The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

What Makes a Slyph

"You're other grandfather," William stresses.

For a solid minute she feels nothing but the ever shrinking space between her and the four walls of the drawing room. Then there's the distant memory of her scalp being pulled, fingers dragging her around and holding her up to walls as insults were hurled around her. Suddenly she's seven years old again, biting tears as Bill Hutchinson insulted and belittled her to his business partners.

William has snaked his arms around her back, she can only tell because his gentle touch is stark to the memory, but she's unsure how she should snap herself out of her daze to release into his hold completely.

Jaclyn hates herself for short-circuiting so easily, for allowing him to still control her.

You shall be a duchess in a few months time, a mother to rulers, a queen in your lifetime. More than that you are a success story for history. What is he?

But that doesn't stop the ache at the back of her head, it doesn't stop the sound of his hand hitting her mother's face from filling her ears, or the image of his scowl that creapt after her for years.

He is nothing, he is scum

"How do you know?" She finally asks, exhaling over the lump in her throat. It's a stupid question, of course they know, which Charles reminds her with an uneasy smile.

"He has requested an invitation to the wedding." William guides Jaclyn to sit down as his father speaks, and Jaclyn listens but she doesn't entirely hear. She sees only her weak hands that curl together in her lap, feels only William's hand still tracing the lines of her shoulder.

"Of course, he has." Her words are softer than she would like, edged with disbelief even though she feels foolish for it. She should've known this would be his hand. He wouldn't dare look her in the eye until he had something to gain. "He is under no circumstances invited to our wedding."

"I agree," William growls, sounding a little disgruntled, and she doesn't miss the side glare he shoots his father. "If it were up to me he wouldn't even be permitted within a mile of the theatre. I don't want you anywhere near him."

She sits up straighter, suddenly more alert. She reaches for Williams hand, clutching it between her own like a lifeline. She would actually have to see the man? She can't do that. There was no way. Her heart was pulling at her chest just hearing his name. Besides she wasn't the only one he treated poorly. What of her dad who was outed as a homewrecker to the world, or her mom who put up with his words until finally they manifested into something much worse? What of her grandma who lived with his abuse for decades? She would not force her to cower in his presence in front of the whole world on a day she should greatly enjoy.

"There's nothing that can be done?" She asks, keeping the pleading out of her voice.

"I'm afraid not," Charles winced, rolling his lip between his teeth nervously, "You don't have a restraining order."

Jaclyn blinked once. Twice. Three times. "You don't need a restraining order for a man who never wishes to see you." The neutral tone pushes through even though her stomach is knotting and her throat is now dry. Don't be weak, her mind whispers.

The only real comfort are Williams hands. The one that hasn't released from her upper back and the other that he is allowing her to squeeze to death only so the rest of her persona will not fade away. He's outright ignoring his father now, and maybe he really just wants to watch her, but she's assuming it's because Charles said something William did not like before she came in.

"I don't want him anywhere near you either, but the palace is concerned he may cause a scene if he is not invited." Jaclyn nodded in understanding catching the stress Charles put on each word. Her grandfathers claim to fame other than his power company was the heinous story he sold to the press while she was in her third year of school. He would no doubt go to them again and complain about how he wasn't invited to her wedding.