The Cair Royals

Amendment 8, Section 17

"Wake up, Edmund, wake up, wake up!"

"Wuzzgoinon?" The young King was ungently shook awoke by his elder sister, and he sat up, panicked. "It's 8, Su- I literally slept 4 hours ago-"

"I don't care!" The elder Queen said forcefully, shoving a newspaper into his hand. "Because while YOU were sleeping, the media has been having a fucking field morning! Just 8 am, on New Year's and it's still been published EVERYWHERE!"

"Has WHAT been published?" He asked, shoving on his reading glasses as he looked at the front page of the paper. "Oh, shit."

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Sanya yawned as she got up, her mood most abnormally good for a morning. No headache, no nausea, no wish to die (well, not more than usual), not even wanting to remain curled up in bed forever.

Well, she HAD had a pretty good night. In an enormous Library, wrapped in Edmund's arms, fireworks outside the window lighting up the semi-dark room. Oh, and the food was just scrumplicious. AND she had vacation for three more days, so more sleep-in time.

Life was not absolutely horrible right then.

She stretched lazily, before reaching out blindly for her phone and switching it on.

Hm- odd, she thought a few moments later as the notification pings refused to stop, even after more than two entire minutes.

She went onto Instagram first, flitting past stories and liking a few posts and commenting on two she had been tagged in.
Twitter, she was too asleep for, so next was Tumblr where she reblogged half her feed.
Pinterest was something to be used when more mentally active, so she decided to leave that be, and thus she went onto her texts- Edmund wanted her to call him RIGHT then, for some reason and then her Instagram DM.
They were fairly standard- unless you counted her mother sending her a meme. But-

"326 requests?" She sat up, grabbing her spectacles. "What the fuck?"

Declining them all, she opened Google and scrolled through her suggested News, where an oddly worded article caught her eye.

"Oh, fucking fuck my life."

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It wasn't often Lilith slept in. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had since starting at the Palace. Hence the redhead was so surprised when she awoke with a start, the clock telling her it was 9am.

What also surprised her, was Peter sprinting into the room, calling her name, eyes wide.

"What the f-"

"You've got to marry me."

Lilith blinked, "Excuse me?"

The High King continued, catching his breath the best he could, "Ed- Edmund and- and Sanya got caught. In library- last night- pictures- articles are all over- social media, papers- he's in big trouble- so's she. You know it's illegal and they-"

"Breathe." She told him pointedly, despite her shock and worry for her friend and King, she couldn't help be slightly amused.

The blond nodded, taking a breath before they fell into silence, looking at one another.

"What?" Lilith asked after a moment of him looking to her, expectant.

The High King seemed lost for a moment, looking around him before seeming to make a decision.

"Lilith Catherine Moore, will you marry me?" He spoke, lowering himself to one knee, looking up to her from where she was sat among the sheets.

"No." She replied and, much to Peter's dejection, laughed, but not unkindly, simply at the absurdity of the situation.