Originally one chapter, but after re-reading and "editing" decided to split it into two. Expect the next chapter tonight.

Loved Sebastian, loved Robert, loved Willow and Robert – oh Lord have mercy on my poor soul. Loved the ending, Helena & Jack, Spencer & Helena, Liam & Robert, Robert & Kathryn, Liam & Cyrus, Say something & Who this? – which in my mind is the only adequate reply to Eleanor's text. And don't even get me started on Sebas. I almost began rooting for Eleanor to start dating him.

Really curious about Robert and Willow, though. Maybe now that Robbie has taken an "interest" Liam will recognize how awesome she is.

"I know you're going to keep getting back up because that's what you do, but I will keep putting you back down, and I don't want to do that." YESSS! Nearly fell in love with Robert when he said that. Favourite moment of the whole episode. Or maybe when Cyrus spoke to Liam in the hall. "I've lived in the shadow of a hero older brother for long enough to know the feeling that comes from that look. It never goes away."

I guess the entire ending was simply my favourite part of the episode. And I finally figured out that Willow is Pansy Parkinson.

Alright, enough gushing. More nonsense up ahead. By the way, does anyone know how to summarize all of this? I cannot figure out a fitting summary.

ACT I

Ahasuerus

Part IV.

James 4:11

It was a riot. A bloody riot.

BBC News had scheduled an extra broadcast at midnight, #queenofsurrey was trending and the Queen Mother had nearly fainted when E4 replayed the footage of the kiss again. They apparently were showing it on infinite loop. Rachel, Willow and Poppy were working overtime and Robert presumed they were trying their best, but for fuck's sake, it was a bloody riot.

'You've done it now, dear brother.' Liam sat across from him, enjoying all of this far too much, while Eleanor had yet to close her mouth. She had been going on and on and on about what an idiot he was ever since they had returned to the Palace. How he was worse than her and oh, that poor Surrey girl. Not even Jasper retiring to their bedroom with – what Robert suspected had been – a suggestive look had managed to get her out of his hair. It hadn't shut her up either.

If I kill her, I don't even have to remove her from my will.

It was an appealing probability.

Worst – and he never in a million years had thought he would ever admit to that – was that Poppy wasn't speaking to him. He should've preferred the silence, especially after her ominous we'll talk later, but he strangely found it entirely too unnerving and bloody hell, woman.

Just talk to me.

The night passed slowly and one by one they all disappeared into their respective bedrooms. First was Willow, who was off the clock but had graciously offered to help and now looked like she was about to keel over any moment. Soon after the Queen Mother and Liam followed and when eventually Robert went to bed, a little after two, Rachel and Poppy were still holed up in the library and Eleanor had yet to cease her bitching.

He had never in his wildest dreams imagined a simple kiss would elicit such hysteria. But he was a King, already two years past being just a Prince. It was foolish of him not to expect such backlash. To not consider such backlash.

They stayed in the Palace the next day, the remaining counties and the Royal family. Helena had ordered all the tellies to be switched off. Instead of watching Robert's face on the news, they went for a ride through the gardens, enjoyed a nice brunch on the terrace and were all drunk well before noon.

A bloody splendid day.

Like children secretly misbehaving they had, giggling uncontrollably, smoked a joint on Eleanor's balcony - several in fact - and he had gotten to know the counties a bit better. Surrey wasn't there - a small mercy - but he discovered Kent was just as crazy about horses as he was and Merseyside had attended the same university as he had, albeit one year behind. Sometime after dusk Jasper had connected to a livestream on his phone and they had all been relieved to find that no one was talking about engagement or marriage anymore. They had a smoked another joint and had sipped wine, until Jasper had kicked them out. When he had finally reached his bed, Robert had been thoroughly satisfied.

Until she barged into his room the next morning, two days after the ill-timed kiss, her hair tied back in a tight bun, mouth a tight line and her five inch heels tapping impatiently against his hardwood floors. He instantly regretted ever wishing she'd talk to him again.

The Devil wears Prada.

'Up. Now.' Her hands were on her hips and clearly she still wasn't too pleased with him. Upon closer inspection he saw dark circles underneath her eyes. She probably hadn't slept well. Served her right.

He threw back the covers and she narrowed her eyes at him. 'Put some clothes on.' Right. Might be handy. He had intended to amaze her with the sight of his half-naked body – or at least take some of the edge off – but her eyes weren't even straying. Not that he cared much for what fiendish ogres thought of his perfectly sculpted torso.

'I'm good.' He walked past her into his bathroom, where he splashed some water onto his face. After two days he could only imagine what frustrations she had pent up in that tiny body of hers. He looked forward to it. Grinned at his own reflection. she was sitting on the edge of his bed when he returned, her legs crossed, looking entirely too prim and proper to actually be Poppy.

'What do you want?'

'What do I want?' She scoffed. 'Sit down.' He felt like a child being chastised and jesus.

I love it.

He sat down on the floor in front of her. Gave her his most innocent look

'Do you know that they were already interviewing designers,' she started, 'about what Surrey should wear on your wedding day.'

He didn't know who they were, but judging by the look on Poppy's face that was the least of his concerns.

'On TLC they celebrated your impending engagement by staging their own mock wedding. Peter Hunt revealed on BBC's Royal Kiss Broadcast that apparently you and Surrey – whose name in case you were wondering is Isabel More-Molyneux – have known each other since you were children and there had always been a certain sort of tension there. Cumbria spent all of last night and the night before in tears - especially after that joint you all smoked- and was completely dependent on your bodyguard to console her - so you don't have to worry about her snatching your crown, because she's already snatching at entirely different things -, which of course did not sit well with your little sister and now my best mate is bunking with Liam.'

Good news about Jasper, then. The rest, could've been better. A mock wedding sounded interesting, though. Who would they have had playing him? He hoped Benedict Cumberbatch.

I love Benedict Cumberbatch.

The man was almost as deviously handsome as him.

'Many of the Kingdom's aristocrats have already extended their congratulations, most privately, though unfortunately some publicly. Your uncle Cyrus, the bloody oaf, gave a speech at the palace gates, claiming how happy he was you found love. Mr. Hill had to physically subdue him.'

Robert snorted; Poppy arched an eyebrow at him. 'You find this funny?'

He hastily shook his head. 'But even you have to admit, it's a bit much, isn't it?'

She pursed her lips at him and rolled her eyes.

'I mean, it was just a kiss.' And it had been just a kiss.

'Yeah. You're the King of England. Don't be a fool. You know it wasn't.'

Nobody likes you, demon. Nobody. He glared at her for stating the obvious.

He sighed. 'I was excited, okay. I always get excited at the races. It wasn't my smartest move, but it meant nothing to me and it should mean nothing to the nation too.'

The ferociousness in her eyes softened. Marginally.

'Everything you do will mean something to your people. You're their King. They love you and they want the best for you. Unfortunately for you this also means that they will want to control you. You've known this since you were young. What makes you think it would've changed now?'

I didn't think. That's the fucking problem.

She smiled then, a big, wide one and he was reminded of the garden party, when she had flashed him a similar one. Only then she had fucked up and he had been scolding her. 'You're such a baby.'

She nudged him with the toe of her pumps. He slapped her foot away.

'Behave.'

'And you're telling me?' She laughed. 'Should've taken your own advice two days ago.'

His shoulders slumped. She hadn't told him anything yet. Was he engaged without being aware? Would he from now on be sharing his rooms with Surrey? Where in the bloody hell was Surrey?

'In case you were wondering, by the way. Surrey is back at her family's estate in, well, Surrey.' It was as if she could read minds. 'Your mother paid her a hefty sum and Rachel and I had her sign a non-disclosure agreement before she left. She took it all rather well, might I add, but of course she knows much better than I how these Royal machinations work, being born an aristocrat and all that.'

She was bloody scary sometimes and moments like these only cemented his belief she came crawling from the pits of hell to make his life miserable and wait, what?

'Hefty sum? Non-disclosure agreement?'

'Rachel, Willow and I fixed it.' Smug was an understatement. She pointed at the bags under her eyes. 'You see these? This is what it cost me to ward off your looming engagement. My beauty.'

He snorted. 'You weren't much to look at to begin with.'

The look on her face clearly told him she disagreed. She rested her elbows on her left knee, propped herself up. Her blouse was low-cut and from where he sat on the floor he had a good view of her cleavage. Especially from where he sat.

'Before you get all high and mighty, Rachel and I had a chat with Surrey and she agreed to all of it. Hence her signing the agreement.'

Threatened her to, more likely.

'You see,' Poppy continued. 'To remove the ridiculous notion of a Royal marriage from people's minds, we first had to remove the bride from the stage.'

'You killed her?' It came out before he could stop himself and even he had to laugh. Poppy had no right to, though, and he scowled at her.

'You're not allowed to laugh at my jokes, commoner.' She rolled her eyes at him.

'We couldn't discredit you, being the King and all,' she said. 'So we needed to discredit her.'

And this he was familiar with. The ancient art of unearthing scandalous facts about individuals and using it against them.

Gods, how I love it.

But Surrey hadn't exactly done anything wrong - I kissed her. She could've pushed him away, but what woman sane of mind would ever do that? He was a damned excellent kisser. She didn't deserve to be publicly shamed.

'I'm not completely comfortable with that,' he said.

'Save me the bollocks, Your Highness. Had she been Jasper you'd be happy to oblige.' She poked him in the chest. 'Better yet, I remember a certain reporter, journalist, harpy, who you, with pleasure, provided dirt on Jasper. Dirt which you, by the way, paid a private detective to dig up. So don't tell me you're not comfortable with this.'

'Point taken.' Robert smirked and held up his hands in defeat. 'But in my defence, back then I still abhorred the lad. Surrey, however, I actually like.'

She smoothly moved closer. 'Hated Jasper as much as you abhor me?'

He curled his lip, looked at her disdainfully. His eyes lingered on her breasts. 'Absolutely not. I have a special sort of distaste for you.'

Dear old pestilential Calliope.

She smirked. 'Good. Also, it's already done, so whether you're comfortable or not, doesn't really matter. I told, she signed the non-disclosure agreement. By now everybody knows of sweet Isabel's promiscuous past. Her texts to her cousins, how she was so glad to see you again and perhaps steal a kiss and a crown from you. We might've hinted at a short-lived affair with Beck, too, and there's some pictures going around of her and your Uncle Cyrus.'

He frowned. 'Cyrus? Really? Was that truly necessary?'

Poppy sighed. 'Rachel thought it was and she made a bloody convincing argument as well. But it doesn't matter what was necessary or not, Robert. It all fits the angle we're rolling with. That this was just a heat of the moment kiss between two friends who've known each other since forever and have no romantic feelings for each other whatsoever. And perhaps she instigated it, perhaps she had ulterior motives. Maybe she wanted you, maybe she wanted the crown. Fact remains she dated wealthy guys before, had a thing with your best mate Beck - so there's bro code involved as well - and her friendship with Cyrus - because that's what her people are rolling with - is at the least suspicious. Not the kind of girl the people of England want as your wife. Not the kind of woman the PM and all the other bobo's want as their Queen. Crisis averted.'

And a life ruined to essentially spare mine.

God bless the King, he thought wryly.

It had just been a bleeding kiss.

'How much of this story was fabricated?' He questioned.

'Obviously you didn't know her before the Ascot,' she answered, 'but Peter Hunt provided us with a valid backstory, so we'd been stupid not to use it.

'And then there's that text and the pictures. I - well.' She looked down at her hands. 'I made everything up. But I had to do it. Had I not, the media would have painted you as a rake. The skirt-chasing King who thinks to fool his people by claiming to search for a wife the Biblical way, while doing all that God has forbidden before marriage. It's a mess, I admit. Your people are labelling her an attention whore, a common slut, and the media suggest she's a gold-digger. All very nasty. But at least they're turning against her and not against you.

'The people believe it. The media is buying it. Your mother was fuming and threatened with banishment from the Kingdom, so I try to consider it a job well done.'

He stared at her, disappointed, feeling guilty. But not really. Most of all he felt like he needed to tell her it was okay. That she had done well. That he was grateful.

Necessary sacrifices.

He'd fucked up and other people paid the price for it. He'd given up enough of his own existence to demand such offers. He would apologize to Surrey, though. Perhaps pose together at the Royal Ascot later to show the public there was no grudge held between them. Hopefully the public was less prone to condemn her then.

Not often he felt the weight of his crown so heavily on his shoulders. It was fine if things concerned him. But this was just a girl, that he had bloody kissed, and for that she was dragged through the mud. To save his ass. To ensure he didn't have to marry her.

'Can we go to your place tomorrow?' He hated how small his voice sounded. 'Drink your disgusting whiskey and go dancing at some grubby bar where Jasper pays off the bouncer so no one will ever know we're there.'

It had been the last night he could've been him. Just Robert. Not the Prince of Wales and certainly not the King of England. Not even bloody royalty. Six days later he had been coronated.

She laughed, remembering their impromptu night out. 'Yeah. That was a good one.'

She leaned forward, cupped his cheek in her hand and brushed her thumb reassuringly over his cheekbones. 'You're always welcome in my home, Robert. Always. And whenever you want to go out, we'll go out. I promise.'

'No stripping, though.' He narrowed his eyes at her. 'You're already an eyesore, let alone without clothes.'

She kicked him with her heels and he fell back. His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the ankle, resisting the urge to pull her straight from his bed.

Fanatic Archfiend, I curse thee.

He controlled himself and pressed together his lips disapprovingly. 'Physically assaulting a King, according to the Treason Act of 1842, is still punishable by death.' He moved closer to her, baring his teeth in a smirk. 'I'd say, try me.'

She pushed herself off his bed, in the same movement pulled him up from the floor.

'Sod off.

'And Robert, if you ever again get lost in lustful emotions, you just kiss me, okay. Nobody'll expect you to marry your GCHQ liaison.'

He slung an arm around her shoulders, ruffled her hair with his other hand.

'Yeah, no,' he said seriously. 'I'd rather kiss Jasper.'

She feigned hurt and pinched his side. 'Someday, I'll make you regret those words.'

I doubt that.

He pushed her towards the doors, but she used the motion to turn around. She stopped him, placed her hands flat on his chest as she looked at him.

'I know this sucks right now, but I meant what I said, Robert. You're a good man and a good King. And at the end of this train wreck, everyone will be satisfied and you will still be as pathetically single as ever. I mean it, Robert. I take this very serious.'

She cupped his cheek with her right hand and he almost forgot how to breathe. Rubbed her thumb over his slight stubble. He was dimly aware he must've looked like a gawking fish, looking at her open-mouthed. His throat was dry.

Why do you keep doing this to me, el Diablo.

He was cursed.

He stepped away from her and immediately it became easier to breathe. He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. Attempted a smirk and - thank god - it worked.

'Time to go. I need to get dressed. The Coronation Stakes is today and I must look my finest. Apparently I'm back on the market.'

From the way her hands clenched into fists, he knew she wanted to strangle him.

Likewise, you high-heeled hoodlum. Likewise.