I had decided I wasn't going to do anything for the one shot collection this week so I could focus on TRNT but today TRNT made me want to kill myself so have THE FINALE TO CHAPTER FOURTEEN as a little treat. I loved this AU, like, a ridiculous amount.

ALSO I posted on TRNT today as well, so check that out if you haven't already!

"Come back to bed, Eady."

I wince; Kile's supposed to sleep through this so I can leave without saying goodbye. I have no idea what to say to him. Less than twenty-four-hours ago, I was furious at him for setting foot in my castle, and now I'm on the floor of his room looking for my bra. What does that make us?

I don't know.

A mess, maybe. We are a mess.

"I can't." My voice hitches; I can't help it. "Someone will see me if I stay."

He's still half-asleep and yawning. "Just stay. Who cares?"

It's a tempting offer. I'm already trying to forget about last night, cram the haunting memories into a neat little box I can lock away, but they rip through my head anyway. There will be no moving on and no forgetting. This is just something I'll have to live with, every day of my life, reminding me what I could've had.

I should regret it; Kile and I have done something very bad. But despite the guilt rolling over me, I find I don't regret it at all.

"I care," I admit, voice hollow. "I can't risk it. We…probably shouldn't do this again."

Not because I don't want to. I definitely want to, and I'm fully aware saying these words now will not actually prevent it from happening again, if we're given the chance. Sparks will fly and my willpower will crumble; we'll fall into bed again, and I'll love it in the moment just to hate myself after.

Kile's wide awake now, although even more bedraggled than I am. He gave me his t-shirt to sleep in last night without bothering to find one for himself, and his hair's spiked up in a way that's probably my fault. "Are you serious? You're going to patch things up with Erik, then?"

"…no," I eventually decide. "It's too late for that. We'll keep going like we have been."

Miserable but smiling for the cameras, keeping up appearances. It's unpleasant, but it's the price we have to pay.

Kile's unreadable. Frustrated with me, probably, and I deserve it. It's not fair for me to spin him around like this, reprimanding him in the foyer then ripping his clothes off not twelve hours later. It's a moral failing on my part—albeit a more pleasant failing than most, but still not something he really asked for, regardless of his enthusiastic response.

"You should take your ring," he says finally.

It's a perfectly reasonable suggestion, but part of me wishes he'd just be unreasonable and beg me to run away with him. I don't know why. I'd turn him down if he did.

I don't remember taking the ring off or leaving it on Kile's nightstand. He passes it to me, wordless, but his fingers linger on mine. The air is just as electric as it was right before we kissed. I can't give into it again, regardless of how much I want to.

I look away, slide the wedding ring back on. The diamond feels heavier than it used to. "I'm really sorry," I murmur. My voice feels thick and heavy. "Really sorry."

I hate how awkward it feels between us, when just a few hours ago, I was thinking about how well we fit together. With Kile, I slept better than I have in months if not years. The morning after is disjointed and ice-cold by comparison. I want to reach for what we had before, but I fear it's not there anymore. I ruined it, taking something that wasn't mine, leaving destruction in my wake.

Kile shrugs. "It is what it is, Eady. It's not like I actually thought you'd leave him."

He's bitter. My so-far-steady breathing falters. "You'd want me to?"

I shouldn't ask. His answer makes it worse. "In the most selfish way possible, yes."

I have to remind myself it doesn't matter. I've made up my mind. "I wish things were different," is all I say; I'm thinking a whole lot more. "Can I trust you to be discreet about this?"

Kile nods; of course I can trust him, no matter what I put him through. "Of course. Last night never happened."

He still sounds bitter, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know if I can fix it. I nod shortly, fish my bra out from under his bed. I'm really going to leave now, ring on my finger and hair a tangled mess, but Kile stops me one more time, clearing his throat. "I guess you can keep the shirt."

§

I inspect my face in the mirror. As far as I can tell, I still look like myself—I'm fully dressed now, Kile's t-shirt tucked away in a drawer—but I feel like it's written all over my face. I spent last night in someone else's room. I cheated on Erik. The queen is having an affair.

But I'm not even a real queen; I'm a figurehead, and that makes my situation even more difficult. I don't lead the country or make decisions. My image is the only thing I have going for me. If that perfect picture is torn apart, I have nothing to fall back on. Thus the matching Christmas sweaters, thus the lie we're all living.

Guilt washes over me. It was a mistake—by every possible rulebook, it was a mistake. I wasn't thinking straight last night—wasn't thinking at all, really, just feeling, letting myself get swept away by Erik's nudge and Kile and years of pent-up frustration coming to a head. It was stupid, probably, but I still don't regret it, even though I'm aware I probably should.

At least I'm on birth control. In the beginning, when things were good, Erik and I agreed we didn't want children right away. Obviously things are not good anymore, but I never stopped taking the pills. There will most likely still be consequences regarding my one night with Kile, but not that particular one. If I so desire, I could pretend it never happened.

I almost have myself back in order, both physically and mentally, when the door to Erik's room bangs open. "Your Majesty!" one of the maids exclaims. "The prince is gone!"

I reel back, more at the way she's speaking to me than the actual words. "He's not in his room? He's probably in the library."

This is no cause for alarm. Erik spends most of his time in his room, but he has free rein of the castle.

The maid shakes her head. "He's gone. He left you a note."

That, on the other hand, is cause for alarm. I have to see this with my own eyes; I hurry to Erik's side of the suite with the distressed maid at my heels, and I find that something is definitely wrong. The room is empty, not just of people, but of things. Erik's books and photos, the handful of trinkets on top of his desk. It's a blank slate; this could be anyone's room, if not for the folded paper with my name on it at the foot of the bed.

I unfold the note with shaky fingers. I'm not sure exactly what I'm looking at or looking for, but a deep sense of foreboding pounds down on me. This is not good and not right. I thought Erik was acting strange last night, but I brushed it off at the time. I was too willing to accept his permission to sneak into Kile's room and forget about my husband for the night. Looking back, I see I did everything wrong, and the handful of scrawled words on the page only make that clearer.

Eadlyn—

Tell them whatever you want about me. I'll stay out of sight.

Eikko

I wish I was alone. I wish the room was empty and I could break down in full force, heaving ugly sobs that really do the situation justice. Erik's gone, vanished into thin air. My breath comes in ragged gasps. I crumple up the paper and realize, belatedly, it was sitting atop his gold wedding band. I squeeze the ring in my palm, wishing I could throw it out the window and really wash my hands of it.

I don't cry. I panic, but I don't cry. In my mind, the reporters are already lining up at the palace gate, hoping for a snapshot of the queen wailing as her husband walks out on her. I have to put on a brave face, figure out some way to get through this. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to play the part and make it work, even if that meant separate bedrooms and fake smiles for the rest of our lives.

Tell them whatever you want about me. For a moment, I just miss Erik, his kindness and inability to make a single selfish move. He's leaving the ball in my court, giving me as much control over my image as possible while still hitting it with a wrecking ball. He'll let me turn him into the bad guy and never make a scene, because that's the kind of person he is, and I haven't once deserved him.

Tell them whatever you want about me. Would it be possible to convince the nation that Erik is dead?

§

It's not easy. It's very difficult, actually, and entirely out of my comfort zone. At first, it's all official statements and hunkering down. Even though I have Erik's consent to villainize him as I see fit, I can't bring myself to tear him down too harshly; the official statements closely resemble the truth. Queen Eadlyn and Prince Erik have gone their separate ways. The royal family asks for privacy in this difficult time.

It's not easy, but it's far less difficult than I thought it would be. It's freeing; it's a relief. People talk, but people will always talk. I push through it and gradually emerge from the palace, smiling and posing for pictures again, just by myself, this time. I keep Kile a secret for a long time; there's no way around it. He's so wonderful and patient with me, letting a respectable amount of time pass before we're even just seen in the same room. When we make our public debut, no one is surprised.

Eventually, I get a letter from Erik, and we make our peace. He's far away and happier—we're both better off now that we're not bound to each other. Our life together was a mess, a desperate decision we were far too young to make, but I actually regret it less now that it's over. I have lived through things I thought I couldn't bear. I am a different person because of him. As much as I might wish I'd gotten it right the first time, that Kile and I could have had five more years together, I understand that some things have to be broken before they're put back together. Kile and I, what we have, is worth the wait. And I know he thinks the same thing about me.