O N E R O U S
O N E R O U S
(adj.) involving a great deal of effort, trouble, or difficulty.
THIS HAS GOT to be some sort of sick joke, Bleu's mind and heart felt warped. I dated Paris' cousin. I actually fucking dated her cousin. And he's alive.
The entire room erupted in polite applause, and the two men gave simple nods of gesture. Dean was smiling, looking even more handsome in his dark hair than he did with blond.
He was the one who betrayed me, Bleu's hands shook as she gripped her dress. He set up Paris' ambush at school. He pretended to rescue her. He gained her trust, drove her back home, and led the rest of the mob there to attack Kael. Bleu solved the pieces in her mind. And to think I ever felt terrible for being with the girl I love!
When Dean flashed that mega-watt smile that was identical to his father's, Bleu barely contained herself from slapping him.
Paris was just as in shock as she was. She had been going to school with her own cousin for the past decade. He had bullied, made fun of, and ignored her and now she finds that the same blood coursed through their veins. When did he know? Had he known all his life that he had our royal blood? Jealousy and anger rose up within her; he led a normal life, unhunted, happy, and loved. He probably grew up knowing who his real parents were. And now to find that they were of the same bloodline struck a chord in Paris. He truly was the biggest asshole to ever exist. She never should have trusted him.
Everything else after that drowned out. After the huge announcement, Bleu and her parents, Paris, Natasja, and Kael were all escorted into a dimly lit room. A man wearing glasses that were way too small for him sat behind a desk, smiling at them as they walked in. No one smiled back.
In a moment, Dante and his son walked in, big smiles plastered on their faces.
"Ah, I see we're all gathered here now," Dante rubbed his hands together slowly. No shit, sherlock. "The lawyer is here to legalize the documents and the abdication of the princess. As promised, I will gaurantee her loved ones' safety." He extended his arm to the chair at the center of the room; it was facing the desk. Papers were scattered on the desk but there was only one main one Paris had to sign.
Bleu's parents stood on either side of her, unmoving as they watched the tall brunette slowly walk across the room. Together with Natasja and Kael, they watched the lawyer make eye contact with the princess before nodding his head for her to proceed. Paris reached for a fountain pen and steadied her hand over the paper. In a few strokes of the small object, they were going to be free and she would be stripped of the title princess.
"Wait," Dean cut in and Paris looked back at him, the tip of her pen almost touching the piece of parchment. "Paris isn't eighteen years old yet, correct? That means she's not legal for the throne."
"And what are you saying, boy?" Dante raised a brow, impatient.
What the fuck is he doing now? Bleu frowned, skeptical.
"Dad, for her to legally abdicate from her royal position, she would either need to wait until her 18th birthday for her to be a legal adult and sign it herself, or have her guardians do it," Dean pointed out. "Who, as we all know, are dead."
"But she's old enough to decide for herself isn't she?" Dante was pacing, looking at the man behind the desk.
"I'm afraid your son is right, sir," the lawyer cleared his throat. "Had I known she was still a minor, I would have warned you myself. We must wait for her to turn eighteen before we proceed."
"Which is in about four days," Bleu spoke. "Don't tell me you're planning to keep us locked up in here for four days!"
"Of course I am," Dante replied casually. "Four days is a small price to pay for being free the rest of your life." He nodded at the man behind the desk. "We'll see you in four days."
Bleu wanted to throw a tantrum in frustration. That's it? Just like that? One minute we're sleeping in my house and the next we're attending a fucking ball and are taken as prisoners? Sadly, she said none of that. Those stupid guards still had their guns. And she was still a freaking coward.
"I'll take the girls back to their room," Dean said. "I have some private matters to discuss."
"What are you going to talk about?" Mr. Ivy crossed his arms. "Because as you can probably tell, Mr. Collins, I don't trust you anymore." He had all the time in the world to be sarcastic.
"It's private for a reason, Mr. Ivy," Dean straightened his tie. "I give you my word I will not lay a hand on them."
Mr. Ivy frowned before a guard steered him and his wife away.
"See that you don't, Prince Dean," Mrs. Ivy sneered. "Or you will have to answer to me." Dean's reply was a tilted smile.
"Where are you taking my parents?" Bleu almost raised her voice as she watched her parents escorted out the room so suddenly. Everything was happening so quickly.
"Don't worry, they won't be lacking in anything," Dante sighed as he produced a cigar from one of the wooden shelves in the meticulously decorated room. Bleu had no doubt every room in this palace was exquisite. "Hell, they might not want to leave ever again. Maybe they won't." He chuckled. Bleu had to clench her fists her to stop herself from letting them fly at his smug face.
"Enjoy your stay here, girls. There's absolutely nothing to worry about."
Once in the equally well-furnished room that the girls had occupied earlier that evening, the tension could easily be felt. Dean had told his bodyguards to wait outside and had locked the door, also blocking out any sound due to the door being pressurized. He had something important to tell the two.
"You sick bastard!" Bleu flew at Dean as soon as the door closed. "How dare you?"
The blonde immediately started hitting whatever part of him she could reach, but Dean didn't budge. He easily blocked her punches and slaps but didn't make a move to try and completely stop her. Paris, being the level-headed one, moved to pull Bleu away. There was something on the look of Dean's face that made her curious. He looked almost... Scared.
"Please, stop and listen," he said, grabbing a hold of Bleu's wrists. "I can explain."
"Oh there's nothing to explain," Bleu ground out. "Except maybe how you could stomach the thought of your girlfriend being with your mortal enemy. You've known all along, haven't you? You knew about me and Paris."
"Of course I did," he replied, still holding on to her wrist. "The whole school knew. You've stuck to Paris' side like glue all throughout the years and practically hung on to every word she said. We knew you liked her."
"And so why did you date her then?" Paris cocked a brow. Deep inside, her heart fluttered at the revelation that Bleu had always liked her even back then. "If you knew she liked someone else?"
Dean sighed, finally letting go of Bleu. Her hands fell limply to her sides as she waited for his reply.
"I've always had a crush on her," he ran his hand through his hair in slight embarrassment. "It killed me when she liked you, of all people. A girl. I was losing to a girl. And that was why I tried to treat you like shit. Immature, I know."
"So what was between us in that one year that Paris was gone?" Bleu clenched her fist. "You used me to spy on her?"
"No, that was real. That was all real," Dean's eyes searched Bleu's. "I had no idea about Paris all these years. Dad never told me she was the princess until her attempted assasination at school. I mean, I knew my dad wanted me to find the heir, but I had no clue at all that it was her. If I had known Paris was the rightful heir, I wouldn't have done all that bullying."
"What do you mean?" Bleu and Paris said together.
Dean sighed. "I don't want the throne. I'm not fit to rule. I don't want my father on the throne either, because I know that if he can ruin our family, god knows what'll happen to Monaco. Now I may not have grown up there, but I have enough respect in me to look up to my motherland." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Ever since I was a little boy, my father kept telling me he'd rule over Monaco, whatever it took. Even if it meant killing the princess, who he gave me the task of finding. And so he left me in that town, alone, with foster parents that I've grown closer to than him. He was never a real father, and I've always hated him."
Both girls were silent, both debating if they were going to buy his act or not.
"I know you don't believe me and you have every right not to," Dean spread his hands. "But I don't want this country to fall. They deserve better than me. My only proof of being on your side is helping you escape."
"How?" Paris crossed her arms. What if this was another trap?
"I heard your conversation on the phone. I know about your plan," Dean voiced, and Paris stiffened. "I bribed one of the men who listened in. Not every number may be blocked, but we can still hear everything you say. If my father had found out before I did, we wouldn't even be talking here right now. Remember, he's a murderer."
Paris clenched her jaw. He was right. He was telling the truth. And right now, they didn't have a choice.
"What's the plan?" She asked him and Bleu's head whipped to the side.
"You're trusting him?" She asked, incredulous.
"What he said was true," Paris never took her eyes off the Prince. "I don't think my uncle would have appreciated knowing what I had planned." Meaning they would have been dead.
"We lay low," Dean replied. "We play his games for the next four days, until Paris turns eighteen."
"Coincidentally, Paris' birthday lies on the same day my father's best friend was born," Dean rubbed his hands. "Dad loves parties. Without a doubt he'll throw one for his best friend, and every elite will be invited."
Bleu's eyebrow rose as the idea slowly started to sink in. "And that's a lot of people."
"A lot of distraction," Paris nodded.
"We can slip out!"
"No," Dean shook his head. "There will be guards everywhere. You'll be dead before you make it past the front door." Then his expression changed into one of mischief. "We'll go with Paris' plan. Everyone will be there. Everyone will see."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"It has to. Because no matter how powerful my dad thinks he is, the people will always overpower him. Power is from the citizens."
Dean then stood up to his full height, adjusting his already-pristine armani suit. "I promise to not betray you," he looked almost excited. "You have my word on my very soul. I know this will work."
"Why are you doing this, really?" Bleu softly asked. "I don't think your intentions are purely for this country. There must be something else."
Dean was just about to turn the door knob but stopped when he heard the question. With his back still turned to them, he replied in a low voice. "My father took something from me I can never get back," his knuckles on the doorknob whitened. "So I want to take what's most precious to him."
Then he left without another word.
Both girls slept fitfully that night. Both were deep in thought. Even though Paris had her own room, she didn't bother leaving this one. She knew how strange it must be for Bleu to spend the night in an unfamiliar, century-old castle in a foreign country. So she decided to stay.
She slipped into bed beside the blonde, and darkness engulfed them.
"God, this is fucked up." Bleu broke the silence.
"I'm sorry," Paris whispered. "I didn't mean to drag you into this."
Bleu turned to her side so that she was facing the beautiful brunette laying in bed next to her. Even in the dark she knew she was beautiful. "I don't mind fucked up things as long as it's with you."
Unsurprisingly, Paris' heart skipped a beat. "You're kinda hot when you swear."
Bleu chuckled, and Paris felt soft braless breasts press against her own as the the blonde leaned over her to switch on the lamp beside them.
Illuminated by the soft light, Bleu looked stunning as she smiled down at Paris. "I don't know what your plan is, but I'm surprisingly at peace amidst all this."
"What do you mean?"
"Remember that time Kael was hospitalized and we were crazy enough to make out before we left?"
Paris blushed but nodded.
"Well, at that moment, I felt at peace. Like everything was going to be alright. Even after I found out she was at the hospital, I was calm because she was going to be ok."
Paris searched her eyes. She knew what she meant. It was like deep down she knew everything was eventually going to turn out ok. This was going to pass, whether it ends in death or not.
"By the way," Bleu tilted her head, an eyebrow raised. "What you did to me on that pool table was mind blowing."
"W-what? I-I uh," Paris was flustered and was blushing to the roots of her hair at this point. It was such an unexpected statement.
"I mean, I've always known you to be shy and quiet, but that day you were different. You were all dominant and hot and stuff," Bleu was still partially on top of Paris, staring down at her. "Where'd you learn to pleasure a girl like that?"
Paris was sure her face was red because she could feel the burn all the way down her neck. "U-um can we talk about something else? I mean, don't you feel pressured by the fact that we have four days before the big day?"
Bleu tsked. "It's four days away, Par. We have time," she winked. "Now answer my question. Did you practice on someone or...?"
"What? No!" Paris was flustered. She didn't know what to say. She tried to wriggle out from under Bleu but that only made the blonde chuckle and press down on her more.
"God, Par, don't give me the shy side right now when I've seen the confident one. Gimme that one." Bleu begged.
Paris burst out laughing. "What are you talking about? You doofus."
"The sexy dominant Paris one," Bleu almost grinned down at her. "It's such a break from your character I love it." She leaned down and pressed the tip of her tongue against the outer shell of Paris' ear.
Paris pulled back quickly, the moisture from the contact both arousing and tickling her.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm horny?" Bleu smiled, biting her lip. Paris gawked at her, and a second went by in silence before Bleu got exasperated. "I'm wound up ok? All this tension, this worry, this anger, is building up and I just need to let it out!"
"I thought you were at peace about all this?"
"I am! But not worrying is different from being angry at this situation."
Paris stilled the hands that were moving down to the hem of her shirt. "Do you wanna talk about it?" She searched her eyes, a slight furrow in between her brows.
Bleu's eyes softened. God, she's so sweet. Always considering my feelings.
"Nah," she shook her head as she stood up to slowly unbutton her shirt. "We can fuck about it though."
Paris' eyes widened until they couldn't widen further. She watched Bleu sway her hips to a beat in her pretty head as she bent down to pull her shorts down. Paris almost forgot to breathe as the blonde's lithe body was revealed. She was stunning. Every curve, every inch of smooth skin.
She bit her lip again, running a hand through her silky blonde hair and letting it fall around her as she stood at the foot of the bed. She placed her knee on the bed, then the other, and her hands dropped. She slowly crawled towards Paris, making the other almost hypervantilate at the sight.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Paris chanted in her head. This was different from when she was in control. Their roles were reversed so quickly. Dominant Bleu was hot as hell.
Bleu winked at Paris before arching her naked body against the Princess' blanket covered one. She could feel the heat from her body throught the soft material, and gulped.
"You're wearing too much," Bleu said, barely above a whisper. She dipper her tongue at the hollow of her throat as her fingers traced ultra light patterns on her flat stomach. She was barely touching her, teasing her until Paris snapped.
Fuck it, if we die tomorrow at least I'll die happy. She pulled Bleu's head from her chest and mashed their lips together. The euphoria she felt at the contact of their lips was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She shivered in delight when their tongues danced. Their lips separated long enough for Paris to pull her shirt over her head before their mouths connected again. Bleu threw the covers off Paris without breaking their kiss. The brunette only wore a tshirt and her panties to bed, and Bleu was pleased she didn't have to take off another clothing except those. She straddled the brunette, their breasts mashed together. Their kisses soon grew more aggressive, and Bleu grinded her hips against Paris', making her moan in her mouth. Bleu swallowed the vibrations then broke the kiss to pant for air. She then placed open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and across her chest. When she latched on to a nipple, Paris threw her head back and groaned at the sensation. Bleu swirled her tongue around her nipple, flicked it, then bit it. Paris was gripping the bed sheets hard. After giving attention to that one, Bleu moved on to the other breast, giving the same actions that made Paris curl her toes.
"Bleu," Paris panted. She blindly groped for Bleu's hand, guiding it to her core. The blonde let go of her nipple with a smack, retracting her hand and wagging her finger at Paris.
"Oh no, no, no, milady," she tsked. "I'm in charge."
She moved down her long body, smiling at the trail of sweat she found between the brunette's abs. When she was right in fron of her core, she seductively looked up at Paris through her eyelashes. Then her teeth latched on to the top of her panties and pulled them down, slowly.
"Bleu," Paris whimpered. "Please. I need you."
"Shhh," Bleu nuzzled her nose in Paris' pussy, her clit in contact with skin. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."
At the first lick, Paris just about exploded. And when Bleu's tongue went inside, Paris' breath hitched. When she started tracing the alphabet with her tongue, Paris' knuckles were clenched and white against the sheets.
"Oh fuck," Paris breathed, her neck arched and exposed to the air. "Please don't stop." Her hands moved up to her own breasts as Bleu continued her ministrations.
Bleu moaned against her pussy, sending vibrations that almost pushed Paris over the edge. She then added two fingers, pushing them in to the knuckles while she licked and sucked her clit.
Paris whimpered and let out a low moan, her eyes clenched shut, her thighs pulled taut.
Bleu went faster, Paris' moans got louder.
"Cum for me," Bleu's hot breath was against her ear as her fingers quickened their pace.
The Princess shattered.
The next four days were going to be long.
C A M A R A D E R I E
P L E T H O R A
W A R
C A T H A R S I S
D E N I A L
N O S T A L G I A
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