Clash of Royalty
Chapter 1: A Clash of Ideals
Author: Rippertish
Eleanor Henstridge's patience was wearing thin. "This proposal isn't reckless," she said, her voice tight. "It's necessary."
Across from her, Anders Lundquist remained calm, infuriatingly so. "Necessary, perhaps," he replied in that measured tone of his. "But pushing through reforms at this pace will cause instability."
Eleanor leaned forward, hands braced on the table. "We can't afford to wait. The monarchy needs to adapt, and quickly. The people want change, not another decade of delays."
Anders tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes steady as they met hers. "Change, yes. But destabilising the very institution we're trying to improve will only backfire. A well-intentioned collapse is still a collapse."
The way he spoke—calm, composed, as if he had all the time in the world—set Eleanor's teeth on edge. His dark hair and sharp, aristocratic features commanded attention, but it was his unshakable demeanor in the face of her frustration that really grated on her.
"This isn't about playing it safe, Anders," she said sharply. "It's about doing what's right."
"You can do what's right without charging blindly ahead," Anders countered, his voice maddeningly reasonable. "A monarchy is built on stability. The people trust it because it stands firm, not because it swings with every gust of change."
The formality of his language grated on her nerves. She'd heard this rhetoric before—the endless arguments about tradition, balance, and how the monarchy couldn't rush into reforms. But the world was changing fast, and she refused to believe that playing it safe was the answer.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her rebuttal. Before she could speak again, the door swung open, and her brother Liam stepped in, his expression casual, as though he hadn't just walked into the middle of a heated debate.
"Still going at it, I see?" Liam asked, his gaze flicking between Eleanor and Anders, the tension in the room unmistakable.
Anders rose from his seat, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket with that same infuriating composure. "Your sister and I were discussing differing approaches," he said, always polite.
Liam gave a knowing smile. "I can see that." He glanced at Eleanor, his tone softening. "You alright?"
Eleanor shot him a pointed look, her frustration still simmering just beneath the surface. "Fine. I just don't appreciate being told to slow down when things are already moving too slowly."
Liam raised an eyebrow but chose not to push further. Instead, he turned to Anders. "We've got a polo match this weekend. I just came to make sure you're not going to leave us in uneven numbers."
Anders nodded smoothly. "Of course. I'm not a man to back down on my word."
His words were polite, but there was something about the delivery—just a shade too assured—that bordered on arrogance. Liam caught it too, dismissing Anders with a casual wave. "Good. Just know we won't be going easy on you."
Eleanor rolled her eyes but said nothing, her irritation still simmering beneath the surface as she pushed her chair back and stood. "I'll leave you two to plan your little game. I've got more important things to deal with."
Before either man could respond, she was out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
As Eleanor made her way down the palace corridor, she felt the argument lingering in her mind. Anders Lundquist had a way of getting under her skin in ways she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't just the professional clash—it was the unshakable composure with which he delivered his every counterpoint, always calm, always measured.
As she rounded the corner, she spotted her mother, Queen Helena, standing near one of the grand windows, her posture immaculate, her expression contemplative. When Helena turned and saw Eleanor approaching, a knowing smile curved her lips.
"How did the meeting go, darling?" Helena asked, her tone as casual as ever, though Eleanor could sense the curiosity beneath the surface.
Eleanor sighed, not particularly in the mood for her mother's subtle prodding. "It was... heated."
"Ah," Helena replied, her smile deepening. "I take it Anders didn't exactly agree with your approach?"
"That's one way of putting it," Eleanor muttered, crossing her arms. "He thinks I'm rushing things."
"Well, he does come from a more traditional background," Helena noted thoughtfully. "He likely believes in caution—whether that's a good thing or not remains to be seen."
Eleanor snorted softly. "It's infuriating is what it is. He doesn't see that we need to act now, not in ten years when everything's already fallen apart."
Helena stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Eleanor's arm. "Be patient with him. He may not be as easy to win over as others, but that doesn't mean his perspective is without merit. Just don't let him gain too much ground."
Eleanor frowned at her mother's words. "You don't trust him?"
"It's not about trust, dear," Helena said smoothly. "It's about watching how people navigate these early stages. Anders is... new. He may not share our short-term vision, but we'll see what he's made of soon enough. Just don't give away your position too easily."
Eleanor nodded, though her frustration still simmered. She wasn't some naive princess being outmaneuvered by a foreign diplomat. She could handle Anders—she just needed to figure out how to deal with him without letting him get under her skin.
Before Helena could ask more, Eleanor made her escape with a polite nod. "I'll be in my office if you need me."
As she left, her mind drifted briefly to Jasper. It had been months since their amicable parting—Jasper off chasing new ventures in Brazil, while she focused on the monarchy. It was an easy decision, no drama, no lingering feelings. They'd grown apart, and it was best that way. But that didn't mean she didn't miss some aspects of having a boyfriend.
She missed the touch, the thrill of someone's hands on her skin, the heat of a body beside hers in the dark. She hadn't been looking for love, but the physical connection? That was another story entirely. The nights spent alone now reminded her of just how much she craved that kind of closeness, though those days were long behind her.
With a sigh, Eleanor pushed the thoughts aside as she reached the strategy room. This was her reality now—handling royal business, leading discussions with politicians, diplomats, and figures who all had their own agendas. She had carved out a role for herself, spearheading initiatives to reform the monarchy's humanitarian efforts.
And then there was Anders Lundquist. The Swedish diplomat had become a permanent fixture in these meetings, and his presence grated on her. Calm, controlled, and maddeningly collected, he was everything she wasn't. He had been stationed in England for months now, representing the Swedish monarchy in joint initiatives between the two countries.
Eleanor had tried to ignore him, but it was getting harder. Especially when they argued. He could rile her up in ways that went beyond politics.
End of part 1
Hi guys, this is my first The Royals fic. I hope you enjoy it. :)