That's a wrap. Honestly, this chapter is all over the place and I need to tighten it up, but I've been so distracted by this Game of Thrones inspired Royals fanfic that it just wasn't working. I always knew how I wanted to end this, but knowing and actually doing it, apparently are two different things.

Either way, I will come back to this story and revise everything. For now this is actually the end. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I so appreciate it.

Next update will either be the first chapter of my Jaspenor Fantasy Epic or The King, a Philosopher. I hope you'll read those stories too. Much love and thanks to all of you!

Chapter 11. Cliché

She had been dreaming of him every bloody night since he had left. Of toe curling kisses and fingers desperately clutching sheets, of her hands in his hair and his mouth on her –

She fucking hated Robert.

'The only reason I am sex deprived is you,' she accused him.

'The only reason you are supposedly sex deprived is you,' he corrected her. She huffed and hissed, as she had been prone to do the past four days, but Robert could not care any less. With the coronation rapidly approaching he had more important matters on his mind than the absence of his sister's orgasms.

'Try masturbating,' he suggested, because, after all, he was a nice guy and feigning attentiveness wouldn't cost him anything.

'I tried,' she cried, 'and it's not working.'

'Try Beck,' he said.

But she woefully shook her head.

'I can't. I keep comparing him to Jasper and he comes up short, massively.'

'Well then,' he said and he decided to go out on a limb. 'Try apologizing.'

His neck cracked sharply as the pillow hit him from behind.

'For what?' she fumed. 'He was in the wrong. Not I.'

A good guess then.

'I thought this was all my fault?'

'Yours and his both!'

He sighed, laid down his pen on the writing table. He was regretting telling Rachel he would write his own coronation speech. It was proving to be a real hassle. But perhaps that was simply because of the presence of his sister.

'You've been moaning and complaining for the last four days,' he said, 'and my bodyguard has been as silent as a bloody brick. You're nagging me about not getting any and now you're telling me people are in the wrong? What is your bloody problem?'

She threw her phone in his direction. He missed catching it by at least two feet and she glared at him. He glared straight back.

'I am working on my coronation speech here,' he said. 'What makes you think that catching randomly thrown objects is even a minor priority to me?'

He attempted to retrieve the phone without getting up from his seat. After the third try Eleanor got up herself and dropped the phone unceremoniously on the desk.

'Why would you send me this, Robbie?'

He looked at the screen of her phone, already unimpressed, but the corners of his mouth lifted as he found both Jasper and Poppy grinning back at him, both clearly drunk and both having a great time.

He laughed.

He remembered this. Somewhere in between twirling Poppy around on the dancefloor and her getting completely shitfaced and wanting to strip, he had snapped this picture of them. They had posed gladly, Jasper making somewhat of a kissy-face - which only validated his level of intoxication to Robert.

And maybe, in hindsight, it hadn't been too bright to text Eleanor this same picture, but Robert had been well into his drinks as well when he remembered he was supposed to let his little sister know where he and his bodyguard were, so he had decided showing was better than telling.

Clearly it wasn't.

Eleanor was glaring at him. She had her hands on her hips and she did not look pleased.

She was serious then?

He straightened up, reined in his laughter.

'Please do not tell me this is the reason Frost has been in a right mood these past couple of days, because if it is, I'm of a mind to disown you and find a new sister before the coronation tomorrow.'

Silence met him.

'Bloody hell,' he chuckled. 'Never thought my own sister would be this daft. Christ.'

'He was out with Poppy,' she said, as if that explained everything.'

'You're daft,' he repeated.

'Out with Poppy,' she said again and apparently there was something he wasn't getting, because she was staring at him wide-eyed, expectantly, and bloody hell, she was so stupid.

'We were out with Poppy,' he corrected, crossing his arms over his chest, preparing.

'I bloody well know that,' she hissed – and here it was, 'but he was fucking out with Poppy and what the fuck, Robert, why was he out with Poppy? Why is he still fucking with her?'

He smirked.

'You've been watching too many bad American series,' he said. 'But okay, he was fucking with her because I was fucking with her and the three of us were fucking around in some dingy bar in a part of London that I never want to see again, because tomorrow I'll be the bloody King of the United fucking Kingdom, Canada, Australia and bloody New Zealand and that night, that night you're throwing a hissy fit over, I was nothing more than some bloke wearing a hideous Adidas vest and dress shoes.

'Does that answer satisfy you, Princess?'

She bristled, continued to stare him down, and eventually he sighed.

'What, Eleanor?' he said. 'What is it?'

'Answer me honestly, Robert.'

And he was always honest to her, crudely so. She knew this.

'You think they're shagging?'

He couldn't help it. He laughed again. A boisterous sound that had her recoil and glare at him accusingly.

'Fuck you, Robbie.'

'No, fuck you, Len.'

He leaned forward behind his desk, almost crawled into her face, but she didn't budge, didn't step back.

'You know I was there, right?' he said. 'I was there. Poppy was there. My bodyguard was there. Remember him, my bodyguard. That bloke who works for me and is head over heels in love with my sister, which may I add is still an odd notion.'

'Get to the bloody point,' Eleanor bit out.

'That was my point, Eleanor,' he sighed. 'The man is in love with you. Why would you ask me whether he's having sex with his best mate? Besides the obvious ridiculousness of that question, isn't it something you should ask him?'

'I did ask him and he left.'

'Knowing you,' he said, 'you accused him. And knowing him, he took his losses before things got out of hand.'

She avoided his gaze and he knew he was right.

'You don't know what you're talking about, Robbie,' she said softly, but he smirked.

'They're mates. He loves you. We went out. What more is there to know?'

'Everything!' she snapped. 'I know they're sleeping together, Robbie. I simply know it. And that picture you send me is proof.'

'All I know is that you're a fucking idiot. The man had a night off, which you and I both gave him and went to see his mate. Who, by the way, was kind enough to let me into her house as well and even though she tried to poison me with shit whiskey, I still think she's a mint lass, and you should be grateful the man you're in love with even has friends, after you and Liam, rightly so, kicked him out last year.'

'Well,' he said after consideration. 'After you kicked him out. And I'm certain that accusing him of sleeping with his friend, must've felt quite the same to him.'

If the man's sullen attitude was anything to go by.

'She used to fuck him,' she hissed. 'They're not just friends.'

'Good for her,' Robert snapped. 'I'd bloody fuck him if I thought he'd swing that way. The man's bloody gorgeous.'

'Why are you on his side?' she asked. 'You're supposed to be my brother, not his fucking disciple.'

Robert tried to roll his eyes, but gave up when he saw Eleanor looking at him unimpressed.

'I was rolling my eyes at you,' he explained and she executed such a perfect eye roll in response, he considered getting up and throttling her.

'I am not on his side, Eleanor,' he sighed. 'But I refuse to be on the stupid side of an argument that you most likely instigated because of a bloody picture you're now using to evidence some twisted, farfetched untruth you've conjured up.'

'Then what is the truth according to you, almighty oracle Robert?'

'He visited a mate and then the three of us went out,' he said. 'And we had a fucking great time.'

They stared at each other, hard. But then Eleanor sighed.

'Robert,' she said resigned. 'It's not just the picture.'

'Then what?'

'He didn't tell me he went to see her,' she said. 'And when I asked him about it, he lied.'

Robert sighed. Rubbed his temples with his thumbs.

'Go and talk to him. Air your insecurities without accusation. Because that's what this is, Eleanor. Insecurities.'

He picked up his pen again.

'Seriously. You're doing my head in. The two of you are bloody ridiculous.

'There will come a time when people stop caring. About the two of you. You're my sister and I will always want you to be happy. I will always love you. And perhaps I also like that common breed bastard of yours. But I can care about the two of you separately. I don't have to care about you. Together. At some point people are going to stop caring about Jaspenor. Won't waste any energy on it anymore. What will you do then?'

'Maybe,' he said slowly, 'you guys are not meant to be. If you can't figure it out on your own, the both of you. If you need me, and Liam, and Poppy to give you guys advice. To get you to work it out. To talk to each other. If you need others to fix your relationship, or point you in the right direction, then perhaps, Len, it's simply not working.'

'Now get the hell out of my room,' he said. 'I have a speech I need to finish.'

He was surprised when she offered no objections and simply left.

xxx

He stood outside Robert's door when she exited the room. He looked straight ahead and did not acknowledge her, but she halted anyway. Watched him through long lashes: the muscles in his jaw, the aristocratic line of his nose, his eyes. Those bold, blue eyes.

She watched him.

A shock went through her when his gaze found hers.

'Good conversation, Princess?' he asked.

Of course. The walls of the Palace were thin and though everyone pretended to not overhear, Jasper clearly wasn't everyone. She wondered if he had been there all along. Couldn't remember seeing him when she entered, but that in itself meant nothing. She had trained herself the past days to not see him – even though he was everywhere she looked and didn't look.

At least he had the grace to not look smug.

Though everything about that bastard was smug.

'It was fine,' she said slowly.

'Fine,' he repeated equally slow. He resumed his previous stance, staring straight ahead. He looked more relaxed, though, and she felt her own stiffened shoulders loosen on their own accord. She inched closer, barely perceptible, but she knew he noticed when his jaw twitched. She wanted to tell him that –

Tell him what?

Their fingers brushed and a tiny electric jolt went through her. She jumped, laughed nervously.

'Static electricity,' she murmured.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his little finger taking hold of hers.

'Sure,' he said.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent. Daringly, she let her head rest on his shoulder. He tensed, only for a moment, then he eased up again. She took this as a sign, wrapping her fingers more firmly around his hand.

'What are you doing?' His tone was soft, almost gentle.

'I am holding your hand.'

'Why?'

'Because…'

She faltered.

Because what?

Because you love him, you dolt, and you don't want to fight anymore.

And in her head it sounded so simple, but was anything ever simply with them?

'Because you're mine,' she said instead.

He stiffened beside her, pulled his hand back. 'And not Poppy's, you mean?'

The moment was gone before it had even started and she was too slow to catch on.

'Definitely not hers,' she said hotly. And even as the words left her mouth, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Anything, everything, would've been better than that, Eleanor.

But she couldn't take it back, but perhaps she could bring him back.

She reached out to him, her hand reaching up. She meant to cup his face, plead with him to look at her, but he leaned away from her touch. He avoided her gaze and her contact altogether, having gone back to staring at the wall.

The muscles in his jaw taut.

She almost quit breathing, but recovered quickly, stepping back as if nothing was wrong.

'Do I need to call someone to escort you to your room, Princess?'

'No, thank you,' she said. 'I can manage.'

She turned on her heels, head held straight as she started walking the other way.

Maybe Robert was right.

Maybe they weren't meant to be.

xxx

She was disappointed he hadn't followed her. But he was on duty and she was a fuck-up. He couldn't have, wouldn't have, shouldn't have, even if he had wanted to.

She strode towards her liquor cabinet, eyeing the rows of bottles. She chose a bottle of red wine, its label faded and illegible. As long as it tasted good and dulled her senses, which it did.

She sank back into the pillows on her bed, reaching out to her bedside table to grab a fag. Easy motions. This she knew. This thing with Jasper, she didn't.

She took a sip from the bottle.

Why was she so distrustful? But she smirked as the answer was obvious. Not something she needed to explore any further. But she had taken him back into her bed and into her life. Was it fair of her to keep doubting him? If she was honest to herself, she knew there was nothing going on between him and Poppy. She simply wanted him to reassure her.

To hold her and tell her he loved her. Her, and no one else.

Was that too much to ask for?

Had there ever been confessions of love when sober? Not from her mouth, maybe from his, but nothing that she could remember. Theirs was a dysfunctional sort of love, lust, emotion.

She could ponder them infinitely.

She looked at the bottle disdainfully. Sober. She refrained from throwing it across the room and set it down calmly on the floor. She had barely finished a quarter of it.

She didn't need it.

They didn't need it.

They didn't need anybody else to care. As long as they themselves did.

This, this, was their relationship, their emotion, their love.

Lust.

Ours.

She rolled over, grabbed her phone and if doubt crept into her mind, making her bend over and quickly down a swallow of liquid, Red courage, none were the wiser. She texted Robert, prayed he would humour her.

A couple of minutes later, too fast for her liking and her too quickly beating heart, there was a knock on her door.

'Robert said you requested my presence, Princess.'

He stood in her doorway and for fuck's sake.

She stared at him. Words failed her.

Almost ran, afraid he'd be gone before she reached him.

She grabbed him. Her nails dug into his forearms. She was hurting him, she knew, but she only drove them deeper. He was here now, right here, and she was not going to let him go. Not again. Not anymore.

She slowly, never breaking eye contact, pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

'I miss you, Jasper,' she murmured and her lips brushed his again.

'I miss you so much.'

She kissed him again, kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, stood on her toes and placed a hand in the nape of his neck to reach his forehead.

He stood still as a statue.

'Please.'

Was she selfish?

She pressed a kiss to his jaw.

'Please, Jasper?'

And she knew the exact moment his resolve crumbled. Knew she had won, when he grabbed her roughly by the thighs and lifted her up. His fingers held her so tightly, she knew it was going to leave marks. He kicked the door shut with his foot, turned and abruptly pressed her up against it.

A whimper escaped her throat as he pushed his body against her. His eyes were dark and unreadable and she loved him best this way.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she teasingly bit him. He was quick to wrap his hand around her throat, pressuring down gently. She swallowed thickly and he smirked.

Perhaps it wasn't very royal and it certainly wasn't the solution to their problems, but there was something oddly satisfying about being taken against a door, for all the Palace to hear.

And she made sure to be very vocal about it.

He move them to the bed afterwards and made her remember exactly why they fit together so well. Because of his tongue, and his fingers, and his hips, and.

La petite mort.

'I wish we could stay like this forever.' Later, much later and her sleepy murmurs drifted over his chest. He listened attentively.

She was drifting off, close to falling asleep.

'Too bad I'm the Princess.'

She yawned, nestled deeper into his side.

'And you're just the help.'

She didn't feel him tense up. Was halfway asleep. When she woke up again, he was gone.

xxx

She had been in a bad mood the days before, but last night's events, or precisely, the absence of a repeat of last night's events, had soured her mood even further. When Willow threw open her bedroom doors early in the morning, the girl was greeted with a shoe to the face and a kind, 'Fuck off.'

'No can do.' Willow laughed unperturbed. 'It's coronation day. Your mom sent me to – and I quote – get your lazy ass out of bed, open up the window and wash that disgusting smell of sex away.'

She sat down on the sofa, arching an eyebrow at Eleanor.

'I take it you and Jasper made up?'

Eleanor took a peek at her from under her sheets. 'Excuse me?'

'His tie is hanging over the back of the sofa and we all heard Baker at breakfast, complaining to Marcus about weird sounds coming from your bedroom at night.'

Willow grinned.

'However, he did not use the word "weird" to describe those sounds.'

'I hate Jasper,' Eleanor said matter-of-factly, pulling the sheets back over her head.

If she said it often enough, she might even start to believe it.

'Yeah, you hate Jasper and Liam's cock is crooked.'

'I actually wouldn't be surprised,' Eleanor replied, her voice muffled by her bed clothes.

'All right, all right,' Willow sighed. 'What happened? I might not be first on your list of people to talk to about this, but I'm here anyway and you need to air, so shoot.'

'Why?'

'Because I care of course. Everybody's rooting for Jaspenor.' She rolled her R's, just like Liam was prone to do.

'We plebeians actually have actually placed bets whether you guys will ever get your heads out of your arses. I said never, so currently I'm in the lead.'

Eleanor had to lift the sheets a bit to determine whether Willow was joking or not.

She was.

Could've fooled me, though.

She was right, though. Eleanor needed to vent and since she so graciously offered…

'This is the man,' she started, 'who fucks me against a door, then gets me off twice just by using his mouth and is ready to go again half a minute later.'

'Sounds quite positive to me.' Even Eleanor could hear the uncertainty in Willow's tone.

'It is positive,' she said. 'But then I wake up halfway through the night and the bloody bastard is gone.'

'So apparently the sex wasn't that good,' Willow grinned. When Eleanor growled, she quickly apologized.

'I'm sorry. I tend to make stupid jokes when I'm nervous or don't know what to say. Please, continue.'

Eleanor threw back the covers and sat up straight in her bed.

'He has this ex-girlfriend named Poppy.'

She cocked her head, debated whether to tell Willow or not. But she couldn't even stop the words if she wanted to.

'She's not really his ex-girlfriend, but she is his best friend and they used to have sex. I met her and she is gorgeous – not gorgeous like, but more working-class gorgeous. Do you get me?'

She continued before Willow could answer, not that the girl could have given her a good one.

'She was at my birthday party and he introduced her as his girlfriend. She actually came to the palace, to have lunch with me and Liam and Jasper. It was a blessed shitshow, mind you, but she was nice and good-looking and Liam liked her and…'

'And Jasper liked her,' finished Willow for her.

'Yeah, Jasper liked her. So I befriended her and we hung out and it was for all the wrong reasons. She knew things about him. Understood him. The Jasper she knew was unknown to me. So I became even more curious. I just wanted to know who this girl was Jasper replaced me with. Except he hadn't replaced me and she wasn't his girlfriend and she decided to tell me all of this right after I had some random bloke's cock up my Royal beaver in some tacky club I don't even remember the name of.'

Eleanor looked around the room.

'Can you pass me that bottle next to the sofa?' She was glad she hadn't broken the bottle of red wine the night before and took a deep swig.

'He texted me a couple of days later and I'm convinced Poppy had something to do with it. We met up. I brought Liam and Robert along. Robert beat him up.'

Willow blinked.

'And right in that bloody moment I couldn't hide from him anymore that I loved him still as fiercely as I did the day when I found out he tried to steal the Koh-I-Noor through me.'

Willow blinked again and motioned for Eleanor to give her a mouthful of wine as well.

'We went out, Robert offered him a job, we had sex and he told me he loved me.'

'What happened then?'

'Nothing. We just continued having sex and that was that. We were happy. I was happy. During the day he was Robert's, at night he was mine. Everything was good. And then we had a fight. Because he decided to run off and go and see Poppy.'

'Ah yes,' Willow nodded. 'The bane of your existence. The object of your jealousy. The girl who knew Jasper better than you did.'

'She doesn't,' Eleanor hissed. 'She doesn't know him better than I do.'

Willow ignored her last sentence. 'Why did you fight?'

'Because he went to Poppy. Are you not listening?

'I asked him why he was with her, if they'd had sex, he got angry and then left.'

Willow gave Eleanor a knowing look. 'Asked or accused?'

'Accused, asked. They're practically the same.'

'They're not, actually.'

Eleanor flipped her the finger.

'Do you really think he's still having sex with her?'

The silence that followed stretched, until Eleanor cleared her throat.

'I don't,' she said softly.

'Then you should tell him and try to explain why you even had such a stupid thought.'

'And maybe apologize,' Willow added as an afterthought.

Robert 2.0.

'Sorry for making you listen to this cock,' Eleanor grumbled.

Willow shrugged.

'That's okay. I told you, I care, so I don't mind.'

And this was what Robert had meant, Eleanor realized. People cared about them. Together. But what if they stopped caring? What if there was no one left to knock some sense into her head when she did something stupid again - and she knew there would be a next time. There was always a next time.

She needed people to care, because she, on her own, simply wasn't enough. She couldn't fix them on her own. Could she?

'I think that the fact that you don't really talk is the problem.' Willow continued speaking, oblivious. 'You need to talk to each other. Communicate. Together. Let him in and all that corny nonsense.'

'It's easy to keep him at bay.' And she didn't know why she was telling Willow this. She had known the girl for a while, but they weren't friends. Not really.

'If I don't let him in, he can't hurt me.'

'If you don't let him, you're definitely hurting him.' Willow glanced over at Eleanor. 'And yourself, I believe.'

'Just because your relationship with my brother is so perfect, doesn't mean you –'

But Willow cut her off.

'My relationship with your brother is less than perfect, Eleanor.' Her tone was still gentle, but there was an underlying fierceness present. 'We fight and we yell and we cry and we break. But we always put each other back together. Because that's what you do when you let somebody in. You take care of each other. And that doesn't just stop when you fight or are mad at the other.'

Passion, Eleanor thought.

Willow got up from the sofa, held out her hand to pull Eleanor off the bed. Time was ticking. Helena would have a fit if they didn't arrive at the dressing rooms on time. Coronation day was a bitch.

'I know you're stubborn and you know I'm right,' Willow said smartly as she strode towards the still open bedroom doors. Eleanor didn't quite follow.

'What if I let him in and then I mess up. What if there's still nobody there to pick up the pieces?'

Willow smiled, ushered her through the door.

'Don't worry, Princess. If you let him, he'll be there.'

xxx

They had been late, but Helena hadn't noticed. She'd been too busy arguing with Robert, who at the last moment had decided his honour guard should consist of the Royal Bodyguards and not the infantry and cavalry soldiers the Queen Mother and the Chamberlain had personally selected over the past few weeks. After Helena had finally given in, Robert almost gave her an aneurysm announcing his honour guard would not be wearing the traditional garb, but instead would be dressed entirely in black. This, however, was a battle Robert could not hope to win and eventually they had settled on the black uniform of the Windsor regiment, appeasing both the almost King and his mother.

They had been loaded into six black Rovers soon after and had been driven to Westminster Abbey shortly after noon.

Eleanor had not seen Jasper once.

The Abbey was already full when the Royal family sans Robert made their entrance. Eleanor spotted Ashok and Gemma sitting together and saw Beck with his family near the front row.

'You look radiant as ever,' he whispered as she passed him. She good-naturedly rolled her eyes at him.

Only one throne sat the dais, to their Queen Mother's great disappointment, but had she really expected Robert to bring forth a wife less than a year after his return from the death? Knowing Helena, she probably had, but Eleanor thought this one throne, this sole seat of power, made a much better picture and was more befitting Robert. The lone Sovereign, bearing the weight of his Kingdom on his shoulders.

She didn't envy him.

The people inside, the nobility and politicians, friends and family alike, only added to the abbey's splendour. The pointed arches and stained glass windows enveloped most of the guests in an ethereal sort of light and it was nothing less of what Robert deserved.

Finally.

The Royal Church's Choir started their symphony and a shiver went through Eleanor's body. Their voices filled the abbey and oh God.

She recognized him immediately, first in a long row of ceremonial bodyguards. The uniform looked good on him and the little smug smirk on his face told her he was aware.

As they fanned out, took their spots behind Robert on the dais, their eyes crossed. Her heart fleetingly forgot how to beat.

The Archbishop spun a tale and she was dimply aware that her mother was pressing a handkerchief to her watery eyes. Eleanor couldn't focus, though. Not with him there.

She heard Robert swearing to uphold the law and the Church – she snorted, but dragged her eyes away from Jasper.

'All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. So help me God.'

She clasped hands with her mother, an instinctual thing, surprising the both of them, and felt a lone tear slowly finding its way down her cheek. Because everything was slowly falling into its rightful place. At long last.

The Archbishop approached Robert, Saint Edward's Crown in his hands, and the entire abbey collectively held its breath.

He slowly, reverently, for fuck's sake, bloody sacrosanct, placed it upon Robert's dark curls.

King Robert.

And they all cried in unison three times, 'God save the King. God save the King.'

'God save the King.'

The trumpeters sounded a fanfare and the church bells, magnified, echoed all over the Kingdom, started ringing out. The cameras were clicking, flashing, and exuberant shouts came from the crowd outside. The guests inside the abbey clapped and cried out unrestrained. The sound, the atmosphere, gave Eleanor goose bumps. As she looked around, she knew there would never be a better moment. Never a grander gesture. Never a more fitting way to show him she was serious about him. About them.

About us.

Robert opened his arms when he saw her getting up. Smiled broadly at her and for some reason she thought he already suspected her chain of thoughts. He spread his arms wide, turned to his guests just as she was about to pass him and she didn't know whether the abbey exploded, detonated – fucking burst apart at the seams – because of him or because of her, but for fuck's sake, she could care less, because you, me, us.

There would be hell to pay, she understood and recognized this. But they could deal with that later. Her brother was King. They could overcome anything. Her mother would most likely never forgive her, though, but perhaps this was a sacrifice she could live with.

And as she stood before this man – her man? – and held out her hand, she knew this was the right thing to do.

He looked into her eyes, questioningly, and she saw the uncertainty there. She gave him a small smile. She wished she could feign confidence, could pretend to know what she was doing, but she was just as anxious as he was.

The right thing, yes.

And she made an effort to brighten her smile, to convey her conviction. To let him know.

He simply stared, motionless.

'What the flying fuck is this?!' She heard Helena screech, followed by Liam's laughter.

He was still staring, and really, had he always been this stupid.

Her hand still hovered motionless between them.

She huffed.

'Are you just going to stand there, Jasper, or are you going to take my hand?'

His eyes widened and perhaps he really was stupid.

She could read the word on his lips before he voiced it.

'What?'

She scoffed, feigning irritation out of nervousness, and waved her hand around.

'I choose you. I'm with you.'

She moved her hand impatiently and she saw the ghost of a smile creep upon his face.

'Whatever, Jasper. You know what I mean.'

'I'm not sure I do, Princess.'

And of course he'd be a bloody git about it, while the abbey was about to erupt and Liam was calming their mother down and the press, the goddamn press.

What the hell was she doing?!

He saw her hesitancy, didn't move. Just waited.

He wanted this, wanted her. But only if she wanted it to. If she chose it willingly.

She looked at the imprints of her nails, imbued in his arms. So deep she wondered why last night he hadn't pulled away. But the answer was already in her mind and suddenly the words spilled out.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm so sorry. For everything. For sending you away all these months ago. For not believing in you. For not believing in us. I love you, Jasper. I do. And I trust –'

His lips touched hers chastely, but it was enough to silence her. He looked her in the eye and whatever else she was going to say, she could read clearly there.

His nose brushed against hers softly, but then his lips were on hers again. And it wasn't their best kiss, and it wasn't that long nor deep nor demanding.

But it was perfect.

And was their even a abbey left?

The cameras were flashing furiously, reporters were shouting, breaking protocol and what not. The crowd's roar was deafening, as would be the aftermath of this. Of them. They were in so much trouble. No one would spare a thought or a headline for Robert's crowning after this. No one.

Did she care? She did not.

And they had indeed become a Shakespearean cliché.

The amative and the aesthetic.

He pulled her closer to his chest and in the name of all that was Holy.

I'll gladly be a cliché with you.

xxx

'You two stole my shine,' Robert accused them several days later.

She still didn't care and neither did Jasper.