Disclaimer: I don't own The Royals. No need to sue.
Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.
Penelope and Maribel Henstridge strode into the room, blinking dopey eyes at the surrounding chandeliers.
Penelope sniffed. "What is that? Smells like Dad."
"That, my dear cousins, is the residue of two-hundred pounds of whiskey, champagne, caviar and cognac," Eleanor declared dramatically as she strode into the room arms opened wide. The two red-haired sisters squealed and planted air-kisses on her cheeks.
"And that," Eleanor gestured dramatically. "Is the Font of my Love. A fountain by the Greek sculptor Manetas, who loaned it to us for the wedding. It's never been in Britain before."
The two sisters gasped and for once, they weren't being dopey.
The delicate, exquisite fountain had three gold catch basins. The rim of each bowl was framed in intricate rosebuds and vines. Helen and Paris; Pyramus and Thisbe; Orpheus and Eurydice; Eros and Psyche; Leander and Hero; Romeo and Juliet; Antony and Cleopatra; numerous lovers were etched in delicate, yet gorgeous engravings at the bowls, from Greek mythology and Shakespeare each with a blooming rose in the middle. The top was a nude sculpture of Aphrodite with baby Cupid/Eros, holding a rose.
"It's a champagne fountain," Len piped up. Though it looked more like a miniature garden fountain. "Tell that to your dad. You know how much he loves to guzzle. It's adorable, like a drunken baby."
"And I'm sure the sight of lovers will make Cyrus more miserable," Helena muttered, coming from the other end of the hall.
She gasped when she saw the fountain. "Oh, it's beautiful," she immediately gushed. "Lovelier than I could've imagined," Helena crooned.
And it truly was. Len had been awed when she saw it. Aglaia was right: Manetas truly was a genius.
"I absolutely love it," Helena declared. "Where shall we put it?"
Everyone shrugged.
"Ooh, by the bar… Dad's going to be at the bar, then he could just… Right." Penelope nodded, absorbing the realisation of her implication. Maribel nodded along with her.
"It's wonderful, isn't it, your majesty, your highnesses," Spencer asked happily. "Absolutely lovely. It's certainly the most beautiful fountain I've ever seen."
"Hmm," Eleanor agreed. She glanced at her mother. "Is it like, ours?" Maribel asked, eagerly. "Can we like, use it?"
"Yeah," Penelope pointed out. "I'd like to-"
Len shook her head before Penelope could get any disturbing ideas. "No, it's a rented thing," Helena sighed wistfully, and so did Len and Spencer. "It's been used for the Austrian Imperial wedding and after this, the princely couple's wedding in Monaco. There's talk that the Japanese imperial family and the Swedes also wish to borrow it. But you have to pay an arm and a leg for that thing- and a royal one too." She frowned. "But it's never been on display in Britain before. And now aristocrats and billionaires want to have a piece of this."
"Can't say I blame them," Len beamed. "So… Where to put it?"
"At the gourmet dessert bar," Queen Anastasia appeared through the doorway, flanked by her own security, aides and assistants. She gave Helena a perfunctory glance. "These must be your nieces."
Penelope and Maribel were pale-skinned, and thanks to the recent botch-up in Maribel's plastic surgery, she had gone back to being her original red-haired, curvy, pale state. They were dressed as wackily as always, in a blue sailor mini-dress with a black bolero and bright pink lace-up boots, fishnets and gauzy hat. Maribel also wore fishnets, but she had gone for a hot pink A-line dress with black hearts (wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?) and a pale pink, puff ball bolero and matching lace-up boots.
Anastasia cast her barely-concealed amusement over them, before turning those cold green eyes towards Helena. Helena's eyes were dangerously narrowed. She would take those two dopey nieces of hers over this woman any time.
"The fountain will be a wonderful addition to the gourmet dessert bar," the Greek queen said, matter-of-factly. "Really?" Helena said. "I was under the impression that it would look wonderful surrounded by the crystal glasses."
Anastasia tilted her head to one side. "Truly?"
"Yes, after all, children will be going to the dessert bar as well, and no doubt they would be tempted by the fountain. We can't have them guzzling alcohol like breast milk." She challenged.
Eleanor suppressed a groan. Spencer winced. He knew where this was heading.
Anastasia's eyes narrowed. She had a point, but it was obvious that neither queen would yield to the other.
"The fountain can be moved," she said dangerously. "Once the champagne has been finished and emptied out. Mr. Manetas has given us his permission- not that he needed to- to fill it with sparkling strawberry soda. Children enjoy that. You, the mother of three grown children, surely remember what they like at such a young age," she drawled.
"Maybe," Helena said boldly. "But when one goes for a drink, the first place they will go to are the glasses. And how convenient will it not be if the champagne fountain is far away?"
"A few steps is not far away, it is less than a metre from the dessert bar to the glasses, as all those who have actually decided to use their legs can testify."
Helena's smile was fake. "Oh, I'm sure. And those who are weary after a hard day's work will enjoy the fountain where it is."
"But then the children won't enjoy it," Anastasia said sweetly. "After all, we have a number coming to the wedding, don't we? The junior bridesmaids and pageboys. They'll be thirsty after a long day in the cathedral and the carriage rides. I think we should allow them a drink first."
Helena furiously opened her mouth but before she could say anything Aglaia came into the room.
"Oh my." She gasped. "Is that-"
"The fountain!" Len gushed, grateful for the change in subject. Aglaia breathed in awe. It was beautiful. So delicately engraved and exquisitely moulded, even the mere figure of Aphrodite was beautiful, more beautiful than the statues Aglaia had seen- and she had seen a lot. The roses engraved in the basins within each scene of legendary lovers, appeared so realistic as they bloomed and the tiny framework of vines and rosebuds was just so delicate and fine. Eros and his mother held a single rose from where the champagne would be poured.
"It's like nothing I've ever seen," she breathed. She reached out a finger, then hesitated, as if not wishing to disturb the scenes. "And all for you, my love." Robert's voice appeared out of nowhere. His arms around Aglaia's waist.
"What?" Aglaia blinked.
"You told me you were a fan of Manetas' artwork, then someone suggested to me what he'd done for the Austrian Imperial wedding and what he was planning to do for the upcoming nuptials of the prince in Monaco. So, I thought that for our wedding I would like to give you a surprise."
"Wait," Len interrupted. "So… You didn't know about this?"
Aglaia turned wide eyes to Eleanor and shook her head. "No," she whispered. She looked back at Robbie who was smiling at her. Her eyes were shining. "Really?"
He kissed her. A flicker of displeasure crossed Queen Anastasia's face, but Eleanor thought she might've imagined it. Helena didn't look pleased either.
"Anything for you," he whispered. "Not yet queen, but most certainly, undisputed Queen of my Heart."
Now, a sour look most certainly appeared on Helena's face but she shoved it away. Then something worse than sourness appeared on her stunning features and she turned away.
I know he loves her, she thought. I hoped he would find love. But I didn't expect him to love her this much.
Why did it hurt?
"So where shall we put it?" Robert asked Aglaia, still smiling as he broke away.
Anastasia and Helena threw furious glares at one another, both instantly opening their mouths to say something.
"The dessert bar," her mother said. "Where the dessert crystal-ware shall go," his mother said immediately, at the same time.
They stared. Eleanor face-palmed.
Aglaia was at a loss for words. Both Helena and Anastasia were fixing her with their glances, each shoving her with their mere eyes to follow their choice.
"Um," she hesitated. Robert's brow furrowed. This was worse than he thought.
"Are you sure… Because if this is a champagne fountain, the dessert bar will be filled with children-" she stopped at the sight of her mum's furious gaze. Helena gave a smirk that was so wide it threatened to eclipse the entire room.
"But then again," she hastily continued. "We could easily fill it with juice or sparkling soda, so that the children would be more than happy to enjoy it."
Now it was Helena's turn. She looked so stormy-furious that Anastasia was the one who smiled, more pleased at her rival's reaction than anything.
"Still, it is a champagne fountain," Aglaia tried to pacify both women. "It would be silly to have it used only for soda. And it is quite convenient if-"
"Um," Len interrupted. "Why not the drinks bar?"
"And put the bartender out of business?" Robert shook his head. "Distracting his customers? Matt won't be pleased." He knew the bartender well.
"Why not bring it next to the wedding cake?" Aglaia asked.
"But that would take the attention from the cake itself," Helena remarked. She threw Anastasia a filthy glance.
"True enough," the Greek queen scoffed. "But once the cake has been cut, could we not wheel it in?"
"Or else we could go to another part of the hall," Aglaia stood straighter as if she had a flash of inspiration. "Once we've cut the cake. On a table, similar to the one where we placed the wedding cake… Surrounded by flowers, like roses."
"That," Robert began. "Is a great idea." He kissed his bride-to-be again. "Bring them a surprise." He looked at the queens. "I think I would like to go for my fiancée's idea." There was a pointed insistence in his voice and the message was clear: enough is enough.
"I agree," Len instantly piped up, in defence of her sister-in-law-to-be and her brother.
The two queens turned narrowed eyes towards one another and their mutual messages were clear: This is not over.
Helena went to supervise something else, Anastasia did the same. Though they purposely avoided one another, everyone just knew they would somehow end up in each other's paths once again, for the mere sake of sabotaging the other's plans and directions.
Robert sighed. "Well, that could've gone better, but also much worse." He and his bride-to-be smiled at each other. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching up to kiss him. "I can't believe you did that for me."
"I love you," she whispered, gazing at him in the eyes. Eleanor saw Robert's eyes take on a look she had never seen before. He was truly shining with love, and totally moved. He wanted only her. She saw that completely.
Len turned back to the fountain, placing both arms around her cousins.
"Brings in mind, romance, doesn't it?" Eleanor sighed wistfully. Her eyes flicked to Jasper who was talking with the head of security. He gave her a smile.
She smiled in return. Talk about a date, she thought.
Everyone bustled about, bringing huge garlands, festoons and vases of flowers. The mother of the bride and the mother of the groom had already had a huge, spectacular fight about what types of flowers would be on display. The headache that the bride received was as such that she was excused for wedding planning for the whole day, until the designers came.
She wasn't going to let either of them choose her gown or veil for her. That went over the line.
But she was going to let Eleanor come with her.
And Len felt touched, truly. She hadn't had a sister before. Until now.
Eleanor felt like she was in a haze of optimism. She had love, her brother found love, and she had a sister.
So, this meant that everything was going alright, right?
She was so totally wrong.
"The countdown to the royal wedding begins, in less than two months, Princess Aglaia of Greece will wed King Robert in what is reported to be the Wedding of the Century." The presenter announced proudly.
A montage appeared on screen, with Union and Greek flags, excited people, champagne glasses, memorabilia, the cathedral and finally, a photograph of the royal couple and letters in cursive.
An American presenter's voice sounded.
"The countdown begins soon, something we have waited since last year, equal parts fairy-tale, royal pageant and love story for the whole world. Security is tight, expectations are high, and here is a special edition of 'The Royal Wedding' live from London, England."
"Good morning, it is three in the evening in London, and just two weeks away from the royal wedding, dubbed the Wedding of the Century, and the streets are draped in bunting, Union flags, and people are planning parties here in DC."
Liam took no notice of the news.
He paced his room, heading… He didn't know where he was headed.
The thought struck him then and there.
He did not know where he was headed.
Robert and his bride-to-be were finding some time for themselves. Apparently now, Aglaia was feeding Robert strawberries dipped in milk chocolate and sprinkled with crushed honeycomb, and figs stuffed with cream and drizzled with honey and apple cider. With her own hand. She was saying something and Robert was laughing at what she said, his eyes fixed solely on her. Aglaia was smiling.
Liam watched through his own balcony. He could see Robert, his head on her lap, on the sofa. Aglaia stroked his hair gently. He felt a stirring… He didn't know what it was.
Uneasiness? That she had absolutely no idea, this pure, innocent girl, the only truly pure woman Liam had ever met in his life, who had no idea that the man she was marrying might not be what he appeared to be, the brother Liam had always known?
Or something else…
Aglaia was kind, there was no doubt about that. She had more compassion in her little finger than what most people had in their whole bodies, Liam was sure.
She was gentle. She was genuine and she was good. She never thought about herself, and that struck Liam as being the most astounding thing he had ever seen. He had always operated under the belief that his father was the same way, and once Robert was, but seeing someone who so believed it through and through…
He doesn't deserve her, he thought to himself. Robert doesn't deserve her. She deserves better…
Like who? A voice mocked.
That thought made Liam pause and bite his tongue.
Then something happened. As Aglaia ate a strawberry herself, a scream resounded through the air. Liam nearly jumped out of his skin and the royal couple started, Robert darting to his feet.
"HELP! HELP!"
In a single instant, both brothers rushed from where they were, Robert shouting at his fiancée to stay where she was.
"Robert!" Aglaia cried, rushing after him instead.
The brothers barged into the hallway, to find…
"Oh my gosh," Len whispered, appearing out of nowhere, held back by Jasper's arm as she saw the scene ahead of her.
Someone was choking. A security guard by the looks of him, Greek, turning puce and making gagging, choking sounds, convulsing wildly.
"Somebody call an ambulance!" Robert ordered. He knelt beside the man.
Just then the heir to the Greek throne burst out of nowhere and his eyes bugged when he saw the bodyguard on the ground. He fell to his knees and proceeded to give him CPR.
"Oh my gosh," Aglaia whispered, coming across the scene.
"Laia, stay back," Robert warned. She gave him an are-you-kidding-me look.
"How did this happen?"
One of the palace maids was shaking. "Your- your highness, I just-" she was shaking uncontrollably. Just then Robert and Liam spotted the champagne glass beside him, the drink spilling onto the carpeted floor.
Liam's stomach turned cold and threatened to nearly flip onto itself.
Robert's head shot up. "Who gave him that drink?"
Aglaia was by now, comforting the maid who was sobbing and shaking. There was a tray by her feet, and broken shards of glass and champagne.
It was her. Aglaia shook her head at Robert. Not now. Obviously, the girl was in shock.
"His condition has been stabilised," the doctor announced.
Aglaia breathed a sigh of relief. Almost everyone exhaled. Robert's hand was tight around his fiancée.
"How did this happen?" He questioned, his voice full of quiet, regal authority.
"We are currently conducting a blood test to be sure," the doctor began hesitantly. "But based on the description of the initial reaction, and an analysis of the current symptoms, we believe it may be poisoning."
Alexios stepped forwards. "One of my men was attacked, I have no doubt this was not accidental, nor an allergic reaction," he said coldly, narrowing his stunningly-cold malachite eyes towards the doctor. "Now I would like to know what kind of poison was used on him before finding out who would do this to one of our loyal officers."
The doctor hesitated. "We have yet to be certain, but it is our belief that the poison used was oleander."
"What's that?" Liam asked.
"A flower," Aglaia muttered.
Aglaia shook her head. "No one is stupid enough to use oleander for any sort of ingredient so it's certainly not accidental. But there's no way oleanders grow in Britain." She looked baffled. "They're native to North Africa, found from the Mediterranean eastwards and other warmer countries, like some states in the US."
"No, but the occasional botanical societies do attempt to cultivate different plants from around the world… Not that I am accusing anyone," he blustered. "It would do no good for a poor, bereaved, but highly-skilled doctor to assume things that could lead to lawsuit cases and-"
"Yes, we understand, doctor," Robbie said hastily. He sighed.
"Why would anyone go to the trouble of bringing in poison from a plant that grows in a faraway country?" Liam asked, bewildered.
"Because the oleander is a lovely flower," Aglaia stated. She looked at him. "An ornamental one, used for gardens. In some countries, such as Australia and New Zealand, they have very tough bio-security laws that prohibit passengers on aircraft and ships from bringing in fruit and other plant material into the country, as they could bring fungi, pests and diseases that could threaten the population and the environment. But Britain doesn't have these laws, do they?" She looked at Robert.
"No," he agreed. "We don't."
He looked at his fiancée's brother. "Makes it easy for them to smuggle it in."
"Disguised as a flower," Aglaia murmured. "A pretty, ornamental thing, maybe pressed, or a fresh, potted plant."
Liam, Len, Jasper and even the doctor started because they had not suspected she was smart, to be frank.
Jasper went closer. "Your majesties, I may have an answer to that," he suggested. Robert raised an eyebrow.
"With your permission, your majesty, I would like for us to review the number of wedding gifts that have been brought in here, and that includes potted plants." He continued.
Aglaia started. "But we've received countless wedding gifts from around the globe," she shook her head. "We can't even remember the exact number, they just keep coming in, and not just from heads-of-state. There's a village in Wales that sent us a huge quilt, one patch stitched by every household."
Liam and Len looked astonished. So did Jasper.
"And besides," Robert spoke up. "There is a chance that while someone might've smuggled it into the palace, they could've gotten rid of the evidence by now."
"What I don't understand is why anyone would target Arsenios," Aglaia said. Jasper choked and Liam stifled a sound. Arsenios? What kind of name is that for someone who had been poisoned? How ironic was that (no offence meant)?
"He's been with us for years, we trust him, but he's not the most important member of security," she explained. "Why would anybody target him?"
Robert went very still. "That champagne," he said slowly. "We need to speak with the maid."
The girl was sobbing. "I didn't know! I was told to bring it by the kitchen staff up to the king and queen- sorry, princess- but there was more than one glass, and I knew the princess would often order refreshments like drinks to whoever was standing by, so-" she burst into sobs.
"It's alright," Jasper reassured her. "Shush, it's not your fault." He put an arm around her.
Robert, Aglaia, Eleanor, Liam and Prince Alexios watched from behind the glass of the two-way mirror. Alexios' lips were tight and his jaw was clenched.
Aglaia breathed in shock. Len turned a white face towards her brother and his bride.
"Someone tried to kill us," Aglaia's eyes were wide as she looked at her soon-to-be-husband.
Robert's eyes darkened and he pulled her in tight.
Alexios swore in Greek. "We're going to have to heighten security," he warned. "And scan those presents- all of them. We should take no chances."
"Alexios," Aglaia began.
He shook his head, looking saddened as he gazed at his sister. "We'll have to inform the whole family. But keep a tight lid on things."
"I agree, your highness," James Hill- who was standing nearby spoke. "I believe we should keep a firm hold on this, in case things turn to wildfire."
Alexios' malachite gaze was fixed on his sister's.
Aglaia nodded, reluctantly.
"There's no need to stop wedding preparations," he said, albeit unwillingly.
Aglaia shook her head. "Arsenios was a good, loyal man," she whispered. "I can't believe he got poisoned- it might've been for me-"
"No," both fiancé and brother spoke at once. "Absolutely not."
"In any case," Robert said quietly. "That poison was most likely meant for me." His dark blue gaze met Alexios' one.
Alexios was silent, but he absorbed all this. Robert, it appeared, had the decency to admit it, unlike most of his family. Whether this was his fault- it wasn't, of course- he could admit that. For that alone, Alexios gave him his grudging respect. But would it be enough to keep his sister safe?
Aglaia shook, then steeled herself. "It appears that there will always be fanatics and single-handedly obsessed killers in this world." She muttered in disgust. Then she strode away, looking sadly at Robbie.
"What?!" Helena demanded.
Just then Queen Anastasia burst in. "What is this?" She raged. "I thought security would be sufficient."
"And it appears the family found out," Robert muttered. He turned to face them.
Aglaia sighed. "Mother, the victim was Arsenios-" "WHAT?!" "But the poison was most likely meant for us. We've tested the remaining liquid that spilled onto the carpet. They weren't poisoned. So only one of us was targeted."
"I see," King Konstantinos appeared. Everyone straightened at his arrival. Robbie was still close to Laia.
"I've just heard." Aglaia's father looked grim. "Arsenios was a good man. To think that someone could've…" His expression darkened.
"Have you questioned the staff?" Helena demanded.
"We did," Robert assured her. "But they have sound alibis. And we've scanned all the plants in this palace and the gardens, and none of them remotely resemble an oleander flower."
"Still," Dimitri said. "Oleander?" He had appeared from behind their father. The Prince of Thebes shook his head in disgust. "Hemlock, arsenic, why go for oleander? Someone doesn't appear to be trying hard to kill you."
"Or maybe they just wanted to find a covert way of killing either of us," she glanced at Robert. "But we haven't found any oleander," Alexios pointed out.
"None yet," Robert said, grimly. They had yet to finish checking private rooms.
Helena shook her head. "Cyrus." She cursed.
Robert sighed in exasperation. "Come off it, Mum-"
"No," she stood.
"Somebody called my name?" Speak of the devil. "What is it? Have you stumbled upon some long-forgotten law that prohibits marriage to a princess and decided to abdicate in favour of your love, passing on the throne to your dearly-bereaved uncle?" Cyrus asked.
"His brother is next in line," Alexios pointed out icily. "And no." Dimitri added.
"Right." Cyrus sounded disgusted.
"Cyrus!" Helena bellowed, causing nearly everyone to jump at her. "What the hell- was this your doing?"
"What the hell is it this time?" He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess: brandy on lingerie."
"The poison." Helena snarled. "Oleander poison- found in the champagne meant for my son."
"Or my daughter." Anastasia snapped at her. She crossed the room in a single stride and clutched Aglaia tight to her, eyes brimming.
"Mama," Aglaia struggled to gently push her away.
"Hush," she whispered, holding her closer- and tighter.
"Can't breathe," Laia gasped in Danish. She managed to extract herself from her mother's arms.
Konstantinos looked grim. "It was you, wasn't it?" Helena snarled. "What's your plan- kill my son, and the mother of his future heirs, kill my other children and leave yourself the throne?"
Cyrus scoffed. "You really are batty if you think I would risk doing something so obvious." He snorted and swilled his ever-present glass of drink.
"Why not?" Helena snapped. "It's what you did, isn't it? When you barged in when Liam was about to swear the oath and declared yourself fit to be king?" She glared thunderously down at him.
"Subtlety has never been your style, Cyrus."
"What do you know about STYLE?" Cyrus mocked. "You dress up in slutty lingerie every night. And every time there's a stain of semen, you blame it on me."
"You used my nightwear to-" Helena argued furiously.
"I'm hardly the first scoundrel to get semen into it," Cyrus scoffed.
"YOU ONLY HAVE ONE BALL!"
"Okay, that's enough," Robert cut in sternly. The Greek royals were watching. This was not making a good impression on the in-laws. Liam looked down. "Okay, we're in public here. A very royal public," Len corrected.
Aglaia shook his head. "Do you blame everything that goes wrong over here on him?" She asked, aghast.
"Yes!" Came the reply of every Henstridge. James Hill looked away. Aglaia looked astonished.
Dimitri looked at Aglaia. "What are you marrying into?" He asked in Greek.
"Our suggestion is that we go through with the wedding preparations," Alexios said in English. "Just to ensure that nobody suspects anything."
"To keep a tight lid over this affair," Robert announced. "I agree, but sooner or later the world will get out." King Konstantinos warned.
Robert looked grave. "I know."
"You're suggesting that we pretend this has never happened?" Queen Anastasia spluttered. She stepped closer to her daughter again, looking furious.
"We have no choice, not if we wish to catch the culprit," King Konstantinos said sternly.
"But-" her husband shook his head.
The champagne fountain, Font of my Love, shone in the light.
Cyrus looked moodily at it. Helena's orders were that Cyrus would not be allowed within two-and-a-half metres within touching distance.
"My that is the loveliest piece of art I've ever seen," Veruca's voice trilled beside him. Cyrus turned and rolled his eyes. She beamed. "It's Font of my Love," Cyrus snorted. "And yes, it's beautiful. Nearly as beautiful as the bride. It was in the Austrian Imperial wedding when Aglaia's equally breathtaking cousin married the Crown Prince. After this, it's going to Monaco for the prince's wedding. Helena threw a tantrum when that thing was nearly lost. Dear Robert wouldn't have anything less for his bride." He swilled brandy.
"Hmm," Veruca sighed. "It's so lovely." She gazed longingly towards it. "Much less tacky than the pieces you and Helena come up with. I seem to remember that the girls have inherited your sense of style."
"At least I have style," Cyrus sneered. "Who does she think she is?"
"The bride?"
"No," he rolled his eyes again. "Helena."
Veruca laughed. "Silly. She's the queen of England." She cast a glance at her ex-husband. "And you're just the former, deposed king. Like Henry VI."
"Don't compare me to that half-wit, senile moron," Cyrus scowled as he drank. "And besides," he slurred. "Helena's not going to be queen for long. When Robert's bride has the ring and says, 'I do-'"
"She takes the crown." Veruca finished. "Unless she says, 'I don't.'"
Cyrus snorted. "We'll just have to make her," he said quietly. "Won't we?" He turned to his ex. "By the way, was it you?"
"Hmm?" Veruca was still admiring the fountain.
"Was it you?" Cyrus demanded impatiently. "Was it you who put the oleander in?"
"Huh?" Veruca was confused. "Apparently not," Cyrus muttered turning back around.
"But there's still time," he said to himself. "Less than a month."
"Your majesties, your royal highnesses," The Lord Chamberlain announced. "Here are the final candidates for the design of the wedding dress."
"Final candidates?" Aglaia asked, incredulously, looking at Helena in disbelief.
"Don't ask, agape mou, you know they never do anything by halves here," her mother muttered.
"And you do?" Helena asked, coldly.
The designers came in, wearing pasted smiles upon their faces. Aglaia recoiled. Len touched her hand in assurance and courage.
Not that she needed it. Aglaia appeared as serene and composed as usual.
"Your majesties, your royal highnesses, may I present, Ms. Perrine Bruyere, Mr. James Bawker, Ms. Lucille Russo and Mr. Marco Jamesburg."
Aglaia gave a mechanical smile. The designers smiled all at once and bowed or curtsied respectively.
"Welcome," Helena said smiling. "Please sit," she gestured to the couch opposite one another.
The designers sat, each giving one another cold-eyed, steely glances. They were clearly competitors.
"Thank you for coming," Helena greeted.
"Indeed," Queen Anastasia interrupted. Helena froze. She was going to steal the scene!
"Yes," she said somewhat insistently. "Now, as you are all aware, my future daughter-in-law-" Anastasia stiffened. "Has need of a wedding dress and soon."
"But she has very particular tastes." Anastasia insisted. Helena fake-laughed. "So we've heard." She fixed the Greek queen with a steely-eyed glare.
Len closed her eyes. Not again!
"Your highness- your majesties, I have a few designs sketched out for your inspection." Mr. James Bawker, fast as a hawk, presented the princess with a pile of papers, tied with a pink ribbon. Aglaia managed a smile and looked at them.
His designs were… Elegant, sophisticated, but in a subtle way. Aglaia admired them.
"The detailing is… Marvellous and superb," she smiled at him.
Bawker smiled in return, while the other four seethed.
And it truly was. Aglaia admired the sleek elegance of his outfits. He wasn't just presenting her with a wedding dress, she needed a trousseau, a brand-new wardrobe as queen of the United Kingdom. This man presented her with a sketch of strapless dresses in glowing tones, jewelled cashmere sweaters and boleros, but simple ones. Black draping too. Subtle but luxurious.
The wedding dress sketches presented showcased streamlined, elegant gowns with nipped in waists, some with built-in corset bodices (meant to emphasise décolletages and tiny waists), and long white gloves, giving them a classic look. The most outstanding one was silver-white with a very close-fitting bodice which might've been a very subtle corset bodice, sleeveless with straps that resembled roses. A lovely wrap of the finest Honiton lace from Devon or Alençon lace, had a lovely pattern of snowflakes stitched in Swarovski crystals that echoed on the gown's train. The veil was tulle trimmed in white silk and sewn with pearls. It wasn't such a long veil.
"It's… Amazing," Aglaia breathed. "Absolutely gorgeous."
Bawker beamed. The other three looked furious.
Queen Anastasia stole a peek over her daughter's shoulder. "It's… Quite fine," she began. Then she whispered to her daughter. "But all eyes will be on you. This is perhaps too… Severe and too old for you. Not enough. You are to be queen."
Aglaia blinked. Queen Helena decided to say something.
"Perhaps you would care to show us your ideas, Ms. Russo."
Lucille Russo smirked. She handed Aglaia, who smiled, her designs.
These were certainly… Unique. Lucille Russo certainly loved unique and stylish. She certainly had flare and originality, that was certain. One dress was covered entirely with large white silk apple blossoms sewn with pearls, on the shoulders, all over the bodice and full skirt. The arms were a very sheer gossamer, with the apple blossoms at the cuffs. The veil was sheer silk and she would wear a choker of strings of pearls- collar-like, dangling pearl earrings and a tiny crystal and pearl tiara.
There was another one that was definitely luxurious, in a Bohemian-Renaissance style. Layers and layers of cloud-white chiffon and Renaissance-inspired sleeves, puffed with lilac-coloured ribbons and floral patterns cut into the fabric, adorned with silver lamé at the sleeves and full skirt which was cut to reveal a triangle-like panel, to resemble a Renaissance petticoat. Lilac and violets adorned the gown.
The bride blinked. Queen Helena peeked over her shoulder. "Hmm. A bit too-" 'Hippie hideous' was what she wanted to say.
"Well, I was hoping for more of the classic look," Aglaia insisted.
"Like a marble goddess," Anastasia sounded pleased.
"A symbolic marriage," Helena sniffed at Anastasia. The English queen leaned forwards. "You can't be seen in something too…" She frowned in distaste. "Different."
"Outstanding," Anastasia drawled.
"Shall we move on?" Len interrupted. Ms. Perrine Bruyere was next.
Aglaia thanked her with a smile and gazed at her designs. These were more opulent and show-cased finest luxury in far less subtle ways.
"Oh," she remarked.
This was definitely classic, but not the strapless ball gown style, with long white gloves. This style was charming, exquisite, graceful in an old-time, antique feel.
One of them was a lovely gown of off-white overlaid with gold brocade patterns. The veil was layered with gold embroidery and pinned in place with a diamond headpiece placed like a laurel wreath around the back of her head, in the shape of tiny flowers blooming on delicate branches, bell-shaped gold earrings, and a gold bib necklace studded with diamonds.
Another had a high lace collar and long, tight sleeves of French Valenciennes or English Honiton lace, and a full skirt of plain silk with a lace trim. The veil was silk.
"They're absolutely lovely," Aglaia complimented.
"Yes," Helena hesitated. "A little… Old-fashioned, but very charming." She forced a smile.
"Old-fashioned?" Anastasia asked. "Is that why you chose to decorate your palace Vegas-style as opposed to Versailles?" She smirked.
Helena flushed, and was about to open her mouth when Aglaia all but pleaded for the next designer, Marco Jamesburg, to hand his sketches.
Well, all the designers had their good points. But her mother snarked that this style was more suited for Helena than for her. It screamed Noveau Riche. One was heavy silver lamé, adorned with diamond pieces and feathers, another was ivory satin embroidered with pearls and rhinestones, and trimmed in mink (fur?!). At this point the two queens were nearly outright insulting one another, and Aglaia still hadn't found a dress.
"Thank you," she stated, standing. "Please excuse me, I need some air."
"Aglaia-" Len said abruptly. But it was too late. The bride had gone.
Arsenios' condition was stable but he was still unconscious and he would be monitored henceforth. All everyone could do now, was wait. The bride-to-be and the rest of her family visited him regularly, every day.
"Don't hang yourself over this," Alexios had told the bride.
But Aglaia felt like she was to blame.
In the meantime a man watched and he watched patiently. Hidden to the royals he was spying upon.
Aglaia tried to breathe. She was far from pleased. As a matter of fact, she was unhappy. Deeply unhappy.
"Aglaia?" Robert's voice sounded and Laia looked up.
It was him, and he stared at her in concern. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Nothing," she insisted. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," he guided her to a bench. They were in the garden.
"Now will you tell me what's happened?" Aglaia paused at that.
Robert took it in silence. "It's our mothers, isn't it?" He sighed. Robert shook his head. "I should've known."
"Does it matter?" Aglaia pleaded. "I love you."
"And I love you. I never imagined I could love anyone this way, as much as this," Robert insisted.
"But they're not happy, none of them are, except your sister," Aglaia laughed bitterly.
Robert held her close. He could not express his own disappointment. Yet again, family decided to strike where they could hurt the most, he thought.
And it was then, Robert realised that he could take the insults to himself, but not Aglaia.
It shocked him. No, it astounded him, that suddenly the centre of his world had shifted, from the monarchy, from the military, from his people and his family, from himself… To her. Aglaia.
"Meet me after dark," he insisted. "I have something to show you."
Aglaia blinked. "What is it?"
Robert gave a grin. "You'll see."
But a scream rent the air. The bride and groom froze before rushing forth.
What they found nearly made them stop dead.
They were so doomed.
The fountain had disappeared.
I heard the latest news. It was a shock to have the showrunner of The Royals and One Tree Hill accused by so many actresses... It's beyond horrifying. One of the things I love about this show that the actors and actresses always seem to have so much fun on set and with each other off-set. It's beyond horrible. But no matter what the future of the show, I agree, we all have to take a stand against such horrific behaviour.