tried to keep his eyes off Camille; he was fully aware that Liam was sitting opposite and studying everyone intently.

‘So, Drake, tell me,’ Liam said, pouring Drake a glass of champagne. ‘Camille only briefly mentioned you. You guys were friends?’

‘They were best friends!’ Bianca piped up, sipping her champagne. ‘They dated at one point.’

Camille and Drake both turned red. Liam’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Oh really?’ he asked. ‘That’s fairly important! Why didn’t you tell me, darling?’

Camille shrugged, looking like she wanted to be somewhere else. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘Very long,’ Drake volunteered, his voice gruff. ‘Not important.’

‘When did you break up?’ Liam asked. ‘I hope that’s not an intrusive question, don’t feel like you have to answer-’

‘We broke up shortly after we started college,’ Drake interrupted, sick of this line of questioning. ‘Haven’t seen each other since.’

Liam bit his lip. ‘I’ve hit a nerve..’

‘Honey, it’s okay,’ Camille said quickly, taking his hand. Liam cleared his throat. ‘Okay.. so, Drake, do you have any stories about Camille? Any warnings about her I should know?’

Drake tossed back his champagne before settling his eyes on Liam. God, the man was fucking golden. He looked like he had just stepped off the beach. He looked rich. Drake hated rich people. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about,’ Drake told him. His eyes flashed to Camille. ‘Except don’t take her anywhere that’s high. She hates heights. Fainted on me once.’

Liam laughed. ‘Really? We’ve been rock climbing with my brother and she was fine then.’ He nudged Camille with his shoulder. ‘Isn’t that right, darling?’

Camille’s mouth pressed into a hard line. ‘I guess I didn’t tell you that I hate heights..’

Liam sat back, surprised at this new thing he had learned about his fiance. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise.. Why didn’t you say?’

Camille gave him a small smile. ‘I didn’t want to ruin your fun.’

Drake studied her now. There had been a time when Camille would have said she didn’t feel comfortable. She stood up for herself. But it seemed like now, she didn’t. That made Drake sad. Clearing his throat, he stood up. ‘I’m going to find some whiskey..’ he announced to no one in particular, before turning to leave the table and a very awkward Camille.

*********************************************

Drake aged 16; Camille aged 15

‘Come on, Camille, not far to go!’ Drake hollered over his shoulder. ‘We’re nearly at the top! The view’s gonna be incredible!’

‘Uh huh…’ Camille replied back, her breath coming out in heavy pants. Realising he was leaving her behind, Drake stopped to let her catch up.

The two of them had been bored at home. Gisele and Bianca had chided them both to go out and enjoy the sunshine. Now, they were going on a hike up the hills behind the ranch and Camille was regretting the decision.

‘Jesus, Camille, you’re so unfit,’ Drake teased. Camille flipped him her middle finger.

‘Shut up, Walker. I need water.’

Drake opened his rucksack and took out the water bottle, tossing it to Camille. She swallowed the water down in gulps before pouring some on top of her head, drenching herself.

Drake laughed, shaking his head. ‘Was that necessary?’

Camille fixed him with a steady stare. ‘Was it necessary to trek all the way up this damn mountain?’

‘It’s a hill,’ Drake corrected her. ‘Not a mountain.’

‘It’s still up high.’

Drake smirked. His eyes suddenly lingered on Camille for a fraction longer than needed; the water had trailed down her chest and her skin glimmered from the droplets. Drake felt his body react in an alarming way.

‘Uh, okay, let’s keep going,’ he said quickly, turning to walk further up the path. ‘Last one there has to do the other’s math homework all week.’

They trekked up the path until they reached the top twenty minutes later. The landscape of Applewood was laid out before them. Drake smiled as he saw the diner where he and Camille went for burgers; he heard his stomach rumble. Yeah, a burger after this would be delicious.

‘Camille, wanna get a burger after this?’ he asked, turning to his friend.

She was standing near the edge, looking down at the ground that was feet below. She was swaying from side to side and her skin had gone pale. Drake started over to her, reaching out to take her by the hand. ‘You okay?’

She collapsed.

‘Fuck, Camille!’ Drake shouted, throwing himself down to his knees to bring her up to him. Her eyes were closed. ‘Fuck, fuck, Camille, wake up!’ he cried desperately. His mind went through the next steps. What did you do if someone fainted? He thought back to Health class. He couldn’t remember a thing, which made sense because he never paid attention in Health class.

He scrambled to reach into his pocket to take out his phone. He needed to call his mom. But, he realised with frustration that there was no signal.

‘Fucking piece of shit!’ he cursed, throwing it into his rucksack.

He pushed back Camille’s wet hair. Scanning her body, he saw that her jacket was tied tight around her waist. Quickly, Drake untied it, hoping that she would be able to breathe better if she didn’t have it restricting her.

‘Camille, wake up,’ he pleased. ‘Please wake up or your grandma’s gonna kill me.’

Picking up the water bottle, he opened it and tossed the remains of the water down on Camille’s face.

She bolted up, coughing and spluttering. Drake sank back, closing his eyes. ‘Oh thank God..’

Camille rubbed her eyes harshly and blinked hard, looking around at her surroundings. ‘What happened?’

Drake opened his eyes. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ he asked. ‘You fainted on me. Jesus, Camille!’

Camille stared at him in shock. ‘I fainted? What?!’

With a strangled cry, Drake reached out to pull her into him, holding her close. He felt her hands reached around to clasp his back and together, they rocked back and forth.

‘Don’t fucking do that to me again,’ he murmured, his voice cracking. ‘I was shit scared.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Camille mumbled into his neck. ‘I didn’t mean to. I guess it’s the heat and the heights?’

Drake sighed. ‘You tellin’ me you’re scared of heights?’

Camille nodded. ‘I guess I am. I didn’t realise that till now.’

Drake pulled gently away and his eyes met hers. ‘Well, now we do,’ he said, giving her a weak smile.

Camille giggled softly and together, they stood up, still in shock.

‘Burger?’ Drake suggested.

‘And a milkshake, please,’ Camille said. ‘Now.’

Drake laughed and they turned to go back down the path towards safer ground.

********************************

There was an open bar, thank god. Drake ordered a whiskey on the rocks, relieved to drink something that wasn’t bubbly. He didn’t notice Camille come up behind him until she gently touched his arm.

‘Hey.’

He jumped. ‘Camille-’

‘Can we talk?’ she interrupted. ‘Outside?’

Drake nodded mutely. He followed her through the room and out through the French doors to the orangery. The Beaumonts loved orangeries.

Camille gestured for Drake to sit down at the table. They sat opposite each other and Drake waited for Camille to speak.

‘So I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,’ she began, looking at him seriously. ‘I don’t want us to be awkward. It’s an a tricky situation and quite frankly, I shouldn’t even be talking to you, but I also want us to clear the air and just move forward. Liam didn’t know we’d dated. I wasn’t going to tell him. But he knows now, so I suppose we better work out how we are going to act around each other.’

Drake sighed. ‘Camille. Stop.’

Camille blinked. ‘What?’

Drake closed his eyes and tried to find the words. ‘I should be the one trying to clear the air,’ he said. ‘I’m the one who hurt you. I’ve never apologised for that-’

‘There’s no need-’

‘I’m sorry,’ Drake interrupted. ‘I really am. After being your best friend for so long, I really fucked things up at the end. I feel guilty. I appreciate you inviting me to this brunch but I don’t deserve it, Camille. I’m a shit person. But don’t worry about how we’re going to act around each other because after today, I’m going to leave you be. You can enjoy your time back home without having to worry. You won’t see me again.’

Camille stared at him, her brown eyes unreadable. Quietly, she opened her clutch and brought out a piece of paper. She handed it to Drake. ‘We always used to be on the same page,’ she whispered. ‘What happened?’

Drake frowned and looked at the piece of paper. His heart sank. It was her wedding invitation inviting him.

‘I’ve given one to your mom and Bianca,’ Camille told him. ‘I.. I want you to come, Drake. I miss our friendship. I wish things hadn’t panned out the way they did but it can’t be helped. You don’t have to come but I like to think it’ll help us heal.’

Drake studied the invitation. He felt a mixture of feelings. Grief. Sadness. Regret. He tried to summon happiness at her newfound joy but he found that he couldn’t.

‘I appreciate the invitation,’ he told her. ‘But-’

‘I shouldn’t have done this,’ she cut in, panicking. ‘Too weird, too awkward. It’s fine, just give it back and I’ll shred it. You don’t have to come. It’s all good.’

Drake clenched the invitation. He thought back to Camille’s childhood dreams of her wedding and how fun it would be for Drake to be there. How important he would be. She said that she would have him be her best man. Of course, that plan soon changed as soon as they started dating. When Camille made him promise that they would be together ten years in the future, she had visualised Drake becoming her husband instead. Now, if Drake attended, he would be relegated to a middle row, watching his ex-girlfriend get married to someone who wasn’t him.

**************************************************

Drake, aged 18; Camille aged 17

Drake liked the feel of Camille’s hand in his. She had small hands and soft skin, the complete opposite of Drake’s calloused bear paws.

Camille was walking along the wall, holding onto Drake’s hand as she did so. It was the week after the two of them had lost their virginities to each other. The world felt new to them, a world ripe with discovery. Drake felt happier than he’d ever felt in his life. He had the girl. He had the college. He had the future all planned out.

He listened as Camille planned their future. She skipped along the wall, talking without pausing for breath. ‘So, if we get married, we’re definitely gonna do it at your ranch,’ she told him. ‘Outdoors in the summer. We can get married on the jetty! How cute would that be?’

Drake chuckled. He couldn’t believe their friendship had evolved to one that discussed huge topics like marriage. He liked it. ‘That would be very cute,’ he agreed. ‘How many people?’

Camille thought to herself. ‘Only our closest friends and family. The important people.’

‘Of course,’ Drake said. ‘I like your thinking.’

‘And my dress will be all bohemian!’ she squealed. ‘I’ll have a rose crown in my hair! And you can wear a waistcoat and cute shoes.’

Drake wrinkled his nose. ‘Do I have to wear a waistcoat?’

‘You’re marrying me, so yes,’ Camille said bluntly. ‘And your vows have to be romantic. Like, nauseatingly romantic. I want you to say how I’m the most beautiful woman ever! And you can’t live without me!’

Drake smirked. ‘Wellll….’

Camille jumped down from the wall so she could hit him on the arm. ‘You’re such a dick!’

‘I’m just sayin’, if Britney calls, I’m gonna have to ditch you,’ Drake teased, pulling her close so he could tickle her. Camille hated being tickled.

‘Aaaah get offff!’ she protested. ‘You are not ditching me for Britney! You know how much I love her! That would be a betrayal of epic proportions!’

Drake laughed and let her go. Their hands stayed wrapped around each other as they wandered down the street. ‘Your wedding plans sound perfect,’ Drake finally said. ‘I’m a lucky guy.’

Camille grinned. ‘Just think. We’ll go to college, get amazing grades, graduate, find awesome jobs and move in together. We can live in New York and own a cute apartment with a dog. Then we’ll get married and move back to New York, upgrade to a townhouse and become a power couple! I totally see it. The Walker dream.’

Drake squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll make it reality.’

********************************************

Drake put the invitation in his pocket. ‘I’ll be there,’ he told Camille. She drew back, astonished.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Drake said. ‘It’s your day. I wanna see you get your happiness, Montespan. You deserve it.’

Camille smiled. ‘Thank you.’

Drake stood up and held out his hand for her to take. ‘Start over?’

Camille nodded. ‘Sounds good.’ She took his hand and shook it. ‘Friends?’

‘Friends.’

********************************************

Together, they wandered back into the dining room and sat down at the table. Liam kissed Camille on the lips while Bianca poured Drake another glass of champagne. Drake saw that Savannah had now joined the table and was introducing Camille to Bartie. Gisele and Maxwell were talking in low tones, clearly caught up in conversation.

Drake decided to make an effort with Liam. He cleared his throat. ‘So, how did you meet Camille?’ he asked.

Liam and Camille exchanged sickening looks. ‘We met at the Met,’ Liam answered, his eyes never leaving Camille’s.

‘Yeah, we met at the Met!’ Camille giggled, raising her hands and shrugging self-deprecatingly. ‘It was such a meet cute.’

Bianca frowned. ‘What’s a meet cute?’

‘It’s when two people meet each other in a charming way!’ Maxwell crowed. ‘Like, romcom style!’

Liam chuckled and pointed at Maxwell. ‘You got it! Yes, we met in a charming way. Let’s see.. So I like to visit the Met on Saturday mornings to wander around. I love art, you see, I collect it. Anyway, I was wandering, totally caught up in thought, when my eyes found this beauty standing in front of Starry Night..’

Camille was blushing. Drake sipped his champagne, wishing it was whiskey, as he listened to this vomit inducing story. He scolded himself - he was trying to get to know the guy. Give him a chance.

‘I had to say hello,’ Liam continued. ‘And she turned to look at me and god, her eyes.. The most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen. They put all the portraits around us to shame.’

Bianca, Gisele and Maxwell audibly sighed. Drake resisted the urge to dry heave. Savannah looked non-plussed.

‘I introduced myself, asked for her name and the rest is history..’

Savannah’s eyes met Drake’s. She rolled her eyes, making him smile. Good to know that she was thinking the same as him.

‘Is that why you’re getting married at the Met?’ Bianca asked.

Camille nodded. ‘We wanted to come full circle.’

Liam grinned. ‘It’s going to be such a grand affair! We’ve invited everyone we know. God, we’ve got like.. 200 people coming. The museum has let us hire the top floor as a private space. I can’t wait. Then the reception will be at the Plaza-’

‘The PLAZA?!’ Maxwell shrieked. ‘Oh my god, oh my god!’

Drake was regretting trying to get to know Liam. But when his eyes met Camille’s, he could see the uneasiness she was feeling. Did she feel uncomfortable? Anxious? Embarrassed? He thought back to when she had planned for her hypothetical wedding with Drake. She hadn’t been embarrassed then. Drake sipped his drink. He was reading too much into this.

Camille tore her eyes away from Drake and poured herself another glass of champagne. She wished Liam would stop talking. As he talked about their wedding plans, Camille couldn’t help but feel that they had planned too much. Hiring the top floor of the museum? The plaza? God, she was such a fucking New York socialite. She felt like Drake was judging her. Of course he would scoff at their wedding plans. He liked simple things. As Liam kept talking, Camille felt more self conscious. She couldn’t help but think that Drake was studying her for every detail to see how much she had changed. She wasn’t this girl from Texas anymore. Hell, her Texas lilt had been ironed out after years of being in New York. She looked different. She acted different.

She felt like a fraud.

‘More champagne?’ Maxwell asked. ‘We have a champagne fountain!’

‘Ooooh, where?!’ Bianca cried, clapping her hands. ‘How fun!’

Yes. Fun.

#drake walker #trr fanfic #the royal romance

42 notes · View notes