The Corpse Apple: Royalty

Description: The cursed laces were undone, and she moved. The cursed hairpin was pulled, and she thought. The cursed apple had been dislodged, and she lived. But this time, the Queen ensured she wouldn't come back right. Slash, het, mpreg, OCs. Ensemble. Renard-centric.

Takes place after The Sandman. Some canon divergences from Face-Off. Placing the events of 2.12 Season of the Hexenbiest through 2.15 The Sandman in November 2012.

Warning: Trigger warning alert! This fic contains an assortment of triggery content here and there. Nothing explicit though. There are also original characters not from the show. Also included are slash and het couples. And Renard mpreg. (Yes, you read that right.)

A/N: I make no claims of ownership of Grimm and its respective characters. This is not meant to impede anyone on the show their jobs. This is me just thinking about the show. A lot. And playing with the Grimm "action figures" and wishful thinking of stuff I'd like to see in fic form. Please read Concerned Note on my profile or at the bottom of this chapter.

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~Prologue~

There was a tale from a time long forgotten, about when a prince and his entourage came across seven masons preparing the burial of a beautiful young lady in an exquisitely crafted glass coffin.

What tragedy had befallen that such a beauty should be embraced by the dirt so soon, the prince inquired.

Someone had wished their fine lady ill, replied the masons who had sheltered her while she lived. Once with laces, once with a hairpin, but now they were at loss to what caused their lady's state and they helplessly grieved. For seven days she laid pristine and unchanged in this magical death.

The prince, remembering the tale of a sleeping beauty whose curse of slumber was broken by a royalty's kiss, demanded the masons raise and unseal her coffin. With faint hope, the masons quickly re-hoisted her coffin, whispering apologies for jostling her rest. As the prince lifted her by the shoulders- before he laid his lips upon her's- she stirred and coughed and something tumbled out between her lips.

So this is the accursed object, the masons exclaimed as they studied the piece of apple, pocketing it away to be placed with the other two cursed items.

Rejoicing in his good fortune, the prince insisted for her hand in marriage.

So the masons bid her farewell, and she promised she would return.

When the Queen- the fairest in the land- saw the young lady once again at her wedding to the prince… her eyes that saw all glittered with knowledge and she smiled.

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Thirty-eight years ago, somewhere in Europe…

Fingers with unvarnished, well-manicured nails gently stroked the silky cheek of her sleeping baby. Standing over his cradle, she pondered what she could do with her child. Nearly an year since his birth and she finds that she's impressed at her baby's resilience. Born a month premature- even by a Hexenbiest's gestation rate- and in weak health, her tiny baby was determined to live. She approved of the healthier glow his complexion had become over the course of the months with her providing nothing more than normal human care. She truly didn't expect him to survive and dismissed her considerations to acquire the expensive and unusual ingredients needed to aid the infant's development; unwilling to risk raising suspicion about her Wesen nature and her situation.

It seemed none of that was necessary.

Still, her baby was too quiet. Bright, alert eyes, firm grip in both tiny hands, and quick reflexive responses. But she hasn't heard him cry yet. It might have given her cause to be concerned if she didn't find it very convenient. All in all, rearing her baby had been quite easy and unfussy. Though healthier her baby may appear, he was still not ideal. Not enough as befitting for a child with Royal blood running through his veins, not enough that questions of soundness of mind and body would arise, and not enough to be anything more useful than a blood source.

Though she's unsure how useful, or even reliable, her baby's blood would be considering his mix ancestry.

And quite an ancestry it is.

Who would have thought it possible for a Grimm and a Hexenbiest to conceive a child together? Her baby was born sickly, so she had speculated that it must have been the properties of the father's Royal blood that made the slimmest chance of conception possible. Otherwise, she would have lost her powers long ago when she first slept with Prince Francois Perrault. Royal blood was powerful. Maybe even more so than Grimm blood.

It had been a heart-stopping shock to discover the Grimm bloodline ran in the Royal Perrault Family. The fear that seized her when she realized how unwittingly she could have destroyed her Hexenbiest powers was enough for her to consider to simply flee the country. Or how it could have exposed her true nature to Francois. She's sure his infatuation over her wouldn't be enough motivation to protect her against the Families' censure or the Verrat. Or from Rebecca.

Pale burgundy glossed lips twisted in disdain at the thought of Francois's wife. Beautiful, socially adept, and a perfect presentation of a pet wife of a Royal. What a useless woman. Just another pretty face. Keeping up appearances of an acceptable trophy wife and a vessel for Francois's seed. Francois could have done so much better. Unfortunately for her, Francois was unlikely to abandon Rebecca- having given him a strong son who, at six year old, was so much like his father. The resemblance between Francois and little Eric was uncanny. For now, she and her baby couldn't compete with Rebecca and Eric.

Sniffing and casting the thoughts of Rebecca out of her head, she looked down at her baby. Curiously, she calculated the odds of her baby capable of expressing Hexenbiest ancestry. Or the even rarer chance that her baby had enough power to express mixed ancestry- weakly born as he may be. Wesens either had enough magic to express a heritage or they didn't. Expressing mix ancestry required so much more power. Hybridity were few and far between. But if her baby could be a Zauberbiest immune to the nullifying affects that Grimm blood had on her kind, he would be a force to reckon with if he became a Reaper. And as long as the Verrat didn't kill him or sterilize him first, her baby could pass his Grimm immunity to his offsprings. He could be the progenitor of another Royal Family with a new breed of her kind and displace the value of Grimms.

She sneered at the possibility that all seven of the Royal Families could share the Grimm bloodline.

More worrisome- if all seven Royal Families had been completely overtaken by Grimms. The thought of all the Royal lineages destroyed and surviving only through Grimms disgusted her. The self-righteous blood-thirsty creatures. They should be purged from the world. Were it actually possible, she would bleed the Grimm bloodline from her baby if it wasn't going to be useful.

As if sensing her ill mood, her baby stirred and murmured a small coo. Green eyes blinked sleepily back at her, tiny feet gently kicking against his soft blanket, one fist reaching out, opening and clutching at the air.

What possibilities her baby will provide her, fingers slowly tapping thoughtfully on the cradle's wooden rim before leaning over to run her hand over his skull, brushing back silky strands of dark hair.

She thinks it's about time to give him a name; now that she's sure her baby will survive to be her son.

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~Chapter One~

Present time…

Sergeant Louis 'Lou' Wu sighed heavily as he set the phone down. A call from the county sheriff on site of a murder scene. A man was found dead out in their jurisdiction and the sheriff called the precinct once the victim was identified.

George Singer, retired sergeant of the 3rd Precinct. One of their own.

Wu remembered him. George was a great cop and they had been all sorry to see him go. He and Lieutenant Franco- then Sergeant- threw him a low-key goodbye party when George quietly resigned five years ago at thirty-six. Had seen enough, he said.

Now George was found drowned. In his shower, with the door's metal rims welded shut and sealed with grafted acrylic. Bound and weighted down.

It hits hard when the victim is a fellow cop. And a lot harder when it's someone you know.

He turns his head to look at the Captain's office where Hank and Nick were briefing the closing details of their latest case with Renard. An open and shut case judging by their body languages. Nothing unusual.

Not about the case anyways.

Wu studied his closest colleagues. Two of them who he wished he could call friends instead of only good co-workers. He can tell something has changed the trust between the three of them. Hank and Nick shielded themselves from the Captain with a veneer of wariness whenever any of the three were alone together away from the rest of the officers. Renard has been even more distant than usual, handling himself carefully especially towards Nick. In some bizarre personality chiaroscuro, the Captain's congeniality only made his remoteness even more apparent in Wu's eyes. If Wu hadn't known Renard for so long, he would have missed that behavioral change in his once-upon-a-time partner.

He wondered what secrets has been exposed. He knows that Nick had been keeping something from Hank. And Hank was no fool, he knew his partner was hiding something from him. Something he thought he should know about. Whatever it was, Nick came clean and it didn't hurt their partnership or their friendship. If anything, it seemed to have brought the two closer together. They were working better than before.

And whatever it was, Wu didn't think it was anything he had to worry about. They were good men, and he hasn't seen anything that proved him wrong.

Wu could tell.

He's been in that situation years ago when he and Renard were partners.

Watching Hank and Nick sometimes made him nostalgic and regretful. Once, that could have- should have- been himself and Renard. If there was one thing he regretted about helping bury Renard's past, it was that it ate away their friendship and hollowed out their partnership until they became nothing more than co-workers who worked well together. Sean Renard was proud and he couldn't accept his partner's pity or the clumsy overtures of help; the awkward gulf that had been ever-present at the time drove them apart, the distance never mended as Renard rose quickly through the ranks.

Lately, what he did- didn't do- has been weighing on him. He didn't regret his part in the cover-up, but he wonders what he could have done differently afterwards. He had always known he might have made a mistake; so he stayed, refusing promotions and transfers to keep an eye on Renard. Deflecting inquiries with the explanation that he liked working under Renard's command and didn't want to take a chance with a new boss.

Which was true. Renard was a good captain. Efficiently ran the precinct, handled the media well, and capable of smoothly handling bureaucracy to the letter while flaunting the spirit so his officers could do their jobs. Something the seasoned people of the precinct appreciated. Even if there were questions about what a wealthy man was doing in the high stress and high risk profession of a police captain. Not an uncommon topic among the conspiracy theorists around the back water cooler (incidentally, out of the Captain's usual passing routes) and an envious pill of resentment among the more… entitled officers. It was one of the few known pieces of the mystery that was their reserved Captain. One that usually caused rookies and transfers to assume the Captain bought his position. The precinct were used to seeing the Captain nip insubordination in the bud, or the posturing with other department heads. They knew it rankled the Captain when officers made his fortune an issue. Wu knew it was why Renard dyed his hair gray, even though he was only an year older than him. Their precinct had seen some officers come and gone because of how it compromised their jobs, and worse- flagged the attention of Internal Affairs.

Fortunately, suspicions if Renard was on the take or any illegal dealings couldn't be substantiated. Officially, he inherited his mother's wealth, sold most of the overseas assets, and built on it by being uncanny good at reading the stock market.

All the above were true… of sorts. Well, except the one about the stocks. That was completely true. The Chief of Police, a former captain of the 3rd Precinct himself, loved Renard's ability to balance their precinct's budget- as long as he wasn't gunning for his job, of course. Having the Chief of Police vouching for Renard made IA back off, though not forgotten.

Wu knows how Renard acquired his fortune. Actually, for accuracy's sake? He knows where the money Renard inherited from his mother came from. After all, he was the one who helped Renard erase the financial details when he discovered why his partner had tampered with evidence on that joint case with the FBI. He wished he didn't because ignorance was bliss. But he's a cop, he doesn't deny how bad things can get. He's not surprised that planned pregnancies aren't always a case of misguided romanticism. So as far as he was concerned- it was rightfully Sean's.

It was surreal sometimes to remember that he's helping hide the fact that the Captain is an illegitimate prince. And that he's protecting him from God Knows Who which family because he doesn't know and Renard wasn't telling.

His own personal- unsanctioned- witness protection program.

Wu casted another considering look over the Captain through his office windows, the binds drawn up for once. It's just as well he had stayed. Renard was under pressure this past year and Wu didn't think it had all to do with the weird cases they had been getting. Or the weirdness that seemed to surround them in general. Having seen them before, Wu recognized the signs of Renard being shifty, knew his tics to keep up appearances, and knew when he's breaking a pattern of behavior. Even if he didn't, getting backlogged with more work than usual because he was waiting on the Captain to finish his end of the paperwork- and then shockingly, have to pick up the Captain's slack!- was a clear indication as any that something was up.

It was surprisingly irritating and he had been ready to confront the Captain when things went back to Status- Mostly Normal.

Still, he's been wondering what he doesn't know. He's beyond reasonable doubt that he doesn't have the whole story. Doesn't want to know. Not until he has to.

But it seemed that time was looming near; he and Sean were going to have a sit down and Talk.

Straightening up, he makes his way to the Captain's office. Some things he wished could be just let lie and buried. Oh, but if wishes were as easy as finding dimes. Can't worry about that now; it was time to interrupt the trio with bad news.

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Notes: This is actually a hodge-podge of prompts/requests that I couldn't finish and I'm mushing them together into coherence. And I'm also pulling together into some semblance of a whole the lot of speculations and conversations I had with friends on the answers to questions that Grimm don't seem to want to give us. The show is littered with hints and subtext but they give us nothing! (Update: This is no longer true. Story has changed since then.)

Finally, I'm trying to divert Renard's trajectory on the Path of Doom he seems to be on.

… and I really want Renard mpreg.

(Btw. Posting fic here now because I needed to edit and the character limit made me feel like I was spamming the comm.)

Wu knows a little bit of a something about Renard that Nick & Hank don't! Just a little bit of a larger, complicated puzzle.

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Concerned Note about The Corpse Apple: There were some coincidences between my fic and Grimm. No biggie. But I think now the show might be giving me shout-outs or pulling things from my fics. I keep being told I'm imagining things and should just ignore it. I'm not too certain what's going on since I only know the general gist of what's happening on the show. Because I stopped watching seasons ago and only check in now and then to see what's up.

So just in case, let me make clear (and if anyone's stirring trouble, or attacking the cast/crew), I don't mind Grimm has grazed around the fanfiction I've written on it. If the show gets uncanceled, I don't mind that it keeps grazing. Being inspired, liking a character concept or plot line- it's fine. As long as they're doing their own labor of creation, building their own characters, and not plagiarizing my words. (This is not extended to other shows. They have their own fandom wealth and can work with their own fans.) Like I've written before, "This is not meant to impede anyone on the show their jobs. Am just playing with the characters like action figures and making Grimm work out for me."

Also, because I feel like it has to be said: If Grimm did use my fics, I do not expect Grimm to cater to me. Nor do I expect anything from the actors. That would be extortive.

Also, because I feel like it has to be said, part two: I like playing with Renard and I'm not coming from a direction of hate. I'm not bashing. I lean towards the darker aspects and is usually what I play with first before I move on. I just simply haven't gotten around to other ends of drama and angst, or the cute stuff yet.

02/08/07

02/09/17- Updated to clear some things up.

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