Chapter 8 is the real new chapter. If you haven't read it yet, I guess this is the time. When I uploaded this chapter the first time. I said something was missing, and apparently the new chapter 8 was it.

Still in a high thanks to the finale. I loved it. Might need to watch it a third time. Max is an incredible actor. His facial expressions throughout the episode are already giving hints towards the last 10 minutes of the episodes and it's just amazing. Also, very well-written. I've always loved Robert and even though his evil, scheming ways are now exposed, I love him even more. The way this season and especially this episode and his character were written just makes me symphatize. Liam, on the other hand, not so much. Even though he turns out to be right, this season really, really made me dislike him. In all honesty, never truly liked him, so I'm begging you: please do not put him on the throne. The Kingdom will BURN.

Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing. I appreciate every single one of you.

ACT II

Lawlessness.

Part III.

Exodus 15:8

He thought he was going insane. Except he wasn't and she was actively ignoring him and all he wanted to do was slam his fist into a wall and shout bloody murder.

He couldn't stop thinking about her, about them. And his bloody dick fucking twitched every time he thought about it.

Not even Rachel's dull whining and the PM's unforgiving barrage of democratic bullshit were enough to prevent that.

The force with which he hit the wooden desk, had the Queen Mother raise an eyebrow. He ignored her. Couldn't actually give a flying fuck. Let Rachel prattle on and let the PM give him her daily dose of complaining. He wasn't interested either way.

He had seen Poppy about in the Palace – the first time a couple of days ago. She smiled at him and he had wanted to go to her, but Spencer had been talking, Willow hovering as well, and by the time he remembered her being there, she had already left. His mother was keeping her busy – she claimed she needed his GCHQ-liaison to perfect the list, because according to his mother the abominable thing wasn't finished yet and needed more requirements and stipulations and what not - so when he didn't see her the next two days, he had thought nothing of it.

But when his casual "Good afternoon" – smooth, Robert, very smooth – had remained unanswered despite that he knew for a fact she had seen it – because, well, read receipts – he also knew she was bloody ignoring him.

That presumptuous bint.

The second time he saw her in the palace she called his name and he purposefully turned around and walked the other way. Because hey, two could play that game and he was King, so why should he do the damned chasing?

It wasn't until he was halfway down the corridor when he realised how ridiculous this chain of thoughts was and he turned around just in time to see the hurt look on her face, before she disappeared around the corner.

Perhaps he should've texted her sooner. Maybe should've called? But he'd been damned busy – the PM was about ready to kill him since he was still holding out on signing her ridiculous ban on dying in the Houses of Parliament, reminding him at every opportunity (even when there was none) that he was not part of the parliament and he therefore could not refuse to sign a bill of Parliament and he was equally quick to remind her at every opportunity that her bloody bill was not to pass if he didn't sign it, and I'm King so I'll do whatever the fuck I please even though he was fully aware that someday rather sooner than later he had no choice but to sign the damn bill - and for fuck's sake.

He had ignored her for days on end - not on purpose and for good reasons - and now he was piqued she was doing the same and most likely was angry at him as well.

I'm a monster.

Belle's Beast, though infinitely more handsome. And he supposed Poppy would make a passable Belle. If only barely so. He ticked his fingers against the surface, impatiently, but in a steady rhythm, and smiled. The wood was similar to her dining table. And fuck, had he enjoyed taking her on that dining table.

'What about rather kissing Jasper?'

He groaned and licked his lips. Thought back to that moment on her sofa.

He had shown her exactly what he thought of kissing Jasper. He had thought he might have been too aggressive with her when he, without warning, had roughly pushed two fingers inside of her. But the way she had moaned, pulling his hair as she had thrown her head back, had made him forego all gentleness. The unforgiving pace he had set with his fingers, two, one, then two again, his thumb on her clit, had her mewling breathlessly and for fuck's sake, he had never heard anyone moan as thrilling as she did. She had been lost.

Lost because of him.

She had trembled and he had felt her clench around his fingers and he had wondered why they had never – why, never? – done this before. Because she had fit against him, her wetness and her cries.

It had been breath-taking.

She had been breath-taking.

And now she was ignoring him.

In all honesty, perhaps telling her to finish sifting through that list my mother gave you so we can get started on finding the King a wife for real this time hadn't been the smartest thing to say not even an hour after they'd had sex, but he had panicked when he'd heard the familiar and unwelcome rattle of keys in the lock and Jasper had blown their perfect, little bubble of post-coital bliss into a thousand pieces.

Or perhaps he had done that himself because he was always running his mouth and never thinking of the consequences.

He had people to take care of consequences.

All he had to take was her.

On her sofa, in her bedroom, on the dining table.

He had thrust her over that table, had pressed her flat against it. Used his knee to spread her legs as he had bend over her.

'You got me,' she had whispered.

And for fuck's sake, had he taken her.

She had keened out his name when he had pulled her hair and he had been so close, so close then. Because, he had realized, nothing would ever him so undone as hearing her come and breathe out his name.

'Robert.'

He closed his eyes, throat dry.

'Robert!' His mother was glaring at him.

He felt the familiar throbbing in his pants and he growled.

He was an idiot.

Pride and arrogance, I have those in abundance.

'I'm taking a break.' Got up, shoved his stool back forcefully.

'Where are you going?'

He looked at Rachel sharply, his hands balled into fists, resting against the table.

'I said' – he practically spat the words out – 'I'm taking a break.'

He didn't slam the doors behind him and after a couple of seconds he heard Jasper follow him.

Good.

He looked over his shoulder. 'We're going for a ride.'

Jasper nodded. 'Where to?'

'Poppy's.'

The sound of Jasper's footsteps fell away. Robert sighed and turned around.

'Why?' Jasper had his eyes narrowed.

'What do you mean, why?'

'Why are we going to Poppy's?'

None of your bloody business.

'Because I need to talk to her.'

'It's already late,' Jasper said.

'She'll be awake.'

'Call her. Text her.'

'She's not answering.'

Jasper stepped up closer to him, scowling. Looked at him like they were the same. Just two men. Not the King and just a lowly bodyguard.

Discipline is what all his subjects seemed to lack, Robert realized. Fucking discipline and respect.

I am so not in the mood for this.

'I told you not to do anything stupid.' Oh Jasper, you fool.

He moved fast, furiously. Stepped forward, eyes narrowed, and forcefully flung Jasper against the wall. The painting next to them shook, but it didn't fall. His forearm he pressed against Jasper's throat, his right hand grabbing the man's shirt firmly.

'I am King.' They were almost nose to nose. Jasper did not look away. 'I am King and you are nothing. You don't tell me what to do. Understood?'

He increased the pressure on Jasper's throat, shoved him just for good measure. 'Understood?'

Jasper nodded slowly, adjusted his tie when Robert released him. 'Whatever you say, Hercules.'

Robert pretended not to hear him.

There were no words spoken between them when they drove to her place, but the silence was more telling than anything else.

'Stay here.'

He briskly walked the small distance from the car to her front door, but knocked on it as calmly as he could.

Knock, knock, who's there?

She didn't even seem surprised to see him on her doorstep.

'Hey.' She smiled and her tone was painfully bright.

I see through your bullshit, witch.

'Did you boys miss me?'

'Finally decided you missed me?'

He pulled the cap of his snapback further down- the only disguise anyone had ever gotten him to wear when incognito in public -, angling himself so Jasper couldn't see her from the car. Wished Jasper would just fuck off altogether. He looked at her and she smirked in reply. The grin didn't reach her eyes, though. And he hadn't heard the footsteps, but he knew.

'Jasper,' he said sharply. 'I thought I told you to stay in the car.'

'Sir-'

'Go for a walk, Jasper.' He hated repeating himself.

She looked past him, was looking at Jasper, and it was like a punch to the gut when she shook her head. Barely noticeable, just the tiniest of movements, but he saw anyway.

He slammed his hand against the doorframe, barely containing his anger, disappointment.

'I said, go for a walk, Jasper,' he said slowly, head bowed, voice controlled.

But Jasper placed a hand on his shoulder.

'We should return to the Palace, Your Majesty.'

His tone was soothing and since when was Jasper such an expert on human emotion?

'Tomorrow's a new day,' Jasper continued. 'You can talk then.'

'Jasper's right,' she said. And she had given up all pretence of smiling. She looked tired. Angry, really. He searched her face, tried to look into her eyes, but she avoided his gaze. Stared steely ahead.

He didn't blame her. He'd been a dick.

'I want to talk now.'

And he knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he needed to talk.

'There's nothing to talk about,' she shot back.

'Don't give me that crap,' he hissed. And he was faintly aware of Jasper moving. 'You know we need to talk.'

'About what? That list of potential wives you wanted me to finish?' She rolled her eyes. 'Don't worry. I'll make sure to deliver the updated one to your desk as soon as I'm finished with it, Robert.'

'Poppy-'

'Don't Poppy me, Robert.' In any other situation he would have loved her fierceness, her temper, her passion. But not now. She needed to fucking listen to him and shut her bloody gob. 'You've made your point real clear, my friend. Not only were your parting words a real treat, but then you ignore me for four days. Better yet, I'm pretty sure you didn't even notice I wasn't there for at least half of those days.'

And he smiled despite his predicament, because she knew him so well. Was this something new? Or was he just now noticing?

'I'm not mad at you, Robert,' she sighed. 'I just don't want to talk to you right now. And I'm pretty sure you have better things to do than stand in front of my door.'

Except he hadn't. There was nothing better than this.

Her.

'I'm sorry for what I said the other day,' he started and she scoffed.

'It was the truth,' she shrugged.

'Poppy-'

'No.' She cut him off again. 'It is the truth. You are a King and I'm the person tasked to find you a wife. Some casual fuck won't change that.'

And he wondered how the use of one simple word could bruise him this much. Cause such anger in him. Because he was furious and aching and offended at the same time.

Casual? Really. Is that what you think of me?

Jasper cursed and Robert could see him clench his fists, the man's jaw a sharp line of I'm going to fuck you up.

Funny.

'You had sex?'

And the question was so redundant, both he and Poppy smiled. But his heart was still beating fast and when Jasper repeated his question, he responded.

'We had sex,' Robert said and he let the emotion he was most familiar with run loose. 'So what? What's it to you, Jasper?'

'Robert,' Poppy shook her head. 'Don't do this. Just go home.'

He smirked, spread his hands. 'Don't do what? Discuss our casual fuck with him? He asked, didn't he. Maybe we can compare notes. He used to fuck you too, right?'

He shrugged and somewhere, somewhere in the back of his mind, the pained look on Poppy's face registered. Somewhere. In the back of his mind. The very back.

'Why are you acting like a dick, Robert,' she said.

'Why are you acting like it didn't mean anything?' he spat back.

'Because it didn't!'

He staggered backwards, knew he did, even though he would never admit it.

Not to anyone.

'You're just in the business of spreading your legs for anyone, then?'

Silence.

'You should fuck off, Robert,' she spoke slowly, every word carefully enunciated, her hand firmly on Jasper's arm. 'Before you say something you can't take back.'

He could barely breathe. Too late for that.

And this woman truly is a demon. Have mercy on me, please.

The way she stood there, slightly behind Jasper - sometime during their talk his bodyguard had positioned himself between the two of them - not willing to look at him like he was some bloody demon – you, you are the demon! -, while he had done nothing wrong – and hadn't he, truly? -, hit him in so many places he didn't even know where it hurt the most.

He didn't need hurt.

'I just wanted to talk to you.' And he hated this.

Pain was for the weak. He'd had his fair share of grief – Father, Simon, King; Kathryn – and he was above all of that now. He was King. Why was he grovelling at this serpent's door? He was above and she was beneath. They had made a grave mistake, the two of them, and it was nothing more than that.

'I'm sorry.' He was. Sorry about everything. Jasper had warned him not to do anything stupid.

Should've listened to the bastard.

He turned and walked back towards the Rover. No use looking back.

A mistake.

Started the car.

Stupid.

Jasper could find his own way back.

Nothing more than that.

And when she texted him, later that night, that she was sorry too, he was of a mind to throw his phone off the balcony. The irony wasn't lost on him, when he texted her "fuck off".

Because I'd gladly fuck her again.

The sight of her, eyes closed, her head thrown back as she rode him. Her fingers in near fatal exuberance clutching as his chest as she rolled her hips and sank down on him, her breasts bouncing in rhythm.

Fuck's sake, he'd give the world to have her fuck him again.

The world, but not a Kingdom.

It was better this way.

Because never his Kingdom.

Fuck off, he texted.

He was King and she just a commoner.

It wouldn't work out.

Not that he had wanted it to anyway.