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Chapter Text

Dear diary,

Well it’s me, brand new university graduate-slash-Prince. I can’t believe it’s been 5 years since Zheng told me I’m a Prince. I’m not sure how the people of Genovia will feel to have their Queen’s distant cousin sitting on the throne by the end of the year but there really was no one else. If you’d have asked me 5 years ago, I’d have agreed, I’m no Prince, nevermind a King. But now I’m ready to take my rightful place on the throne, putting my international relations degree to good use. Although, gun (?) sword (?) to my head, I’d say my favourite part of university were the modules I took in the History of Art…

“Prince,” Oluwande interrupts Stede’s flow of writing as leans over the seats to tap him on the shoulder, “look out the window, and welcome back to Genovia.” Stede’s ears pop as the jet begins to make its descent towards his beautiful country. He’d lived here from ages 16 to 18 before he went away to university. He’s been back countless times over the past 3 years to get to know the people he will one day rule over. And the Prince lessons never seem to end. But now he’s back and this move is forever. He leans over to look out of the window and what greets him is a view that will never get old. Lush green hills roll out under him, when he was younger he’d sit in the back of one of the big black cars in the royal motorcade that was driving the length of the country to parade around their new Prince and imagine a giant leaping over every hill, every fence, every hedgerow. He can still see him now if he lets his imagination run free. From this high in the air, the blue water of the Mediterranean glitters in the distance. Stede had always been drawn to the ocean, even when his life back home offered him nothing but land for miles and miles. He took every opportunity to swim, to go sailing over the summer with Lucius by his side. Once, before she passed, his mother had even taken him on a holiday, just the two of them to a pier where they had a replica pirate ship moored. He’d begged and begged to go out on one of the trips they offered and despite his mother turning an uncomfortable shade of green just at the thought of the open ocean, she’d said yes. He was so young but he’ll never forget the feel of wind through his hair and the squawk of seagulls up above. He’d give anything to have that feeling again and now, finally living so close to the water, maybe he can, one day.

There, not too far from the water, over the fields and farms and rows of houses sits a dot in the distance. His castle, the royal castle, where he spent the remainder of his childhood and will now spend the rest of his life. The castle is stunning with sandstone blocks and ivy crawling up around the tower where his room sits. The grounds are complete with their own gardens where Stede can walk in nature and camp out beneath the stars, protected by the canopies of the oak trees that hide the castle grounds from the main road and the rest of the world. It’s peaceful and Stede has spent many summers there, hiding from Zheng and her never ending prince lessons to recite the Latin names of the bugs and frankly insane foliage he finds dotted through the gardens.

…Diary, you might be wondering about Lucius. Well, he’s still causing chaos. He moved to England in the end to go and get a degree in Fine Art of all things. Who’d have thought, my best friend and his incredible doodles making sculptures so beautiful that they make grown men cry. He found love there too - Pete. It’s a good job I wasn’t born into the elegance and sophistication of the royal family because some of his stories about what they get up to would surely make anyone blush.

Now that’s where I’m falling short. I have just about everything I could ever want, my own house (a castle!), my own country (!) and incredible friends. I even have a horse now, Arthur. I’m still scared to ride him but he does have kind eyes so I’m warming to him. But I’ve never been in love. There have been women I’ve been photographed with to appease the romantic hearts of the people of Genovia and a few beautiful men people in university who I could never tell anyone about, except Lucius. But I’ve never been in heart stopping, breathtaking, foot popping love. And by god do I want that. Maybe being a Prince just isn’t compatible with the type of love I’m after. And if it isn’t for a Prince, then it most certainly isn’t for a King.

When the plane lands, a car is waiting to pick Stede up from the tarmac, complete with a cushioned bed in the backseat for Wolf, Prince Wolf, Stede’s giant black and white cat. Oluwande opens the door for the both of them and then climbs into the front seat. Stede’s arrival wasn’t announced to the press but as they travel through the cobbled streets of Genovia, the people recognise the car and immediately begin calling his name, words of encouragement coming in a mixture of English, French and Italian from people in the streets. It’s always a warm welcome back and, with a nod from Olu, Stede is allowed to roll the window down and take in their faces as they pass. He smiles and waves as Wolf climbs curiously into his lap to peer out of the window. It’s overwhelming and nerve wracking, Stede will be the King of Genovia just a matter of months after he turns 21, as is tradition in Genovia. Zheng is a beloved Queen, tough but fair and kind enough to know many of her people by name. Something that Stede is still desperately working on. His palms sweat if he thinks for too long about how he’ll ever live up to her success as a ruler, if the people could ever love him just as much as they love her. It's one thing to call his name in the streets as they drive by, it’s another for them to trust him to rule over their beloved country. He can feel his heart begin to pick up so for now he focuses on the warm summer sun on his face, the feel of Wolf curling into him rather than returning to his soft bed for the rest of the journey, and tries to sink into the feeling that this is home now. His family is here.

Stede barely has time to settle into being back in Genovia before it’s his 21st birthday and time for the royal ball that comes with every single birthday from now on. So much for going roller skating and for pizza with Lucius like he did every year until his 16th. What he wouldn’t give to be looking forward to god awful vodka that Lucius’s brother would buy them to drink in the fields behind his house right now. Instead he’s getting dressed into a suit, a beautiful suit that’s red velvet with a black lace trim. John Feeney, the royal tailor, has really outdone himself. He hopes the suit will bring him a bit of luck tonight, or at least make him feel more royal than his regular clumsy self. Tonight, he has been promised to dance with all of the eligible women in the town in the hopes that he can find someone he wants to marry. That’s what Zheng and the royal court are hoping anyway, getting married at 21 to someone his family deem suitable is frankly an insane concept in his eyes. There’s also the small issue that he isn’t in fact attracted to women, so no matter how hard Zheng and the rest of Parliament desperately try to set him up with the most beautiful women in all the land, it’s impossible that he’ll fall for any of them. He turns this over in his mind each night as he tries and fails to sleep, never coming to a good enough plan as to what he should do. Marry and have to live a lie, or come out to the Queen and to the people of Genovia and risk letting down a country that he will never feel he has a true claim over anyway, no matter his blood.

As the time of his party grows nearer, Stede grows more on edge. Right now, he frantically tries to tie a sleek black cravat around his neck to complete his outfit which is proving impossible with his shaking hands. He’s never been more grateful to have Roach there, an old school friend, a Member of Parliaments’ son who’d joined him in their private tutoring inside the castle walls. They’d become fast friends, even when Roach had stayed in Genovia to go to culinary school while Stede went away to university. They’d text and email and even write letters to each other whenever they could. He hopes Lucius and Roach get to meet one day soon; an uncomfortable clashing of worlds, sure, but what an incredible thing to bring together the only two real friends he’s ever had. Seeing him struggling, Roach takes over and ties the cravat perfectly. Looking up, he sees the fear in Stede’s eyes and this close, he can almost feel the nervous energy drumming through him.

“Look Stede, I can’t imagine how stressful it must be to go dance with all those women in front of everyone who wants to find you a wife,” Roach starts, “but there are worse things than being set up with half of the most beautiful women in Genovia. Relax, man, have some fun.” He steps away from Stede with a light smack on the arm, looking right into his eyes to really get his point across.

“Worse case scenario, you kiss a beautiful woman and fall madly in love and have adorable little blonde haired babies.” Roach laughs to himself, not mocking, but clearly thinking there are worse problems to have. And oh, Stede wants to tell him, he doesn’t know if he can keep it in much longer. This is one of his best friends, if he can’t trust him then he can’t trust anyone.

“No,” Stede says, plonking himself down on the edge of his bed, “worst case scenario is what I’m living right now. That they’re trying to set me up with all of these women,” he takes a deep breath, “and I’m gay.”

Roach whips around so fast that he smudges the eyeliner he’d been carefully working on applying in the mirror. Somehow it makes it look even better, the beautiful bastard. All at once he’s gathering Stede up into an awkward hug, they really don’t hug but Roach couldn’t not. Once it’s over he sits besides Stede on the edge of bed, shoulders bumping.

“But you can’t tell anyone,” Stede says, eyes wide and feeling even more frantic than earlier.

“Of course not, I know what it’s like. Trust me.” Roach says, knocking into Stede and Stede desperately wants to ask what that means but he’s not going to pry before Roach is ready. “What are you going to do? Times really are changing but they’re going to want you to marry sooner rather than later. Are you ready for all that?”

“No,” Stede says truthfully, taking a breath. He feels calmer now, having someone else on his side so that all this doesn’t have to stay bottled up inside until the next time he can find some peace and quiet to talk to Lucius. “But for tonight, I’m going to go dance with some beautiful women, put on enough of a show of dancing with them to get the Royal Court off my back, at least for a little while. Try not to lead anyone on, and get it all over with as painlessly as possible.” he says, almost as a plan to himself, a careful list of ways to get through this evening sane.

• • •

“Announcing Queen Zheng Yi Sao,” a Royal guard cries out to the room of guests through the door from where he and Zheng stand together. Just before she walks through to greet the room, she takes his hand without looking at him and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Then she’s gone, the doors are opening for her and Stede spots the crowded room full of guests waiting for him, waiting to see what kind of man his time away at university has turned him into. He hopes he’s enough for them, he first met most of the people in that room as a sweaty anxious 16 year old boy. Back then he could barely get through a school presentation without throwing up and was suddenly thrown into speaking to diplomats and royalty from all over the world. Now he’s an anxious (and quite sweaty, if his palms are anything to go by) 21 year old man. He’s grown into his long limbs and has broad shoulders and muscular legs from all the hikes he takes himself on - much to the dismay of Olu who has to follow along - to see what wildlife he can see. He has thick blonde hair that he sweeps up off of his forehead and he is feeling quite confident in his new red suit. He’d had a lot of fun with the way the coat tails swing with each movement when he’d first put it on.

Through the door, he can hear Zheng saying a few words about her husband who has long since passed, and about Stede. Stede has never considered that Zheng might be proud of him for how far he’s come but now, in front of all the people of the court and half of Western Europe’s nobility, he hears her through the doors gushing about him. His achievements, how he took to Prince lessons, what a fine young King he’ll become. All this is definitely just because it’s his birthday, nothing he should get used to. He’s sure Zheng herself, nevermind asking Olu to do it, would have his head if he ever teased her for being so kind to him.

Before long it’s his turn to enter, but another personal touch, rather than the guards announcing his arrival, it’s Zheng. “And now,” she says, “if you would be so kind as to welcome my dear cousin for his 21st birthday celebrations, Prince Stede Bartholomew Bonnet.” He straightens out his suit and stands up with all the good posture lessons that have been drilled into him over the years just in time for the doors to swing open and for him to walk forward onto the balcony where the crowds of people stand below. Breathing out slowly, he stands looking down at everyone and waves. With the first wave, a simple gold bracelet that Roach had given him for his 19th birthday comes flying off of his wrist and into the hands of a nearby guard who laughs and carefully hands it back to Stede.

“Oh sorry!” Stede cries, whipping around to the guard. It seems nothing, not even a nice suit, can stop his clumsy-self.

“It happens all the time, Prince,” the guard smiles, settling back into his post. Stede smiles back at him gratefully. That entrance could’ve gone more smoothly.

• • •

If Stede thought his entrance in front of the whole crowd was going to be the most uncomfortable part of the night, he should’ve waited for the dancing. Somehow, it’s not even his own two left feet that are the worst part of it all. Mustering all the courage he can, he walks into the centre of the dance floor and waits for whoever will approach him first. That doesn’t take long, after all it’s the part of the night that most of the women in the room have been waiting for. The first woman is introduced by an older man, possibly her father, as Lady Ellen Conroy. She’s small, Stede stands at no great height but she still only comes up to his chest. She has soft brown skin and dazzling eyes. Her dress is a pale blue with a huge pink bow on the front, a dress better suited to the style of a child, Stede thinks. But Ellen seems kind enough, she curtseys and takes his hand, even when hers trembles a little in his. As Stede places a careful hand on her waist though, to dance as he’d been taught over the last 5 years, the pressures of dancing with the future King of Genovia hit Ellen all at once. Her eyes brim with tears and while Stede tries desperately to switch from dancing with her to comforting her, she takes off running. Straight through the door, never looking back - impressive in those heels, Stede thinks. Her disgruntled father sighs and follows her out.

The next woman walks up to him and this is only his second dance and he’s already bored. She wears a floor length pink gown with a corset so tight that Stede is worried for her ribs. Her real hair is stuffed under a curly red haired wig filled with jewels and her makeup is so light that Stede wonders if it’s just white face paint. She looks like she just stepped straight out of 18th century France. Still, he takes her hand and she introduces herself in just one word - “Antoinette” - before starting to reel off a conversation, all in French. Conversation might be the wrong word because Stede can’t get a word in edgeways, and even if he could, he doesn’t speak a word of French and she clearly doesn’t speak a word of English. He wants to, he really does, it being one of the native languages of Genovia and all but modern foreign languages just never stuck in his brain. He’d do far better if she was speaking to him in Ecclesiastical Latin right now.

Finally that dance ends and he moves onto the next women who are trying and failing to come across blasé when they each rush forward to be the next to dance with him. He dances with another French woman, a Duchess named Eugenia, who speaks just enough English for them to have a pleasant enough conversation. An elderly woman comes forward next and just as Stede is about to ask if it is her who he will be dancing with, she pushes another person forward. They’re more around Zheng’s age and they introduce themselves as Jim and Stede doesn’t dare comment that he’s only supposed to be dancing with the women tonight, of which Jim clearly isn’t.

“That’s my nana,” they whisper, “we both know neither of us are interested in each other like that, but can you just play along, please?”

“Of course,” Stede whispers back into their hair, using the opportunity of mutual non-attraction to really put on a show that he is trying with these ‘women’.

“Thanks, man,” they say, “it’s just hard you know, my nana hasn’t really wrapped her head around me not being a woman, or a man for that matter, and I hate it but sometimes it’s just easier to go along with whatever she wants.”

Stede gives their waist a sympathetic squeeze where he’s gently placed his hand, “I get it,” he says a little sadly, “you shouldn’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not but, yeah, it’s easier sometimes.”

Jim pulls back to put their hands on his shoulders and really get a good look at him. “Oh,” they say as realisation passes across their face, “oh, so you really get it.”

Stede smiles, coming out twice in one night should be some kind of record, especially when he’s only done it once before in his whole life before tonight, “yeah, I really do get it, not in the same way as you but, yeah, I’m really not having fun everyone telling me to dance with all these women, if you catch my drift,” he laughs a little sadly.

Jim smiles back at him and squeezes his shoulders tight. “Me and you, yeah, we’re going to be okay,” they say, so surely that Stede can’t help but believe them just a little bit. Jim then winks at Stede and disappears back off into the crowd as though the conversation never happened.

Stede is still smiling to himself in the haze of joy he always feels having just spoken to another queer person as he turns to face whoever is waiting there next to dance. But instead of a woman, he’s greeted with a member of the waitstaff carrying a tray of hor d'oeuvres high above the crowd as they crash straight into each other. Pastry flies everywhere, some even landing in Antoinette's wig, not that she’ll notice with the amount of things that are already in there. Stede’s small golden crown flies off of his head with the force of the bump and falls directly into the hands of a man standing nearby.

The server gasps before Stede can retrieve it. “Prince!,” he cries before rambling, “I’m so sorry, Prince, I should’ve been watching more carefully and, and-”

Stede cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. “No don’t worry, it's entirely my fault,” he says, “but there’s no harm, no foul, and no bruise.” He laughs a little awkwardly as the server hurries off. Then he turns to the man still standing behind him to get his crown back. He never thought he’d say something like this but he is quite fond of that crown, plus Zheng would definitely kill him if he lost it. The man holding his crown is a short, angry looking man with greying black hair and a goatee the same colour. He wears a black shirt with a leather waistcoat and has a small scar in the shape of a cross right by his left eye which really isn’t helping his case for not looking like a cartoon villain.

“Izzy Hands,” the man says, holding out his hand for Stede to shake, which Stede does. Izzy hands the crown back and Stede quickly places it back on top of his head. “You ought to be more careful with that, Your Royal Highness” Izzy says, nodding up towards the crown, “someone might try to take it from you.” Stede laughs uncomfortably before excusing himself. What a strange vibe that guy had, he thinks to himself.

For the rest of the night, Stede dances with countless other women. Some fawn over him, some seem completely indifferent towards him but he dances with them all the same. He makes polite conversation and genuinely gets along with a majority of the women as they share a few laughs before parting ways. One woman, a Princess all the way from Fiji, is his favourite dance partner of the night. None of the over the top politeness that comes with being a Princess and meeting a Prince, it’s refreshing.

“You’re Stede,” they laugh, “like Stede, Stede?”

“I guess,” Stede says, not knowing how to take that, “why, what do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she laughs again, looking Stede up and down, “I guess I just thought you’d be taller, more muscly…I’m Archie” they quickly course correct and hold out their hand for Stede to kiss.

Stede smiles and takes her hand as they carry on their conversation while they dance. All their laughter catches Zheng’s attention from across the room and it earns them a quick smile and nod. Archie shuffles closer and rests her head on Stede’s chest as they dance to the music. Just as Stede is beginning to worry that he’s broken his own rule of not leading anyone on though, she lifts her head away and sighs.

“Was just testing a theory,” she says by way of explanation, “but no, I’m not going to like you like that, trust me.” Stede’s heart feels full, maybe not a feeling that a lot of people get after a rejection, but because he really does understand her. They share a look of understanding and between Archie, Roach and Jim, he finally doesn’t feel so alone. Archie disappears back off into the crowd and a little while later when he sees that she’s now dancing with Jim, he can’t help but smile.

Later on in the night when he’s finally danced with every woman in the room, in the whole of Genovia it feels like if the pain in his fancy black dress shoes is anything to go by, Stede finally takes a minute to himself. He’s standing out on the balcony just outside of the great hall where the party is still in full swing. He likes to be alone like this, getting overwhelmed if he has to socialise for too long which was bad enough back when he was a child, there’s no escaping socialising as a Prince. And tonight he feels he’s done at least a few years worth of it. It’s late but it’s a warm July evening so the sun is only just beginning to set and the warm breeze whipping through Stede's hair is all that is reminding him that this is all real. He stands and lets himself just take it all in. He takes the night of dancing and him being a Prince and the fact that becoming King is so close now that he’s finally 21 and lets it all wash over him. He takes it all in and then lets the worries fly away like the geese flying overhead. He can still see the water from up here and it glitters in pinks and oranges as the sun sinks lower. When he’s ready, he takes a deep breath and turns back towards the doors of the castle to re-enter his party. Just as he turns though, he’s bumping into someone, chest to chest and standing hard on the person’s foot as he does.

The figure that he’s still too close to see yelps and jumps back into Stede’s view. Before him is the most beautiful man that Stede’s ever seen. He’s probably around his age, if not a couple of years older and he wears a beautiful purple silk suit with a jacket that fastens in a deep-V. Beneath, he wears a black shirt and a handful of golden necklaces sit on top. Most of his warm brown skin is covered and Stede tries not to feel too disappointed. He has long black hair that curls around his shoulders and a short black beard. Strangely, he also wears fingerless black leather gloves with an emerald ring sitting on one finger. Stede can’t speak, can’t apologise, can’t do anything for what feels like a lifetime while he takes this man in completely. In reality it's only a few seconds before Stede is jumping back too.

“Oh your foot, I’m so sorry,” Stede exclaims, “Are you- Are you alright?”

The man chuckles a little, “I’ll survive, Prince.”

Stede can’t help but stare at him. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I’ve heard of you,” the man says, “I’ve heard all about you.” Stede begins to feel himself blush, “It’s hard not to hear all about you, mate. You’re the Crown Prince, you’re everywhere.” Of course, Stede thinks, stupid.

Stede tries to relax a little. “Still, I feel bad about your foot, are you sure you don’t want to exchange licences? Proof of insurance?” Stede doesn’t need to be told how bad at flirting he is, and Lucius has told him many, many times, but he still has to try.

“I’m fine, honestly, mate. These shoes were a little big for me anyway, maybe the swelling will help them fit a little better,” the mystery man says, smiling softly at Stede and looking up at him through his lashes. Stede laughs despite himself.

“I’ll tell you what,” the man says coming closer, Stede’s breath catches, “you dance with me and we’ll call it even, okay?”

“We can barely hear the music out here,” Stede laughs.

“Would you rather we go back inside and forget about this whole thing?,” the man asks, there’s a hint of a laugh in his voice as though he knows what Stede’s answer will be but he also seems perfectly willing to back off if Stede so much as asks.

“Absolutely not,” Stede says, smiling back at him.

They come together as Stede has done what feels like a million times tonight. But this time he feels even more clumsy than usual. He’s never danced with another man before and he has no idea where to put his hands. The man then looks Stede straight in the eye and Stede trusts him, he doesn’t even know what he’s trusting him with yet and yet, he does. Stede nods and as quickly as he has, the man is gently taking hold of both of his wrists and settling Stede’s hands onto his waist while he slips his arms around Stede’s shoulders. It feels comfortable, safe, and gentle. He hopes this man has his own rules about not leading anyone on because Stede can feel the man’s body heat seeping through into his chest. He smells like tobacco and sandalwood as Stede decides to be bold and rests his head on the man’s shoulder as they dance. His hands slide onto Stede’s back as he does, simply holding onto each other as they dance. Well, it’s not so much dancing as swaying together gently to the faint music that they can hear inside under the pink glow of the setting sun. Nevertheless, this is Stede’s favourite dance of the evening, and he has a lot to compare it to. They dance until the moment ends and then they’re pulling away from each other, not far, still looking into each others’ eyes.

Stede laughs because he has to do something with the feeling bubbling in his chest. “Nice to meet you,” Stede says, almost whispering, not wanting to break the moment, “I’m Stede.”. He holds out his hand to the man who laughs and takes it with his gloved hands. Even through the glove, a burst of electricity jolts through Stede at the touch.

“Nice to meet you, Stede,” he starts, “I’m-”

Before he can finish, the double doors at the entrance to the balcony are flying open and there stands Frenchie, one of the new secret service interns looking sheepish as though he just walked in on something far more intimate than two men shaking hands. Maybe he had.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” he looks between them, “sirs, fine sirs,” he says with an awkward little bow. “You’re required in the main hall, Your Royal Highness. For your cake,” he falters, “not for your cake, for a surprise. For no reason at all.” He keeps rambling, nervous, and Stede sighs before turning to give his mystery man an apologetic look.

“Fuck yeah,” he says in a way so ungentlemanly that Stede can’t help but smirk, “I’m always up for cake, lead the way, Prince.” And so they head inside together. Stede is immediately pulled away by Zheng and the servers and he sees the mystery man going to stand by the angry little man from earlier - Izzy, Stede remembers. Hopefully Izzy doesn’t bother him too much. Just then, a huge cake is brought out. It’s covered in candles and blue icing and the whole room breaks out singing Happy Birthday. The rest of the night is lost in a haze of people and eventually Stede’s mystery man disappears into the crowds as well.

Chapter Text

A few days after his party Stede has finally started to settle into life in the palace. His own suite is being renovated to suit the shift from a 16 year old boy to a 21 year old. But it won’t be ready for a few days yet so he’s staying in one of the Royal guest bedrooms while he waits. It’s a simple enough room, pale pink wallpaper with sheer curtains covering the double doors which lead out onto a small balcony so that Stede can see some of the gardens from his bed. Most excitingly, the room is filled with paintings of every inch of the gardens surrounding him and vases that are beautifully decorated with pictures of flowers and pears, a Genovian delicacy, of all shapes and colours. Stede could study them for hours, the beautiful patterns and the artists who created them.

He sprawls out in his soft bed in his long silk nightgown, eye mask still resting on his forehead. Today is one of the last days he has to himself before good old Prince lessons shift into full blown King lessons. Zheng is in Parliament this morning, Frenchie and Oluwande are nowhere to be seen, even Wolf seems to be taking the day off, snoring at the end of his bed. Stede could do anything with today and he’s going to use it to take in all the history he can, and what better place to do that than in a 500 year old castle.

Diving out of bed and getting dressed into a t-shirt and jeans, Stede heads out into the castle. There are three floors and 4 wings of the house: the North, East, South and West wings. He’s here on the second floor in the East wing now and he has a whole new world to explore. He makes his way along the corridors that are lined with paintings of all the Bonnets and Yi Saos that have come before them. They stand stoic and unmoving on simple grey backdrops like they’re posing for a school picture, not for a portrait that will be remembered through history. Stede hopes that when his painting ends up on one of these walls one day, they put a little bit more life into him. Maybe a little bit more colour in the background. Although a rainbow background might be a bit too on the nose.

At the end of the corridor is the sitting room and in pride of place hangs Zheng’s portrait. She really is beautiful. She’s much younger in this picture, from when she began her reign, but she’s barely changed in all her years. Her hair is still thick and black, though a little shorter these days. To Stede’s surprise, she wears a suit in this portrait - a deep maroon jacket laced with gold trim. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap and she’s looking forward with a soft gaze. That’ll be him up there soon. Eventually he moves on, he loves art but when it’s portraits, he can’t help but feel like their eyes are following his every move the more he stares into them. He has enough of real people watching his every move, he doesn’t need the portraits to be watching him too.

He makes his way through all of the wings of the house, taking time to sketch the prettiest of the statues wherever the light hits them just right. It’s nothing compared to what Lucius would’ve drawn by now but he enjoys carrying around his little notebook and pencil like a proper artist. He likes appreciating the art all around him for what it is. If only these walls could talk, they’d tell the story of generations of rulers before him, and more importantly to Stede, the artists who drew them. Maybe they could give him advice on how to be a good King to his country. Eventually, Stede reaches the West Wing where the government buildings are located. Zheng is here today talking with the members of parliament about matters of the court. When Stede is King, this is where he’ll spend most of his days. He really did enjoy getting his degree and he knows that with his knowledge of politics and his love for this country, he can make a real change one day. For now though, until his King lessons really begin, he’s not even allowed to sit in. So instead, he wanders the halls surrounding the main chambers taking in the busts of all the Prime Ministers that have come before Prime Minister Kevin Fang.

Stede runs a gentle hand over all of their sculpted faces, taking time to appreciate how something so detailed has been carved out of rock. Eventually he reaches the bust of Nigel Badminton - arguably, though no one would argue it, the worst Prime Minister that Genovia has ever seen. He only led parliament for a couple of months before his accident when he tripped and fell on his own sword while threatening some poor intern with it. Stede wouldn’t be surprised if there was foul play, and he wouldn’t blame anyone if there was. Badminton was the prime minister over 50 years ago now but the country is still recovering from the setbacks he led them into. He gave ruling against same sex marriage, he closed down the only children’s home in the town to make way for his government funded spa, he made the whole country poor and miserable. Stede knows that the art isn’t Badminton himself but he can’t help but push the bust back as he passes, threatening to topple and smash if it goes over the edge of the podium where it stands. If only Stede weren’t holding onto it. As he does though, there’s a small clicking sound and suddenly a door is opening to the left of him.

“So cool,” Stede whispers to himself as he walks forward and through the door into a secret passageway. He’d grown up seeing things like this in films and always imagined having what he’d call his auxiliary wardrobe hidden somewhere behind a bookshelf. Maybe that’s something he could actually have now, he realises. The passageway is all marble and despite the warm summer morning, Stede wishes he’d have brought his cardigan along with him. The passageway gives way to an even narrower tunnel that Stede leaps through into a small hidden room, trying not to think about how spooky it is in here. Only when he reaches the small room does he notice a little metal window, just a little bigger than a peephole and he pulls the cover back to see through.

Once open, he realises it’s one of the vents to the main Parliament chambers. It’s small enough that no one can see him but he can see the whole room. The members of parliament line the far wall, sitting on benches with royal blue covers. The Prime Minister is seated at the head of the room, addressing his government alongside the chamber’s speaker. There, seated on a soft cushioned throne beside him sits Zheng taking in the conversation as it unfolds. Stede has caught them in the middle of something, a heated debate if Zheng’s frown and turned up eyebrows are anything to go by.

“I hate to say it, Your Majesty,” Fang is saying, “but by Genovian law, in order for Prince Stede to take his place on the throne, he must be married to a suitable wife.”

“What? No!” Stede exclaims before catching himself, he hopes sound doesn’t carry around here.

Zheng shares his sentiments though. “But we’ve never really enforced that rule,” she says, putting all of her authority and the respect it demands into her voice, “I’ve ruled happily for some years without a husband by my side. Are you suggesting that I should be married to do a better job as your Queen?”

Stede can’t help but smile, he doesn’t say it often enough but he really does love her. Especially given how flustered the whole of Parliament now looks. “Not-not at all, Your Majesty,” Fang says. Kevin Fang is a good man, Stede knows him well. He’s softly spoken and was so kind to him when he was first learning how to be a Prince. He knows that Fang doesn’t want this, he wouldn’t force Stede to do anything he doesn’t want to, especially not like this. But given the pressure that some of the older Members of Parliament who believe it should be them up there, either in Fang’s seat or on the throne, Stede expects it’s not his decision to make. And he can understand doing and saying whatever it takes to survive in their world.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” comes a croaky, familiar voice from the benches. Stede turns towards the voice and there sitting beneath his barrister wig is Izzy Hands, the strange man from Stede’s 21st birthday party. He looks a little different now in his robes but his eyes are still menacing. “If Prince Stede is not ready to take the throne and remains unmarried, there is always my dear cousin Lord Edward Teach. He too is unmarried but there are women positively falling at his feet so it’s only a matter of time. You see, he’s a rightful heir to the throne, on the side of my great-great-great-”.

“Enough,” Zheng says sharply enough to cut Izzy off, “and what, may I ask, are you implying by all of this?”

“I’m saying that if Stede does not marry soon, we owe it to the people of Genovia to let my dear Edward take the throne,” Izzy smirks, “afterall Edward is Genovian born and raised, you can’t possibly tell me that Prince Stede knows the people of Genovia better than him?”

“Prince Stede is doing very well learning to be a King at my side,” Zheng starts, not letting her voice shake, “but very well, I suggest that we give Stede one year to find a wife, if not,” she grimaces, “then your Lord Teach may-”

Before Zheng can continue, Lord Ivan, the speaker of the house, interrupts. “Pardon my interruption, Your Majesty. But you are due to descend from the throne within the next month, this would leave the country unsure as to who their next ruler will be. It is my final ruling that Prince Stede Bonnet will marry a suitable wife within the next 30 days or Lord Edward Teach will take his place as the rightful heir.” The gavel falls and Stede slams the metal window shut.

• • •

“How could parliament expect me to fall in love in 30 days,” Stede exclaims, pacing back and forth in the sitting room where he now stands with Zheng, “how can anyone fall in love in 30 days.” He keeps pacing, trying to take deep breaths but his voice still comes out as a half shout, “it’s like they’re trying to force me into an arranged marriage or…” Stede’s stomach drops as it dawns on him, “there is no ‘or’, is there? I’ll have to have an arranged marriage!”

Stede feels hysterical now and he thinks he’s keeping it fairly well bottled up to say how much he feels like he’s going to burst. He wants to pack up all his things and take Wolf and move away somewhere for a fresh start. But, oh, how much he wants to be the King. He just never thought it’d be taken away from him, not like this. Who even is this Lord Edward Teach anyway?

Stede stops in the middle of the room and turns to face Zheng, “what kind of person agrees to an arranged marriage anyway?”

Zheng looks at him and raises her eyebrows. “Oh,” he says, it’s not that he didn’t know but he’d never really thought about it before, “you agreed to an arranged marriage.”

“I did,” Zheng sighs, looking up at the portrait on the far wall of her and her late husband, “it worked out quite well for us, he was a good friend. We were quite fond of each other in the end.”

But he doesn’t want to just be fond of the person he’ll marry, he always thought when he did marry it could be for love. It breaks his heart to know that at least Zheng could have fallen in love with whoever she was set up to marry, which might be unfair to think, he knows, because she never did fall in love with him. But at least there was a chance, how could Stede ever marry knowing that he could never fall in love with her no matter how hard she might try to love him.

“Thanks, Zheng,” he signs, “but I dream of love, not fondness.”

Zheng comes over and puts a hand on his arm, looking up at him. “You don’t have to do this, Stede,” she says carefully, “you don’t have to become King.”

Despite himself, Stede’s throat feels tight as tears begin to well up in his eyes. “But I want to be,” he says quietly, “this is so unfair!”

Zheng, at a loss for what to say next, rubs soothing circles into his arm while Stede looks around the room trying to recentre himself. As he looks around he takes in all of the portraits, men and women who look so different but kept the country feeling the same for hundreds of years. Of course the country has changed for the better over the years but maybe with him in power, even if he doesn’t get to live his fairytale love story, maybe more people like him will be able to. He can stay in the shadows if it means his people don’t have to hide themselves anymore, not if he can help it. Plus he really wants his portrait up there above the fireplace, so long as he gets to choose the colour of the background. Surely he’s earned that right.

Stede sighs. “No, I want this,” he says, defiantly, puffing his chest and feeling more on solid ground by the second, “I want my portrait up on these walls. I want my chance to make a difference as a ruler.”

“Spoken like a true King,” Zheng says, smiling at him.

Chapter Text

“...And so I would gladly take a bullet for you, Your Majesty,” Frenchie finishes. He glances over at where Zheng’s ladies in waiting, Tiff and Jane, are standing, “I’m requesting background checks on everyone in this room as we speak,” he says, placing a hand on the walkie-talkie at his hip. Zheng laughs, “how brave, most of the interns in the palace don’t even want to fetch me my tea, but I can assure you everyone in this room has a high security clearance.” Zheng waves Frenchie just as Olu walks into the room.

“The limousine has just arrived outside, Your Majesty,” Olu says. Then, as Frenchie turns to leave in a rush, probably to take on any possible assassins who’ve arrived disguised as limousine drivers, Zheng thinks, Olu looks to her and smiles. “Sorry about him,” he says quietly, “he’s a good man, smart, he’s the nephew of one of the Members of Parliament and he’s a bit-” he exhales deeply, as any man who’d been responsible for Frenchie for the last few weeks might, “-lets just say enthusiastic.” Zheng just laughs and stands to follow him out to greet their guests. “Viscount Izzy Hands is not staying with us,” she says as they walk down the stairs, thank fuck, she thinks, “but Lord Edward Teach is and I want you to keep your eye on him at all times, Olu. He seems a nice enough man but if he’s keeping company like Izzy Hands then I don’t want him in the palace unattended.”

“Of course,” Olu says, taking and squeezing her hand reassuringly in cover of the stairwell before letting it go abruptly, “you know you can trust me.”

Downstairs in the foyer, Zheng comes to stand by Stede who is already ready and waiting. He wears a smart suit, a peach coloured matching suit jacket and trousers. His tie is a deep rose pink and it’s crooked. He never did learn even in all his years of Prince lessons. Roach would usually always be there to fix it for him but he’s away travelling with the local vet to help with some of the daily surgeries. The strange, multi-talented man he is. Zheng is leaning across instinctively to fix it for him as soon as she arrives.

“Is this outfit suitable to greet the Viscount and Lord Teach?” Stede asks with a snip of something sarcastic in his voice. “Yes,” Zheng says, only after fixing his tie, “Very appropriate, you look like a real gentleman.”

Stede turns back to face the door, fiddling with his hands. “I can’t believe you invited the guy who wants to steal the throne to stay with us in the palace,” Stede says, and if Zheng had known him as a toddler, she imagines this is what the start of a tantrum would’ve looked like, “and god that Izzy Hands. Viscount, more like viscu-”

Zheng holds up a hand to cut him off.

“I offered to have him strung up by his toes in the courtyard,” Olu says, walking up to stand beside them.

“Yes!” Stede smiles, “I like Olu’s suggestion, let's go with that.”

“No!” Zheng retorts. “You two are as bad as each other. We’re going to be polite and welcome Edward as our guest. Besides, if anything is going on I’d rather it happen under my nose.”

“I just don’t want this guy to be everywhere,” Stede says, fully pouting now, “he’s rude and arrogant, he’s self-centred, he’s just-”

“Have you met him?” Zheng asks.

“No,” Stede admits.

“Me neither,” Zheng sighs.

“But I just know he’s all those things, I don’t like him and I never will. I could just do without him getting under my feet all summer. Why does he want to be King all of a sudden anyway?”

Just then the guards cry out their announcements and the doors are opening. Izzy walks in first. “Fucking hell,” he says, “I thought this was supposed to be a palace, these staff need training to open doors before the person outside dies of old fucking age.”

“Viscount,” Zheng smiles, holding out her hand towards him and nudging Stede to do the same, “welcome to the palace.”

But Stede can’t focus on welcoming anyone, he can’t breathe, he can’t think. Lord Edward Teach sweeps through the doorway, back lit by the early morning sun, he’s still just as beautiful as when he and Stede first met, only Stede knows who he is now. He silently curses Frenchie for interrupting them that night, it would’ve stopped Stede dreaming about the man he danced with on his birthday if only he knew who he was. Edward’s hair is half up and half down and his black curls sit gently on his shoulders. His beard has been trimmed slightly so Stede can see more of his beautiful face and he smiles when he walks up to greet them. Stede feels that smile all the way through his chest, fizzling out into his fingertips as Edward takes his waiting hand, frozen in place from before he walked in, and shakes it. He’s still wearing those odd leather gloves but the warmth of his palm is intoxicating. That snaps Stede back into action.

“You fucker!” Stede exclaims before stomping on his foot, purposefully this time. Then he’s fleeing, heading anywhere but near the first man he’d felt real attraction to, the man he’d dreamed of dancing with again for days now. The man who always knew he wanted to take the throne from under him but still danced and flirted anyway, Stede should’ve known never to trust anyone.

As he leaves he hears Zheng gasp. “An accident, I’m sure,” she says, steadying herself, “I will personally get some ice for that foot, as soon as I’m back.” She leaves in as much of a hurry as a Queen can leave in until she’s around the corner and then she’s running to find wherever Stede has run off to.

She finds him in the kitchen scooping ice cream out of a huge tub. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says as Zheng walks in, not even looking up, “it’s just I have met him actually, at my birthday party.” Zheng comes to sit down beside him and waits for him to swallow his latest spoonful of ice cream. “We talked, we understood each other, it was nice. I thought he’d be a friend.” We danced, I flirted, I thought he’d be the one.

Zheng sighs and picks up another spoon to take a bite of Stede’s ice cream. “Well,” she says once she’s swallowed a dainty bite, a Queen never talks with her mouth full, “as the Queen, I cannot condone this. You two need to make a show of getting on with each other or the people will know that something’s wrong.” Then she puts a hand on Stede’s shoulder, “but as your family, I’m proud of you, girl. What a dick!”

Stede is glad there was no ice cream in his mouth with the way his jaw drops open. Zheng isn’t always the polite and sophisticated woman she displays to the public, in private she has the mouth of a sailor and it takes Stede by surprise every time. “Come on,” she says, taking his hand and pulling to lead him out of the kitchen, “I’ve got something to show you.” Then, as an afterthought just as Stede rests the spoons in the ice cream to bring the tub along for the journey: “and I think you can leave that right here.” Stede sighs, puts the ice cream back on the counter, and follows her out of the room.

Zheng leads Stede up the winding staircase towards his bedroom in the tower. His own bedroom, from back when he was much younger, not the guest suite. “Now,” she says as they walk up together, her in front and him following close behind, “there are still a few finishing touches so take it all with a grain of salt, but your room is as good as done.” She turns to look over her shoulder at him as they keep walking, “But it’s been a day, you could do with a surprise.”

She reaches the top of the staircase to where the familiar double doors at the entrance to Stede’s room stand and Stede is close behind her coming onto the landing. Zheng pulls a small key on a navy blue velvet strip of material out of her pocket and unlocks the door before pushing both wide open.

Stede gasps as he walks through the door, “this- you’re saying this is my room?”

“Yes,” Zheng smiles, following him in, “I take it you like it?”

“Zheng, this is incredible!” It really is, Stede doesn’t know where to look first. The walls are a deep blue with flecks of gold making the room shine like the sea beside them that he can see out of the large windows from the height of the tower. The room is separated into two smaller rooms as it always has been but now two sets of curtains cover the doorway to where his soft, freshly made four poster bed sits. One set is a sheer netting with gold thread running through while the other is a heavier set; deep maroon with flowers stitched into them. Bookcases line the far wall floor to ceiling filled with all of his favourites. There are knick knacks and trinkets all over the room, vases and statues that Stede will spend the next month learning everything he can about. On the long table sits a model pirate ship. Stede moves towards it and runs a careful finger along it, bow to stern, before tracing the masts and the feel of the sails. Tears prick in his eyes before he can stop them. “It's a teenie tiny version of the ship my mother took me on as a child. How did you know?” Stede says, looking towards Zheng.

“A Queen never reveals her secrets,” she laughs, “follow me, there’s one more surprise.”

Zheng leads Stede through towards another door that wasn’t there when he last lived here. “You’re a grown man now,” she says, pushing the door wide open, “you need a better wardrobe than one for a teenage boy.”

Stede can’t help the squeak that leaves him as he peers into the wardrobe and sees rows of beautiful suits, organised into rainbow order. It feels a bit ironic in his closet but he has to appreciate the organisation first and foremost. There are soft velvet robes hung up on the far wall, one a navy blue and the other a deep pink with a pattern of birds and flowers. As Stede takes it all in, Zheng hands him a small remote control.

“Okay,” she says, “try code 143.”

Dutifully, Stede clicks 1. 4. 3. As he does, a large drawer pops open at the other side of the room and it’s filled with jewels, crowns, bracelets and rings. Some are gold and others are silver because Stede never could decide which he liked the most. The jewellery is set with rubies and emeralds that sparkle under the spotlights lining the ceiling.

“A set of some of the crown jewels, on loan to you for whenever it’s appropriate to wear them,” Zheng says, “now try code 123.”

Again, Stede takes the remote and clicks 1. 2. 3. This time a wardrobe door slides open revealing a set of frankly underwhelming clothes when compared to the jewels he’s just seen. There’s a lovely black turtleneck that he’ll absolutely be wearing tomorrow but these just seem to be his regular clothes. Stede turns back around to face Zheng. “These are nice clothes and all but maybe you could’ve shown me these before the jewels?” Before Zheng has time to respond, hands suddenly reach around to cover Stede’s eyes. Jumping, he whips around to see Lucius in the flesh emerging from behind the clothes. He looks taller, older somehow, and he has a beard coming in. Without words, they pull each other into a crushing hug. This is their first time seeing each other in months and that feels like a lifetime after a childhood of spending every waking moment together.

“You’re here!” Stede cries, leaning out of the hug but keeping hold of Lucius’s shoulders, “in Genovia!”

“I know, I’m here!”

“You’re in my closet!”

“Yeah, I never thought I’d be in one of those again,” Lucius laughs.

They spend a few minutes catching up, Lucius had only just that morning gotten off the plane while Stede was downstairs not so successfully greeting Edward and was promptly stuffed inside the closet by Olu and Frenchie. God, Stede had so much to fill Lucius in on about that whole situation but it’s all too much for now. Right now he’s just happy to have his best friend back all to himself without that pompous arsehole getting into his head again. Zheng makes her excuses and leaves them to get all caught up, their excitement getting a bit too much for her to handle eventually.

“By the way,” Stede says, “I’m getting married.”

Lucius’s eyebrows raise into his hairline. “To a woman?” he asks, scandalised almost and Stede nods sadly, “who is she?”

Stede sighs. “I have no idea.”

• • •

“How about Lady Evelyn Higgins?” Olu asks, flicking the slide over to a picture of a beautiful blonde woman wearing a stunning maroon gown. She has a matching eye patch covering her right eye and holds a still smoking cigarette in one hand like a woman in a film noir detective story.

“No,” Zheng says abruptly, “she’s too old for you, Stede. Besides, she lives too much of an exotic life.” Stede raises an eyebrow, wondering what that might be a euphemism for before Zheng continues, “and I mean that literally, rumour has it that she has a pet jungle cat who’s killed a man. No, keep moving, Olu.”

They’re sitting in the palace’s cinema room, Stede and Lucius in the chairs at the front while Zheng and Olu sit behind them, watching over the whole process. Their task for today is to find Stede a wife. A woman who is of a noble enough status to appease parliament to let Stede marry and, most importantly, let him become King. Stede has been dreading this for days now but so far it’s just been fun, like swiping on a dating app without actually realising that there are real people behind the photos. Only this time whoever he right swipes on would become the future Queen consort of Genovia rather than just a funny story to tell his friends about.

“Is it me or does this popcorn taste like pears?” Lucius asks, sitting down again after getting a popcorn refill.

“It does,” Stede says through his own mouthful of the fresh popcorn, “Genovian delicacy, there are pears everywhere and in everything.”

Lucius hums before turning around to snatch the remote from Olu’s hands and flicking through a few more slides of women himself. “Too old,” he says to one flicking over to the next and the next, “too young. Oh no, Stede, this one would eat you up, next!”

They go through a few more women before Lucius settles on a picture of a beautiful woman with long brown curly hair tidied half up half down, she wears a green corset with golden jewellery and is smiling wide into the camera. “Lady Anne Bonny,” Lucius reads from the slides, “she’s stunning!”

“Yes,” Olu says, leaning over to take the remote back away from him, “her girlfriend, Mary, thinks so too.”

Stede smiles a little sadly, looking over to Lucius who’s still looking up at the screen but shuffles his foot towards Stede’s in a subtle but reassuring tap.

“Let’s go lesbians,” he says, laughing, “alright who’s next?”

The next woman to come up is another beautiful woman in a fitted red suit. She has dark skin and curly hair which is pulled back away from her face with various bejewelled clips and grips keeping it in place. According to her profile she’s 25 but she looks older. “What about her?” Stede says, realising he’ll have to contribute to the conversation eventually or he worries his lack of interest might get found out to be more than just a lack of interest in getting married.

“God no,” Zheng says with a hint of disgust, “Princess Jackie of Spain, lovely woman, she’s always been good to me anyway but I swear she’s had like 20 husbands.” Zheng stands to sit on the arm of the chair beside Stede, “no, you need someone with very little baggage, someone who can help you run a country without ego getting in the way,” she takes the remote herself then, absentmindedly flicking through the next few women, “someone attractive, smart-”

“Someone like her?” Stede says, pointing at the screen to where Zheng had stopped scrolling during her rambling.

Zheng looks up. “Duchess Mary Allamby,” Zheng says, smiling for the first time since this long process began. “Oh she’s perfect, I don’t know why I didn’t think of her before.”

On the screen stands a woman in a white shirt and long black skirt with a matching black cravat tied loosely around her neck. Mary has straight brown hair piled up on the top of her head in a bun and she has a paintbrush behind her ear. She’s smiling wide at the camera standing beside some beautiful artwork that Stede could study for hours. The picture looks like it was taken at a gallery opening and all of the work seems to be hers. Something about her settles Stede a little, he still hates the idea of an arranged marriage and he feels terribly guilty that he can never fall in love with her no matter how hard he tries. But he hopes with their shared love of art as a good starting point that they can hopefully become good friends.

“Excellent choice, Stede, I knew you’d have good taste in women.” Zheng says, piling up all of her papers and pulling Olu up to his feet to stand alongside her as they move to leave, “I’ll phone her personally right now to arrange a meeting. Oh, how exciting!” And then she’s gone, leaving Stede and Lucius alone in the cinema room.

“You have good taste in women, Stede,” Lucius mocks in a voice that sounds remarkably like Zheng. “Yeah, right, if only she knew the truth,” he laughs, then he quickly corrects himself, “not that I’d ever tell her, but you have to admit it’s a bit funny getting you to pick between all of these women when you’re never going to be attracted to any of them.”

“Shut up,” Stede laughs a little, smacking Lucius’s arm, “if I don’t laugh I’ll cry, it’s good to have you here with me though.”

Lucius smiles at him. “Not going anywhere, babe.”

Chapter Text

Duchess Mary Allamby flies into Genovia the very next day, accompanied by her mother. Stede is supposed to meet her officially in a few days' time, in front of Zheng and some of the Members of Parliament to vet their suitability for one another. Stede wants to stick to that, he really does, it’d be so much easier for this to be something of a business transaction rather than a marriage. Stede assumes they’ll be loyal to one another as much as their hearts might plead otherwise but there’ll be no romance in it. Stede thinks it best to stick to an official meeting so that no one can get the wrong idea about what this is.

Still, in the early hours of the morning before their official meeting, Stede lies awake in his new bedroom. His palms sweat and his skin itches as he turns over in his head the knowledge that the woman set to be his wife is just downstairs and they’ll have to meet for the very first time so publicly. Sighing, he eventually gets up, puts on the pink robe from his collection and paces his room, careful not to catch the creaky floorboard beside Wolf’s castle shaped cat tower where he sleeps soundly. Restless and anxious, Stede knows he won’t be getting much sleep tonight and a small selfish part of him hopes that Mary feels the same because suddenly he’s opening the tower doors and making his way down the stairs. It’s surely close to 2am now and Stede can only assume that Mary will be asleep and yet he creeps along the corridors on his way to find her room and knocks before he can lose his nerve. After a minute he realises of course she’s asleep and goes to walk away but suddenly the main light is flicking on and the door is opening. Then there she is, Mary, looking wide awake, hands covered in what looks to be charcoal and one earphone still in her ear.

“Sorry, mate,” she says, not yet properly looking at him as she tries and fails to wipe off some of the charcoal onto her pyjama bottom, “I was drawing, didn’t hear the door at first, what can I do you f-”. Then she looks up, meeting Stede’s eyes, taking him in for the very first time before what Stede imagines will be a lifetime of days together.

“Oh shit, Stede, come in come in!”

She talks like they’re old friends and Stede likes her already as she’s taking his hand and ushering him into the guest suite where he had been staying not too long ago. In any other situation, a lady ushering a stranger into her room in the early hours of the morning would be unseemly, people might talk. But this feels more like appearing at a friend's door in university halls than appearing at your future wife’s door for late night spontaneous premarital activities.

“I’m Mary,” Mary says, holding out her hand to Stede once the door has been clicked closed. Stede takes it, unsure whether he should kiss her knuckles or shake her hand but from the way she holds it out, shaking it is the right way to go.

“Stede,” Stede says as he takes her hand.

“I know,” she says, laughing a little as she goes back to her spot on the bed where the covers are pulled back, her sketch pad on the bed and candles dotted around the sideboards and bedside tables to light up her work space. “What brings you here at this late hour, Stede,” she says, “didn’t you hear that we’re supposed to be officially meeting in just a few hours time?”

Stede feels himself blush as he realises his intrusion but she says it with a hint of a playful laugh in her voice so Stede knows she’s not really offended. Carefully, he moves her sketchbook out of the way to join her on the bed, perching carefully at the end before he sees that Mary has let herself relax and follows her lead, wrapping the robe around himself and pulling his legs up onto the bed. He may be a gentleman now but he still prides himself on how quickly he can make friends and get comfortable around them, and who better to be comfortable around than your future wife?

“I didn’t want to meet you for the first time in front of all those people,” he says a little quietly, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden.

“I get that,” Mary says, smiling at him, “it’s terrifying all this, I didn’t want to marry. No offence but I’m still young, I want to see the world, paint, sleep around.” A small blush creeps up onto her face. “Look, you seem sweet and we need to make this work between us but I’m only here because my mother wanted me to be.”

Stede smiles then, the second time in so many days that something of a rejection has made him feel light, like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck for that,” he laughs, “I didn’t want this either but some obnoxious fucker, Lord Edward Teach if you’ve heard of him, wants to steal the crown if I don’t marry soon, so here we are.”

Mary nods, “I have heard of him, you’ve got to admit, he’s hot, he’d look good on the Genovian postage stamp,” she laughs, smacking Stede’s thigh lightly, “I’m kidding, we can do this. Just think, us, the King and Queen of Genovia.”

Stede smiles at the thought before glancing down at the sketchbook that Mary had been working in before he came in. Inside must be a hundred drawings of everything: flowers, people, various castles, on a few pages are sketches of fruit that look suspiciously vulva-like, even to the untrained eye. Stede raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word as he keeps flicking through the drawings as Mary watches over him like a hawk. She gives the impression from their short meeting that she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her but she’s clearly protective over her sketches, looking ready to snatch the book back the moment she doesn’t like the way Stede is holding it.

“These are stunning,” Stede says, genuinely in awe, “there are so many sketches, and some of the first ones are of this castle. Have you really drawn all of these in the last day or two? It feels like there must be more than one artist drawing in here.”

Mary smiles, “Nope, just me. I’ve been stuck in here most of the time, they’ve been wanting to keep us apart until the official meeting. Fat load of good that did. I bet they think we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other the second we’re alone in a room together,” she laughs. “Gave me a lot of freetime to sketch while the jetlag wore off”.

“You should sketch the view from the balcony next,” Stede says helpfully, “the view is gorgeous, you can see right out to the ocean!”

“Ugh,” Mary grimaces, “no, the grounds are beautiful but I hate the fucking ocean.”

“Oh,” Stede sighs, something sinking within him as he tries not to let it bother him. They can be different in some ways and still have a long and happy enough marriage. “Maybe stick to fruit and flowers then, they’re really good.”

“Think I might just do that,” Mary smiles, there’s a silence then, a natural end to their conversation, but to Stede’s surprise it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. “Anyway,” Mary says, looking at the door, “it’s late, I think we should both get some sleep.” Stede takes that as his cue to stand and head towards the door, Mary getting up as well to walk him out.

As they reach the door, Mary in a sudden impulsive move puts both hands on Stede’s shoulders to stand herself up on her tiptoes and press a feather light kiss onto his cheek. “I know we might never fall in love, Stede,” she says, “but I like you, I think I’m glad it’s you I’m marrying. Honestly some of the guys out there, especially the noble men, you’d be surprised how much of a dick they can be.”

“Oh, I think I know perfectly well,” Stede laughs, thinking of Edward, “but I’m glad it’s you too.” He says it with real sincerity, he really feels he could grow to love Mary even if he’ll never fall in love with her. They’ll be good friends, a partnership, maybe even one day he’ll confide in her. He’s just sorry it has to be this way because she deserves to live a life she really wants, she deserves to travel the world to find her next muse and to enjoy being young. She deserves all the things that Stede so desperately wanted for his own life for all of those years before he knew he was a Prince. The things he still aches for but knows he’ll never have. The dark side of being royal is giving your life to the people and not being able to live it for yourself.

With that, Stede takes his leave. “Hey, Stede,” he hears a hushed voice call him back as he makes his way down the corridor, he turns around, “looking forward to meeting you tomorrow,” Mary laughs, maybe a little too loud for the hour, before closing the door behind her.

The next day’s meeting goes off without a hitch, to Stede’s surprise. Zheng even comments on how impressed she is that they seem so comfortable with each other on their very first meeting, to which Stede and Mary share a side glance acknowledging their secret first meeting. After the meeting with parliament and Zheng who seem to all give their approval for the marriage, it’s time to take the relationship public. Neither Stede nor Mary realised that that moment would be happening within the hour of their apparent first meeting but here they are, being whisked away towards the beach for the romantic stroll. As they arrive, camera crews and reporters are lining the beach to get the first look, so clearly this whole thing was planned well in advance.

“Are you ready?” Stede asks, as the car rolls to a stop right beside the beach.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Mary says, “god why did it have to be the beach, it’s like they know how much I hate it.” Mary holds back her grimace as the cameras already begin to flash outside. So aware of the world, or Genovia at least, watching the couples every move, Stede jumps out of the car first into a space that Olu has made for him, holding off the reporters with one stern look. Stede hurries around to the other side of the car and makes a show of opening the door for Mary and gently taking her hand to help her out of the car. They perform like it's their last night on earth, all soft smiles and loving glances, lacing their fingers together as they make their way onto the beach as though they’ve been together for months, not for mere hours. Mary’s hands are soft and cold and Stede can’t help but think of the electric buzz that came with the briefest of touches with Edward, even with him wearing those silly gloves. No, he thinks, he’s not going to spare a single feeling for that arsehole. This is his life now, with Mary.

Stede wears a baby blue shirt and white linen trousers while Mary has been dressed in a soft pink cotton dress. At some point they’ve both taken their shoes off as they make their way along the beach, Zheng and Mary’s mother making polite conversation as they follow along behind at a respectful distance.

The wind is whipping Mary’s hair about as more and more of it comes loose from her bun, and despite the warm August sun, Stede shivers with the chill of the wind. All of a sudden, the wind is catching under Mary’s matching pink scarf and sliding it off of her neck until eventually it’s being picked up and carried away on the breeze. Stede lets go of Mary’s hand and dives for it in an instant, he is a gentleman afterall. He gets his index finger under the scarf and clings onto it for dear life just as Mary has the exact same idea. Suddenly they’re running and tumbling together, pushed by the wind and the shared goal of not letting the scarf fly right into the ocean. Stede has a hold on the scarf but the sand is too soft and it’s almost impossible to slow down. Stede is the first to fall, cushioned by the sand and then Mary is coming down too, cushioned by Stede. Stede feels all of the air being knocked out of him at once, Mary is a small woman with pointy knees and elbows that were angled just at the position to hit Stede in all the wrong places. Stede is laughing then, tears building in his eyes as he laughs harder at the absurdity of the situation. Mary is laughing too, rolling off of him to pull the scarf out from under him and wrap it securely around her neck once again. They lay there for a minute to get their breath back, “I think you’re clumsier than me,” Stede laughs.

The days carry on in much the same way. Stede and Mary are whisked off for a romantic stroll on the beach or to a picnic with an assortment of food more extravagant than Stede had seen at most balls. Always with a camera crew and reporters waiting just a short distance away. Everyday the newspapers were filled with romantic stories of the new royal lovebirds, twisting tales of how they had met when Stede had first moved to Genovia but lost contact when he moved away to university. Stede read everything they had to say about them; that they’d rekindled their relationship months ago and were just now going public with their love. Childhood sweethearts is a much easier pill to swallow than an arranged marriage, Stede supposes.

Nearing the end of the week, they finally have a day of peace with no reporters in sight, at least for now. They’re in the garden, Stede and Mary have decided to play a game of tennis, no matter how much Mary’s mother protested that jumping around with rackets was too unladylike. Zheng and her are sitting to the side of the court, drinking tea and keeping an eye on them. Lucius is there too, acting as the ball boy. Stede knows Lucius well enough to know he’d never do any physical activity on purpose, or at the very least outside of the bedroom, so he suspects him sitting by the court is just an excuse to listen in on his and Mary’s conversation. They play well together, Stede was once bullied for being so completely unathletic, always picked last for a team in games of football at school. But now he’s strong and likes to think he’s good at the sports he enjoys. More hiking, rock climbing and yoga, less football, rugby and tennis. He’s getting the hang of it though. He hopes. Mary, on the other hand, is far too good at the game for a woman who claimed to have only played it once or twice before. Under the watchful eye of her mother, Mary is clearly letting Stede win a few rounds - the ladylike thing to do - but there’s an energy to her, fire behind her eyes that says she wants to win. After a little while Zheng stands to show Mary’s mother around the gardens and Stede silently thanks her for it, it’s not easy to really get to know someone when your guard has to be always up. This marriage isn’t real, both he and Mary know that, but he doesn’t want it all to have to be a performance.

“Come on, old man, keep up, how are you so bad at this?” Mary teases.

“Mary, I’m 4 months older than you, can we stop with the old man-” Stede cuts himself off with a triumphant laugh as he manages to knick the ball with the edge of his racket, only to send the ball flying straight into the net. They call it a day on tennis then, Stede sighing, having resigned himself to losing every game of tennis for the rest of his life. Maybe they’ll have to go rock climbing one day, that’ll show her. Although leave it to Mary to no doubt be deceptively strong.

“How did you get so good at this?” Stede asks.

“Truthfully?” Mary asks and Stede nods, “I used to sleep with a tennis coach, she gave me free lessons. Honestly I think she just thought I looked good in the skirt.” Lucius splutters and Stede can’t say a word for the way he’s frozen, just staring at her after her admission. Mary just laughs and turns to leave the court, “Oh and Stede?” she says, turning back towards him, “close your mouth.”

• • •

The week that follows goes much the same way day in, day out. Stede can’t complain, he and Mary get on well, much better than he was ever expecting them to but they’ve been fast friends. Their days are spent going for picnics and walks through the country, talking through interviews for national news about their relationship, all the sweet and completely imaginary details that they’ve been briefed on a million times. Mary plays the role well, holding Stede’s hand to play with the rings on his fingers while they speak, curling herself into him like they can never be apart. The people seem to approve too, every newspaper filled with stories of how the people are planning to celebrate the royal wedding: street parties and parades, plans to gather outside the church where it will happen, enough flowers sent through to the palace to congratulate the happy couple that the drawing room is beginning to look like a runner up at the Chelsea Flower Show.

It’s easy for Stede to forget what all of this is about, lost in the excitement of the people of Genovia being happy for him, proud of him, ready to accept them as one of their own. He can almost forget what all of this is leading up to, that he and Mary will be married within the month and then they will become the King and Queen of Genovia. He soothes himself with that knowledge, that this is what he’s wanted for years now and by the end of the year he’ll finally get to be King, no matter what it costs him to get there. For now, he enjoys the time with Mary and he learns to ignore the cameras just enough that he feels like he’s just finally getting free time to enjoy the city during his first real summer back in Genovia.

Reality catches up with him eventually. At the end of the week, 10 days after the proposed 30 day time limit on his marriage, Zheng pulls him to the side just after breakfast. Mary is occupied sketching Olu who she’s somehow convinced to stand posed out in the flower garden. He looks beautiful really. Lucius has joined her, taking some to do his own sketch of Olu - no doubt using his imagination to draw something a little more risque. Lucius still doesn’t approve of the marriage, he has no good reason to, but he does like Mary as much as he pretends not to, and Mary likes him, except she’s not hiding it.

“Stede,” Zheng says, looping an arm through his and pulling him into the study just as he’s about to head out into the garden towards Mary, Lucius and an increasingly pissed off looking Oluwande. She takes a seat at the table and motions for Stede to do the same. Stede thinks he knows what this is about, he and Mary have been seeing each other for under a week but things move fast when you only have 30 days for the match, the meeting and the wedding. He’s listened in on the secret meetings where they have hours of debates over the colour scheme for his wedding, something he always hoped would be a casual affair, maybe a quip to his boyfriend - fiance - about how good he looks in purple and that would be that. But now there’s politics: purple as a colour for nobility where Stede always thought it was for love, maybe green and blue they say but no, the colours of the Genovian flag are a little too on the nose for what they’re trying to do here. As far as he last heard, they’d settled on gold and white. Simple, elegant, completely and utterly boring in Stede’s books.

“I’ve been glad to see you and Mary getting on well,” Zheng says, “and I know it hasn’t been long but we’ve got a deadline to keep, and with that in mind,” she reaches into the breast pocket of her blazer and brings out a ring. Gold with a simple ruby in the centre, two diamonds on either side of it. “This ring has been in the family for generations,” she says, taking Stede’s hand and pressing the ring into it, “every Royal from before anyone can remember has been engaged with this ring - I was, your mother would have been if everything had worked out with your father, what a dick he turned out to be.” She adds that last part under her breath. “And now, Stede, I want you to propose to Mary with it. Today. The reporters will be by the far gate this evening, please try to make it look convincing.”

The ring feels heavy in his palm. Stede has to do this, he knows he has to do this. He and Mary are friends, they can grow to love each other as good friends and then they’ll get to rule over Genovia together. It’s become something of a mantra, a reassurance that he repeats to himself regularly, every time he has to put on the show of holding hands with Mary on the beach or while he’s reminding himself to smile at her like he’s in love during interviews. They can do this. He nods at Zheng, placing the ring inside his own pocket for safekeeping and then squeezing her hand as he makes his way out of the room. He can do this. Even if it’s not what either of them want, Mary deserves a proposal to remember, and not just to look convincing for the cameras. So, away Stede goes to plan his proposal.

He takes his time talking it through with Lucius and Roach. The pair had finally met when Roach had returned from travelling, back with gruesome stories about the animals he’d helped perform surgeries on which well and truly put them off the meal he’d just prepared for the three of them. Their meeting wasn’t the uncomfortable clashing of worlds that Stede had imagined it would be. It was strange, seeing them both in the same room knowing that they met Stede as two very different versions of himself, but they’re far too similar to have any sort of competition over who knows Stede the best or who knew him first. On the contrary, now there’s two of them, two best friends who know Stede better than he could even know himself. They’ll call Edward a dick to his face and treat him with a cool hostility for all he’s putting Stede through for his own gain. Then they’ll tease Stede the moment Edward leaves the room for blushing at the way his shirt rides up when he reaches up to the top shelf for the teabags. Stede is outnumbered and he loves it. He loves having friends who’ll help him plan the proposal of a lifetime for the woman he’s set to marry while teasing him about his ill fated frankly stupid crush on the man he despises.

Eventually the three of them settle on a picnic. Simple, classy but not so swanky and stuffy that the whole thing feels as artificial as it is. It’s a lovely summer evening and it gives them a good excuse to be on the grass by the far gate surrounded by the trees and the blooming lavender plants. The idyllic place for a picnic and proposal, and definitely nothing to do with where Stede knows the reporters to have been told to be. Stede takes his time gathering supplies. The next stage of his plan is the proposal itself and he wants to make it something that Mary will enjoy. Together, they’ll paint portraits of the other. There’ll be champagne, fruits, nuts and cakes. Then, just before Stede turns his painting to show Mary, he’ll write underneath a message spelling out ‘Will you marry me?’. It seems suitably romantic, perfect for Mary’s interests, and it will save Stede from tripping up while trying to get the words he desperately doesn’t want to say out of his mouth. Everything is perfect.

After dinner that evening as the birds sing and the day begins to cool a little, Stede guides Mary out to where he’s set everything up. Right on cue, the reporters begin to file in to stand behind the gate that’s just a small distance away from the setup. Stede pretends not to notice them. He guides Mary to sit with her back towards the gate, details from Zheng once he told her his plan to make sure that the cameras can capture his artwork when he turns it towards Mary. She really is a master strategist, a criminal mastermind in another life. They sit together, drinking and painting and genuinely enjoying each others’ company, Mary delighted with the night Stede had set up for her. Stede realises early on the mistake in his plans, that with all the good intention in the world to do something he knows Mary will love, he is a horrendous painter. He can sketch well, managing to capture the little details of shapes and shadows but there’s something about acrylic on canvas that will never agree with him. Mary’s skin looks too orange for poor paint mixing and features are misshapen and heavy handed in the way no one wants to see themselves represented, nevermind the person who you hope will accept your incoming marriage proposal. Stede hopes Mary finds it endearing at the very least. They paint and chat and the cameras watch their every move, just waiting for the moment that Stede pops the question. Surely Mary must have caught on by now, she’s a very perceptive woman and she knows that this wasn’t one of their planned couples outings for the press, at least that she knows of.

After an hour of painting, it comes the time to show each other their paintings. Mary goes first. The painting she’s managed to create in such a short amount of time is incredible. Stede knows he’s grown into his body, that he has strong striking features and he might even acknowledge that in a certain light he can be attractive. But the way Mary has painted him is something else. She’s painted him as he sits, looking thoughtfully down at his own canvas, he’s backlit by the setting sun making his hair appear even more golden than usual. Mary truly sees him, or at least she’s trying to, and there’s a certain love in the brushstrokes. That makes the next moments a little easier. Stede wouldn’t say he’d done a terrible job of getting Mary’s likeness eventually, having tried to fix some of his earlier work. It lacks a certain subtlety, there’s no softness or attentive familiarity in the way he’s captured Mary. The painting remains heavy handed, a means to the end of asking for Mary’s hand. Apt for the marriage the painting is about to propose. When he turns the painting towards Mary, he barely has time to take in her delighted gasp before the cameras are flashing away behind them. Compelled by what must be done, he takes Mary’s hand gently in his own and pulls the ring out from his breast pocket.

“May I?,” he asks, holding the ring out to her left hand.

Mary squeezes his hand softly, making an effort to meet his eyes and taking a deep breath to remind him to do the same. “You may.”

Chapter Text

“Regretting it already?”

Stede is sitting on the staircase of the palace entrance, desperately trying to hide from Frenchie who Zheng has moved to his personal security team and away from her own. She said it was because she was too busy to watch out for him, then because she thought Frenchie shouldn’t have such a demanding duty as to watch over the Queen in his first security position. Stede thinks, knows, it was just to get away from him. As lovely a man as he is, the man can talk. He’ll talk until he’s blue in the face and he’ll be far too attentive while he does it. He offers Stede cups of tea and asks to perform his new songs for him over them, he jumps at his own shadow but is a little too prepared to die for the cause even when there is basically no threat. The royal family in Genovia is very well liked as far as Stede has been able to tell. So here Stede sits.

He feels like he has very little control over what his face is doing at any given time, his emotions an open book when he’s not acting in front of the court and the people of Genovia. Now, he no doubt looks forlorn, staring at the portrait that Mary had drawn of him during their engagement just the previous evening. Edward startles him as he comes around the corner.

“No,” he refutes, if a little petulantly, “I’m simply admiring the beautiful artwork that my fiancée painted.”

Ed leans over to look at the artwork in his hands and scoffs, “calling yourself beautiful? Bit weird, mate. Have to hand it to Mary though, she did make you look good. Not that she needed to do any work there.”

Ed smiles bashfully, briefly replacing his cool composure with real sincerity. His cheeks are dusted with a light pink to match Stede’s. Stede doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that Ed finds him good looking. Sure, they’d danced, they’d flirted, or at least Stede had thought so. There had been a vibe, an air of possibility that there could be something more between them. If Frenchie hadn’t interrupted them that night, Stede had thought he might even consider leaning in, just a little, just to test the waters of what Ed might’ve done. But no, actually if Frenchie hadn't interrupted them that night then Stede would’ve known his name right from the beginning. He’d have been able to let the night wash over him and then find out just a few days later what a complete and utter arsehole Ed truly is without spending weeks with the then nameless mystery man dancing around his dreams. The warmth of his palm wouldn’t be etched into his skin, it would’ve evaporated the moment he heard that name come out of Izzy Hands’ mouth.

As though summoned out of Stede’s memories, he spots a flash of movement that can only be Frenchie hurtling around the corner.

“Stede, where are you, babe?” Frenchie cries into the air, the marble space making his voice reverberate, bouncing around the building. “Fancy a cup of tea? I’d love for you to listen to a new song I’ve been working on.”

“Your security guard calls you ‘babe’? He’s a bit familiar, something I should know?” Ed barely gets his remark out before Stede throws a hand over his mouth and pulls him down beside him. He doesn’t want anything to show off his hiding place, especially not Ed’s big mouth, but he fears it might be a little bit late for that. Frenchie is barrelling towards them as Stede grabs Ed’s arm without warning.

“Come on,” he says sharply as he pulls Ed into one of the supply closets off from the main foyer. Ed follows just a little too willingly as he pulls the door closed on them just in time to hear Frenchie’s footsteps as he passes by. The closet is dark and damp, and Stede is fairly sure that one wrong move would have him standing with his foot inside a mop bucket. Above all of that, the worst part has to be the size of the closet, enough space for ladders and cleaning supplies but add two grown men into the equation and it's a whole other story. He and Ed stand just a breath away from one another, their noses almost touching. If Ed wasn’t such a prick and if Stede thought back for just a moment to the last time they were this close, swaying together out in the fresh night air, he might do something reckless right about now.

“Hey,” Ed whispers, wide eyes shining in the dark as he smiles at Stede and Stede loathes the way that the softness of his voice just makes him want to lean in more. Instead he catches himself, sighing heavily to break the tension and pulling back with what little space he has. Ed jabs him in the ribs and he can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not.

“Hey,” Ed says again, still a whisper but with a little more bass in his voice, “is there something you wanted to say to me? I don’t know what I ever did to you but-”

“You don’t know what you did?” Stede snarls, trying to whisper but suddenly feeling a desperate need to shout, scream, anything. “You and that prick of a Viscount are trying to steal the throne from me and you don’t know what you did? God, you’re an idiot as well as a dickhead, Genovia would be doomed to have you on the throne.”

“You’re right, Izzy is a prick,” Ed sighs. “But I want to know what I did wrong?”

“What you did-” Stede growls in frustration, closing his eyes and clenching his fists to try and regain his composure. Like a Prince should do. Like a King. “You danced with me.”

“Fine. I danced with you. Call The Hague. Convene the war crimes tribunal. But we only danced for a minute, is that what was so wrong?”

“It was more than a minute,” Stede says softly, “but anyway, none of that matters, it was all a lie. It was just so you could get to me, try to steal my crown!”

“Did it work?” Ed asks, drawing himself closer. "Did I get to you?”

Stede pauses briefly, for all the rage coursing through his blood, he still can’t help but notice the way his heartbeat rises, the way his thoughts become little more than an angry buzzing inside his head because Ed is just so close. He hates Ed’s confidence. The way he holds himself, the way he talks to Stede always with a seductive smirk, looking up through his eyelashes.

“That’s not the point-”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is…” Stede hates that he can’t string a sentence together when Ed is within touching distance. “The point is, I’m onto you. You and your little lie dance have done nothing to me, it’s still going to me who’ll be the next King of Genovia.”

“Lie dance?” Ed chuckles, warm breath on Stede’s face and warmer hands making their way to his hips. Ed moves closer still and Stede feels every inch of Ed’s body that’s pressed against his. Suddenly the blood that’s rushing around his head and his heart seem to be the least of his worries. He gasps.

“I know- I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what would that be?” Ed is smiling again, his thumb having found its way to Stede’s bare skin under his untucked shirt. He’s stroking his side gently with those awful fingerless leather gloves that he insists on wearing. Why couldn’t he have committed to the full gloves? The feel of Ed’s bare skin on his is almost unbearable, electrical, like the charge in the air just before lightning strikes. This is all far too much, this is inappropriate, Stede is an engaged man now. But for some reason he just can’t seem to push him away. Ed’s eyes are beautiful and his face is just so close…

The door to the supply closet flies open.

“For fuck-” Ed swears under his breath. There stands the Palace’s head maid, Auntie, she insists on being called. Stede isn’t sure he knows her first name, or that he’s even allowed to know. Her eyes are wide, they clearly didn’t jump apart fast enough.

She curtsies awkwardly, “Your Highness,” she says nodding at Stede, then “Lord Teach,” she says, nodding at Ed. Then she leans forward quickly to grab the mop bucket beneath their feet and slams the door on them as quickly as she came in. Stede just sighs.

• • •

Zheng is pacing the floors of her office. It’s not like Auntie had meant to let the information slip, or like she could truly understand the gravity of the situation if the information that she was sharing around meant what Zheng thought it meant. She had simply been gossiping, no harm no foul. A little chatter around the tea table with the other members of staff. The only ones she was at liberty to share the insane happenings of around this palace with. But the information had made its way back to Zheng.

“I’m told that this Lord Teach boy is a Genovian through and through,” Oluwande says, standing by the door while Zheng paces, “raised here for most of his life after he and his mother joined us from Aotearoa.” Zheng continues to wear tracks into the carpet. “He’s a recent graduate from Cambridge, a fine writer, plays rugby and swims well. Quite the gentleman, if not for a bit of a temper…”

Zheng is only half listening now, because that’s just it, he’s a gentleman, not a lovely gentlewoman waiting to take the spot on the throne alongside Stede. It’s not that she minds if this is all true, if anything she’s incredibly happy for Stede. But Izzy Hands isn’t here to be compassionate, he’ll take this information as reason to have the wedding called off but keep the deal on. Stede will lose the throne, to the man he seems to be lending his heart to no less. She has to trust that Stede knows what he’s doing, that he’s willing to put his heart on the line for Genovia.

“And they were in a closet together?” Zheng interrupts.

“As far as we heard, and trust me, the irony is not lost on me.” Olu has known Stede since he was just 15 and they had become close over the years. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t suspected it. Back in the day, Stede had been dating a lovely girl from his class, they were best friends, perfect for each other in every way. But one day it had just ended and Olu never found out why. Except Stede seemed happy, and the pair stayed friends as she went away to university. Olu noticed that Stede never really noticed the girls after that, or at least there was no word of any that caught his eye in the classroom. All he’s ever wanted for Stede was for him to be happy, he’s fiercely protective of the young boy that he has seen turn into a man; sure of himself and ready to rule. He wants him to be free to love whoever he wants and he hopes that one day Stede will feel comfortable to tell him directly who that is. He never wanted to find out like this. As much as it pains him, he pushes down the feeling of wanting to tell Stede to be open with who he is. To tell him to share himself freely with the people of Genovia and how they will love to know their King for all that he is and all that he both can and cannot be. He knows that the moment Stede does, if he so chooses to, the deal with Izzy Hands will be off and Stede will be heartbroken to lose the throne.

“Do you think he has the makings of a King?” Zheng asks, standing still in her pacing that has traced small holes into the carpet where her heels have pierced into the same spots over and over again. She looks young, vulnerable, playing the role of a Queen when all she wants to do is reach out and hold onto Stede, keep his heart safe by whatever means necessary. “The wedding invitations are already sent and, oh, I just thought Stede and Mary make such an excellent pair but now-”

“There is no doubt in my mind that Stede will be an excellent King,” Oluwande says, matter of factly, slightly more abruptly than he would usually let himself talk to his Queen but she was spiralling. “But, Zheng, my dear, can we just forget about the wedding for a moment.” Olu takes hold of Zheng’s hand and gently pulls her forward from where she stands, letting himself brush his thumb over her hand in the most delicate of touches.

Olu clears his throat. “In less than a month, you will no longer be Queen and I will no longer be your head of security.” Zheng lifts her head to meet Olu’s eyes and his heart begins to beat just that little bit faster. He continues, “And I was just wondering how that arrangement would affect…” a deep breath, “us.”

Zheng gasps, “Us?”

“Us,” Oluwande parrots, “my dear, I would kneel if I knew I would ever be able to stand back up.”

“Olu, there’s a wedding to be planned, things to be done. I have my duty as the Queen, at least for the next month, and also my duty to my family, to see Stede on the right path,” Zheng sighs, keeping firm hold of Oluwande’s hand.

“Perhaps it’s time to think of your duty to yourself,” Olu lets go of her hand, instead opting to press a warm hand to her cheek, just for a fleeting moment, “my darling, please just think about it.”

Zheng feels as though she wants to cry, her throat feeling tight in a way she hates. She doesn’t know whether to feel angry at Olu for wanting her to just drop everything she is as Queen to consider their relationship together. Or maybe this bursting feeling in her chest in something else, something softer, more gentle, something she never truly got to let herself feel. Eventually she looks back at Olu to see the softness, the kindness in his eyes and lets the guard drop, just for a moment, “I will”.

• • •
Dear Diary,
Of course, just because I’m engaged now and smoothly heading towards being the rightful King of Genovia, that doesn’t mean that Zheng will let me have a break from King lessons. The wedding planning is going on all around me while I have to do inane tasks like making sure my Royal wave is up to date, making sure I know the correct ways to greet Royals from other countries…I don’t know if this is treasonous to say so let's keep this between us, diary, but the English Royals were the worst so far, why did I let Lucius go over there for university? Anyway, I know these lessons are not inane, they’re all things that will be expected of me, as a leader, as their King, I want to practise, I want to be the best King that I possibly can be, but why does Zheng think it’s a good idea to start at 8am on a Saturday morning? To say she can barely work the T.V., she’s somehow managed to play an alarm at 7am on the dot every morning, blaring out of the speakers set up around my room and it’s frankly irritating.

Insanely, today’s lesson in how to be a King is technically just a lesson for the Eve of my Coronation. I’ll be expected to shoot a flaming arrow through a ceremonial ring to represent the lighting of my own eternal flame. Sounds like bullshit, especially when I have the hand-eye coordination of…something with really bad hand-eye coordination…a duck? But Zheng says it's important to the people of Genovia, a tradition dating back well before me and one that will keep going long after me. If it’s important to the people of Genovia then it’s important to me.

Stede’s flaming arrow lessons go about as well as he imagines. He’s a man of many talents, and archery is not one of them - so why did they have to go and set the thing on fire as well? He’s just glad that Mary isn’t here to see this because she’d definitely call off the wedding the second she saw him shoot the first arrow, no doubt dying of embarrassment. In a strange way, Stede almost wishes that Ed was here. They haven’t seen each other since the whole closet debacle but he knows Ed would find the whole situation hilarious. If not, Stede likes to think he could still show off his muscled back and, natural but surprisingly big, biceps as he brings up his arms and pulls back to send the arrow flying. Probably straight into a nearby tree or through an open window, but that’s not what counts when it comes to Edward. Stede isn’t even sure why he wants Ed to see, he still hates the guy and a few fleeting moments of flirting aren’t going to change more deep rooted feelings towards him. Of course in the back of his mind Stede’s all too aware of why he wants to show off his physique to Ed, but he can’t admit that to himself just yet. What happened in the supply closet has set his mind back a decade. The whole situation was a little too close for comfort and he can’t go around accepting his feelings for Ed when that makes it all the more likely that someone will find out his secret.

Stede suspects that Zheng and Olu already know. Auntie is the worst at keeping her mouth shut, even if she thinks it is just harmless gossip. Recently Zheng has been more gentle with her mentioning of the wedding planning. Before, she would hold up two suspiciously similar pieces of fabric for the tablecloths and raise her eyebrows in a way that told Stede he had less than a minute to choose between them. Now, she’s more gentle, a softness that Stede is so rarely afforded from Zheng. Instead of forcing him to do wedding tasks, she’ll come and knock on his door and say the most absurd things like ‘If you’re feeling up to it, John Feeney has just arrived to fit you for your waistcoat’ and ‘The press want a picture of kissing Mary’s cheek for a supposedly unstaged shot for the newspapers. I can tell them no though, you should be allowed to kiss whoever you want to kiss.’. That last one was the nail in the coffin for Stede, Zheng can not be subtle to save her life and now she was giving off a weird ‘middle aged mum trying to be an ally’ vibe. The most hilarious part though is that he can’t, in fact, kiss whoever he wants to kiss. That person is trying desperately to steal his throne. Instead, Stede has to go on national T.V. and have his wedding day watched by a million people all over the country, and no doubt some interested parties all over western Europe, and kiss someone he doesn’t want to have to kiss.

So, he carries on with practising to shoot the arrow through a small hoop that feels like it’s set up a million miles away from him and 100 feet in the air. In reality, it’s set just 10 metres away and sits just a little above his eyeline, but this is impossible. He thought it would be easy; he thought archery was a pretend sport like mini-golf or darts. But now he’s in it, he can really see that he’s holding what is essentially a medieval weapon and pointing it everywhere without a clue where it’s heading. He’s just glad that most of the people in the palace are standing safely behind him, he’s hopefully not awful enough to somehow manage to shoot backwards. After hours of lessons, he does, however, prove that he’s awful enough to shoot into the grass dozens of times, failing before it gets anywhere near the ring. He shoots through the glass of the lovely old greenhouse, and on one occasion, shoots through the tire of the gardener’s buggy which deflates instantly. The gardener, who was sitting in the buggy, startles and raises his hands in surrender.

That’s where Stede calls the lesson quits, he’s exhausted and clearly not getting anywhere, and this is with a non-flaming arrow. A shiver of anxiety passes through him at the thought of making all of these mistakes with the whole government and the whole country watching, but with fire involved. Stede takes himself on a lap around the garden then, lest he start catastrophising about shooting the flaming arrow straight into the crowd or straight through a palace window, setting the whole place ablaze. Instead, he focuses on what this means for him. Preparing for the eve of his coronation. The night before he will become King. Thinking about what comes next always makes what has to come before seem a little bit easier. Yes, he has to marry not for love but for Royalty and yes, he has to be under the scrutiny of the public eye constantly, but then he’ll be King. Stede thinks he’ll be a great King, he tries not to come across as conceited, he’ll be a modest King and he’ll still think of himself as one of the people of Genovia. He’ll be their equal, but still he can’t help but think of all the ways he wants to make things better. Zheng is an incredible leader, progressive and dutiful, but Stede wants to bring Genovia into the 21st century. He doesn’t want to see another future monarch, maybe his own child, one day have to go through the same things that he has just to take their rightful place on the throne. He wants the marriage rule abolished, he wants to see queer kids protected and that written into the law. As much as he enjoys the gardens and the beautiful castle he gets to call home, Stede can’t understand why he should get all of this space and luxury when he knows for a fact that there are still people struggling to feed their families in the country. In the wise words of his very first childhood crush, before he even knew what a crush was or why he wanted to watch the same film every day for a month, oh he just can’t wait to be King.

• • •

The next stage in his King lessons is the ancient tradition of the Genovian monarchy hearing the needs of the people directly from the mouths of those who need help the most. Or think they need it most. Most of his days in this duty are spent sitting on a throne next to Zheng in the great hall while people line the corridors just waiting for their advice, their support, their blessing in things like moving out of the country or even starting a family. Stede didn’t grow up in this world and even though he’s seen this a million times, that last one will never not strike him as odd. He hears about the potholes in the street, made worse by this past winter’s long frost and in return they receive hay for their stables. He hears about how one couple having been trying for a baby for many months now and still nothing, so they want Zheng to use her divine right as a monarch to ask God to look in on them. This makes Stede frown, he’s no prude but he knows what trying for a baby translates to and there are only so many things you need to learn about strangers at 10am on a Sunday morning. He’s grateful that Zheng is still there to guide them because she listens sympathetically and holds the hopeful father’s hand tight. Neither Stede nor Zheng care for the idea of a God but the couple are clearly desperate and Stede’s heart breaks for them so he’s glad when Zheng promises to keep them in her prayers. She also lets the guards know to pass on the number for a local fertility clinic too, just in case. The couple cry and thank her in a mixture of French and English, handing over a basket of carrots for her trouble. Sometimes being a ruler isn’t about being exactly who the people think you are but being willing to at least pretend, just a little, to be the person that they need.

Next is a woman probably just a little younger than Stede. She has tight blonde curls that are wrapped up in a blue bandana and wears a matching blue summer dress with welly boots, muddied likely by time spent on the land of her nearby farm. She introduces herself in Italian, clearly her most comfortable tongue. Stede still isn’t fluent and doesn’t assume he will be any time soon given his complete ineptitude at language learning, but he speaks just enough to understand that she introduces herself as Miss Maggie Del Gatto.

Maggie curtsies to them both and then switches into broken English to tell them that she’s a singer, a good one too. She hopes one day that she’ll be a renowned opera singer, but right now all of her applications to the local and abroad conservatoires have been rejected or put onto a waiting list. She seems desperate and painfully shy, but maybe that’s just the nerves of standing in front of the Royal family. She pleads with Zheng and Stede to contact the schools again, to ask them to reconsider her application. She even offers to perform for the audience there and then to prove that she is worthy of their help to be reconsidered. This startles Zheng a little as she politely declines, they’re here for the people but at its heart, this is still a stuffy, formal affair. No good to have a girl belting out in the middle of the hall, especially if there could be a good reason why she had been rejected all this time. Instead, Zheng politely says that, while she has no real bearing on the decisions of international schools, she can of course contact the Genovian Conservatoire herself to ask if they might reconsider. To Zheng’s side, Stede sees Tiff and Jane, Zheng’s ladies in waiting, dutifully making notes of each of her new commitments. Maggie is positively beaming and hands Zheng a basket filled with squashes, potatoes, leeks and much more.

“Grazie, Your Majesty, grazie mille,” she curtsies towards Zheng and then turns to Stede to curtsey again, “Your Royal Highness. Please both accept this basket for your table.” They exchange a few more niceties about how Zheng wishes her luck for her future as a performer and then Maggie congratulates Stede on his and Mary’s engagement and then turns to walk away, eventually guided back out of the palace by the guards.

They spend the whole day doing this and the line seems never ending but Zheng sits through it all, only taking small breaks here and there throughout the day so as not to keep her people waiting. She gives them each all the time that they need and addresses them all like old friends, coming up with a real plan of action rather than a half-arsed ‘we’ll get to it when we get to it’ that would come from just about any other leader. Stede admires this, he’s always known that Zheng is a great Queen and that the people adore her but it’s different to see it in person. She’s so down to Earth and receptive to their individual needs. Stede only hopes that he can live up to her as King. During a small pause in the proceedings, he leans over to tell her as much.

“Zheng,” he says, just above a whisper, leaning from his throne and tapping on her arm lightly, “you’re great at this, the people adore you.”

“It’s part of an old Genovian tradition,” Zheng whispers back, Stede knows this, he knows how many monarchs before them have sat right here but Zheng likes to remind him at every opportunity so he doesn’t lose sense of why they do what they do. She also doesn’t accept a compliment so easily; a lesson is a good deflection. “It’s all part of being open with people, making sure we’re treating everyone fairly. Even if we can’t help, it’s important that the people know we care.”

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to do it all as well as you,” Stede sighs. It’s rare that he shares his insecurities like this but the swell of pride he has for Zheng and her leadership style only serves to make him doubt his own by comparison.

“Oh you’ll do just fine,” Zheng says with absolute certainty that Stede isn’t sure he’s yet earned, “here, how about you talk to this next gentleman, you’ll do great!”

Zheng barely gives Stede time to consider this as she reaches over to squeeze his hand gently before beckoning the guard to bring forward the next townsperson.

The man is an older gentleman and his suit is old and faded, perhaps from his wedding day, dug out for the special occasion of addressing the Queen and Crown Prince. He carries a basket, covered this time, and Stede is curious to know what he has brought and what he will ask. He bows to each of them in turn and introduces himself as John Bartholomew.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, John Bartholomew,” Zheng smiles, allowing him to take and kiss her hand, “may I introduce you to Prince Stede Bonnet.” Stede follows in Zheng’s footsteps and smiles at the man and then holds out his hand for the man to shake.

“And what brings you here today, Mr Bartholomew,” Stede asks, his nerves of being so directly in the spotlight getting the better of him for a moment as he wills his knees not to wobble noticeably.

“A storm, a terrible storm, knocked down my well a few weeks back. I’ve tried to rebuild it myself,” his hands are shaking almost as badly as Stede’s, “but I’m old, I can barely lift the bricks. But now my livestock are struggling, I don’t have enough fresh water to feed the crops that feed them. I’ve tried to make the journey to fetch as much as I can but, like I say, I’m old-”

It’s probably rude to cut the man off, something Zheng might chide him for later, he’s there to listen after all, but the man is going in circles trying to explain himself. Stede gently places a hand on the man’s arm, stopping in his rambling. He’s not really sure what the solution should be here, he’s no builder and the man clearly can't rebuild the well himself. He doesn’t know if the palace staff are at the disposal of the general public but this man seems so panicked, his livelihood at stake.

“That sounds awful, Mr Bartholomew,” he starts, “we have a great team of builders here in the palace walls. It will be our utmost priority to see that your well is rebuilt one way or another by, let’s say the end of the month.” It’s clumsy and Stede doesn’t even know if that’s possible with all that is expected of the palace staff over the coming weeks for the wedding but it’s a response. The start to a solution to the problem. Either he’ll take the fall for such a suggestion but the building team will get to it anyway, or Zheng will correct him, instead giving the correct solution through a letter delivered to John Bartholomew just days later.

John smiles, bows and then places the basket that he’s been holding at Stede’s feet. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness, this is a gift for your generosity,” he says, nodding down at the basket, “she’s my favourite.”

Stede is about to ask what he means by that just as the, until now, silent and still basket begins to make cluck cluck clucking noises. Stede, despite having grown up mostly in the city, likes to think himself attuned to the animals around him. An animal lover and somewhat of an animal whisperer. He seems to get on just fine with his cat, Wolf. He pulls the basket up onto his lap.

“May I?” he asks.

John Bartholomew gives a strange look but nods, “Be my guest.”

Stede pulls the blanket off the top of the basket to reveal a rather confused looking hen. She has a glint in her eye that looks almost angry. Can chickens look angry? Stede wonders. Still, Stede persists and pulls an arm around her stomach in an attempt to scoop her up.

“Aw look, a chick-” but he doesn’t get as far as to finish his sentence because the second she’s in his arms, the bird squawks and makes a break for it, flapping out her wings with feathers flying everywhere. Stede tries to keep hold of her but that just seems to enrage her more, her wings flap in his face causing him to jump up out of his seat just to try and keep her close to his chest. Eventually the hen breaks free and flies the short distance across the crowd to the back doors and toward Oluwande who stands looking almost bored of Stede’s familiar antics. Stede learns two things that day: chickens can definitely look angry and that they can actually fly, at least for short distances, but maybe that’s only if they’re really angry.

Keeping his bored expression, Olu turns into his walkie talkie and simply, calmly says words that Stede never expected to have to hear from his mouth: ‘chicken situation in the ballroom’. Stede lets Zheng handle the remaining gifts.