Rory Montgomery is a lot of things to a lot of people:
Queen. Revolutionary. Real. Killer. Free. Survivor.
After crash landing on Earth with 99 other juvenile delinquents and reuniting with lost friends, Rory Montgomery learnt that Earth wasn't quit...
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"Roan?" Rory's brow furrows in confusion, in shock. The person kneeling in front of her looks like Roan, sounds like him too, but it can't be him. He's on the run. He's banished. It can't be her Roan. "Roan!" she exclaims, when she realises he's not a hallucination driven on by today's dose of trauma. She's happy, she's excited, elated even, to see him again after so long. But then she remembers why she hasn't seen him. He's banished. And, the person who did his banishing is a few meters away inside Alpha station. "Roan," she glares at him, ready to chastise him for being so reckless.
"As much as I like hearing you say my name over and over again," he says, sending her an over-the-top wink. He sees the anger in her rising, smiling to himself when her glare increases in ferocity to hide from the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. "Maybe you could get your guard dogs to stand down?"
Until that point, Rory had forgotten she was quite literally surrounded by her guards, and the remaining few Skaikru loitering outside. Whenever they were together, it's hard for them to remember anyone else exists. "What?" she snaps out of it, glancing around her. "Oh," she clears her throat and turns to the guards. "Get those handcuffs off him right now! Do you know who this is? He's a prince." The guards jump into action, lifting Roan back to his feet and unlocking the handcuffs. "Prince Roan is to be treated as any royal would be, do you understand? He's here as my guest. He's free to do and say as he pleases and enter anywhere he chooses to. You're not to bother him, and you are not to tell any other Skaikru or grounder that he's here. You're not even allowed to mention his name, no one outside this circle is permitted to know who he is. Do I make myself clear?" They all nod, not wanting to increase Rory's anger more. "Any questions?"
They're all quiet. No one says a word and, no one expects anyone to. It wasn't actually meant to garner a response. But it does. One of the younger guards slowly raises his hand into the air, like he's back in an Earth Skills class hosted by Charles Pike (whom Rory renamed Charles Prick). The other guards glance at him, the unofficial first rule of guard school being 'don't question the royals'. Bellamy Blake was, of course, the only exception. Rory nods her head at the man, seemingly only a year or so older than her.
"I- I," he stutters, "I thought you were the last of the Royals?"
"Well, you thought wrong," Rory tells him. "We all did," she mutters, locking eyes with Roan briefly before focusing back in on the guards. "You're all dismissed." It takes them a beat before they bumble away, Rory ushering them off with a dismissive wave of her hands.
Roan moves over to stand by her side, the two of them watching the guards leave. "I see you're settling in wonderfully after your promotion," he turns to her, a sickly-sweet smile on his face, "just as I knew you would." That earns him such an aggressive eyeroll from Rory, that he sees now why her ancestors were accused of witchcraft and burnt at the stake. "I love what you've done with the place, the rotting severed head on a spike right next to the gates is a bold design choice which surprisingly works perfectly. Gives the whole place a certain je ne sais quoi."
