#choicesmonthlychallenge

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[gaiuskamilah]

hide me in thy wounds bloodbound | T | 2.1k words | gaius augustine/main character

first chapter in a two-chapter story. written for @choicesfebruary2024 / agape: your character's relationship with a greater being.

[next chapter] [read on ao3]

chapter i: sanctify me

Late in the first month of a year that was well into his third millennium alive, Gaius Augustine stepped into the Musea Sanguis for the first time in decades.

He hadn’t returned to the underground museum since he’d left the Onyx Sarcophagus for good. Back then, Gaius was hellbent on taking back his kingdom, enacting revenge on his traitorous court, and finally ruling over all life on the planet. It was a good few weeks before he spent a few more as a tree and then the few days after that getting the very foundations his life was built on burned to the ground. 

Needless to say, the few decades after that were spent outside of New York, the place he once called home.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Gaius turned his head and was met by a short, plump young man with brown skin and a mop of black hair. From his scent Gaius could tell that the man was a vampire. He gave Gaius a curious look, as if trying to place where he had seen Gaius before.

“I’m visiting,” was Gaius’ response. “I assume you’re the new keeper of the library?” 

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’ve been the keeper of the library for the past five years now, sir,” he said. “Are you a vampire? I’ll have to check for your brand.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. In all his little adventures in the past decades, he hardly expected people to recognize him. But in New York? By the keeper of the Musea Sanguis? That was odd, if not entirely showing that the younger vampire was unfit for his position.

“The last time I was here was decades ago. The librarian was a different man,” said Gaius. “And no, no brand.”

“No brand?” the keeper asked, a bit of surprise in his voice. “Do you know your maker? It’s protocol to—”

“No brand,” interrupted Gaius, more firmly this time. “No brand, and I don’t need it, and my Maker thought I didn’t either.”

–

Gaius left the young librarian to his tasks and walked into the library proper. He ignored the librarian’s protests, and behind him Gaius could hear the younger vampire scramble across his desk.

The Musea Sanguis looked considerably different compared to when Gaius last saw it. Numerous artifacts were no longer on display in the museum, no doubt transferred to a more public setting after vampires were revealed to the world. Attila the Hun’s sword was no longer on display, and neither was the blade that was used to execute Marie Antoinette. On the other hand, there were new additions that even Gaius wasn’t familiar with. New tomes, cups, paintings, and other priceless items were now on display. Gaius examined these with a passing interest.

He wasn’t at the Musea for them.

He turned past another aisle of bookshelves. Even with the renovations and new additions, Gaius knew the Musea like the back of his hand. And if he was correct, the display he was looking for should still be where it was last left.

True to his hunch, it was still where he last left it. The Onyx Sarcophagus. His Onyx Sarcophagus.

The damned thing was now bound by red line ropes and had an additional display on the side describing it. The short description, of course, just had to include a sentence or two about his century trapped in the box. 

“Feeling nostalgic?”

Gaius flinched with surprise. He knew that coming to New York meant a higher possibility of running into them, but…

“Magdalene. Good evening,” said Gaius with a composed voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“That’s my line, since the Musea is under my authority now and you’re the one visiting. You gave poor Ben a fright and he ended up calling me in a rush,” said Magdalene. She continued in a high-pitched tone: “‘Miss Magdalene, there’s an unbranded vampire at the library! He’s tall and looks scary!’”

Gaius, despite himself, gave an amused huff. “My apologies, then,” said Gaius. He finally turned to face Magdalene. She was dressed in a long-sleeved, knee-length blue dress. Her long black hair was loose and her fringe sat just on top of her eyebrows. “I’ve had no need for a brand for the longest time on account of… her. And I promise, I’m only visiting.”

“No new evil schemes?”

“None that I can dream of.” 

Magdalene shrugged, then gave him a small smile. If his heart lurched just the slightest bit at that, that was no one’s business. “Alright then, Augustine,” she said, walking up next to him. “I hope you weren’t planning on ruining my display, though. That would be an evil scheme.”

“Well, I thought the library was still under Raines, but the circumstances seem to have changed…”

“Hey!”

“I only jest, Maria, don’t worry,” said Gaius. “I don’t plan on destroying this coffin anytime soon. I’m only visiting.”

Silence draped itself between the two of them, broken when Magdalene said more to herself than to him: “Maria.” She pursed her lips and absent-mindedly played with the small golden cross hanging on her neck. After a moment, she turned to him. “How long have you been in New York?”

“I arrived here yesterday evening. Just wanted to see the sights, maybe go a trip down memory lane…” answered Gaius. “I was planning on visiting just one more place before I leave New York. Unless you’ve decided my presence is so horrible that I have to evacuate now?”

“Your words, not mine. I’ve said no such thing. In fact, I may… say otherwise, even,” said Magdalene. After a beat, she said what was probably his biggest surprise of the decade: “I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll go with you,” repeated Magdalene. “To wherever it is you’re heading to. Who knows? I might find out something new about New York. You’re older than dirt, and I think it’ll be interesting.” 

Gaius swallowed, almost at a loss for words. He breathed out, then said: “I’ll… I’ll be visiting the temple.”

The look of surprise on Magdalene’s face rivaled his. She averted her eyes, then turned back to him. “I see,” was her reply. “You’re not planning on restarting First Vampire-ism or whatever in New York, are you?”

Gaius let out a bleak laugh. “No evil schemes like that just yet.”

–

Gaius pushed open the ornate doors of the Temple of the First. The temple was a shell of its former self, even more so than it was years ago. Weeds and plants broke through the stone foundations as the earth slowly reclaimed the abandoned temple. What was likely years’ worth of dust and blood covered the floor. As Gaius’ eyes adjusted to the almost absolute darkness, he could make out the cracks in the beams. Old craters in the walls, evidence of battles past, remained untouched.

Magdalene followed behind him as he walked. “I only ever come here once a year, on Jax’s death anniversary,” said Magdalene. “It feels… strange to be here.”

“It is indeed,” said Gaius. With a conjured flame in his palm, Gaius lit the archaic torches on the sides of the room. The room was bathed in a dim but warm glow. 

“So…” started Magdalene. “Any particular reason you wanted to come here, specifically? I wouldn’t have expected you to come here, of all places, with what you said about…”

Magdalene trailed off and instead motioned to the front of the temple, where behind the altar and the decimated throne was a large stone statue embedded onto the wall. 

Goddess.

The word rang in Gaius’ head on instinct, and with it a feeling of loathing and shame. He sighed, and after a moment, said: “Ever since you let me live, I’ve felt… aimless. Less so than I felt on the boat all those years ago, but still aimless,” confessed Gaius. “Even when Xenocrates imprisoned her and left me, I wasn’t alone. I had her will to guide me. I don’t… have that anymore.”

“It was terrible, and what she did was terrible, but for the longest time it was all I knew.” Gaius sighed. “And it makes me miss her.”

Magdalene’s eyebrows rose, but the revelation didn’t seem to surprise her as much as Gaius expected. “You do?”

“I do. She violated me, took over my life, and I did terrible things in her name. Things that make me feel disgusting,” said Gaius. “But it was still me, and also her. I don’t know where she ended and where I started. It was broken from the moment Iola was taken and I know it but some part of me… still won’t let it go.”

He slowly walked towards the altar; Magdalene again followed behind him. Centuries ago, he would have knelt by the altar, placed his lips on the table, and sent out a prayer to The First. Now, he merely stood and swiped a finger on the layer of dust that coated it. 

He walked to the base of the statue and conjured a flame in his palm again. He motioned for Magdalene to come forward and she walked to him, a curious expression on her face. “You said you wanted to learn something new about New York. Here’s what I have for you,” said Gaius. He held the flame to light an inscription on the statue. “This is the first prayer The First taught me. I learned it at her knee, in a now dead language, when she first taught Xenocrates and I how to pray.” 

Magdalene’s fingers traced over the ancient letters. “What does it say?” she asked.

Gaius paused for a moment, then in a language he hadn’t needed spoken in thousands of years, recited: “Blessed be the Goddess Phampira, and Her holy Tree of Life, from which eternity springs. Blessed be the Priestess Rheya, the First Vampire, Phampira made flesh, rightful Goddess and Queen of Mydeia,” He hesitated, the continued reading the prayer that once came to him as easy as breathing, “We pray for prosperity, for the life Her blood brings. We pray for Her hands, Her Prince and Her Soldier, Her will and Her blade, wholly Hers to work in Her name, forever and ever. Let it be so.” 

When he finished reading, he half-expected the First herself to come back from the dead and smite him down for all his traitorous acts in the past years. But instead, nothing happened, and Gaius was met only with Magdalene’s stunned look.

“I… I understood every bit of that,” said Magdalene. “Rheya, she… do you really think she was a goddess?”

“I did. We all did. She had defied death itself and returned with what we viewed as Phampira’s blessing. Phampira made flesh,” said Gaius. “But I’ve had time. I’ve had time to think about it. I’ve had time to think about whether the gods are real and if they’ll save me, like I believed the First would. Now I’m starting to think that was just how we made sense of things. Maybe we — She — stumbled on the tree, something She, as a priestess, didn’t fully understand yet, and said it how She believed it to be.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Gaius said: “Then there’s the question of you, Magdalene.”

Magdalene let out a breath. “I know,” she said. “You saw what happened when I killed her. Her power… it became part of me. And for a few moments, I felt like I could do anything. There was so much rage and grief when Jax was lost and I felt like I could undo it all. I could make the world a better place. I could make it my world where no one had to suffer. I understood then, why people called her a goddess. But…”

Magdalene paused, pondering on her words. Finally, she said: “But it wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough,” she said. “And when I finally let Adrian, Kamilah, and Lily drag me down from that high, I knew that I was not God.”

Magdalene sighed and sank down to sit on the temple floor. She leaned her head back onto the wall and closed her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, Gaius sat down next to her. 

“I hardly visit this temple because it brings up questions I try not to think about. Was Rheya God? Am I God? At one point, maybe I could have been. Rheya’s blood is mine, and mine hers. Where does she start and where do I end? It horrifies me sometimes, the harm I can do.” Magdalene held onto the cross on her neck. She turned to face him, and Gaius was struck by the intensity in her brown eyes. “I don’t think Rheya was God. You won’t find God in me, either. I don’t even know if God exists anymore. Maybe God was gone all along.”

“Maria…”

“No, not Maria. My name is Magdalene,” she corrected. “I live and I love and my power has limits and that was how I knew I wasn’t God. I’m not alone, and neither are you.”

[choicesnovchallenge]

This month, I encourage you to create any fanworks of your choice inspired by November holidays, fun facts and even create a birthday gift to the members of the fandom born in November. You can choose the prompt you vibe the most, pair up two or more prompts, combining them with prompts from Choices fandom events and other general prompt lists.

Holidays and Events

National Adoption Month

National Native American Heritage Month

No Shave November

Transgender Awareness Month

01. All Saints' Day / World Vegan Day / National Authors Day

02. Dia de Los Muertos

03. Sandwich Day / Cliché Day

04. Book Lovers Day

05. Bonfire/Fireworks Night / Destiel day (I'm sorry but there's no way I wouldn't include this iconic Tumblr holiday 😅)

08. Cook Something Bold Day

09. World Freedom Day

10. Forget Me Not Day

11. Singles Day

12. Diwali / Chicken Soup For The Soul Day

13. Ides of November (Festival Of Jupiter) / World Kindness Day

16. World Philosophy Day

17. Take A Hike Day

18. National Princess Day

20. Black Awareness Day

22. Music/Musicians Day / Go For A Ride Day

23. Thanksgiving / National Expresso Day

24. Black Friday / Buy Nothing Day

25. International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women

26. National Cake Day

28. French Toast Day

29. Lemon Cream Pie Day

Astronomical events

03. Jupiter at opposition - best day to see Jupiter and its moons (using a telescope)

13. Uranus at opposition - best day to see Uranus (using a telescope)

17-18. Leonids Meteor Shower (visible to the naked eye)

Facts

Birthstones: Topaz and Citrine

Flower: Chrysanthemum

Fruits: Apple, cranberry

Zodiac signs: Scorpio (until 21st) / Sagittarius (starting in Nov 22nd)

Birthday babes

04. whenyourheartskipsabeat

06. deb-1106

11. twinkle-320

16. jamespotterthefirst

17. peonyblossom

29. iaminlovewithtrr

29. katedrakeohd

30. kingliam2019

[gift suggestions]

[cariantha]

All He Wanted

Book: Open Heart, Book 1 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1.5K Prompt: Ethan doesn’t care to celebrate his birthday, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend it alone. A/N: My Ethan’s birthday is October 5th. This fic takes place during Sawyer’s intern year.

For @choicesoctober event: autumn / favorites things / celebration For @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event: Birthday Surprise

It was a crisp autumn morning in early October. The sun was still rising when Sawyer exited the hospital and came face to face with Ethan. 

“Hi! You’re here early,” she greeted, surprisingly perky after a grueling night shift.

“And you’re here late. Wasn’t your shift supposed to end at five?” 

“It did, but after clocking out, I went and checked on Dr. Banerji one more time. He was awake, so I stayed and chatted with him for a bit.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated the company, thank you,” Ethan replied. 

“I think he did. He was all too happy to share several stories about you as an intern,” she smiled devilishly.

While teasing him about getting caught in a supply closet, Sawyer began to shiver. Accustomed to much warmer climates, she had not yet adjusted to the much colder temperatures in Boston, and found herself unprepared nearly every time she went outside.

“Hold this for a minute,” Ethan instructed, handing her his tall cup of steaming hot coffee from Derry’s. 

As he unzipped and removed this jacket, Sawyer was distracted by the words written on the side of his cup. Happy birthday, Ethan! 

Busy processing this bit of information, she was almost startled when Ethan offered her his coat.

“Here,” he said, holding it open for her.

“Oh, thanks…but wait…are you sure you won’t need it later,” she stammered, shifting the coffee from one hand to the other as she slid her arms into the sleeves. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ethan assured, spinning her around and zipping the jacket. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hands and cleared his throat, “Sorry, you probably could have done that yourself.”

Sawyer smiled, unfazed.

“Thank you. In Arizona, we would still be wearing shorts and flip-flops this time of year,” she chortled, “I’m still getting used to real fall weather.”

Sawyer handed his coffee back and wondered if he had forgotten about their plans to research Naveen’s case that night. Presumably, he would have other plans for his birthday.

But before she could ask, he confirmed, “Just bring it back tonight.”

“You’re still wanting to work on the case tonight?” 

“Yes…but if you are no longer available, I understand–” 

Sawyer could have sworn she caught a flash of disappointment and quickly interjected, “No! I mean, I am. Available.” 

“Good. My place at seven? If I get delayed checking on Naveen, let yourself in and make yourself at home.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you later,” she nodded, a plan forming in her head as she started toward the train station.

A hot shower and a few hours of sleep later, Sawyer left her apartment on a mission. 

When Ethan arrived home shortly before seven o’clock, he was not expecting to find the lights on.  

“Sawyer?”

“In the kitchen!” she called back.

As Ethan rounded the corner, the kitchen came into full view, and he was taken aback.

“Happy birthday,” she softly exclaimed.

Genuinely surprised, “How…how’d you know?” he asked.

“Your coffee cup this morning.”

“I see. Outed by the coffee rewards program,” he said amused.

On the kitchen island, there was a large paper bag, a bottle of wine and scotch, and a bouquet of chocolate bars with a couple balloons tied around the base. 

“You…you didn’t have to…thank you,” he fumbled for words, sincerely touched.

Sawyer gestured to the two options, “Take a load off and pick your poison. I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I got both.”

Ethan reached for the scotch. While Sawyer hunted down two tumblers, he examined the bottle. 

“This is one of my favorites.”  

It wasn’t the most expensive brand, but a bottle would certainly stretch an intern’s budget. 

“Yeah, I know. I stopped by Donahue’s and asked Reggie what you liked,” she revealed. “That’s actually a gift from him. He insisted when I told him it was for your birthday.”

Ethan shook his head in wonder. “I’ll have to remember to thank him when I see him next.” 

He finally sat and poured a glass, taking a sip and savoring the smooth, smokey flavor. 

Meanwhile, Sawyer busied herself with dinner, removing takeout containers from the paper bag and grabbing plates from the cupboard. She plated his dish and passed it to him. 

Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked down at the swirl of black pasta on his plate. 

“Is this from Coppa’s?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered, “...you conveniently mentioned it was one of your favorite restaurants last week.”  

“But I don’t recall telling you Linguine Alla Sepia was my favorite dish,” Ethan countered, twisting the squid ink pasta and Rhode Island calamari around his fork.

“You didn’t. I gave the hostess your phone number and they were able to pull up your previous orders in their system.” She continued, “And in case you’re wondering how I knew about the candy bars, well, you left a wrapper in your coat pocket.”

“First, you discover the secret behind Patient X, and now all of this. I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared,” he poked fun. 

“Or proud that my mentor has instilled in me the importance of listening and observing,” she suggested with a wink.

“What did you order?” Ethan wondered, as Sawyer reached for her meal container. 

“Pizza.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled.

“Why is that funny?” she asked.

“Rookie, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you would be perfectly content ordering from the kid’s menu.”

“Says the guy eating squid!” Her body trembled in disgust and she pretended to gag, earning a toothy smile from Ethan.

As they dug into their meals, their playful banter eventually faded into a peaceful lull. After a couple minutes, Sawyer finally broke the silence with the question that had been on her mind all day. 

“Hey, why didn’t you cancel for tonight?”

“Why would I?” he asked innocently, taking another bite of pasta.

“Surely you had better things to do on your birthday. Dinner with your family? Drinks with friends? A date?”

From the corner of his eye, Ethan could see her staring down and picking at her pizza, appearing almost nervous. 

“My dad and I usually go out to dinner. He’s coming up this weekend,” he explained. “To be honest, I don’t care much for the attention, or for people making a big fuss.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I–,” she started.

Covering her hand with his own, he cut her off, “This is perfect, Sawyer. Thank you.”

As the evening wore on, they enjoyed the rest of their meals, drank, talked, and laughed. When it was time for dessert, Sawyer lit a candle, pressing it into Ethan’s tiramisu. She spared them both a solo rendition of the birthday song.

“Make a wish,” she insisted, holding the plate a few inches away.

Ethan’s eyes flitted between the burning candle and Sawyer’s eyes before he blew it out.

Neither had realized how much time had passed until Sawyer cleared the dessert plates and noticed the late hour on the microwave’s digital display. 

“Wow, is that really the time?”

Checking his watch, Ethan too realized it had gotten late. Much too late to start any research on the case.

“I’ll find some time tomorrow to review the new case studies. We should probably call it a night.”

Like this morning, disappointment once again flashed across his face. Not realizing that Ethan was only upset that the night had to end, Sawyer misinterpreted his distress as frustration and offered an apology.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get any work done.”

“Don’t be. If I’m being honest…,” he exhaled, “it was nice to have a night off.”

“Then, I'm glad I could help provide a distraction," she smiled, internally breathing a sigh of relief.

Together they cleaned up and waited for her ride. 

“Your car is here,” Ethan announced when his phone pinged. Sawyer gathered her things and he followed her to the door.

“Thank you for tonight, Sawyer.”

“You’re welcome,” she beamed up at him. 

Suddenly the air became heavy, a standard goodbye not feeling adequate for the celebratory occasion. Cutting through the awkward tension, Sawyer slid her arm over his shoulder and pulled him in. 

Ethan far from minded the gesture, but even still, he cautiously accepted the friendly squeeze, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

The hug only lasted long enough for the intern to wish her boss a happy birthday one last time. 

“Happy birthday, Dr. Ramsey.” 

Then they parted. When Sawyer cracked the door, Ethan reached over her head to hold it open for her.

“Goodnight, Rookie.” 

She offered a small wave and Ethan closed the door with a contented sigh.

All he wanted for his birthday was to spend an evening with the person who made his worries disappear and his burdens feel lighter. Tonight, he got everything he wanted. In fact, much more than he had hoped for. And if birthday wishes came true, there would be many more nights like this in his future.

Tag List: @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey @zealouscanonindeer

[choicesoctober]

WELCOME || RULES || PROMPTS || HOST

Hello everyone! I’ve offered to host the October monthly challenge and so now you are stuck with me for another month.

I decided to blend the idea I’ve seen in fandom among artists with this month’s fandom wide challenge. So artists, writers, any creator, can participate in OCtober. Plus, this was a good excuse to learn more about your OCs/MCs hehe

So create using any of the prompts (no specific days assigned to any of them) with your OCs/MCs in mind. But have no fear, if that’s not your cup of tea that’s okay, feel free to use any of the prompts provided to create anything you’d like for anything you’d like.

Everyone is welcome to participate (and I mean that absolutely), I simply ask that y’all read the rules and be kind to everyone. I like to believe we are all here to have fun and just be ridiculous with others that share our fandom space. So have fun, be kind, and happy creating!!

[choicesseptemberchallenge2023]

[Masterlist]

Welcome to Choices September Challenge!

Hello everyone! I'm Aura (@midnightmelodiz ). This is my first time hosting this monthly challenge, so I'm really excited about it. I really hope you all will like the prompts chosen for this month.

🍁GUIDELINES🍁

This is a prompt based contest. There's a prompt given for everyday, using which you'll have to create a content. Some days have multiple prompts, and different types of prompts. Feel free to use them all in the same work if you want.

You can use multiple prompt for the same work if the prompts are for same day. Don't mix and match prompts from different days.

Almost all kind of contents are acceptable. List of acceptable contents : fanfictions, drabbles, short-story/one-shot , poetry, microtale, art, mood board, theme, banner or other graphics etc.

Work based on any book from the Choices universe are welcome.

Submitted works will be featured on a weekly masterlist.

You can participate as many times as you want throughout the month.

Multiple entries for the same prompt, or same day prompts are allowed.

If your work contains NSFW/mature or triggering content, please use appropriate warning.

Mention/list the prompt(s) you are using in your content.

If possible, in stories, drabbles etc., write the prompt(s) in bold.

You can use the tag #choicesseptemberchallenge2023 & #choicesmonthlychallenge .

Please tag @choicesseptemberchallenge2023, feel free to tag me too : @midnightmelodiz . You can dm me your entries as well since Tumblr glitches a lot. Honestly I'd prefer if you dm your works, as Tumblr tags don't always work.

If I don't mention your work in the weekly masterlist, please send me a dm with the link.

🍂PROMPTS🍂

🍁 DAY 1 : Memories •||• "I can't be who you want me to be"

🍁 DAY 2 : Stars •||• Two people who keep crossing paths but miss actually meeting.

🍁 DAY 3 : Sea, Ocean •||• "You really like it?" "No, I was kidding."

🍁 DAY 4 : Moonlight, Moon •||• They have been secretly in love with each other for a long time.

🍁 DAY 5 : Diary, Journal, Notebook •||• "We're here now. Everything's alright."

🍁 DAY 6 : Dreams, Day Dream •||• "I'm in love with you!"

🍁 DAY 7 : Hope •||• Sharing something personal about them that they've never shared with anyone before.

🍁 DAY 8 : Coffee, Hot Beverage •||• "Come back! I'm not ready to get up yet. So you aren't either."

🍁 DAY 9 : Date Night •||• "I'm home, sweetheart!"

🍁 DAY 10 : Gift •||• "I care about you. I always will."

🍁 DAY 11 : Travel, Holiday , Vacation •||• Sharing an ice-cream together.

🍁 DAY 12 : Books, Reading, Writing •||• "You and me, it's never going to happen."

🍁 DAY 13 : Flowers •||• "I want to be with you." "I don't."

🍁 DAY 14 : Polaroid, Picture •||• Clicking candid pictures of their S/O to capture the special moments.

🍁 DAY 15 : Childhood, Nostalgia •||• "I love you. It's always going to be you."

🍁 DAY 16 : Cooking, Baking •||• Pretending to date each other to get out of a situation.

🍁 DAY 17 : Picnic •||• "That's all I really need. Some time with just you."

🍁 DAY 18 : Cuddle, Snuggle •||• Taking care of the other when they're sick or feeling low.

🍁 DAY 19 : Museum, Library •||• Picturing a future together even though they know it might never be true.

🍁 DAY 20 : Blue •||• " Are you saying that there's hope? Maybe in the future-" "No."

🍁 DAY 21 : Love, Kiss •||• Sending love letters to the other.

🍁 DAY 22 : Friends, Friendship •||• "It feels like I've known you forever."

🍁 DAY 23 : Fall •||• "I'm seeing someone."

🍁 DAY 24 : Serene •||• "Guess all those romance novel paid off after all, huh?"

🍁 DAY 25 : Secret, Surprise •||• "Is that my shirt?"

🍁 DAY 26 : Chocolate •||• Predicting the other's words or moves.

🍁 DAY 27 : Sunset •||• "Why did I know you would say that?"

🍁 DAY 28 : Wedding •||• "I always knew you would get together someday. What took you two so long?"

🍁 DAY 29 : rêveur, rêveuse •||• " You are all I could ever ask for."

🍁 DAY 30 : Home, Heart •||• "I'm here for you. Always."

**{Credit for most of the dialogue prompts goes to this blog~ @youneedsomeprompts}**

Have fun creating!

[ladylamrian]

Fantastic Beasts ✨️

Female Main Character: Alex

Pairing: F!MC × Nik Ryder

Summary: Alex discovers another side of the supernatural world.

Word counting: 3.4K

Rating: General (Fantasy, Fun, Fluff, Magic)

With Harry Potter Hogwarts references added

Warnings: none

-> -> -> Full Masterlist here <- <- <-

Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to read, like, comment, or reblog my stories/fanfics. It means so much to me! Please inform me if you would like to be added/removed from my new Tag List.

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @lilyoffandoms ; @liviusofpella ; @secretaryunpaid ; @blackcatkita ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @rosepetals1 ; @mxdanni ; @peonierose ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @jdstar88 ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @stars-are-within-me ; @artbyalz ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; @choicesmonthlychallenge for Choices March Challenge (Prompt: Nature, Animals, Awakening)

Thanking @secretaryunpaid for edit beneath

Author's note: An old fanfic rewritten and expanded ✨️🦄🧚🏼‍♀️

After Nik led his girlfriend, Alex carefully through the dark woods, he finally removed the blindfold from her eyes. She gasped at the beauty in front of her. The fields were glade-green and the sound of chirping birds filled the air. Bees are murmuring in that strange cult hum and flit from flower to flower, surfing the short spaces as they go. The bayou was always so special for Nik, but this time he led Alex somewhere else, near the bayou. Mother nature is beautiful, but her eyes were focused on something else.

"Whaaa?! Are these...?"

"Welcome to the beautiful side of the supernatural and magical world, rookie. Forget your fears, nightmares and welcome this great side of this world.", Nik wispered and gently brushed her hair to the side while she got surprised of the sight in front of her.

Trotting towards them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Alex has ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly golden eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly-looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of them were held in the vast hands of a young man, who came jogging after the beasts.

"Nik!! How are you, my friend?"

"Hey Anton, I'm fine and you don't mind if I brought Alex along? She's new in this supernatural and magical world and didn't had the oppurtunity to explore the beautiful parts.", he introduced her to his friend.

Alex slowly stepped closer towards one of the majestic creatures and tried to touch one, but it quickly backed away.

"Are these Griffins?"

"No, Hippogriffs, but they're very similar to the Griffin with the horse rear replacing the lion rear. And that's Anton, my client and a good friend. A few years ago I helped him to track down the missing pegasi which were held captured by the Blight Brothers in Arizona."

"It was a dangerous mission, but you pulled it off. Nik, because of you not only the pegasi, also many other magical creatures were saved and gained back their freedom. I will never forget that.", the friend thanked the young nighthunter.

After hearing what Anton said, Alex gave her boyfriend a sweet smile, showing him how proud she felt. He shyly glanced back at her with a crooked smile on his face. Who knew that a young man giving the bad-boy-vibes with a dark past could be so golden at the same time? His heart, so pure and still he didn't like to show it and kept it hidden from the world. Risking his life to save others... Somehow she felt very grateful to call that man her boyfriend.

"Ummm, well, shall we head a little further to show Alex a few other species?"

"Wait, I want to pet this Hippogriff first before we go. Can I?", she gazed with pleading eyes. The friend immediately agreed.

"Sure. When humans approach Hippogriffs, a proper etiquette must be maintained to avoid danger. Hippogriffs were intensely proud creatures, and an individual must show proper respect by bowing to them, and waiting for them to bow in return before approaching. Eye contact should be maintained at all times, without a single blink. The Hippogriff should be allowed to make the first move. If offended, it might attack. Hippogriffs were tameable, but only by experts in their care like me. I'm a wizard. Although, Hippogriffs could also be fiercely loyal and protective of those who had earned their trust."

"Eeeek, I'm getting Harry Potter vibes from you right now. Nik, your befriended with a wizard which is soooo cool!!! Anton, can you do magic? Are you from Hogwarts?"

Nik chuckled because of the loud excitement of his girlfriend, while Anton got nervous and so did the Hippogriffs, but he quickly managed to calm them down.

"Raahhh!", one of the creatures answered in response.

"I can only do a little magic, because my main job is to take care of these creatures and no, I'm not from Hogwarts. Whatever that is."

"You're really doing a great job, Anton. Uuuhhh, but do I really have to bow to touch them?"

"Don't worry, these ones were well tamed by me. Just pet them, I'll hold them."

Again, she stretched her arm and placed her palm on one of the Hippogriff's feathers while Anton held it near her for support. She softly stroked the creature which stayed calm now and gave her a curious look. Even Nik decides to give it a try to pet it now.

"An amazing creature. Hey rook, you likin' it?"

"I love it, Nik. And I want to see more. Pleeeeeeease?"

Her puppy eyes and one "Please" already melted his heart and he asked his friend to give both of them a tour. The three of them walked further with the gigantic Hippogriffs following right behind until they reached the fields and the tiny house of Nik's friend. In the backyard of the wooden house, he showed them, the magical creatures, he has been protecting and taking care of before releasing them. Even keeping a close eye on them was important when the creatures were in the wilderness. To prevent any danger and to appear quickly for any rescue or help. Some magical animals even decided to visit Anton more often or even stayed with him, especially the way he gently cared about them.

"Anton, the bound between you and the magical animals... it's... it's amazing. Damn, it's outstanding!! And you're not even a fae which are already naturally bound with nature."

"Right said, Anton is the best!!", a mysterious voice answered.

Alex quickly turned around and realized that one of the Hippogriffs just... talked??

"Uhh, can Hippogriffs talk?"

"Uhhh, no. That was just a series of high-pitched whistling or piping notes like eagles always do. Hippogriffs are partly eagle as you can see."

"No, I... I heard real words coming from that bronze colored Hippogriff."

"Is that girl talking about me, Ash?", she heard the bronze colored creature answer again.

"I don't think so. Come on, let's eat something. I'm hungry.", the gray colored hippogriff talked now.

The gray colored beeing pulled at the long chains Anton was holding which were attached to it's thick leather collar and signaled him something. The young man immediatly gave in and got led by the Hippogriffs to see what they wanted. The wizard friend recommended Nik to show Alex a little bit around on his own. Nik's always welcome to his home. Then Anton left the two alone.

"I think Ash was hungry."

"Who's Ash?", Nik asked her.

"That's the name of the gray Hippogriff."

"Okaaaay, I don't remember Anton mentioning the name at all. Well, wanna see the pegasi next?"

She excitedly nodded and both of them were headed towards a field where beautiful winged horses enjoyed the fresh grass of the season and some of them even flew around. Before Alex could let out an excited shriek, Nik quickly covered her mouth with his palm.

"Shhh, we don't wanna scare them. Pegasi are mild-tempered, docile animals, unlike unicorns. A herd of Pegasi used to live in the Bayou, but now they're just a few of them. Since they're imbued with magic from heads to hooves, Pegasi are sometimes poached and sold to collectors or killed to be used for parts in spells."

"That's so sad, I'm glad you went to that mission in Arizona to save them. They're so beautiful and such majestic creatures, Nik. You know, I learned that Pegasus isn't a type of creature, it's actually the name of the winged white stallion from Greek mythology and while Pegasus was one specific creature, his name has often been used as a defining term for winged horses in general. Also, his role was to bring thunderbolts to Zeus."

"Damn, you're good. I love it when you speak intelligent stuff."

"Thanks. Just imagine that one day a pegasus will bring you your arrows."

"That would actually be cool, my intelligent girl."

"Oh Nik, I love it when you call me intelligent."

"Then why did you sometimes played the dumbass last year?"

His girlfriend gave him a playful nudge and he lets out a warm laugh after teasing her.

"But no, really, I like it when you praise me. You even once said that I'm powerful and strong. Like I'm no helpless princess anymore, waiting for her knight in shining armour or prince charming to come for rescue. And what you also said about the faes. That the faes need worship to the ground I walk on. But seriously, that line sounded very cheesy."

But Alex quickly realized that Nik's focus was somewhere else and followed his gaze. A white pegasus carefully trotted towards him. That majestic white stallion got carefully closer, but still watched the two of them from a safe distance. A crystalline droplet appeared out of nowhere and floated in the air beside the creature's eye.

By touching the tear, everything around Alex faded away and she find herself in an animalistic body. Having hooves instead if feet, gigantic feathery wings and the body of a horse. She saw a vision about the creature's past Everything in the perspective of the creature. The night had fallen already.

"Neeigh!"

Tied up with a rope, the pegasus was captured in a small cage in a dark room, seeking for food, fresh water and freedom like many other creatures around . Some of them are also the pegasi from it's own herd. The Blight Brothers have captured the pegasi after it left Anton's backyard to go for a flight.

"Don't worry pegasi of my herd, stallions and mares, I will find a way out of here.", it promised it's pegasi companions.

"We won't get free. I've been captured here for almost a week now."

The pegasi turned it's attention away from it's own herd and focused on the unicorn calling out. She was a beautiful mare, had white fur, a sparkly pink mane and a horn on the top of her head.

"My name is Sunburst, the leader of the pegasi herd in the bayou of New Orleans and I won't let any human steal our freedom from us."

"And as an leader you're still befriended with one human called Anton?! My name is Moonlight and I'm telling you, all humans are the same and..."

Their conversation got cut as a blond haired man suddenly began opening the cages and freeing all the captured animals in a hurry.

"Okay, time for everyone to escape before Scourge and the Blight Brothers catch us. Hurry off, to your beloved freedom!! Anton's going to be happy 'bout this."

"But... Isn't he working with the Blight Brothers?", the female unicorn wondered herself.

A feeling of happiness and hope appeared. One by one the young man released every creature from their cages and they immediately flew or ran towards their beloved freedom. When the last creature got freed, Sunburst, the pegasi leader suddenly discovered several men, the Blight Brothers appearing towards the human.

"You're a traitor, Carl Drogo!!", one of the men yelled at the animal rescuer.

"I'm not Carl Drogo, you bastards! I'm Nik Ryder, a nighthunter and your biggest nightmare!!"

As the Blight Brothers attack, the nighthunter kept fighting, threw punches and shot arrow after arrow to keep the bruisers distracted until the last creature made it's safe escape. But they're too many of them and they slowly began surrounding the bleeding hunter.

"Damn...", Nik silently cursed as he realized that he was in trouble. All the bruisers against him. He was alone.

But then... Sunburst, the pegasi leader came into action. Flying above the dangerous bruisers, it kicked and stomped with it's hooves to buy the hunter enough time to escape before leaving Arizona for good. And it worked!! While the animal kept the bad guys busy, Nik quickly took his chance to escape while looking after the winged horse. Making sure that it escaped too because he wouldn't allow it if it got captured again. And it worked!! Flying across the nightsky with the rest of it's herd, the leader of the pegasi hoped that the rest of the creatures and the mysterious nighthunter will be on their way back home too. Safely.

Then the memory of the underground trading ring dissipates around Alex like a mist and she found herself back in the woods in her own body. Without knowing, she was leaning against Nik. The white pegasi which the two of them were watching was already gone.

"Hey, what's the matter?", Nik, her boyfriend got worried and gently touched her cheek and leaned to make eye-contact.

"Aww, the pegasi is gone. And I couldn't even pet it, Nik."

"They're very shy, so it's gonna be very hard to pet one or even find one. I'm surprised that this one even dared to come that close to us. Well never mind, I can show you other cool creatures if you'd like. Maybe a tiny jackalope or some pixies?"

"How about unicorns?"

Sudden silence hang between them. After a moment he began to speak, but this time his voice heavy, jaws clenched and eyes drowned in her's.

"The hell!! I'm not even letting you near a unicorn, rook. They're dangerous and not like the ones from My Little Pony where everything is sparkle, glitter and rainbow. Unicorns are territorial and they attack whoever comes in their near unlike pegasi, rook."

"Not all are like that..."

"Oh yeah, met one before?!"

"Uhhh maybeeee..."

"Wait what?!! Where? When? Whyyy?"

"Uhhh, last month. But she was a friendly one and she even talked with me, relax. I guess beeing partly fae gives me the abbility to talk with animals and understand them. Isn't that cool?"

Without words, Nik gripped Alex softly by her wrist and pulled her with him through the dark woods, back from where they came from.

"Heyyyy, where are you taking me?!!"

"Headin' home."

"If you want to go home then leave, I want to explore..."

"Rookie, no."

"Rookie, yes!!"

"You never listen."

"You don't understand. Look how great this day begun and now you ruined the whole mood, Nik."

Gggrrll...

The girl bumped into Nik when he suddenly stopped walking after hearing a strange noise. Both of them got alert. A skeletal creature slinked out from behind the bushes and began hissing at the young couple. Nik protectively stood infront of her.

"Nik, what is that?!"

"Shhh, don't worry. These creatures have canine skeletons and are covered with moss or vines. They can be killed if their skulls or spines are destroyed."

"What do we do? You didn't brought your weapons along. How are we...?"

"You run, I'll handle."

"No way, Nik!! Not that again. Seriously?"

Nik tried to calm her down and pushed her away from danger, towards safety as the skeletal creature appeared closer.

"Gggrrll...", the skeletal creature aggressivly snarled.

Time seemed to slow down as it jumped in the air towards the young nighthunter and landed on him. Both crashed on the ground, the creature above the Nik who desperatly tried to escape its grip

"Gggrrll..."

The creature ready to strike...

"Nik!!", Alex panicked.

Without knowing, Alex stretched her arm, showed her palms where a light blast appeared and hit the moss creature hard. First the wood monster hestitated, then it decided to leave Nik and... to hunt his girlfriend down instead. This time, it lets a powerful shriek out while desperatly tried to signal her to run away.

"Ggggrrr..."

"Come here you freaky monster!!! You don't scare me at all. Let him go!"

Before the moss creature could reach her, Nik quickly leaped on the creature, preventing it from getting near her and at the same time letting out several strong whistles by pressing the tips of his thumb and forefinger together up against the tip of his tongue.

"Phhwwwht!"

While Alex got confused why Nik suddenly began to whistle, a majestic falcon appeared from the sky and flew towards Nik and the moss creature. It somehow began to help Nik by peeking angrily on the creature's skulls.

"Kack-kack-kack!"

Both struggling, while Nik and the falcon tried to fight it, but the monster kept biting and snapping to release itself from the hold. Alex had to do something quick before Nik gets more injured, the monster's claws made him already bleeding.

"Run, can't... hold... longer!", Nik desperatly begged her, but she decided to stay.

Alex remembered what had she learned in the fae realm and began to concentrate. Closing her eyes, she pictured a crystalline blade, radiant with golden light. Her fingers abruptly curled around the smooth, glassy warmth of a handle! After a while, as she opened her chocolate-brown eyes, she discovered to see a long, slender blade of light gleaming in her palm! She held her magical weapon with confidence and immediately knew what to do.

Swinging the weapon up and without losing more time, she sprinted towards the monster. With enough strenght while keeping a safer distance towards Nik and the mysterious falcon, she finally brought her sword down. Slashing through the creature's neck with a blow so hard, that the blade bit through the dirty ground.

"Hyyaaa!!"

The moss creature's body crumpled, twitching beneath her sword. Then, she picked up it's snapping head and blew it's glowing eyes like candles, and it's body fell still.

"Damn, that was hot.", Nik got impressed by his girlfriend.

Letting the creature go and letting her golden sword disappear with magic, the girl quickly hurried over to Nik who was still lying on the ground. Alex gently helped her boyfriend on his feet and assisted him to walk while the mysterious falcon flew away.

"I'm fine, it's just a little blood. Are you okay? Why didn't you ran away when I told...?"

"Because we're a team, remember? You told me that last year when I wasn't listening to you, right? And you're not fine, you're hurt! Let's get you somewhere safe. We are not far from Anton his house, right?"

"Yeah. And I'm fine, thanks."

The injured hunter gave her sly smile after she reminded him that they were a team.

"Nik, what was that before?? You whistled and then a falcon came... Uhh, how did...?? That was cool! Awesome!! That... That was... How???!!!!!", she couldn't believe what she just saw and asked him.

After a little silence, Nik finally spoke in a nervous tone while his eyes faced the ground as both of them were strolling towards the wizard's house.

"The thing is... The falcon and I share story. A past. When I was still living in Elijah's house in the woods, I found it. It was a tiny chick. Near it's nest I discovered two dead falcons, it's parents. And well..."

"Oh Nik...", she placed a hand on his shoulder for support. Afterall Nik his birthparents also died when he was a tiny child, so that little falcon chick reminded Nik of himself.

"Soooo yeah, I kinda raised the falcon. I named it, fed it, taught a few tricks and took care of it. Poor little fella' lost it's parents like I did, so I had to something. So just like Elijah took me, I took this falcon. Alex, you're the very first one I'm sharing this. And please don't share this embarrasing story to anyone, especially not Katy."

"But it's not embarrasing, it's heroic. You're a hero, Nik. A protector. But I see... You don't want your tough guy act be ruined, huh? Oh my Nik, you're such a hidden softie and I love you.", she giggled and pinched his cheek with love.

"Ouch. Hey?"

"You're welcome, dear. By the way, what name did you even gave your falcon pet."

"It's not my pet, rook. It's a free living creature, a friend and well... I named it... I named it Arrow."

"Arrow? Just like the arrows of your crossbow??"

"Arrow. Because this bird flies really fast just like a shooting arrow. Like really really fast, rook."

"I see. Not bad actually, Nik. Definitly better than any nicknames you give. Or should I say Nik-names??", she giggled while Nik rolled his eyes after hearing that bad joke.

"Stop it, rook.", he grinned.

"Fine... Oh hey, Nik!!"

"Hmm?"

"Since I met your wizard friend today, I was wondering... What Hogwarts house would you like to belong to?"

"What kind of question is that? From where did you got that idea?"

"Just answer!! I'm curious to know."

"Well, I don't know. Never thought about that. Would a Gryffindor suit me?"

"Oh definitly, but I actually see you more as a Ravenclaw because you know a lot of things."

"Me? Ravenclaw? You think I'm intelligent??", Nik surprised by Alex's opinion, so she decided to explain it more.

Nik Ryder was indeed a very brave man with enough strenght and courage. Life made him tough, but he also showed his knowledge and intelligence. Several times he came up with new ideas, suggested what to do next and got into the leader role very well without noticing. By staying loyal to his companions and thinking about every next step, he lead his friends through adventures. He was the one and only who found out about Alex's missing father, her mysterious benefactor and that she was fae royalty instead of an ordinary human. Mysteries and puzzles solved all thanks to him, she explained.

"So yes, these are the reasons why I think a Ravenclaw would suit you too. Means I have a very clever boyfriend.", she praised.

"Oh yeah? Thanks, my dear girlfriend. And you're definitly a Hufflepuff.", he winked.

Thanking @secretaryunpaid for this beautiful and magical edit above. -> Full view here , when you scroll down beneath to find the monster and hippogriff <-

So credits to @jamespotterthefirst , for these beautiful templates which she created and I was allowed to use for my MC and LI. I also made some changes with the colors and added my own edits/pictures.

[aprilchallenge]

Choices April Challenge

Looks like spring is in the air 🌷

I am so honored to be able to host the monthly challenge for a second time. Thank you to @choicesmonthlychallenge for letting me host April Monthly Challenge 💚

You’ll be able to create something on any day, as I didn’t assign prompts to each day. So feel free to use the prompts as inspiration strikes 💓

I was hoping to spread some joy so hopefully everyone will be able to create something amazing 💙

Just be sure to tag @aprilchallenge and state the prompt you used 🧡

Hopefully the tags will work. If they don’t you can dm me on my personal blog @peonierose too 🌸

Prompts

[lilyoffandoms]

May: A First Kiss by @cashweasel

The way I want to keep this alllll to myself and just treasure it and look at it lovingly and just in awe of what you were able to create and capture and (fuck it’s beautiful) but also the way I want to share this by screaming from the mountain tops and running into everyone’s DMs with it. My inability to keep art commissions to myself wins out because I must and will share art as soon as I get it but dayum if this ain’t the most beautiful thing I’ve seen!!

[For my A Year of Kisses series for these two.]

[choicesnovchallenge]

Thank you!

November challenge is officially over and I want to thank everyone who joined last month's event sending submissions (shoutout to @aallotarenunelma, @jerzwriter, @lilyoffandoms, @storyofmychoices, @tessa-liam and starsarewithinme), following the blog and encouraging out fandom creators with reblogs, likes and comments.

If you're feeling creative this month, please join @choicesdecember2023 and the other fandom events (check @choicesmonthlychallenge for the full list)

Happy December to all of you and see you around!

[missameliep]

Second Chances - Chapter Twenty Four: The Undeniable Truth

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU 

Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth (OC)

Rating: M (see trigger warnings in the notes bellow)

Word count: ~12K

Summary: During the drinking games, truths will be revealed and hearts will be exposed, but some are not the ones everybody had been expecting...

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster, Annabelle Parsons; Luke Harper; Theresa Sutton.

Notes: 

* All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC.

* A huge thank you to @princess-geek for being my beta in this chapter and for all her support to my writing and this series.

* Non-English words translated at the notes in the end.

* Trigger warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking and dialogues with sexual implied content.

* This is my submission to @choicesficwriterscreations fic of the week and @choicesmonthlychallenge (prompts - friends/holding hands/forehead kisses).

Elizabeth approached Edmund, held his arm, and signalled for him to lean closer. “Is it safe playing with Theresa?” she whispered, “Won’t she gossip about us later?”

“I suppose you never played a drinking game with Annabelle,” Edmund whispered back, and Elizabeth shook her head. She never played any sort of drinking game because getting drunk and sharing personal information are her least favourite pastimes.

“Theresa never lasts long in the game,” he explained, lowering his voice, “and she will be too smashed to remember anything tomorrow. Probably the rest of us too. So, your secrets will be safe.”

“I don’t have secrets!” was her immediate defensive response, but the pitch of her voice gave away the statement was far from the truth.

“Then you’ll have no problems playing Truth or Drink,” he said with the hint of satisfaction in his expression that only a sibling ready to see the other falling flat on their bottoms can express.

Releasing the grip on his arm, Elizabeth lagged, regretting not thoroughly thinking this through.

What was I thinking? This is such a bad idea! I’ll get drunk and embarrass myself. Or worse, Briar will tease me about Hamid, and I’ll be mortified.

Slipping something stupid or inappropriate or worse the truth was simply overwhelming.

“Aren’t you coming?” Edmund asked, holding the door open for her, and she threw her shoulders back trying to balance the weight of her worries about everything that could go wrong tonight.

On her way outside, she’s met by Briar’s stare, holding Hamid’s arm for support. “What’s wrong?”

Gnawing at one thumb’s nail, Elizabeth said, “I haven’t played this kind of game since school and there was no drinking involved...”

“Be brave and honour your ancestor, a woman who had premarital sex with a man who was not her fiancé and engaged in swordfight on her wedding day. Total badass!”

“Sword fighting? Impressive,” Hamid remarked, and Briar promised to lend him the journal after she finished it.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.” Leaning forward and adopting a conspiratorial tone, Briar said, “And if the truth it too ugly to handle, lie. Just like everybody else.”

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth’s brows raised in surprise. “What’s the point if you don’t say the truth?”

Both laughed at her reaction and Hamid offered his free arm so they could walk together.

After assembling large bags of crisps, a plate with mini-sandwiches, a bowl of popcorn, cans of soft drinks and the four wine bottles Edmund and Annabelle retrieved from the famous Edgewater’s cellar – wine good enough to not give them a headache tomorrow, but not the vintage and expensive kind that would be missed – and one bottle of scotch from Edmund’s personal reserve for his own pleasure, the group re-joined.

Edmund glanced at the silent corridor before closing the door of the elegant guestroom. The crackling of the fire and the drumming of the rain against the windows were muffled by the exciting conversations.

This room was not selected because of the delicate floral wallpaper or the inviting furniture, but due to its remoteness, in the wing reserved for summer guests. There was not the slightest chance of Lady Dominique bursting in unless she was actively searching for any of them, which was very unlikely, considering she left to a dinner party in one of the neighbouring estates. Despite living in these lands for the better part of her life, the lady had greatly complained about the inconvenience of the pouring rain when she stopped by at the game room to hear about the picnic, and a few of them stifled laughs at the resemblance of Elizabeth’s own displeasure with the weather at London on several occasions.

Except for Theresa who didn’t really care for contemporary music but liked Mariah Carey, everyone else engaged in a passionate debate about the perfect music for the evening, advocating for their favourite genres. Annabelle, for instance, suggested one of her playlists with progressive rock and all-female rock bands.

“You can’t dance to that?” Briar retorted, and Annabelle snorted pointing at Briar’s feet resting on an ottoman. “First, you can’t dance anyway. Second,” she made a dramatic pause and a song started blasting from her mobile, “how can anyone not feel like dancing to ‘Bad Reputation’?”

To form a consensus was almost impossible considering the variety of playlists and genres each one vouched for. After fifteen minutes of debating, Hamid’s diplomatic skills proved effective in solving the impasse, and he offered to create a collaborative playlist with songs from everyone’s favourite playlists, and peace reigned once more.

With the music playing in the background, their attention focused on moving the armchairs and placing throw-pillows over the plush rug to make room for everyone around the hardwood oval cocktail table, where two of the bottles of wine and seven low ball glasses had been settled. With Annabelle’s assistance, Briar accommodated herself first. Despite Theresa’s presence – which was emphasised by the incessant chatter about a range of subjects that her fiancé had little to no interest in listening to, leaving Hamid, the most empathetic of the group, stuck with her for the past several minutes –, Edmund looked intently, as if entranced by the scene, or considering if he should take a seat at the cushion on Briar’s other side.

As spectators of the drama unfolding, Elizabeth shared a knowing look with Hamid, and for a moment she considered walking to her stepbrother and smacking the back of his head to bring him back to his senses. However, resorting to violence was not necessary. Without being incited by any of the presents, Edmund turned around and picked a different cushion, one that wasn’t beside nor facing Briar, and Theresa followed suit, sitting beside him.

Annabelle’s thirst for drama would not be sate just yet, a hint of disappointment visible when a mischievous smile was erased from her lips.

From the remaining three cushions, Hamid deliberately picked the one in the middle, and with an inviting smile at Elizabeth, patted the cushion at his right, the one who would allow her to sit beside Briar as well – which the man certainly assumed could make the choice easier. Taking the cue, Luke sat at his left, between him and Edmund.

“Everyone knows the rules?” Annabelle asked.

“Can’t I just drink? I’m not interested in the secrets or whatever...”

“You know that’s not how it works, Marlcaster. Anyone who doesn’t participate can’t be here. So, in or out?”

“Out.” Picking the bottle of scotch, he started to get up, but Elizabeth jumped to her feet and pointed a finger at him, remembering the times they were kids and he sneaked away with his friends to play videogames, leaving a crying Harry behind for her to soothe.

“No, you don’t!” she said with a firmer and louder tone than everyone expected, including herself. When every pair of surprised eyes darted to her face, she blushed and took a second to muster an inexpressible small smile. “It will be fun,” she pushed lively words through her teeth, while trying to telepathically warn him: “You’re not dropping Theresa with us!”

Startled by the intimidating tone he hasn’t heard in years and narrowed green eyes staring him down, he hesitated for a second before changing his mind and sitting back down.

Theresa looked happy at his change of mind, and he actively ignored Annabelle’s muffled giggles.

“As our hostess, Liz should start!” Briar rapped on the table, drawing a drumming sound.

“Alright. Let me see... Never have I ever... broken a bone.”

Hamid, Annabelle, Edmund, and Luke sipped their glasses, and it was time for the next participant.

With a mischievous smile, Briar looked around, and said, “Never have I ever... ghosted someone.”

“How is that possible if we’re all alive?” Theresa asked out loud, and Luke huffed with laugh assuming it was a joke – which in fact was not. As Hamid explained the meaning of the word ghosting in this context, Annabelle, who had been targeted by the asker, drank the content of her glass. Luke and Edmund did the same, then a hesitant Elizabeth took a small sip of the red wine as subtle as possible, but not subtle enough to escape Briar’s hawk eyes.

“You ghosted someone?” she gasped.

Looking intently at the glass in her hand, Elizabeth mumbled, “Once. Long ago... It was… yeah… it was no big deal…”

“Really?” Briar’s voice and eyebrows raised. “You, Elizabeth Victoria Foredale, were absolutely fine ghosting someone who I assume fancied you?”

“That’s not my name!”

“Don’t change the subject!” Briar pointed a warning finger at her, trying to hold in a laugh.

Elizabeth sighed and gnawed at a cuticle, “Fine. I might have sent an anonymous gift basket from a fancy bakery… because I was feeling bad for him…”

“Now, I believe it.”

“I wish the girls who ghosted me would’ve been that nice…” Annabelle mused, “Carbs would make it easier having my ass dumped...”

“Unless they weren’t gluten free…” Briar chimed in.

“Good point. That would be the final blow.”

“Why not simply saying you were not interested?” Hamid inquired, not a hint of judgement in his tone, but her face was already burning with all the attention her honesty attracted – and a bit of shame for admitting it out loud in front of him.

“Poor social skills,” she sighed, understanding what Briar meant before. “Now can we move on?”

Annabelle was next and a playful smile curled her lips, while eyes full of mischief focused on her target. The question darted from her lips with intent. “Never have I ever kept a secret crush from people in this room.”

Edmund’s gaze flicked over to Annabelle, and his fingers encircled the glass, but he didn’t lift it; instead, he let his palms splay over the table, watching the others, to see if anybody was going to take a drink or point a finger at him.

After a moment of dwelling if her crush was indeed a secret or not, considering at least half of the presents were aware of it, Elizabeth also decided not to drink.

Resting her chin on her palm, Annabelle chewed on a crisp and muttered looking directly at Edmund, “I was expecting someone to drink…”

“I’m absolutely transparent,” Hamid said, “none of my crushes could ever be a secret.”

“Me too,” Briar piped in. “I’m an open book.”

“Then you must tell me,” Theresa pleaded, “I don’t know who your crush is!”

“Right now?” Briar gulped. “Zero crushes!”

“What about Woods?” Edmund threw the question and with an impassive expression resumed sipping his drink. The attention of the group flicked from him to Briar.

“I wouldn’t call it a crush... He’s a... friend.”

“Woods?” Theresa echoed the name, trying to figure out who they were talking about. “You mean the butler?”

“Yes, he’s a butler and the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”

“Doesn’t that mean you want to be more than friends?”

“I... It’s...” Briar stuttered, and Edmund looked away. While she tried to find a definitive answer, her cheeks reddened in an extraordinary occurrence. “I don’t, Theresa. What we have is perfect.”

Theresa flooded Briar with questions about Woods and her love life, but most remained answered.

“Let’s not dally. Theresa, I believe you’re next.”

“Never have I ever... hmmm...” Theresa fidgeted with the pendants of her bracelet while looking at Elizabeth. “Never have I ever… being arrested.”

Only Annabelle drank.

“Twice.” She raised two of her fingers, sating the curiosity of the others. “Protesting.”

Propping her arms over the table, Theresa leaned and tried to meet Elizabeth’s eye. “What about you, Eliza?”

“Me?” She pointed at herself. “What about me?”

“We’re amongst friends here…” she said in a honeyed tone, “Not even once? Not even for a tiny, teeny crime? Shoplifting, perhaps?”

Like a fish out of the water, Elizabeth’s mouth opened and closed without emitting any sound, and she considered how to reply to this questioning without being terribly rude, even though that was one of the occasions courtesies could be ignored. Before she decided, Briar laughed at the inquisitiveness, and blocked Theresa’s view of Elizabeth’s face. “What are you? A cop?”

Theresa laughed, but it was a nervous kind of laugh and not her regular one.

“No, of course not! I’m not investigating her… I mean… I’m being… nosy, like we ought to, right?” she stuttered and averted her gaze, making her words sound even more unconvincing. “That’s what makes it fun, isn’t it?”

There was no answer to the questions, only more chewing sounds before the game resumed.

“Your turn, Marlcaster,” Annabelle said and contemplated him for a second. “Why is your glass empty?”

The glass was pushed in her direction. “I need a refill.”

She poured more wine, filling the short glass to the rim. Edmund stared at the content of the glass as if expecting the Bordeaux to offer him a viable idea, until his blue eyes flicked to Annabelle, and a barely-there smile curled his lips.

“Never have I ever… gotten a tattoo.”

In a mix of complaining about being unjustly targeted in this game, and complimenting the fine wine, Annabelle drank first, followed by Luke and Elizabeth. Edmund’s jaw dropped at the sight of his stepsister drinking.

“You? You have a tattoo?”

“I actually have two,” Elizabeth said offering a proud smile.

His blue eyes widened, unblinking. “Lady grandmother will have a stroke if she ever finds out!”

“Since they’re very well concealed, she won’t find out, unless one of you tell her, which I hope you won’t.”

“I can testify they’re absolutely hidden from sight!” Hamid said causally, and the eyes of the one he was speaking about darted to his face.

“Dude!” Elizabeth exclaimed lifting both hands.

“I’m complimenting you for doing an outstanding job hiding them. I saw you on your bathing suit and there was no sign of tattoos. Not that I was checking for tattoos, but... Good job!” He raised his thumbs in approval, meanwhile, Edmund shook his head, muttered something unintelligible under his breath and gulped the content of his glass.

Chuckling, Annabelle interrupted the questions about the design of Elizabeth’s tattoos and the pleas to see them.

“Alright, we get it. Liz’s got tattoos and Hamid’s thirst... Luke you’re next.”

They played more rounds and soon emptied two bottles of wine and consumed half the food. The more Theresa drank, the less her questions seemed coherent with her early line of investigation on Elizabeth’s life and the more inclined she felt to ask about everyone else’s, for undisclosed reasons Hamid’s love life seemed to have piqued her interest the most.

It was safe to say that despite the sheer embarrassment of sharing details about her life, Elizabeth was enjoying herself. Perhaps it was the fact that by that point the alcohol had released part of her inhibitions, perhaps the laughter and funny stories her friends shared eased her. Even if the prospect of Edmund cracking under pressure seemed less likely to happen, she was content, but sleepy. Stretching her arms over her head, Elizabeth yawned, even though it was only a quarter after 10pm.

Edmund pulled the cork of the third bottle of wine, which fell to the floor and rolled, disappearing underneath the sofa.

Annabelle looked around holding one of the empty bottles, and declared, “I believe it’s time to change games. What do you think?”

“Definitely. We’re not really finding out anything interesting, except that Luke is a Potterhead.” Her words carried her disapproval, and he raised his hands to the air, correcting her, “I’m not. I told you: my ex was obsessed; I learned by osmosis…and most of it against my will. It’s not like I was going to comic-cons with her and cosplaying…”

“I bet you dressed as Harry at some point…” she giggled while pouring more wine on hers and Annabelle’s glasses.

He chuckled and averted his gaze.

“Ohmygod! You did it!”

Without looking at anybody, he licked his lips and answered quietly against the rim of the glass, “I certainly did, but it was definitely not for Halloween…”

His words stirred Briar’s curiosity, and she leaned forward, elbows on the table, completely focused on him and the information he was half-offering. She tried to meet his eyes, but he averted his gaze, while sipping his drink, and her mouth rounded when realization dawned on her.

“Roleplaying, Luke?” Briar cried, and he shrugged. “Naughty!”

After a few unanswered follow-up questions about his sex life, the nosy woman finally dropped the subject.

“We’ll play Truth or Drink. You know the drill. Whoever the bottle points at must answer the question or drink!” Annabelle announced wringing her hand.

“What about Hamid, he’s not really drinking...” Briar said grinning and pointing at the small glass filled with diet coke. “It won’t be fair to us.”

“Why aren’t you drinking? Is this a religious thing?” Theresa shot the question, and Edmund chided her.

Hamid waved his hand signalling it was okay, however Elizabeth glared at Theresa, finally showing irritation at the nosy woman inquires.

“You don’t need to answer that, Hamid,” she said softly to him.

“It’s alright, Liz,” he replied, resting a hand over the one of hers lying on her knee. “You guys want the long or short version?”

“Long!” Briar and Theresa cried in unison.

“I used to drink,” Hamid started.

After drinking the entire content of the small glass, he rolled his lips inside his mouth. When they rolled back out and parted in a wide grin, Elizabeth forced her eyes to focus on anything else, because she shouldn’t be staring at him or his lips like a cartoon hungry wolf.

“You must understand two things: the first one, Annem’s family is well-known in Türkiyefor being descendants of Ottoman Sultans and for its many politicians. They are ultratraditional and awfully strict when it comes to public opinion… And second, when I was eleven, my family moved back to Istanbul after living in Canberra, and our lives changed completely… suddenly there were journalists following me and my sisters around, trying to find any dirty on us to shame Dede[1] Emir and Dayı[2] Eren, and Annem’s constant surveillance… I couldn’t leave the house by myself, except to go to school… I felt trapped. –”

“A gilded cage is still a cage”, Elizabeth remembered the words he told her once, finally realizing its meaning.

“– Until my father was assigned to the embassy at Boston and we moved again. I was fifteen, starting high school and it was like someone released me from a cage. I was free and eager to experience everything possible before being sent back to Istanbul and facing the life planned for me... Moderation wasn’t an acceptable choice.”

“That sounds like a dangerous combination,” Luke pointed out.

“It was fun and liberating. For a while, at least…” he paused, and poured himself more diet coke. “Besides drinking quite frequently without my parents’ knowledge, I’ve done a couple of other things that could be considered dangerous and imprudent, like riding motorcycles, skydiving and hitchhiking a plane.”

“You did what?” Annabelle and Luke gasped at the same time.

“Haven’t I told you that story? This is one of my proudest accomplishments.” Hamid looked around for confirmation and met the astonished faces with a wide grin. “My friends and I were at this party at school and bored out of our minds. After we had drank all the vodka we snuck in, someone suggested going to the airport because ‘how fun would it be if we could hitchhike a plane!’”

In his narrative, he used the charming tone he adopts whenever telling one of his famous anecdotes; words and cadence carefully picked to entertain, like he did at dinner the night before. This time, Elizabeth caught his act, noticing the theatrical hand gestures and smiles when he talked about his friends, sons and daughters of politicians or diplomats like himself, and suspected he was purposedly trying to divert from the original subject without giving away his intention. Most of his stories are about other people, and the ones focused on himself, usually reinforce his charming and fun personality. Humorous self-deprecation is not to be expected from him.

Briar guessed, “I bet it was you who suggested that?”

“To this day, Lewis insists it was my idea, but I swear it was Amalia’s… she wanted to go to New York, I only suggested flying would be faster. Anyway… we went to the airport, and I sweet-talked one of the flight attendants to introduce me to someone in charge of flights… we happened to come at the perfect time... Two hours later we’re on a plane to New York.” Hamid added with an ear-to-ear grin, “Bono Vox’s private jet.”

“No way!”

“How did you even–?” Luke muttered, trying to figure out what to even ask, and Hamid shrugged his shoulders, with a too proud of a smile.

“I asked nicely.”

“Did you meet Bono?” Annabelle asked.

“Unfortunately, no. But I met someone from the crew, and she got us backstage passes to the shows at Chicago and Philly, and we met the band. My friend Melissa got to sing with Bono.”

“Who’s Bono?” Theresa asked, not holding her tongue anymore.

“U2’s lead singer. Songwriter. Activist,” Annabelle replied, sounding more offended by the ignorance with each word she mouthed without recognition.

“Sings old people’s music,” Briar whispered, and Theresa giggled, drawing an exasperated sigh from Annabelle.

The more Elizabeth learns about Hamid, the harder to believe that he could not find her tedious.

“The drinking,” Edmund said, more interested in the story than anything that happened in the game so far, “if it was so amazing, why did you quit?”

Hamid’s gaze flicked to him, and he tilted his head. “Who said it was amazing?”

“Cool friends, flying in musicians’ planes, concerts… you painted a very appealing picture.” Edmund gulped the scotch in his glass.

“I see your point… I realised I cared about the thrill and adventures, and I don’t need to drink to have any of those...”

“Sounds fake,” Briar murmured to him, “but okay.”

Laughing at Briar’s jest, Hamid added, “...and there were much tastier things to put in my mouth whatsoever.”

“Now I believe you!”

“Very mature,” Annabelle complimented. “Many people abstain. And not only for religious purposes. So, to even things out, if you’re all in favour, we’ll play a round of Truth or Dare exclusively with Hamid. Whenever you don’t want to answer, you need to submit to a dare of our choice!”

“Can we still drink?” Edmund asked, and Annabelle squinted her eyes at him, and he took that as a permission to drink an entire tumbler of scotch.

“I have nothing to hide. But maybe we should make it more interesting… If I answer all your questions, you’ll submit to a dare,” Hamid said, indicating the group of friends with a wave of his hand, Annabelle looked around searching for confirmation and offered her hand.

“Agreed, –” Annabelle shook hands with Hamid. “– But no dares involving leaving the country.”

“Sounds fair, but incredibly boring.”

Briar clapped her hands and pointed a finger at Elizabeth. “Lizzy, you ask first. Don’t disappoint Lady Clara!”

“Can we ask anything?” She looked at Hamid for confirmation.

“Anything.”

Hamid’s eyes, pools of dark and warmth, locked with hers, an invitation to his inner world. She held the power to ask anything from his past, present or future. Anything.

Elizabeth pondered if she should ask a question Hamid wouldn’t want to answer, which means no dare of his in the end, or one that he would in fact answer. The second option was much more tempting to her curious nature. The only issue was coming up with one unrelated to herself or the interrupted conversation of that afternoon – something incredibly hard to do with his thumb stroking the back of her hand this gently, like it was the single most important thing he had to do this evening.

She realized they were holding hands underneath the table and couldn’t help wondering when this became such a trivial occurrence and not the kind of event capable of causing a turmoil. Nevertheless, it felt absolutely right.

Overwhelmed by infinite choices and her own fears of exposing herself, instead of diving in, she decided on dipping her toes.

“What –” She paused, cleared her throat, and started over, “What do most people assume is true about you but in fact isn’t?”

Taking a deep breath, Hamid’s free hand raised to his hair, and his fingers combed it back twice. The unusual long silence made some consider he would ask for a dare instead, judging by the gloating expressions and meaningful looks shared.

“There’s a persistent belief that I’m a playboy who treats women as trophies… disregarding their feelings...” He shifted in his place uncomfortably, as if he were sitting over thorns. “But I am anything like that. I’m not... heartless... promiscuous… or incapable of having a serious relationship because I never had one. And I hope that is not what you think of me,” he said looking into her eye and she replied with a slight shake of her head, even if occasionally she wondered if the picture painted about him was an exaggeration or matched his true self.

“Good,” he whispered, and his lips parted into a wide grin that stole her breath.

That was a perfectly good answer, wasn’t it? Unproblematic. Romantic even, if she focused exclusively on the fact he was concerned about her opinion and not that they were surrounded by people and can’t carry on this conversation... However, before her musings went far, Briar shared her strong indignation.

“It’s bloody 2018! Your sex life – or mine or anyone else’s – should be nobody’s business,” she said looking around, searching for approval, and Theresa pursed her lips, not entirely sure if the criticism wasn’t about herself, who is an avid consumer of celebrity gossip in general.

“Some take pleasure speculating… and trying to label others’ behaviours...”

“And making money out of it,” Annabelle added. “Don’t forget there’s a whole business profiting from people’s private lives. Scandal sells tabloids – or these days gets the more clicks…”

“At Türkiye, my pictures have definitely enriched some newspapers’ owners, and brought shame to my family’s name...”

“Why? Being slutty doesn’t make you a bad person!”

“I wouldn’t refer to myself like that, but I agree,” he laughed. “To be honest, I don’t really care about what they write about me... But I know it’s a privilege of being a man from a wealthy family; things would be completely different if I were gay or a woman…”

“Or both,” Annabelle pointed out.

“I like a good gossip like the next person... but I really don’t get it. What’s the matter if you like it casual? Or one-night stands? If it’s consensual, it’s nobody’s business,” Briar concluded with fire in her eyes, “Judging people by number of partners or how frequently they shag is utter tosh!”

“Well said!” Annabelle clapped and Briar bowed with a little flourish of her hands. “Now that you got it all out of your chest, can we move on? It’s your turn to ask.”

In a second, Briar’s face changed completely. She flashed the widest and most mischievous grin at Hamid.

Taking a deep breath, her lungs filled with enough air to sing the chorus to Wannabe and Annabelle, Elizabeth and Luke laughed before snapping their fingers at the rhythm. Edmund and Theresa who weren’t present when Hamid told his sisters used to dress him up as one of the Spice Girls looked utterly lost.

When her nasal voice faded, Briar pushed an imaginary microphone in his direction. “Which Spice Girl, Hamid?”

Despite the smile, he shook his head slowly and muttered words under his breath that were not the answer; Elizabeth wondered if any of those were curse words, considering his preference to swear in languages other than English.

“Sporty.” The word was pushed through his smile while he failed to look unaffected by Briar’s victorious grin.

“I knew it!” Briar cried. “Now we need visuals!”

“Not happening.”

“Don’t be so confident, Lizzy can ask your sisters...”

“Supposing she in fact knows one of my sisters, she wouldn’t do that,” he replied not missing a beat, but the teasing words might have reached the intent when Elizabeth didn’t side with him immediately.

Stealing a sideway glance at her, he only got a shrug and a non-reply in the form of a small smile.

Sipping the wine, while he insisted on the subject and the fact his sisters and Elizabeth obviously don’t know each other, she giggled against the rim of the small glass. His reasoning and insistence amused her. For a change, she got the upper hand and would enjoy every second of this. Like this wine. Sipping it bit by bit.

“Maybe I didn’t have to ask...” Elizabeth said softly putting the empty glass down.

“And you didn’t tell them?” he taunted, referring to Annabelle and Briar who were enjoying this almost as much as her. “Impossible.”

“Are you calling me a gossip now?”

“Absolutely not. But I fear you’re trying to trick me into believing you have befriended my sister.”

“Sisters,” she corrected. “And last week your aunt and two of your cousins from Adana dropped me DMs too.” Shaking his head slowly, with a teasing smile with a hint of the tip of his tongue peeking, he leaned forward, his eyes searching for any hesitation.

“Show me your mobile.”

“You don’t believe my word?”

“Frankly, no. There’s no evidence supporting your allegations, Miss Foredale. I’m afraid the court will dismiss the case,” he taunted, using legal jargons learned from TV shows.

Perhaps it was the casual atmosphere or his long nose almost touching the tip of hers, the warmth of his breath or intense gaze unwavering from her eyes while he slowly retreated... Perhaps it was a combination of all the above. Whatever it was, it encouraged her to search in her foggy brain the perfect story to convince him of the seriousness of her allegations. She remembered one of the first anecdotes Faiza and Hande shared about their younger brother after he shared a picture of her sitting at the park after jogging with the hashtag #londonsmostbeautifulsmile.

“Then how do I know about the incident with your mother’s ring?”

In slow motion, the self-satisfied smile vanished from his lips and so did the glow of his skin. While his brain processed the information, the sides of his neck and cheeks turned a darker shade.

“Yok artık[3]!” he spat. “Who told you that? Was it Faiza?”

“Stop speaking in code!” Briar cut them off, “I want to know it too!”

“Me too!” Theresa and Annabelle piped in.

“Then you’ll have to ask Hamid.”

“Is it worth?” Annabelle who would be the next asker inquired, and Elizabeth shrugged dismissively, it was in her hands to decide, but judging by his reaction it could be a question to make him yield.

The other took a moment to consider if it was the sort of knowledge worthy of her question or not and debated with Briar in hushed tones.

“Such bigmouths!” he sighed running a hand through his face. “That story is so embarrassing!”

“It’s so not! It’s cute!” Elizabeth said, and he raised his head revealing a wide grin and his skin had darkened even more, a hint of redness reached the tips of his ears. “I can’t believe I made you blush!” Elizabeth laughed and fished a handful of crisps from the bowl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugged. “I don’t blush.”

“I also thought you didn’t...” she said offering him the bowl. “But you do. And it’s adorable.” The tip of her index finger touched his face, and the skin of his cheek was as warm as his smile, confirming her assumption. His lips spread even further, and his cheeks rounded beneath her lingering touch, dimples forming on each side of his face and eyes squinting.

“My turn,” Annabelle announced, and his attention was drawn to her. “Have you ever had a sex dream with anyone in this room?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him, and he smiled and answered quickly, no hesitation whatsoever, “Yes, I have.”

Excited cheers and teasing followed.

“Really? Who?” Briar inquired not holding her curiosity.

“That is another question,” he said, “and you already asked yours.”

“Was it me?” she pressed, “I know one can’t fake the kind of chemistry we had dancing last night, but I only see you as a friend. Please, keep me out of your dirty dreams.”

“Now you’re breaking my heart,” Hamid laughed it off, and soon the game moved on.

“Who would you rather date Donna Bowman or Felicity Holloway?” Theresa asked and leaned forward expectantly, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes not hiding the annoyance.

Hamid plastered his most alluring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“They are both attractive women, each with a particular beauty. Making me choose one over the other seems absolutely unfair, don’t you agree?”

Hamid’s words were so convincing that pleased Theresa, who nodded. Briar however didn’t miss the opportunity to tease him.

“But that’s the point. You must choose or you’re not really answering the question... And if you don’t answer, it’s time for a dare, innit?” She looked at Annabelle for confirmation, and Hamid inhaled deeply and shook his head slowly.

“Donna.”

“Oooh! She’ll be so thrilled!”

“Did you roll your eyes again?” Hamid asked Elizabeth, who looked away, but realized he had been observing her reaction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she said focusing on the breadcrumbs she was picking from the table and throwing at an empty plate, keeping to herself how the mere mention of Felicity and her minion’s names bothered her. 

“Can she do that?” Briar asked pointing at Theresa, hands typing on her mobile underneath the table.

“Theresa, you know the rules! You can’t share the answers.”

“Alright,” she put the mobile away, but only after pressing ‘send’.

“Your turn, Marlcaster.”

“I didn’t think of a question.”

Briar raised her hand in the air as if she were in school. “I have an excellent one!”

“Me too,” Theresa said and whispered something in his ear, and he grimaced.

“I’m not asking that.”

“Please! I’m dying of curiosity!”

He downed the amber liquid, and said, “You can have my question…”

Showing gratitude, Theresa kissed his cheek and addressed the other man eagerly, “Hamid, if you could kiss anyone in the entire world, who would it be?”

Unlike the other question, this time, Hamid stole a furtive glance at Elizabeth, and smiled the kind of wide and open smile that dimples his cheeks and almost makes his face glow.

There were no introductory words, flattery, or praise to women either present or absent, just a simple and direct answer.

“Elizabeth.” Her name was softly spoken, rolling out of his tongue like a melody, and her heart skipped a beat.

The intensity of Hamid’s bright and intense eyes on her was unbearable. Allowing herself a moment to process this reply, she lowered her gaze.

The kissing part wasn’t that surprising – only a few hours before he said he wanted to kiss her –, but the fact that given any option he would still choose her over any model, movie star or a childhood crush was mind-blowing! And the boldness of being this frank without assurance whether her reaction would be? She could never! Even after drinking, she would never put herself on the spotlight to the judgement and opinions of others.

Her heart was pounding louder than ever, so loud she heard nothing from the room in a while, not acknowledging the chorus of Aww and Ooh and “Kiss him!”stirred by his answer or his sigh when her hand slipped away from his, not out of displeasure but to wipe the gelid sweat damping her palms on her jeans.

“I’m baffled you’d still choose her after what happened!” Theresa blurted out, and she received confused looks in return that encouraged her to explain the point. Her words flowed in that characteristic quick pace of hers, “Considering she broke up with you to be with Ernest Sinclaire, I thought you would pick anyone else, really… Unless you are trying to win her back... are you? In that case it would be so romantic!”

“O quê?[4]” Elizabeth gasped.

Amused, Hamid glanced at Elizabeth, whose cheeks haven’t had the chance to return to their natural tawny beige tone. “You broke up with me?”

“I didn’t break up with him!” she assured Theresa.

“You’re dating both!?” Theresa’s nasal voice raised to a shrieking level, and she covered her astonishment with a hand, before her fingers resumed typing on the mobile, ignoring the previous chiding about it.

Pretending to be offended, Briar tried to stifle a giggle and asked, “I am your English best friend, and you didn’t tell me any of this?”

“Halla halla! She didn’t even tell me and I’m the boyfriend!” Hamid sighed. “Since I was in the dark, I need time to process…” His hand covered most of his face, but Elizabeth could still see the grin he was hiding underneath.

The whole thing was hilarious to Hamid and some of the presents, who cackled; even Elizabeth cracked a little smile at his acting skills when he dramatically sobbed. However, Theresa who was completely in the dark misunderstood the heaving of Hamid’s chest with real crying and expressed profound sorrow – she is a notorious gossip but not a heartless woman.

“I’m awfully sorry. Mum is right, this is a flaw of mine: I always speak too much and without minding the consequences. But I didn’t know it was a secret! I swear! Donna showed me the pictures of you,” she said pointing at Hamid and Elizabeth, “and Felicity is always ranting about you and Mr. Sinclaire. She says she’s worried about him and not jealous at all; but believe me she’s so utterly jealous that you caught his eye! And with all the buzz online, I assumed everyone knew!”

Hamid uncovered his face, and asked, “Am I the last to know?”

“Stop with this nonsense!” Elizabeth said, poking Hamid’s arm. “Tell her the truth!”

“Why are you so eager in denying it?” Hamid asked raising his gaze to meet hers, despite the lilt of laughter and the grin that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, there was something vulnerable hinted in his question, “Is it that embarrassing that someone assumes we’re dating?”

“No, it’s not – I’m not – That’s not the point,” she stuttered. Raising one index finger to request a pause, she reached the wine glass and chugged it under Hamid’s attentive gaze. She blinked quickly in a failed attempt to unblurry his face, and he took pity on her.

“Fine. Theresa, your sources are incorrect: there was no breakup because we were not dating in the first place. Therefore, Elizabeth is free to date whoever she wants, including the dashing Mr. Sinclaire,” he said quickly and turned back to Elizabeth, “Satisfied?”

“Then you confirm she is dating Sinclaire!”

“You’re impossible!” Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “What am I to do with you?”

Hamid grinned, his cheeks dimpling even further. “I have plenty of suggestions...” he whispered into her ear, and the huff of his chuckle fanned her neck, causing all the hair in her body to stand on end.

“So, are you or are you not?” Theresa asked, too eager for an answer about the Sinclaire affair.

“Are you already tired of asking me questions? Am I boring you?” Hamid asked Theresa with a mocking pout, momentarily saving Elizabeth from further questions.

“Moving on,” Annabelle clapped. “Luke, your turn. Last question.”

“That’s right,” Hamid teased, wringing his hands, “only one question and then I can reveal my dare!”

“Don’t brag before you hear Luke’s question...”

“I don’t have anything to hide.”

“We need a great question, dude.”

“Don’t worry, Liz, I got an excellent one.” Luke grinned and leaned forward to face the other man. “Who was the person you thought about the last time you got off?”

Hamid’s eyes widened when his brain processed what he was being asked, and the cocky smile vanished from his face.

“Dare,” he said firmly.

“Are you sure?” Annabelle asked for confirmation, and when he nodded, Briar and Luke high-fived.

The group moved to the couch to confabulate, while Hamid remained quiet, chewing on some crisps. To ruffle his feathers, some of the words were deliberately spoken louder.

“Naked selfie...”

“Dick pic...”

“Unsolicited dick pics are not funny!” Annabelle chided.

Cheeks reddened by the alcohol, Theresa laughed loud, “I know someone who wouldn’t mind receiving one.”

“Me too,” Briar jumped in, and Elizabeth glared at her. “I didn’t name names. Yet.” Her guffaws joined Theresa’s.

Edmund’s eyes rolled and his gaze fixed at the ceiling, and it was hard to say whichever bothered him more about the women’s exchange.

The deliberations and goading continued without stirring the desired reaction until Briar whispered in his direction, “Shave his head.”

“No one is touching my hair!” Hamid objected firmly, holding a hand up, and Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief.

“Seriously? That’s where you draw the line?” she asked, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“I'm not ashamed of my body.” His intense gaze stole her words, and she sipped the wine to have something to do with herself.

“Easy there,” he warned, trying to take the bottle away from her.

“I’m half-British,” she slurred, barely mispronouncing the word, and spilling some of the wine when she evaded his move. “I can hold my drink.”

By this point, every tiny glass gulped made her speech more slurring, and her cheeks redder.

Luke raised from his place, and announced, “We dare you to stay outside for five minutes –”

“That’s easy. I lived at Moscow,” Hamid brushed off, but Briar cut in, “Shirtless! And doing jumping jacks!”

Undeterred by the increasing level of difficulty, he got up and pulled the orange jumper over his head and the white t-shirt in one movement, and asked Elizabeth to hold them.

Everyone followed when he marched to the balcony’s door, eager to see if he would go through. When he cracked the door open, a cold drift invaded the room and Edmund’s cheeks turned rosier. The rain had stopped but the floor was wet, and Hamid visibly shivered with the gust of wind, but brushed it off when asked by Elizabeth, throwing her a wink and a smug smile.

“What if he falls?” Elizabeth mumbled to Briar, who had wrapped an arm around hers for support. “The floor is wet.”

“Then you’ll take care of him,” Briar laughed. “Just look at the bright side. And at those abs.” She exaggeratedly bit her lower lip in a suggestive way, and Elizabeth looked away.  

Meanwhile, Annabelle snapped her fingers to get Theresa’s attention. “Your mobile, please,” she said extending one hand with her palm up. “You must quit texting Donna and you can’t send pictures of Hamid to her or else you are out.”

Theresa tried to deny it and argue, but the other was firm in making her abide by the rules, and lastly, she conceded.

“I’ll return to you later,” Annabelle said tucking the mobile into her trousers pocket.

When Hamid started the jumping jacks, the others cheered and clapped – but not Elizabeth. At first, she searched for any indication he was too cold outside or hiding the discomfort of an injury from the riding incident. However, the more she looked at him, the prouder he looked with the attention. The more she stared at his bare torso, the more her hungry eyes focused on his physique and the less her brain processed anything else.

Cradled by her arms, his t-shirt and soft jumper exuded Hamid’s favourite perfume, the sensual fragrance reserved to “special occasions”, an invitation to sinful thoughts. While on the one hand, every second slipping by in the timer Luke has set in his mobile was another one her willpower prevailed against the primal urge of burying her face on his clothes; on the other hand, it meant soon the challenge would be over.

Halfway through the dare, Hamid huffed a loud breath, almost a laugh, smiled and winked at her. She bit her lower lip, watching the wind blowing against his back, dishevelling his hair.

“Do you need a napkin?” Briar whispered and her eyes darted to her face in confusion. “To wipe the drool.” Elizabeth’s hand brushed her own mouth and chin, even though she was pretty sure the other was joking.

Luke’s mobile rang, and the dare was completed.

They waved him in, and Hamid kept the door wide open, allowing the wind to blow their hairs, while making a show of saying it was absolutely agreeable outside and inviting them to the balcony to breath the evening’s fresh air. When he finally came by to retrieve his clothes, all the soft black hair in his arms was standing on end, like it did that day when she held his arm to appreciate the luxuriant scent of his perfume.

“You’re cold.”

“Will you warm me up?” he asked in a soft voice only she could hear, and the rosy on her cheeks had nothing to do with the gust of wind this time.

With a sly smile, he took a long deep breath, and flexed his muscles to make his athletic body even more evident. Standing in front of him, Elizabeth’s gaze travelled downwards from his well-defined and hairless chest to the visible V-cut in his abdomen. Her reaction seemed to please him, and he took his sweet time putting on his t-shirt.

“You should’ve asked him to strip down to his underwear!” Theresa’s voice resonated and Edmund gasped her name, almost dropping his tumbler, and Briar cackled. “Oooh! Did I say that out loud?”

Briar replied, “Maybe next round!”

Both let out loud guffaws and clinked their glasses. Theresa downed the liquid and laughed a little more by herself.

“It seems I’m a little... tipsy already.” She said pulling her dishevelled hair back. “I’m going to –” A loud hiccup interrupted her, and she burst out laughing. “Are you coming?” her whispered question to her fiancé was too loud, and he replied he would stay.

“Good night!”

Her lips missed Edmund’s and she pecked his chin before walking away.

“Didn’t I tell you, Eliza?” Edmund asked looking at his stepsister.

The woman was rubbing Hamid’s hands, who looked too pleased at her fussing over him, and stared at him confused. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

Annabelle growled, “How did we run out of food?”

“Well... we’ve been here for hours... and Briar,” Luke pointed at the friend beside him, turning a bowl upside down to eat the crumbs. Briar protested, but not so vehemently, since ate most of it.

Annabelle and Edmund volunteered to bring more food. While the others chatted, Elizabeth dozed off against Hamid’s shoulder. He encircled her with his arms, bringing her closer, and she sighed contently.

Several minutes later, Edmund and Annabelle returned with half of a Bundt cake, scones, bags of crisps and more wine.

Hamid observed Elizabeth repeatedly sticking her finger on the piece of cake in front of him and licking it, even though she said she wasn’t hungry. Ignoring her protests, he insisted and fed her half the slice and a handful of onion crisps. They smiled when he jokingly pulled the crisps away before she could bite it, and even more so when she bit his finger as a joke.

Spinning an empty bottle of wine, the game resumed. Encouraged by the intimate atmosphere that settled after Theresa’s departure, the questions became increasingly personal. And even Elizabeth showed less discomfort with the questions – though maybe she was a little too tipsy to understand everything her friends were talking about.

“I thought that only happened in porn!” Edmund exclaimed after Hamid replied affirmatively to the question if he was a member of the “Mile-High Club”.

“Sometimes, the desire is too high,” Hamid joked with a gleeful smile.

“How can one even... focus... on that… with the turbulence?” Elizabeth asked. “And people around? What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not going to lie, that’s part of the thrill.”

Laughing, Briar threw a crisp at Hamid. “We should send you to horny jail!”

The bottle spun and pointed to Elizabeth, who propped her chin on one hand and barely could keep both eyes open.

“What’s your biggest turn on?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, it’s easier to point out the things that turn her off like sloppy kisses, smokers’ breath, and manipulative men, but as for turn ons, does she really have one? She can only think of one person that turns her on lately. Hamid’s image occupied her mind, his strong arms, and the way a simple touch of his hand can almost make her combust. However, she wasn’t drunk enough to say this, so she settled on the much less controversial “Making me laugh.”

“You have a clown kink or something?” Briar teased, and Elizabeth laughed.

“No, but it is... just... being funny can be really attractive...”

After a few more questions, Anabelle spun the bottle and it pointed at Hamid again.

“Oral sex: receiving or giving?” she asked him.

“I won’t deny how good receiving is,” he paused and flashed a mischievous smile at the asker, “but I’m a giver. I may travel the world, but my favourite place is between a woman’s legs.”

His answer got him an enthusiastic cheer from Brian, who nudged Elizabeth with much too force, almost knocking the glass off her hand.

“Something else we can agree on,” Annabelle said raising her glass, and he clinked his in an improvised toast.

“A skilled tongue in more ways than we thought…” Elizabeth stated and giggled to herself, receiving amused looks from the others.

“You definitely drank too much,” Edmund said, placing the bottle out of her reach, and Hamid proceeded to gently remove the glass from her hand.

“No! I’m fine!” She retrieved it and gulped the remaining deep red liquid with a grimace. “The room stopped spinning a while ago.”

The others shared knowing looks, and Annabelle proposed, “Last question! Everybody answers! If the world was ending tomorrow, and this was your last night on earth, what would you do?”

“Time to get naughty!” Briar clapped her hands.

“Not necessarily,” Annabelle said, “It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“But I want to get naughty!” Briar laughed loudly. “I’d spend my last night doing all the naughty things I’ve postponed. And, of course, I’d call my mom and tell her that I love her.”

“With that mouth?” Annabelle teased, “You should call her first!”

Loud laughter and jokes followed. However, Elizabeth couldn’t understand what they were saying. Eyelids incredibly heavy, it became a herculean task to keep them open. She let her head rest against Hamid’s shoulder again. A welcoming warmth surrounded her. Through her lashes, she saw Hamid’s arm holding her steady.

Why was I afraid before?

She blinked and their faces blurred, becoming indistinct like the unfamiliar faces of passengers when the tube is rushing past the stations. Briar addressed her, but it felt like she had been speaking through the thickest of glasses. Someone called her name, and she raised her head, searching the voice.

“What about you, Liz?” Hamid asked softly, touching the side of her face, “The world is ending tomorrow, what would you do tonight?”

Last night on Earth. There’s much to do, even more to say. Where to even begin?

“Maybe with what you want the most?” Hamid offered, and her eyes flicked to his, so adoringly staring at her. Can he read my mind, or did I say it out loud?

Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and her speech had turned much slower and broken than usual, “Alright… Let’s see… I’d tell... father I love him… and am grateful to be his daughter. And I’d do this: surround myself with people I care about... like I am now –”

Briar hugged her with one arm, and Annabelle formed a heart with her fingers, and when Edmund started talking, she cut him off with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not done,” she said, and her voice was a little louder and more slurred, “Before the world ends, I’ll call Professor Richards and tell him to go fuck himself and stick those bloody books up his bloody arse that bloody bastard –”

“Whoa! You can swear!” Hamid’s eyes widened and he laughed, drawing her attention back to him.

“You! I’d tell you that –” She buried her face on Hamid’s chest, mumbling a string of unintelligible words against his orange jumper, before taking a deep breath and looking him in the eye – or at least trying to – with a wide smile. “You smell good and have a cute belly.”

“Sorry? What did you say?”

“I like your belly. It’s wavy.”

“No, no, no! Before that!”

Ignoring his pleas, she turned around, returning to the previous train of thought.

“I want to make a bonfire. Huge.” She opened her arms to the fullest and gesticulated, accidentally hitting Hamid’s forehead with one hand. “With all Richards books I could find at the library and bookshops too. Then I’d make a bonfire in front of his house. A massive one!” She gesticulated widely again and made whooshing sounds to represent the fire.

“Liz, that would take time and sounds exhausting, go back to the loving part. That’s where you should focus your energy,” Hamid suggested, opening his arms to an inviting hug. “Surround yourself with love.”

“I can help!” Briar chimed in, and Elizabeth turned around to face her. Hamid’s exasperated sigh could be heard on the other side of the room. “I know where to get a cart!”

“A cart. That’s perfect!”

“Right? The two of us, Lizzy,” – Briar’s hands danced between the two of them – “unstoppable. Our bonfire will put Guy Fawkes’ night to shame! We burn the books and toast marshmallows!”

“I love marshmallows! Oh! You’re the best,” Elizabeth moved closer, and they hugged each other. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

“Jealous?” Annabelle whispered to Hamid, and he clicked his tongue.

“I’d rather hear a non-drunk confession,” he whispered back, “one she would remember later.”

“Wise,” she said and patted his shoulder.

The clock on the wall marked a quarter past 1am when the first chords of “Happier” blasted from Hamid’s mobile.

Elizabeth shrugged out of the knee-length yellow cardigan, oblivious to the disaster that followed its descent. It knocked down a glass and red wine spilled pooling over the surface of the table. Raising to her feet to dance with Annabelle and Luke, she managed so much as to stumble, bump one knee on the table, swear like a polite eight-year-old and fall back down.

“You’re sloshed,” Briar laughed, while placing napkins over the spilled drink.

“I’m not,” Elizabeth denied, though the way the room swayed betrayed her statement. “Maybe a bit tipsy... I just need to lie down for a sex... Sec!” They cackled at the slip up and Elizabeth lied down on the floor.

Picking up her cardigan before it got stained with wine, Hamid held his hands to her. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. I’ll take you to your room.”

She tried to stare at his face, but it was impossible with the light over his head doting him an angel-like bright halo.

“I’m not sleeping,” she said, unwilling to admit how tired she was or disappoint her friends, “I’m dancing.” Her hands moved wildly at the rhythm of the song, and she laughed.

“Then dance with me.”

Meeting his gaze, she agreed, and he helped her up. Encircling her waist with both arms, he steadied her and swayed gently, as if they were American teenagers at one of their high school dances. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t what she meant by dancing.

“That’s not how you dance this song...” With a sudden squirm, she wiggled out of the embrace to demonstrate but her flats couldn’t find purchase in the rug.

Faster than the pull of gravity, Hamid prevented her from falling onto her buttocks again.

Briar mouthed something she couldn’t understand while Annabelle and Hamid spoke in hushed tones. She couldn’t understand a word they said but judging by the serious expressions on both their faces, she suspected it was about her.

“I’m not drunk!” she slurred, and Hamid turned his attention back to her, using one hand to take the hair away from her face.

“Of course not,” Hamid said softly, “You’re tired. It’s been a long day...”

“Yeah,” she sighed and waved him closer to whisper in his ear, “Is it impolite to go to bed before my guests?”

“Absolutely not. You can ask Annabelle, she’ll confirm. Besides, Edmund is here... He’s second-in-command.”

Settling this matter, she accepted his help, even though she wasn’t ready to part from him, still hoping she would muster the courage to steal a moment alone with him. Wobbling her way out of the room, she leaned on Hamid, wrapping her arms around his midsection, and giggled. This right there was happiness! No worries in her mind, and Hamid beside her.

Walking through the long and dimly lit corridor, Elizabeth kept singing and Hamid insisted that she remained quiet as a mouse. The best he got was a compromise in humming the songs instead of singing out loud.

Without any accidents or unwanted encounters with judgemental family members, they made into the main area, spotting the bright lights from the crystal chandelier downstairs. The family wing was just ahead, after the staircase, and he only needed to get her inconspicuous to her room. There were several doors on both sides of the hallway and Elizabeth stalled talking about random paintings and asking about his room instead.

“Which one, Liz?” he insisted using his lowest tone possible, and she blinked and tried to make her eyes focus on his face. “Is it this one?” He pointed at the first door on their right.

“I don’t know. What d’you think?”

“Not much, since I’ve never been to your room...” he chuckled and pulled her closer so she would not roam and stumble into a console table nearby, risking breaking one of her grandmother’s precious bibelots.

“Briar knows my room,” she said, “Let’s go back. And we can dance some more.”

Ignoring the arm holding her, she suddenly turned around and stumbled forward. Hamid caught her and couldn’t help giggling too. His apt fingers pulled the hair away from her face, and she could anticipate how close his lips were. But when her gaze focused on his face, she found neither the sight of his beautiful smile nor those bedroom eyes he had been generously offering her this evening. His eyes were wide, and he looked somehow shocked.

Did I do something wrong?

He wasn’t truly looking at her, she realized, but at something over her shoulder.

There was no time to ask anything. Hamid pushed her back into the corridor they came from. Looking over his shoulder, he pushed her into one of the small alcoves in the hallway, and her back hit the frame of the portrait of one of her ancestors while her mind raced.

Is that a portrait of Viscount Vincent, the one father was named after? Oh, wait! That’s not what I was supposed to think about! I need to ask what he’s doing. Is he about to kiss me?

The idea was suddenly too appealing. Her heart hammered inside her chest and her fingers closed around the soft fabric of the jumper, and she expected his lips to level with hers.

Instead of the expected pleasing touch of his mouth, a hand covered her puckered lips. Her eyes searched for an explanation, and with his free hand he pressed an index finger against his own lips to request her to be silent.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered into her ear, and her eyes widened. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs became too loud to ignore.

Was it grandmother coming back home? Her blood froze. The idea of being caught like a misbehaving teenager, almost sobered her up, until she remembered she wasn’t a teenager anymore. This was not like that one-time sneaking drunk into her friend Renata’s home without waking her mother. She’s old enough to drink. There’s nothing wrong going on – if you don’t consider the fact Hamid is acting odd and not kissing her when they are finally alone – and even the prim and proper lady Dominique gets a little tipsy from time to time and laughs in an unladylike fashion in the company of Mrs. Sinclaire and their friends – even though she prefers her granddaughter not to mention that fact.

However, Hamid seemed determined in his mission, even if it meant trying to hide them both in a place that could fit only half of her body and the light over the portrait was probably giving away their presence. But why would she protest when his entire body was pressed against hers like this?

Hamid’s chest heaved and his breath fanned her face. She looked up, trying to meet his gaze, but he was too focused on the incoming presence to notice her attempt at making flirty eye contact.

Hand still over her mouth, he whispered, “It’s your father.”

Somehow, he pressed even closer, no space left between them or the wall, and an involuntary urge to laugh grew inside her. As if reading her thoughts or the meaning behind the shake of her shoulders, Hamid’s eyes widened.

Looking over Hamid’s shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her father’s back, going up the stairs and straight towards his room. Fortunately, the sound of footsteps faded, and a door closed in the distance with a barely audible click.

His hand moved away, and her lips followed instinctively, but he didn’t seem to notice the aftereffect, still looking to where Lord Vincent disappeared.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said softly, his gaze flicking back to hers, “but I thought you wouldn’t want to meet anyone.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, the frame still pressed against her back.

“Let’s go back and–”

“Third door on the left!” she blurted out, suddenly wanting to get there as soon as possible.

“Are you positive?”

She pushed his chest freeing herself and pulled him by the hand. Hamid used his other hand to steady her while following her bouncing confident steps down the corridor.

When they reached the door, as a precaution to not end up bursting into the wrong room, Hamid asked to check if it was empty. Cracking the door just enough to let the hallway lights flood it, they both peeked inside.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“My room!”

“Not so loud,” he pleaded, and she held his hand again, pulling him inside with her. “Come in!”

His eyes roamed free for a few seconds, taking in the decorations and little details that distinguished the room from the others before the lights were dimmed. His gaze moved again, finding Elizabeth leaning against the desk with eyes barely opened.

“We’re here… alone…”

Were it anybody else, Hamid would have no doubt what that meant. But in Elizabeth’s case, he assumed the lights were hurting her eyes and her legs were faltering. And that’s the reason he offered to come and assist her through the night. She drank too much.

“Do you need help to –” Hamid stopped, thinking about the best phrasing in this situation. How to suggest aiding her in changing her clothes or taking her to the bathroom without sounding like a total creep? Freshen up, perhaps? Scratching the back of his head, he felt self-conscious about the entire situation. It was not often he needed to think through how to offer this kind of help to the utterly shy woman in front of him who takes his breath away even after an eleven-hour flight, with wrinkled clothes and messy hair. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered to come here in the first place. It’s different when it’s not one of your sisters you’ll offer help with this sort of thing.

The silence stretched and Elizabeth didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, instead, she kicked her flats and said, “You owe me a dance.”

Fifteen minutes ago, she was asleep in his shoulder and now she had an urge to dance. How was that even possible?

Walking closer, she reached his hands and her fingers intertwined with his. Her hips swayed from side to side in the rhythm of a mysterious tune she hummed.

“Don’t you prefer to go to bed?”

“Are you trying to bed me?” she tried to wink suggestively but slowly blinked instead.

He laughed, considering what sober Elizabeth would think about this phrasing and exchange.

“Right now,” he said as softly as the touch of his hand on her arm, “my only concern is the hangover you’ll have.”

“Chato! Muito chato![5]” She poked his chest. “You are spoiling the fun, mister Osmanoğlu.”

Holding a laughter, he walked away and filled a glass with water and brought back to her.

“First, drink this. Then we dance.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Please. You’ll thank me later.”

Her eyes flicked from Hamid’s face to the glass, and she gulped the whole content. With the sleeve of her blouse, she wiped the water running down her chin, and he refrained from using his thumb to remove the remaining drops underneath her lower lip, and removed the glass from her hand.

“I’ll bring another glass. It’ll help with the hangover...”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not drunk!” she huffed in protest.

“I have a feeling you'll need aspirins too. Do you have any?”

“I don’t know...” she shrugged.

“Can I take a look around?”

“Are we dancing now?” she asked following him, and he held her arms gently.

“Stay here,” he helped her sit on the bed, “very still until I come back.”

“Are you leaving me?”

“Just for a second. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Everybody says that, and they lie,” she sighed, closing her eyes, and let her body fall back on the bed.

The en-suite was his best shot at finding medicines, therefore he began his search there.  

When Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open, she was alone in the room. Dragging her feet, she managed to reach the wardrobe and pick a load of clothes, which were thrown at the bed. With little effort, the long-sleeved blouse was pulled over her head, and she was too focused working on removing her pants to notice the footsteps returning from the en-suite.

“I've found the aspirins,” Hamid announced while walking into the room. The unexpected sight of Elizabeth half-undressed caused him to stop suddenly, and he almost dropped the glass of water. “Why are you striping?” he gaped, and immediately turned around.

“Hamid!” she cried and stumbled back on the bed, jeans freed from her foot and flying over her head. The mobile inside her pocket tumbled to the ground with a dull thump. “I’m changing,” she said sitting on the bed, and folding her arms in front of her chest to cover herself.

“You should have warned me.”

“You were gone.” Getting up, she pulled the plaided pants up, and hopped once to adjust it.

“I told you I was looking for aspirins.” Sighing, he placed the glass on the nightstand and peeked over his shoulder, after she kept mumbling unintelligible words in Portuguese.

“Do you need help?” he asked without looking at her, and definitely not peeking at the pink lacy bra whose sight his brain was too fast to imprint.

“I need only to take my bra. Don’t turn around!”

“No! Leave the bra! Please!” Back turned to her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.  

“But it’s uncomfortable...”

“You just take pleasure in torturing me, don’t you?” he asked looking up and she didn’t know if he was talking to her or to God.

“Just a second…”

She finally unclasped the hooks and did her best to slip the straps off her shoulders, and pulled it from inside one sleeve and then the other, and finally removed it from underneath her shirt and hid in the pile of clothes.

“You’re absolutely killing me here, Liz!”

“Okay... I’m done.”

Hamid looked at her, and even though the pink plaid shirt of the pyjamas was buttoned incorrectly with a few buttons missing the right holes, she looked stunning with her long hair cascading down her shoulders. Getting up from the bed, she danced around the room in fuzzy socks, slowly getting closer to where he was standing. He couldn’t hide the smile when she pulled a complex set of steps without stumbling once.

“Dance with me?” she asked, offering her hand and a small smile, and he accepted. “We need a song!” she announced and started patting her legs. “What’s wrong with these pockets?”

“There are none. You changed.”

“Right! Give me your mobile!”

He obliged, depositing his mobile in her palm, but not without remarking that she was a very bossy drunk. Her fingers moved over the screen, and she stared at it in confusion.

“You do it,” she said returning the mobile, “I can’t read Turkish...”

“It’s in English. And the icons look the same...”

His fingers glided quickly over the screen, searching for a mellow song to lull her to sleep. After considering the options in one of his “date night playlists”, he selected ‘Sunrise’ by Norah Jones. He hit play and placed the phone over the nightstand, returning to where she was standing.

The melody and the singer’s soft voice filled the room, and Hamid placed his hands gently on her waist.

“This is nice,” she said softly, and he agreed.

Unexpectedly, she closed the distance he had purposefully put between them by throwing her arms around his shoulders. Tilting her face up, she nuzzled his neck, and his heartbeat picked up.

Taking a deep breath, her perfume invaded his nostrils. When the tip of her nose brushed against his sensitive skin on a path to his jaw, he shivered, overwhelmed by the sensations her closeness stirred. He could no longer hear the music, only focusing on their breathing.

When his eyes fluttered open, Elizabeth was on her tiptoes, a hand on his shoulder for support, and determination in her eyes. Deflecting her attempt to kiss him, he tilted his face up, but she rested a hand on his cheek and tried again.

Grabbing her hands with gentleness, he rested them on her sides and pulled away, being met by her offended glare.

“What's wrong, Hamid?” she mumbled, “Have you changed your mind?”

“Liz, you are drunk,” he whispered.

“And I really want to kiss you.”

These words, he has been wanting to hear them for weeks, but he cannot let himself trust in them now, not when she is inebriated like this. His heart aches with the disappointment in her eyes when he doesn't allow her to approach.

His next words are chosen carefully.

“If you'll still feel the same way tomorrow, say one word and we'll kiss until we're both out of breath.”

Her lower lip quivered, and she averted her gaze. “What if this is the only way I can tell you that?”

He cradled her face and tilted it up so she could look into his smiling eyes. “Our first kiss should be special and memorable, like what we have, and not a drunken whim... I have a feeling we’ll talk about it for the years to come… and I believe this is not the first kiss we deserve nor the story you’ll want to tell…”

Lowering her eyes, her cheeks were reddened by embarrassment and he gently kissed her forehead.

“We have time. And if you don’t mind, I still wish to dance with you.”

Elizabeth allowed him to encircle her waist and bring her closer again. While they swayed slowly, her face rested on his chest and her hands moved up and down his back. Her shoulders shook with her giggles and Hamid could not refrain his curiosity anymore. Pulling away, he looked down at her face. “What is so funny, canım benim[6]?”

“Your jumper is so soft. I like it.”

“I’m pleased that you do.”

“Take it off.”

“Excuse me?” he stopped swaying completely and stared at her.

“I want to borrow it. It seems so warm...”

“You want to undress me to borrow my clothes?” She nodded. “That’s... rather unexpected. It’s the first time I receive such a proposition...”

“Can I have it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I have a feeling, if I lent you, I’ll have to clean it from vomit and it’s a brand new and very expensive jumper.”

She pouted, but he remained firm.

“Then I crave to see your…” she said, gesticulating vaguely in front of his chest, “body... Show me.”

“It’s too late to objectify me.” He twirled her and deftly pulled her back to his chest, and she snuggled. “I’m sure we can find something as soft as this one in your own closet. Are you cold?”

Yawning, Elizabeth rested her head against his chest, just as he wished.

Taking the cue, he slow-danced her towards the bed and helped her sit down.

“Will you stay?” He nodded, and she smiled. “Good. I want to lay my head on your chest.”

“The jumper. I got it.” He said while collecting the clothes splayed on the bed to put over the desk.

Giggling, she crawled to the middle of the bed and threw a glance at him over her shoulder. “It’s not the only reason.”

Pulling the covers up, she invited him, and Hamid’s eyes fixed at the ceiling and a string of foreign words left his mouth.

“Is that your prayer before bed?”

A huff escaped his nose, and he smiled. “Sort of...”

Taking off his shoes and his jumper, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned off all the lights, except the lamps on the nightstands. He looked at her over his shoulder and laid on the bed over the covers. Elizabeth quickly moved closer and rested her head on his chest. His steady heartbeats pounding beneath her palm.

“This is nice,” she whispered, “Are you comfy?”

“Very much,” he replied, playing with the curls of her long hair.

“Good. It’s important to keep guests comfy. That’s what my grandmother always says.”

“I cannot picture her ever saying comfy, but alright.”

She chuckled and the laughter merged into muffled sounds against his chest.

“I didn’t understand a word you said, Liz.”

“Which bone did you break?”

“Bones. Left arm, the tips of two toes on my left foot and the big toe on the right foot –” he lifted his right hand and brought closer to her face “– and this little finger here.”

“How?”

“Skating, football and trying to teach myself an ancient martial art.”

She took his hand in hers and observed his fingers. “Which martial art?”

“I tried to break wood like Bruce Lee.”

Her head shook when she giggled, and her hair tickled his arm, Hamid couldn’t imagine a more delightful sound coming from her mouth. Actually, he could, but he pushed the idea away.

“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

“Aw... So, baby!” she said with a baby voice, and adjusted herself on the bed to look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“Excuse me?”

“The last question. Why picking the dare if you have nothing to hide?”

“Don’t you know?” he asked softly, “My answer was obvious to everyone present, but it would make you more uncomfortable. And I didn’t want that...”

“Oh,” she gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t… Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I... I don’t know… I… you were cold because of me.”

“I didn’t mind. And you rewarded me with plenty of attention… I think it was more than worthy it. Now, sleep. Goodnight, aşkım[7],” he said softly and kissed the top of her head.

“What did you say?”

“Goodnight, Liz.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“All that alcohol is disturbing your hearing.”

Ten minutes later, she was snoring with a hand over his chest. He held and kissed her hand before removing it. Considering she'll probably need to go to the bathroom and bathe, it was probably for the best to text Annabelle and propose her to change places with him. Carefully, Hamid lifted her arm and moved his legs first, his feet soundless touching the carpeted floor. When he stood up, her voice sounded hoarse behind him.

“Don’t go, Hamid. Please.”

Her face was illuminated by the soft light from the lamp. With her eyes closed, she reached for the pillow he had been lying on and held it tight. “I don’t want to be alone,” she mumbled, “I’m tired of being alone.”

Notes:

[1] Dede – Turkish word that means grandfather.

[2] Dayi – Turkish word that means uncle from the mother’s side of the family.

[3] Yok artık – Turkish – similar in this context to “No way”.

[4] O quê? – Portuguese – means "What?"

[5] Chato! Muito chato! – Portuguese – it means boring! Very boring!

[6] Canım benim – Turkish – term of endearment that means “my soul” or in the context “my dear”.

[7] Aşkım – Turkish – used as a term of endearment “my love”.

[choicesoctober]

WELCOME || RULES || PROMPTS || HOST

All prompts can be used in any combination, on any day, for any characters. You don’t need to use an OC/MC, you can use any character. I’m just secretly hoping to learn more about your OCs.

Have fun! I can’t wait to enjoy what y’all create!

Meet My OC/MC:

Favorite

Newest

Oldest

Re-design

Personality

Childhood

Pride

Past/Future

Underrated

Relationships:

Best Friend(s)

Enemy

Family

Partner(s)

Pet(s)

Group

Favorite Ship (platonic, romantic, whatever)

Seasonal:

Costume/Halloween

Autumn

Witch/Vampire/Werewolf/etc.

Scared

Ghost Story

Leaves

Cozy

Apple Picking

Dia Los Muertos

Cider

Pumpkin Picking/Carving

Pick Your Own

Other:

Meme

Inspirations

Friend’s OC(s)

Home

Favorite Things

Drink

Clothes

Anything

Song Lyrics

Dance

Celebration

Crossover/AU/Swap with Another OC

Any Prompt

[choicesseptemberchallenge2023]

Choices September Challenge Masterlist

• OPEN HEART :

What Could Have Been (9/9) by @liaromancewriter [Day 7] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Public & Private by @liaromancewriter [Day 14] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC; Sienna Trinh x M!OC)

Sadie's Self-Care Sunday#40 by @peonyblossom [Day 6] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Predictable by @jerzwriter [Day 9] (Ethan Ramsey x F!OC; Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Her Secret Weapon by @jerzwriter [Day 18] (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Shopisticated by @liaromancewriter [Day 14] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

A Special One by @zealouscanonindeer [Day 3] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

By Chance: The Morning After by @jerzwriter [Day 7] (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Movie Night by @jerzwriter [Day 22] (Tobias Carrick x F!MC; Bryce Lahela x M!MC)

Love Bites by @liaromancewriter [Day 21] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Fairytales by @liaromancewriter [Day 22] (Sienna Trinh x M!OC)

Summer's Kiss by @peonierose [Day 3] (Bryce Lahela x F!OC)

What Could Have Been? by @zealouscanonindeer [Day 19] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

High Seas (2/2) by @jerzwriter [Day 2] (Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick)

Not Meant To Be by @zealouscanonindeer [Day 20] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

What's Cooking? by @jerzwriter [Day 16] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

A Quick Study by @jerzwriter [Day 5] (F!MC x F!OC)

Bookcase Corner by @potionsprefect [Day 19] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Know It All by @jerzwriter [Day 25] (Bryce Lahela, F!MC)

Celebrate by @jerzwriter [Day 22] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC; Tobias Carrick)

Recovery by @jerzwriter [Day 25] (Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick)

The Great Outdoors by @jerzwriter [Day 2] (Tobias Carrick x F!MC)

Produce-ing A Laugh by @jerzwriter [Day 22] (Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick)

Our Little Girl by @storyofmychoices [Day 21] (Bryce Lahela x F!MC)

It Was A Date by @liaromancewriter [Day 8] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Private Matters by @liaromancewriter [Day 14] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

Taking Care Of Business by @liaromancewriter [Day 25] (Ethan Ramsey x F!MC)

• BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW :

Shadows of Hope by @storyofmychoices [Day 1] (Mal Volari x F!MC)

Go On, Feel It by @storyofmychoices [Day 1, Day 21] (Mal Volari x F!MC)

Her Legacy by @storyofmychoices [Day 1, Day 4, Day 7] (Mal Volari x F!MC)

The Quest For Daenarya by @storyofmychoices [Day 21, Day 30] (Mal Volari x F!MC)

Love Is Love Is Love by @storyofmychoices [Day 21] (Mal Volari x F!MC)

• THE ROYAL ROMANCE :

Smoke And Mirrors by @tessa-liam [Day 6] (Liam Rys x F!MC)

Turning The Page by @tessa-liam [Day 30] (Liam Rys x F!MC)

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 15 by @karahalloway [Day 25] (Drake Walker x F!OC)

Marabelle by @tessa-liam [Day 4] (Liam Rys x F!OC)

• PERFECT MATCH :

Saffron Sugar, Turmeric Spice by @lizzybeth1986 [Day 14] (F!Hayden x Poly M!MC, F!Hayden x F!OC)

Harvest Moon by @lizzybeth1986 [Day 4] (M!MC x F!Hayden, Basil Park x Sloanne Washington, Kim Washington)

• CRIMES OF PASSION :

A Moment In Time by @jerzwriter [Day 4] (M!Trystan Thorne x F!MC)

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Clingy

Author’s note: Evelyn Bennington is a creation of this author. The other characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios. Book: Open Heart Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x F!MC (Evelyn) Rating: E Word count: 1399 Reading time: ~6min Summary: Evelyn went on a shopping spree and Rafael can't hardly wait for her to come home. Based on the prompts: @choicesmonthlychallengee Picktober: Kinktober - Leather/Lace

Raindrops drum on the glass windows as Rafael checks his phone one more time. She's nearly two hours late. Though she said she'd probably arrive earlier at home, once Evelyn got Sienna's text mentioning sales at Bloomingdale's, he knew he'd have dinner by himself. Which is fine. Evelyn is currently on a diet, so he could have the greasy cheeseburger with fries and soda he has been craving for weeks. But it's so strange to stay alone at home. Didn't she say she would just take a look? Why is she taking so long?

He idly flips between TV channels eating the last of his fries, looking for any kind of distraction. He shouldn't worry so much. Their neighborhood is quite calm and Evelyn can handle herself just fine. Yet, deep down he knows this isn't about protectiveness. It's about missing her.

His eyes find his phone again, but he shakes his head and looks back at the TV. Evelyn's job is so demanding and, now that she moved in with him, she has spent so little time with her friends. It doesn't see right to spoil her rare moment of fun with her friends.

Almost half an hour passed when the door finally opens.

"Hi!" Evelyn walks in grinning from ear to ear carrying six large bags.

"Hi," he answers, glancing at the bags. "I see you didn't just look around."

"I swear I'd just tag along with Sienna and Jackie. But you're not going to believe the stuff I got here." She then puts the bags on the floor and opens one of them to fish out an orange tote bag. "Look at this! Isn't it pretty?"

"I like the color. I assume you're going to wear it to go out?"

"Yes! I got so much stuff to wear when we travel to Brazil."

His brows go up in surprise. "Did you?"

"What? You're not the only one daydreaming about this trip."

He smiles softly. "I'm glad you've been thinking about it too, meu amor. But you also said you'd save money for the trip."

"And I am! I only bought things that I'm going to wear on the trip and some essential items. By the way, I got something for you."

Rafael looks down at the bags then at her. "For me?"

Evelyn produces a leather jacket out of one of the bags. "You said you wanted a new jacket."

"You didn't have to do that…"

"I know. But I wanted to. I was wandering between the clothing racks searching for stuff that would look good on you and I thought you'd like it. It's comfy, it'll keep you warm and it's stylish," she adds.

He takes the jacket and nods. It does look nice.

"Go try it on."

"Now?"

"Yeah now!" She grins and kisses his cheek. "Go check in the bedroom. I want to see how it looks on you."

With that, Rafael goes to their room and stares at himself in the mirror while he puts on the jacket. It fits him like a glove and it feels nicer than he expected.

He is suddenly startled by Evelyn's arms wrapping around his frame as she hugs him from behind.

"You look so dapper, amor," she purrs.

"Thanks…" He smiles coyly.

"Do you like it?"

"I do." He turns around to gaze at her. "It's a beautiful jacket, amor. Thank you."

"No problem," she replies and steps back. "I also bought something else I thought you might like."

His jaw drops as Evelyn takes off her coat, revealing a set of emerald green lace underwire bra and panties.

"What do you think?"

"You look stunning, Eve. Though I have to say…" He takes a few steps closer to her. "If you've been walking around Boston wearing just a coat and tiny underwear since you left the store, you must be cold."

"So cold…" Evelyn nods, pouting a little.

"We have to find a way to get you warm," Rafael whispers, pulling her flush against him.

Making quick work with his clothes, they quickly move to the bed. On top of her, Rafael pulls the sheer fabric just enough to free her breasts and proceeds to suck one of her nipples while teasing the other with his hand.

As Evelyn moans, Rafael climbs down slowly and kisses her lower belly. He smiles at the sight of her panties drenched from her juices and pushes them aside to sink two fingers inside her while his thumb works on her clit.

His eyes sweep over her body and he smiles. With parted lips, she moans in delight as her sweat runs down her belly, cheeks flush, hips bucking to meet the thrust of his fingers. "You're exquisite, meu amor. I could watch you like this for hours."

"But I want more…" She begs.

"So do I…" He leans in to whisper. "But it'd be a shame not to fully appreciate how beautiful you look in this new underwear of yours."

She smiles, nibbling her bottom lip. "So you like it."

"Like is an understatement. I love it," he says as his fingers work faster.

"Raf, I want you…" Evelyn groans.

He then removes his fingers from her and pulls her panties down. "We won't need these anymore."

"But you said you love them!" She fakes pouts slightly.

"Oh, I do. I'll steal them whenever you leave me here all alone, missing you like crazy. But right now they're getting in my way."

She giggles.

Closing her legs, Rafael holds them close to his chest and slowly plunges into her. Both of them gasp. Once again, he thinks to himself he could spend hours like this, just savoring her warmth around him. But the best is yet to come.

He moves in and out, picking up speed as Evelyn meows louder. Taking his time, he gazes at her once again. Nipples hard, hands clenching the sheets, ragged breath, walls tightening around him. She's so ready. And he could barely wait to finish inside her.

"Faster…" She pleads.

He grins then hammers into her.

Her brows knit together as her body is about to climax. "Raf, I can't hold it…"

"It's okay. Let it go, meu amor…"

Her toes curl as she cries out in ecstasy. Yet he doesn't stop.

"One more?"

"Yes, please." Evelyn smirks.

Still holding her legs, he opens them and lies on her, pressing her lower limbs against her breasts as he sinks deeper.

She gasps as he rams into her. With their face at last so close, their lips meet in hungry kisses, fueled by their need for each other. It doesn't take long for her to find release again, followed by his grunts as he spills his seeds into her.

Once he eases himself out, he lays down beside her and brushes a few locks of hair away from her face. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" She smiles trying to catch her breath. "I'm on cloud nine, babe!"

He chuckles.

"Is there a special reason for these new moves? Besides the lingerie, of course."

"No… I just missed you while you were gone."

"You could've called me."

"I could. But I didn't want to ruin your time with the girls. You haven't gone out much lately. Especially by yourself. You deserve to have fun with your friends."

"Aw… You're so sweet." Evelyn crawls on top of him and gives him a peck. "But I wouldn't have minded if you texted me saying you miss me."

"Would it be too clingy?"

"Not for me. But just in case it felt clingy to you, you could have mentioned everything you planned to do to me when I got home."

"Very well." He grins and kisses the tip of her nose. "Get ready for some serious sexting next time."

Evelyn giggles. "Can't wait."

[lizzybeth1986]

Eleanor's Kitchen

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: None. Queen Eleanor & Prince Liam (mother-son), Queen Eleanor & Joëlle Theron (platonic), Prince Liam & Kiara Theron (platonic)

Rating: PG for one cuss word.

Summary: Eleanor and Liam get a visit from Joëlle and her daughter Kiara, along with a few surprises. (Takes place a few weeks after Chapter Two. Liam is seven years old, Kiara is five)

Note: In this series, Hakim, Joëlle and Kiara's surnames are spelt Thorne. People close to Constantine call him "Kontos".

Series: Eleanor's Kitchen

Word Count: 3,532

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for Fics of the Week

Tagging @choicesmonthlychallenge for the May Challenge - Day 31 - smile | macaroons | "This isn't goodbye"

Chapter 3: Djaj M'qualli bi Zeitoun

Today is one of those rare days when Liam finds both himself and his mother in a bad mood, near-identical pouts jutting out from their lips.

He suspects Mum's has something to do with a phone call today from Duchess Joëlle Thorne, instructing her strictly not to cook, because this time she wants to be the one bringing food. Mum had practically forgotten she was Duchess Joëlle's Queen and got on the verge of pleading, several times. But the other woman, miles away on holiday in France, would not budge.

I think I know where Kiara gets her stubbornness from, Liam thinks to himself - remembering his sometimes-playmate who always drove hard bargains during their "toy trade wars" and beat him, Drake (and Maxwell whenever his father Duke Barthelemy brought him over to the palace from Ramsford) in raucous games of football.

He almost-smiles at the memory of the three of them stomping off the palace grounds after yet another defeat, but the sudden flash of memory of a recent state dinner abroad, sitting next to his older brother, makes him scowl again.

Seven tagines. Seven alone this year, and Liam has lost count of how many people have fed him tagine over the past year. And each one with such a lovely, glowing, expectant look on their faces that he hasn't had the heart to tell them that he's hated tagines ever since that first tongue-numbing bite (Mum would later wonder if the cinnamon might have been a little much on that dish, but then brushed the idea off, being the Biggest Cinnamon Lover Ever) at a diplomat's house in Fez last March. Some of the dishes had ingredients he loved (apricots. shrimp. meatballs) and things he would never touch (prunes), but that first awful experience haunted him every time he took a forkful, making him dread even the possibility of going somewhere where it could be served.

"You could just say no," Leo had once said, smirking. That little shit, Liam had murmured a phrase he'd picked up from his own brother under his breath, knowing his parents would take offence at the last word, and Leo at the second. It would be so easy. He could go tell Mum right now and she'd make sure everyone - palace chefs, Heads of State, everyone - stopped bringing him tagine, court protocol and social embarrassment be damned. After all, she's now grown suspicious enough to ask. But he can't.

This is a game the brothers have been playing ever since Liam turned four: you never let the other side know they're winning. Not unless you wanted to everyone to think you'll forever be the little baby around here, always crying to your mother.

He will never admit to Leo how much he hates it, and he will never admit to himself that over the last few months he's begun to hate it a little less. So now, whenever the tagine gets laid out on the dinner table, warm in its brightly-patterned pot alongside a bowl of jewelled couscous, Liam defiantly stabs the meat, staring his older brother straight in the eye as he forks it into his mouth. You lose!

Mum is still flicking her thumb over the other fingers on her hand now, lost in her own thoughts. It takes her a couple seconds before she speaks. "Joëlle loves the Cordonian Ruby, Kiara likes puff pastry. I could make them chaussons aux pommes to take home!" she says in a low, triumphant whisper.

Liam stares at his mother in confusion. "I thought Auntie Jöelle said no cooking."

Mum shrugs her shoulders in a rare show of childlike glee. "What's she going to do, fly a plane back to stop me?" she says, and Liam can tell she's already keeping a mental note of the ingredients, "By the time she gets here, we'll make her a dessert she can't refuse."

--

For a split-second when Auntie Joëlle and her daughter arrive, Mum seems to search for something behind them, then at their faces, with a rapidly dimming smile. But the look is so fleeting Liam wonders if he'd imagined it.

"Where's Uncle Hakim, Mum?"

Mum's hands involuntarily tighten on his shoulders at the question, it is a smiling Auntie Joëlle who answers. "He's in a meeting with your father, Prince Liam."

Mum greets little Kiara with a warm hug, before moving back and admiring her hair. Kiara's half-ponytail zigzags in waves along her shoulders, her heart-shaped face framed on either side by thin long braids studded with tiny butterfly clips. A very tiny topknot adorns the top of her head, and Liam can see small braids covering it too. She looks very pretty and very proud of her mother.

"Now you're just showing off, Jo," Liam can hear Mum whisper, chuckling. "You've really outdone yourself this time. And that dress!"

"Butterflies and ladybugs," Auntie Joëlle grins, waving her free hand in the general direction of Kiara's bright red frock, dotted with tiny ladybugs. "Her latest passions."

"My cousin Céleste saw this in a magazine and asked her maman to do it," Kiara whispers to Liam, fingering a green butterfly on her braid as they walk towards the table, "so I asked mine. Maman got all the clips from back home too."

"Lots of butterflies come to our garden but you won't see a lot of them now," Liam whispers back, "ask Auntie Joëlle to bring you in the morning next time, Drake and I play everyday there."

Kiara gifts him a wide, sunny smile, showing off the gap from her first fallen baby tooth. "Okay!" Liam is amazed at her confidence; he was only a year older than she is now when his first milk tooth fell, and he couldn't open his mouth in front of anyone for weeks.

"I've been hearing from several people that this is Prince Liam's favourite," Auntie Joëlle says, and Liam's heart sinks to his stomach as she opens one of the parcels of food she brought with her.

Of course!, Liam mentally kicks himself for forgetting, I should have known! Uncle Hakim is half-Moroccan!

The thick gravy is an inviting deep golden brown, coating tender, browned pieces of chicken. The pickled lemon slices glisten moistly, and the entire room is filled with scents of citrus and caramelized onions. If only this wasn't -

"- tagine?" Liam says, realizing too late, and to his horror, that he sounds just as disappointed as he feels. Somehow without Leo around and without spite to drive him, Liam can't find it in him to pretend.

"Oh," Auntie Joëlle's voice sounds soft and bemused. She looks at him blankly for a few moments, then shifts just as quickly to a cheery smile and an overly-bright tone. "Well! It's good I have backup then!"

Liam looks towards Kiara, but she's staring at the tagine instead, mouth pursed and eyes wide.

As Auntie Joëlle quickly rummages for something else, Mum moves closer to her and mouths a "sorry". "I've had a bit of a suspicion for a while, but he's always told me very strongly that he liked that dish."

"It's alright," Auntie Joëlle whispers back, taking out a small box. When she opens it Liam can already smell the citrus notes in the air intensify, but this time it's oranges. "I should have asked you first. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You did save the day by bringing dessert," Mum says smiling, her hand on Auntie Joëlle's shoulder. Kiara is still suspiciously silent, but Liam can see a pout growing, and she looks at him like she's caught him cheating at tag.

"If there's one thing we all know for certain, Elle, it's that your youngest has the biggest sweet tooth in the palace." She laughs, then turns to Liam. "Have some meskouta, cheri. I know you like nuts and honey, so we got you an almond-orange cake, with a little honey and orange blossom water."

She lays the cake on the table, letting him admire its simple golden hue, studded with green-pink pistachios.

"Don't worry about the tagine, we can save it for the rest of the -"

Kiara finally speaks up. "Prince Liam doesn't like tagine?"

Her voice is pitched high and drips of disappointment. He's heard Auntie Joëlle tell Mum and Leo about Kiara's growing love for the dish since last year, but she's always been the kind that took opinions she didn't agree with with a shrug, before moving on to something else. Except, it seems, when it comes to playing tag. And tagine.

"How can you not like tagine!" Kiara turns to her mother, aghast. "Maman, do you hear this??"

Auntie Joëlle shakes her head, looking at Kiara in a mixture of exhasperation and fondness. "Oh, you're just being dramatic now, ma fée. Not everyone has to like it!"

Kiara's raises her chin and scowls in defiance. "Well I think that's just a vatful of mer-"

"Language, Kiara!"

Her mother's eyes narrow dangerously at her, and Kiara freezes mid-sentence, before frowning and folding her hands on her lap.

"- mercredi," she mumbles instead, sulkily.

Mum turns to Auntie Joëlle as they leave the children to move towards her private kitchen. He can only barely hear them. "Was she about to say merde?"

"Yes. Only five years old, and already managed to pick up that kind of language. I ought to have a word with her brother...when he's back from my sister's house in Loire," she hisses, stealing an apologetic glance in Liam's direction. Ashamed at being caught eavesdropping, he turns away. "I just hope le petit prince doesn't find out what that means."

Relaxed now but still pouting, Kiara turns to Liam. Her tone is low and a little grudging, like she thinks she's being too nice. "When did you have tagine?"

"The first time was last year," Liam murmurs resentfully, his foot tapping rhythmically against the table. "I hated it. My tongue went numb."

Suddenly thoughtful, Kiara softly clicks her tongue. "My worst tagine ever tasted like that. Maman said that was because it had too much sin...sin... ugh! -" she groans in frustration, "the brown curly stick. I forget what she calls it."

Liam giggles quietly. Already he can hear Father's booming voice in his head, telling him that's not how boys laugh. But he's sure Kiara won't mind. "I think she meant cinnamon."

"Mhm. This tagine doesn't have that. Maman said you wouldn't like it."

Liam's eyes widen. "How would she know?"

"She says you always ignore the things on the dessert table that use a lot of it."

I didn't even know that. He shifts a little in his seat, uncomfortable but a little touched that Auntie Joëlle noticed something about himself that he hadn't. And the dish does look and smell lovely...and she did take the effort to make him not one, but two, dishes.

Would a tiny taste really hurt? Besides, he'd always thought he hated tomato pasta until Uncle Franci gave them tomatoes from his uncle's farm.

Liam sighs in defeat against his own thoughts. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try.

He tears a piece of very soft, very fluffy khobz, and dips a little bit of it in the sauce, letting a little bit of chicken fall like butter off the bone. He eats it slowly, gingerly, waiting in dread for that odd, tingling sensation on his tongue to hit.

It never comes. The sensations that hit his tongue make his tastebuds come alive rather than numbing them. The chicken and the gravy mesh and dissolve in his mouth as he takes one bite, then one more, then several; the hum of spices wrapping his entire body in a blanket of warmth. And underneath it all, a subtly silky sweetness, one that he decides comes from the browned bits he can spot atop the tagine.

"Daghmira, my Jiddah used to call it," Kiara finally speaks after finishing off her own meal, looking very smug. "She'd cook onions until they were dark and sweet and sticky like jam. So goooooood."

Liam's laugh comes out in a closed-mouth, satisfied hum, his mouth full and his spirits high and his tongue ready to leap out of his face from the medley of flavours it has been greeted with. Between the two of them, the tagine bowl gets empty quite soon.

The two of them make quick work of the almond-orange cake too. It's a moist, dreamy slice of heaven, dissolving easily on his tongue, the earthy, nutty bitterness of the almonds blending with a flavour that is sweet, and bright, and quite floral. Kiara's right - you can't pick out the cinnamon from the medley of subtle spices infused into the cake - the saffron, the cardamom - it's a gentle caress of that spice rather than a punch in the face. Liam used to think coconut macaroons were his favourite Moroccan dessert, but his dreamy confection of a dessert seems to be beating them hollow.

Mum and Auntie Joëlle return to empty plates and a pair of talkative children, their moods both considerably more subdued than what it was when they left. For a minute Liam feels like Mum's eyes look a little reddened, and Auntie Joëlle's smile a little weaker, a little more tired...but he quickly brushes it aside when he sees just how impressed they are with all the food their children managed to finish.

"Did Liam eat some of it too?" Joelle says, her face breaking out into a smile.

"He ate half," Kiara tells her mother, raising her chin and looking very proud of herself. Liam forgives her easily for her smugness this time - at least for the flavour of that tagine still lingering on his tongue.

"It was very nice," Liam tells his and Kiara's mothers, smiling for real, "I liked the cake too."

Mum says nothing, simply beaming, her hands clasped in a single clap. She shares an amused look with Auntie Joëlle, then gasps and leaves, almost like she's just remembered something - only to return with a little box of apple turnovers. Kiara immediately makes a beeline for the dessert, asking her mother if she can sample some right now.

"Elle?" Auntie Joëlle gives her a very pointed look, "what did I tell you before I got here today?"

Mum suppresses her laughter, gently nudging Auntie Joëlle with her shoulder. "You're the one who gave me that recipe. Of course I'm going to show off!"

Kiara, already full from the chicken and the cake, seems to have an extra stomach for desserts too, because she has already begun sinking her teeth into the crisp puff pastry. She does not forget to wipe the crumbs from her mouth delicately with a handkerchief like a good lady-in-the-making would. "Please tell Her Majesty to show off more."

When Mum (looking a little more exhausted than usual) tucks Liam into bed that night, Liam allows himself a tiny, triumphant smile. He isn't sure whether tagines will ever replace tomato pasta and fragrant fish stew for his favourite dish - he isn't even sure if he will like it that much later, or whether Auntie Joëlle's cooking was just that good - but he is sure of one thing.

When he is served his ninth tagine this year, and Leo smirks across the table in anticipation, his older brother will be in for a surprise. This time he's not going to just stab that meat with a fork, look Leo square in the eye and eat the damn tagine. He's going to fork that tender piece of meat into his mouth, look Leo square in the eye, eat the damn tagine and enjoy it.

I win!

--

Some time earlier....

The first thing Joëlle does when she enters Eleanor's private kitchen, is to close her eyes and breathe in deep, as if to memorize the scents of this place.

"Mon Dieu...it even smells like you."

Eleanor laughs nervously, trying hard to cover her trembling hands by busying them with the cabinets. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Cinnamon...black pepper...vanilla beans...dried roses...coffee. Can a combination of those smells ever be considered bad?"

Her laughter is a little louder, a little more genuine this time. "Far cry from our university days. When both our rooms used to smell of new books and old clothes we never wanted to throw away?"

Joëlle nods, sighing at the memories. "And then we got married."

Eleanor's smile dims. "To a Duke and a King. Who would've thought." It's hard, thinking about Hakim and Constantine now, remembering a time when the two were her and Joëlle's seniors, distant, mysterious, only visible through fleeting glimpses. And you would almost never catch a glimpse of those two apart. Every university event, every auto race, they seemed joined at the hip. Kontos would tell her later how his first month in university was also his loneliest, having been tutored all his childhood in private, and how much Hakim had cared for him, helping him with class notes and giving him company when other classmates were too intimidated to approach him.

The irony, Eleanor thinks as she runs a thumb over the rustic wooden surface of a kitchen counter, that two men so close together can look each other in the face and hardly recognize what they're seeing. For the millionth time, she wonders at the role his new friends...advisors - whatever they are, the lines are so blurred now - have to play in this, and at her own failure.

It hits her like a punch in the chest. Her guilt is suddenly so intense that Eleanor looks away, unable for a moment to face her own friend. Her mouth twists in a grimace and she presses her lips tight together, as if that attempt will stem the tears she knows are coming.

"Elle?" Joëlle says softly, "Are you crying?"

"No." Damn this voice, Eleanor thinks, hating how hard it's always been to hide the tremor in her tone.

Jo sighs. "Is this about Hakim and Kontos? Am I right in assuming you're beating yourself up over their friendship again? As if you don't have enough on your plate already?"

"I tried to talk to him before you three came here," she says, still unable to face Joëlle, "and I don't think it worked. I know it sounds like another excuse, but -"

"Excuse??" Joëlle whips around to face her, her face rife with confusion, "Ellie? Who told you that? Just where are you getting these ideas from?"

The tears now stream down her face in freeflow. "I'm trying. To help Kontos realize just how valuable Hakim is to him. To make him see what he'll lose if he gives up such a friend...such an ally...for two people who I know in my bones he can't trust. But I feel like I'm not trying hard enough."

It isn't just about saving a personal friendship they've seen from afar - both Eleanor and Joëlle know that. There is a vision of what this country can be - beyond the tribalism, beyond the suspicion and naked fear. They both know they want Cordonia that doesn't simply think about barely surviving from day to day, but feels safe enough to create. To share. To thrive. Hakim is the only Great House member far-sighted enough to understand that.

Joëlle covers Eleanor's hands in her own. "We know you've been trying, Elle. Doubting that is out of the question. I'm saying you shouldn't have to."

Eleanor looks up, incredulous, "You're... you're telling me to stop trying?"

Joëlle shakes her head, running a hand through Eleanor's hair before resting it on her right cheek. Her face is such a medley of conflicting emotions that Eleanor can't single out just one. "No, Elle. I'm saying stop holding yourself responsible for things you can't control."

She winces. "I don't understand."

"I knew you wouldn't. That's just how you are," Jo lets her hand fall, turning away, "You're trying. Hakim is trying. But ultimately the decision to honour that friendship...that lies with Kontos. And he is his own man. If he decides he doesn't want Hakim - he doesn't want us - then that's his decision, Elle." She turns around to Eleanor, worry for her old friend shining in her eyes. "I want you to be certain that when..."

Eleanor winces.

"...if nothing works out, you will know you gave this your all. And we both know you didn't need to. Neither Hakim nor I will love you any less."

Speechless, Eleanor can do nothing but hug Joëlle, sobbing weakly on her shoulder.

"Promise me," Joëlle whispers to her before they leave the kitchen, even though they're the only ones in the room, "Promise me that the compassion you show everyone else... you'll at least start showing a fraction of that to yourself."

Eleanor opens her mouth to argue this, then closes it. "I'll... I'll try."

Hakim comes out of his talk with Constantine, not too long after Joëlle and Kiara are done with their meal. Eleanor can tell, from the bleakness in his eyes and the strained lines around his mouth, that it didn't go well. Still, he doesn't hesitate to smile at her and Liam when he's about to leave, and she's comforted by the small gesture.

It's a comfort she doesn't yet believe she deserves...but it settles her heart a little, nonetheless.

She serves the rest of the tagine that night, beaming as Liam eats it with genuine enthusiasm, frowning at the thought of Leo (he's out late and avoiding his father...again), and looking back innocently when Kontos asks her, his face giving away nothing, whether this dish came straight from the Thorne house.

"Yes," Eleanor replies, "yes, it did."

A corner of his mouth goes up the tiniest bit. "I can tell," he replies, taking more bites and refusing to say any more, pointedly not seeing the small smile on his wife's face, "Good tagine. Good tagine."

--

Recipes:

Classic Moroccan Chicken with Preserved Lemons, Olives and Daghmira (Onion Sauce) from the Taste of Maroc blog.

Recipe for Meskouta from the book The World Cookbook: The Greatest Recipes from Around the World.

Translations:

French:

Chaussons aux pommes - French-style apple turnovers

Chéri/Chérie - Darling

Ma fée - My fairy

Merde - Shit

Mercredi - Wednesday. But in this context, Kiara is using it to cover up the above cuss word

Le Petit Prince - literally, the Little Prince, also a reference to a book of the same name.

Mon Dieu - My God

Darija/Arabic:

Djaj M'qualli bi Zeitoun - Usually used to refer to a chicken tagine with preserved lemons and olives, made in a traditional tagine clay pot. Djaj means chicken, m'qualli is a cooking technique that involves frying, and zeitoun means olives.

Meskouta - A traditional Moroccan cake, often served for teatime, featuring a range of ingredients. It's usually made in bundt shape. The popular ones used almonds or yoghurt in their base for the batter, and the most popular flavourings are lemon, orange/orange blossom, or vanilla.

Khobz - A type of bread

Daghmira - Sauce made of caramelized onions. In tagine it's used as a topping.

Jiddah - Grandmother. Kiara is using this to refer to her paternal grandmother, and Hakim's mother.

Reference hairstyle for kid!Kiara in this chapter:

--

[choicesfanaf]

Snapshots of Life

Late submission for Choices September Challenge Day 14: Polaroid

Pictures of Ethan and Arundhati taken over the years.

Tagging: @choicesseptemberchallenge2023, @midnightmelodiz

Perma: @jamespotterthefirst, @quixoticdreamer16

Ethan x Arundhati: @rookiemartin