i must admit that i'm a sucker for riza in a crown, and even more so for roy referring to her as 'his queen'.

this fic combines both of those. it's not necessary to have seen the series, but i do recommend it!

this is dedicated to mar bc she's always up for my incoherency about royai and she deserves the universe and more. i hope this ficlet collection will suffice for the time being.

Riza hated being nervous, feeling nervous. It was an unsettling sensation, like insects crawling over and under her skin simultaneously. She had been experiencing it more often than not recently – and it was all due to the man sequestered away with her father and his Lords and Dukes and Barons and whatnot in the meeting room across from her. The closed doors across the hallway from where she paced anxiously bore no secrets as the minutes passed, and her lips nearly scarlet with her worrying. The guards who stood outside paid her no mind – they weren't meant to, of course, but Riza privately wouldn't be surprised if they would gossip about her later, down in the service quarters.

She had never been the most carefree of girls – certainly not compared to her younger sister, but Riza often wondered and worried of what the household thought of her.

Heir presumptive.

Princess.

Awkward.

Snobby.

Unfit for the throne.

She turned on her heel once more and ducked behind the large arrangement of peonies and baby's breath on the antique table near the doorway, twisting some of the blossoms over and over again through her fingers until they were stained green with chlorophyll. Why was it taking them so long? It was a simple ceremony – and as much as she knew her father wasn't overly fond of her groom-to-be, Riza knew him well enough to understand he would want all this pomp and circumstance done with as quickly as possible, regardless of who he was subjecting it to.

Neither of them had asked for this life – she knew her father had never even considered the possibility that he could one day be king – Zolf had seemed so right for the throne. He had the gift of conversation and putting an entire room at ease, regardless of class or affiliation. He was well-liked by the aristocracy and the people alike, and seemingly never put a foot wrong. He was a man groomed for the throne since before he could talk.

Her father had no such gift, nor the privilege of the necessary attention needed to rule. She knew that public opinion wasn't so harshly divided anymore, but it still stung that they were in no better position to present themselves to the public any more than the public had a right to choose who their sovereign was.

She had heard the rumours surrounding Roy. The choices his family had made.

Riza would wager that her own had done far worse.

The heavy oak doors suddenly opened and the peony petals that she had been rubbing between her fingers scattered to the ground as she craned her neck over the flowers, desperately trying to find a familiar face amongst the nobility slowly filing out of the room. Barely any of them glanced in her direction, instead favouring to talk with each other in hushed tones, pulling at their ceremonial sashes and pins as the grandeur of the event was slowly swept away. Her father nodded to her as he passed, a pained kind of smile resting on his face.

She barely acknowledged her father as her fiancée crossed the hallway and she all but hurried to his side, not caring for a moment who was watching her. Roy laughed a little, curling his arm very carefully around her waist, just shying the line that was appropriate and not.

"So?" Riza asked quickly, trying hard not to let the smile twitching in her lips to become a full-on grin. "How did it go?"

"As well as could be expected for an exiled Xingese prince dearest," Roy murmured, guiding them to behind the floral arrangement, away from the prying eyes of the servants and her mother. "I'm a duke now. At this rate we'll all die of old age before they finish saying our names and titles in full."

"And you'll be a prince again next week so I want no complaints from you," Riza admonished, ducking her head slightly. Her stomach was either in her throat or lodged somewhere between her knees – she had never felt quite so giddy before – nervous and excited and terrified all rolled into a messy knot of emotions that she wasn't sure she could ever untangle. Roy sighed dramatically, his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her properly into his space.

"I won't have any so long as you grant one favour."

Riza looked up at him, confused. "What favour?"

His dark eyes looked beyond her for a moment before his mouth was on hers, hot and wet and delicious in ways that made her toes curl in her pumps. His hands quickly cupped her face and she couldn't supress the shiver that travelled down her back as his fingers found the sensitive parts of her skin between her neck and ears.

She couldn't remember the last time they had managed to sneak off and have an afternoon for themselves – the past few weeks had been absolute madness with wedding preparations and his changing of names and nationalities to be eligible to marry her at all: in the chaos and confusion Riza wondered whether she would ever see her beloved before the wedding day itself.

Roy was also very, very, very good at kissing and privately she thought it was probably a good idea that they were kept busy with their own duties before the big day, otherwise she feared that she wouldn't be able to leave his side (or his bed in the small hours when Mama and Papa were none the wiser).

"Ahem," coughed her mother to their left and she felt him grin against her lips before dropping one final kiss before pulling back and smiling awkwardly.

"Mama…" Riza said a little breathlessly, and Roy ducked his head behind her, trembling with laughter. She elbowed his side as elegantly as she could, and turned to her mother properly, very much aware of the blush staining her cheeks. "What is it?"

The Queen fixed her eldest daughter with a hard stare. "You need to come with me, Elizabeth," the woman said firmly. "Your sister wants your opinion on her hairstyle for next week." Her gaze settled on Roy, who had composed himself somewhat. "I believe your aunt was looking for you, Roy. You'd best go find her."

"Of course ma'am," he replied, dropping a light kiss on Riza's cheek. "I'll see you later," he murmured softly, before quickly striding out the room.

Riza turned to her mother. "Mama, I-"

"That is enough, Elizabeth," her mother interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I will not have the servants' gossip about anything this close to the wedding, do you understand me?"

Riza nodded, moving to adjust the peonies. "Yes, mama."