Guts And Glory

ACT V: CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MAKE UP YOUR MIND

He hums under his breath, moving back over to his side of the bed to pick up a glass of apple juice he's had on standby for her. Finn doesn't begin talking until Piper takes her first sip of the cold beverage, "It hardly matters now. The declarations been made."

"It has?" Piper blinks. "I slept through it?"

"Of course, the Queen gets to wake up whenever she wants."

Once she's drained the glass, and it's on the floor, Piper rises up on her knees, sheet forgotten, hands on Finn's shoulders, pushing him back down onto the bed. "What did they say?"

Straddling Finn, warm skin that belongs to her touching every available surface, he smiles up at her. "It's by the wishes of the many," he begins, reciting the declaration word for word, "that we hereby announce a public decree for Miss Piper Williams to be named Her Royal Highness, Queen Piper the First."

Piper grins at this, her first real smile in a six-month quest of obeying social rules and conventions, cupping Finn's face in her hands. This particular stage of the journey is complete, this is the easy part, where Piper has been able to avoid getting her hands dirty, the guts before the glory, before the real struggle—the preparation for a war Piper won't live to see. "We'll have to get married soon," she says, arm moving behind her to settle him at her entrance. "Make it official."

"You're my Queen—my world," Finn completes on a gasp as she moves and sinks down on him. "I told you I'd do anything for you. This is just the beginning," he promises, one hand on her hip, guiding Piper to hit right there, the other tangled up in her hair, tugging her head closer for a kiss. "Ruling is the next great adventure."

"You'll be my king," Piper lets him know, lips brushing, blinking up at the man who has gone to great lengths to keep harm at bay. Her very own warrior. "Of course," she sighs, voice catching on a keen, "your Queen will be the one to conquer."

***

Eric keeps up his side of promises—which translates to a more concise message of him pestering Piper until she learns to keep her word, too. He had said to her, many years ago when he first caught wind of this conspiracy theory Piper was cooking up, an idea that could change history, that the only reason he would ever consider coming back to England was if Piper achieved her goal, if she finally became Queen.

Piper watches him fold his clothes on the video-call, wanting to enjoy this moment. Which she could do, if it wasn't for her step-brother ensuring that Piper made good on her word, too. "It's only fair," Eric prods, packing his suitcases, preparing to fly over for Piper's coronation assembly. He still finds the time to nag at her and remind Piper of her 'moral duties'—ever the efficient big brother. "You promised Felix. He died for Troy—honour his memory, Piper."

He catches Piper's pause, her slip-up, her falter. "I know," he continues, soothingly, voice dropping to a low coo, "it's difficult. I'm . . . I'm not saying you have to forgive him for what he's done. Just respect that he was prepared to walk away from an entire life for Felix—for someone he loved. Don't cheapen it."

"I know, Eric," Piper barely refrains herself from snapping at him, a curl of a sneer on her face. "But why wasn't I enough?" She doesn't give him enough time to answer before she continues, venting to someone who's prepared to listen—an onslaught reminder that she's missed Eric, she's missed her support system. "I—It's just . . . I was prepared to walk away from him. Leave him rotting in that cell because I'm petty and spiteful. He's going to hate me, isn't he? For Felix, for Ayden—God, Eric, I'm going to lose him again."