What's up with me and this "writing in present tense" thing? I usually only do present tense when I write Hunger Games fanfic so maybe this is a sign I should do that again.
This one's pretty angsty, but I might write a part two later that gives it a bittersweet-to-happy ending BECAUSE I DO NOT FW SAD ENDINGS! I'm also going to try to update this fic like once a week; it's nice to just skip to the good part with one-shots instead of playing the long game of multi-chapter fic.
Without further ado, what I think would have happened post canon ending of The Crown.
Be careful what you wish for, they say.
When I was eighteen, I thought I wanted Erik. Erik thought he wanted me. Kile thought he wanted to be an architect. Five years later, we all had what we wanted, but none of us were happy.
I try to tell myself I really did love Erik at one time, but I can't make myself believe it anymore. It was infatuation. It was a choice I made to prove I still had any choice at all, a way out of the corner Marid backed me into. It was anything except real and true love, the kind that lasts forever, because it turns out when you're eighteen and your life is falling apart and you've never really wanted to get married but suddenly you have to, a sweet and steady guy like Erik is exactly who you latch onto.
The problem was, once the storm around me calmed, sweet and steady wasn't enough for me. Erik has always supported me, but he's too malleable, too quick to roll over and agree with whatever I said. I needed someone who could keep up with me, and when I looked at Erik, I could see he was so, so sick of trying.
It wasn't his fault. He'd never been pursued by the queen before; of course he was starstruck by me and my clawing for a way out. Of course he'd fallen in love with me, or at least convinced himself he did, and we wed just weeks after ending the Selection and turning the whole country upside down.
Even if Erik really loved me- and there was a good chance he did, because that was the kind of person he was, sincere and pure-hearted in a way I didn't think I was capable of- it wasn't enough to make him a good prince. Being a prince- even a prince that was a figurehead and did little to no actual ruling- demanded a life in the spotlight, and Erik's tried, really, really tried, but he doesn't have that in him. He's meant for shadows and sidelines; he's happier there. I've had to watch him force himself to be something he isn't, withdraw into himself so I hardly recognize the man I married.
And then there's Kile. I haven't seen him since my wedding- his banishment ended years ago, but he still never comes home- but I still know what he's up to, because we talk on the phone. I talk to all my Elite, love hearing about Henri's bakery in Sota, always congratulate Hale and Ean on their anniversary, but it's different with Kile. The frequency of the calls, talking late into the night, the longing note in his voice when he talks about Angeles.
He fast-tracked college and followed his dream, but it's not what he wanted it to be. He doesn't have to say it; I just know. He isn't happy. None of us are happy, but we're all stuck. I can't leave Erik; the vows we took literally don't allow for it, not to mention the public fallout of a royal divorce. Erik can't leave me for the same reason. Technically, there's nothing stopping Kile from quitting architecture and moving back to the palace, but I don't want him to. That door needs to stay closed. If leaving was the wrong thing, then staying would have been the right thing, and if he'd just done the right thing- if I'd let him do the right thing- five years ago, maybe we'd all be walking different paths right now. Better paths.
So I have to tell myself Kile's not all that miserable. I have to pretend it couldn't have happened any other way.
Then Kile does come back. There's no warning, even though I heard his voice on the phone two days ago and a little heads-up would have been really nice because I'm frozen like a deer in the headlights, wearing this stupid Christmas sweater I wasn't at all self-conscious about two seconds ago, and he's hugging his mom, and all of a sudden, I'm eighteen again, and I'm watching him leave. Not by choice. Because I pushed him away. Because I was scared.
That's why Erik happened. He was still a huge leap of faith, but he was the safe choice, because I knew even then he would always want me more than I wanted him. Even now, when we've fallen apart and not had much luck putting ourselves back together, he's upstairs waiting for me and I'm staring longingly at Kile Woodwork in the flesh, because I'm just now realizing I jumped into the wrong end of the pool. Why didn't anyone stop me? I want to scream, but I was an adult even then, and not known for my ability to take criticism. This is the life I chose, and now I have no choice but to live it, no matter how much I wish I could go back to the night I ended the Selection.
Kile and Miss Marlee break apart. I take a deep breath and put my princess face on, the one that's gotten me through every crisis prior to this. I've made my bed- we all have. Now it's time to lie in it.