Title: The F****** Fours
Disclaimer: I don't own The Royals, I'm only borrowing!
Rating: M for language (for now!) The rating on the site is T only to make it show up in the bloody search!
Author's Note: I have got no clue what the hell this is. I think it's where I intend to end up once I've figured out what in the hell I would like to see happen between Jasper and Eleanor.
Please be kind in the reviews, it's been years since I've written any proper attempt at fanfic. Constructive criticism is of course welcomed. Other than that, I do hope you enjoy. Happy to answer any questions you might have.
You will note that I've referred to a couple of pieces from the Crown Jewels. If you're interested you can google them.
Ave x
The call from the palace comes shortly before 11am. They are on a flight half an hour later and pull into the Palace grounds shortly before 1pm.
"Seriously, what the fuck Eleanor?"
"What to do you mean, what the fuck?" she mimics, "Why is this my fault all of a sudden?"
"Oh I don't fucking know, maybe because the pyromaniac genes come from your side of the family, not mine."
"Well Jasper, if we're going to start throwing insults, let's not ignore the fact nobody seems to know much of anything about your side of the family now, do we? Maybe your great great Grandmother started the San Francisco fire of 1906! But I'll tell you what I do know shall I? I bloody well know that the sticky fingers come from you, asshole."
Jasper grips the steering wheel tightly as he screeches to a halt outside the Palace entrance, earning a particularly displeased scowl from the woman sitting next to him.
"The San Francisco fire happened after an earthquake, so unless my ability to make the earth move for you is genetic baby, I'll just go ahead and call bullshit. And you really gotta get over that sticky fingers business, it was over 5 years ago..."
He trails off in an effort to chase after Eleanor who's exited the Range Rover and is a good five steps ahead of him by this point. They enter the palace and continue into the Green Writing Room, only to find a row of footmen blocking the entrance. Jasper finally pulls up just behind Eleanor as the household staff bow and part like the Red Sea, drawing their attention to the opposite end of the room.
"...Besides..." he continues, staring at the reason for their hasty return to London
"...double trouble is definitely a problem that comes from your side of the family."
"Jasper, if you wish to remain in the title of Grand Old bloody Duke of York and continue to enjoy the privileges it bestows upon you within the privacy of the Royal bedroom, you would do well at this point to simply shut the fuck up and help me deal with our demented offspring."
The last part comes out as more of a hiss that he inwardly tenses at. Outwardly, he grumbles slightly and moves past her towards their little monsters.
"And be strong," she adds as somewhat of a caring afterthought, "they can smell fear, you know."
Jasper turns back, and fires an awkward yet distinctly annoyed look in Eleanor's direction before turning back to the problem at hand.
"Right, you two!" he bellows and the giggling mess of hair and crumpled clothing turns to the source of the noise.
"Daddy! You came back!"
Every now and then, when they both look towards him at the same time and utter the exact same phrase, he gets a chill down his spine and an image of Jack Nicholson fleetingly presents itself in his head. But then they both start grinning like the sweetest little angels and he struggles to remember why the hell he is so goddamned pissed off with his children's disobedient behaviour.
They make a beeline towards him from the opposite end of the room and he gets halfway down to removing the hysterically laughing children from grabbing his legs when he smells the distinct aroma of burnt hair.
He notices a large chunk of Charlotte's blond curls that was missing.
They didn't mention this fact on the urgent phone call this morning to Eleanor, no doubt figuring the message about a minor fire at the palace being sufficient enough to secure the return of the Princess.
In an effort to maintain his composure, instead of losing his shit altogether, he straightens up and opts to simply shake the twins off his leg in the direction of their mother. Thomas takes the hint and goes straight towards Eleanor, but Charlotte holds on to her father for dear life.
"Look Mummy, I found something pretty for you!" Thomas proudly declares before pulling out a brooch from the pocket of his trousers. The brooch looks distinctly like Queen Victoria's Bows, much to the horror of Eleanor who quickly grabs it and fires a rather frosty I told you so look in the direction of the child's father.
"Thomas! This does not belong to you, it belongs to the people of Great Britain - you cannot simply go around taking things that you want."
The boy looks a bit sheepish, but certainly not contrite.
"Well, I guess I should probably give these back too then," he mutters like it is a complete disappointment to him that his mother is anything less than bowled over at his efforts to give her something sparkly. He puts his hands into his pockets and pulls out another brooch (the Canadian Maple Leaf this time) and a pair of drop diamond earrings that she knows belong to her mother.
"See Tommy," Charlotte pipes up, who by this point has managed to climb her way into her father's arms and effectively attached herself to his neck, "I told you that it was a bad idea to take the diamonds, you should have taken the pearl necklaces instead, Daddy said Mummy likes those."
Eleanor hears the distinct sound of at least two footmen trying to hide their immature laughter with a poorly concealed cough. She glares at them instead of firing yet another icy glare towards Jasper for his irresponsible language around tiny ears. Bloody pearl necklaces, she only let him do that to her once.
"No Charlotte, your brother should not take anything that does not belong to him. If he wishes to have something he must always ask. Isn't that right, Jasper?"
He sighs and doesn't bother to turn around, to acknowledge the new voice that had entered the room. He knows that etiquette dictates something about never having his back turned to the Queen, even if she is only the dowager. That being said, he has already ploughed his field this morning and there were no more fucks to give.
"Indeed, your Majesty..." is almost as much as he can muster, but continues regardless in an effort to take the heat off his sticky fingered son, "...however I'm much more interested at this point, as to why my daughter is missing the hair from nearly the entire left side of her head."
"She's what?!" Eleanor screeches, as Charlotte turns around in her father's arms, beaming with a smile going from ear to ear, to proudly lift the top section of her hair and display her newly shorn hairdo.
"Look Mummy, Uncle Robbie said I look just like Miley Cyrus now. He used his hair trimmers to get rid of the burnt hair after I used Grandma's hair curly thing."
Eleanor is seething at this point and Jasper simply keeps stroking his daughter's head in marginal despair at the entire clusterfuck.
"Would somebody please tell me what the bloody hell happened! Is it too much to ask that I have one child-free weekend without all hell breaking loose? You were supposed to be watching them mother, you above everyone else should know how to take care of twins!"
Helena, who at least has the good grace to look mildly penitent, ushers them to sit down. Jasper and Eleanor reluctantly do so, allowing their son and daughter to return to their colouring in books that had been somewhat occupying them prior to their parents' arrival.
"I may have given birth to twins Eleanor, but you and I both know that I was not the most hands on of mothers."
"You can say that again…" Eleanor mutters, turning her head to make sure the twins were not causing any more destruction in their wake.
"Well, aside from burning a hole in my beautiful Afghan rug by leaving my hair tongs lying on the floor in my closet, the resulting fire nearly ruined my entire Tom Ford collection. Thankfully Rachel is just as useful with a fire extinguisher as she is with a whip."
Helena can see the anger building in her daughter's face. Jasper's face remains impassive as ever, but his eyes indicate exactly how annoyed he is so she cuts to the chase.
"They slept in my room last night and when they woke up at the crack of dawn, Charlotte wanted curls like her Mother, or maybe it was Thomas wanting to pretend to be Vidal bloody Sasoon, I don't know, but her hair was burned until it was black and frizzy. I was woken up by Thomas squealing like a banshee when the rug caught fire. We really had no other choice but to cut Charlotte's hair. The stubborn little thing, whom might I add takes after her mother, refused to let me have my stylist fix it, so your brother offered to help. And as for your little jewel thief over there, he had open access to my jewellery box in the closet. I presume genetics did the rest."
Jasper growls and bites his lip before he says anything he will regret, whilst Eleanor simply looks perplexed.
"Apart from the complete lack of child proofing or common sense which could have prevented any of this, can I just remind you, Mother, that you never once let Liam nor I sleep in your room when we were their age."
"Oh Eleanor don't pout, it's completely unbecoming."
Charlotte sniggers in the background and pinches her brother, "see, I told you not to pull a pouty face in the selfie with Uncle Robbie this morning. Daddy, Uncle Robbie took our picture when he was cutting my hair."
"Did he now?" he replies, trying to seem like he is interested in how Eleanor's beloved brother had butchered the beautiful blond hair of his baby girl. Jasper pinches the bridge of his nose and mumbles to Eleanor, "please can we just take the kids and go. I'll schedule an appointment to come back and punch the King another time."
Eleanor eventually agrees with a final, scornful look towards her Mother.
"Fine, let's just go home."
Jasper approaches one of the footman who is holding out both Prince Thomas and Princess Charlotte's coats. He takes the garments and beckons both of his children to him and proceeded to dress them. He decides to put Thomas' coat on his daughter as, in the absence of a hat, it at least had a hood. Thomas squeals and tries to run towards his Mother, fearing the very pink looking parka that was heading in his direction. Jasper, however, lunges and manages to pull his son back towards him just in time.
"Hold it there, buddy. You and I are going to have a little chat when we get home about testing the limits of your diplomatic immunity, but in the meantime, if you're going to act like the Pink Panther, you can damn well look like one."
"Jasper, the bloody paps will be outside, we can't take them out there dressed like that!"
"Untwist your knickers Princess, they're twins and with our daughter's current hair do, I'd be highly impressed if the papers could actually tell them apart."
Out of the corner of his eye, Jasper spots a movement behind one of the doors in the room and although he can't see the person, he damn well knows who it is. As he ushers both of his kids towards the exit and their car, he pauses and calls back into the room.
"I'll just take this time to remind you, your Majesty, that you just gave an under-cut to the child who is fourth in line to the Throne of Great Britain. I'll be seeing you later."
And with that the Henstridge-Frost's leave in a whirlwind of activity, both twins waving enthusiastically over the shoulders of their respective parents to their Grandmother and the rest of the household staff who line the exit.
As she buckles her children into the car and settles into the passenger seat herself, Eleanor debates whether or not to actually tell her Husband the news she had wanted to share with him on their supposed dirty weekend away to Paris which had, frustratingly, been cancelled short.
She watches as Jasper buckles himself into the driver seat and with one final look in the rear view mirror to check that both his children are strapped in and not in fact hanging out of the windows, he puts the car into gear and leaves to make their way across London to Kensington. Jasper turns towards her as they exit the Palace grounds and she meets his glare.
"I wasn't kidding, I'm going to punch the shitting King of England for cutting my baby girl's hair."
It is at this point that Eleanor decides it is perhaps not the best time to tell her husband about baby number three, due in just over seven months. The terrible twos with the twins had been awful, the fucking fours as they have taken to calling it, are mildly soul-destroying. Adding another screaming child into the mix is probably going to require dropping that bomb when her Husband is both three sheets to the wind and pinned between her legs.
Sadly, it probably isn't news she can keep to herself until Charlotte's hair fully regrows.