Chapter Text
The ruins are quiet.
Save for the sound of rocks lightly skimming the water’s edge, you can barely hear anything. Perhaps if you concentrate hard enough, you could hear the faint echo of footsteps or some faraway birdsong – but for now, all your attention has gone to the man in front of you.
You stare at the way Maxwell moves his arm back as he tosses another rock, the movement quick and fluid, displaying the same kind of seamless grace he has when dancing. You watch his face: Maxwell’s expression is thoughtful as he gazes out into the distance; his glazed eyes are fixed on the sinking stone yet, at the same time, a million miles away.
Sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, he gets that look on his face. It’s such a stark contrast to his usual cheerful grin.
You’re dying to know what he’s thinking. You wonder if Maxwell is worrying about the state of House Beaumont or if he’s planning his outfit for the next event (you’re willing to bet that he’ll be wearing another black button-up)…
Or if Maxwell is thinking about someone the way you’re not supposed to think about him.
You try not to sigh. When it comes down to it, you don’t really know much about Maxwell. This bothers you way more than it should.
You approach him, hoping that your grin doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “Not a bad toss,” you say, referring to the rock he had skipped.
Maxwell turns to you with a smile that’s brighter than sunshine. The sight of it fills you with such indescribable warmth. You want to look away, but you’re entranced by the way the sunlight cascades on him, shining on his dark brown hair and playing across the features of his flawless face.
You realize that you’ve been staring and feel a slight blush coming on. This has been happening way too often lately.
Thankfully, Maxwell has turned back to the river so he probably didn’t see the way you looked at him.
At least, you hope so.
“Five skips is my record. It’s not much, but it’s respectable.” He gives a light shrug. “Though there was probably some kid who lived here who could skip a stone over ten times.”
You frown. Maxwell downplaying himself has also been happening far too often. You’re about to say something when he holds out a rock to you. “Want to give it a try?”
“Sure,” you say, resolving to find another way, another moment, to tell Maxwell how wonderful he is.
You reach out to take the rock, holding onto his hand for longer than necessary.
“The trick is to clear your mind and become one with the rock. It is an extension of your will,” he says in a serious, gravelly voice.
You can’t help but snort at that, Maxwell’s humor causing your lips to curve in a genuine smile.
You skip the rock and fall into easy conversation with Maxwell. You marvel at how easy, how freeing it is to talk to him.
Nowadays, you’re always on your guard when people talk to you. It’s a familiar kind of cautiousness and inhibition, one that has accompanied you throughout childhood. Back then, each conversation was a minefield; the wrong word or expression could easily set your stepmother off. You had to be the perfect child she wanted… not that she treated you like she did her own daughter.
It was bad enough that you had to act like something you weren’t – you had to perfect the role as well. And even when you did everything they wanted, you were still mocked and scorned for looking like the servant they had set you up to be.
Although it got better when you became an adult, the feeling still surfaces in certain situations. People call you a trap, a fake, a liar for wearing the things you could have only dreamed of as a child. Some say you look too Chinese or not Chinese enough. They hear about your sexuality and tell you you’re confused or you’ll grow out of that “phase” one day.
It still continues here when they say you’re not worthy to compete for Prince Liam’s hand.
You have always set out to prove them wrong: you are valid, you are worthy, you are true to you. That’s so much more than what some people can say. You are proud of yourself and what you’ve accomplished. You take pride in the calm and dignified way you stand up for yourself, but sometimes it’s… too much.
It’s suffocating, having to constantly put up a pretense of calmness and modesty in situations where your very person is being disrespected. Having to watch your every step and make sure your every move is the right one so you don’t get degraded further.
This is an act you’re accustomed to, and as much as you loathe to admit it, your upbringing has helped you in the competition, where each word you say matters whether you’re talking to the Queen, the press or one ill-tempered Olivia Nevrakis.
Talking to Maxwell is a breath of fresh hair. Of course, you’re more at ease around all your friends here in Cordonia, but it’s different with him. With him, you feel like you can be yourself. Maybe it’s his endearing, affable aura or the way his smile causes all your worries to vanish. Whatever it is, you’re grateful that you have the chance to spend time with him.
You hope that he’s comfortable around you as you are around him.
“You know, I don’t really know all that much about you,” you tell him, unable to let that thought go.
“There’s not really much to know.”
You disagree. Lately, you find yourself wanting to know everything about him. His talents, his quirks, his hobbies… But you never get the chance to ask. There’s always some new event or Cordonian tradition to discuss.
You think this is your opportunity to get to know him more.
“Really, now?” You nudge him in the shoulder. “I’ve seen you talk about yourself for hoursat our social events.”
He shakes his head lightly. “That’s just, y’know, small talk. Nothing real.”
“Tell me something real.” You look him in the eye.
Maxwell holds your gaze. “What do you want to know?”
You ask him about his past, how his life was like, and how his brother was like. It never ceases to amaze you how much he cares about Bertrand - despite the way Bertrand’s been treating him lately.
You admire the strength he possesses in being able to grin and make jokes despite his financial and familial situation. It drains you to merely stay calm in the face of Olivia’s childish taunts and Madeleine’s veiled insults, but even in the midst of turmoil, Maxwell always manages to smile and make everyone feel better with his antics.
Standing next to him and seeing the pain in his eyes as he talks about Bertrand… it makes your heart ache. You hate seeing him like this. If you could do something to keep that wonderful smile on his face, you’d do it in a heartbeat.
“I’m so sorry, Max.” Unable to help yourself, you wrap your arms around him, taking him by surprise; but it only takes him less than a second to hug you back.
“It’s okay. I have faith that it’ll all work out.” He leans back a bit to give you a soft smile. “All because of you, Eliza.”
Despite the warmth of his arms around you, you feel your blood run cold. You instinctively step away from him.
“Maxwell, I… ” The words die in your throat as you look up into Maxwell’s bright eyes. You’re stuck by the sudden urge to tell him the truth: that you’re not sure you can go through with the competition because you’re falling in love with him.
You admit that you were lured here by the prospect of making your childhood dreams come true. You had always wanted to escape your household, which you did eventually, but you had dreamed of going to a faraway kingdom and not some run-down apartment in New York. You dreamt of dancing with Prince Charming in a shiny tiara and a beautiful ballgown; not serving tables 9-to-5 in a dingy bar under a horrible boss.
You saw this dream come true when you looked into Liam’s eyes, when you took Maxwell’s invitation to Cordonia, and when you first laid eyes on this fairytale of a land.
Now, you’re seeing your dream change as reality tears through the cracks and fissures of your childhood fantasy.
There are so many things, rules and traditions that came with the role of princess-to-be. There are caveats you didn’t know about, additional responsibilities and troubles that your childhood self didn’t take into consideration.
You’ve managed to come out on top in most of the events, but lately you feel like you’ve just gotten lucky. And if you’re having trouble with just the competition, you’re worried about how you’re going to make it if you’re chosen as the queen of Cordonia.
You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and for a while you were willing to work hard for your fairytale ending… but recently, you’re starting to think that’s not what you want at all.
A large part of that, you think, has to do with Maxwell.
You like hanging out with Maxwell. In fact, just talking with him makes you so happy, happier than you’ve been in a long time. You figured that living in the castle of your dreams would make you ecstatic, but you didn’t expect to feel such unbridled joy from simply being around Maxwell. Every time you’re tired from impressing the people of Cordonia or dealing with Olivia or Madeleine, Maxwell is always there to cheer you up.
You suppose you should have seen this coming. You’re not the type to fall for someone unless you already have an emotional connection with them. While Liam was cute and charming, the lack of opportunities to spend time alone with him didn’t exactly bode well for your relationship.
This, coupled with the fact that you’re always with Maxwell, could explain how you’ve unexpectedly fallen for the endearing lord of Ramsford instead of the prince of your dreams.
You’ve figured this out only recently, but you couldn’t stop thinking of what to do next. Should you continue to vie for Liam’s hand or should you go after your heart’s true desires?
You ponder this question as you look into Maxwell’s eyes. Suddenly, you’re stricken by how close he is, yet at the same time, so heart-achingly far away. You’re stricken by how much you want to hug him again, how much you want to kiss him, how much you just want to be with him.
You’re not an impulsive person by nature, but you’ve always gone after what you wanted. Your decision to leave your stepfamily, your decision to change your name and be true to yourself, and finally, your decision to come to Cordonia… these are all choices that you don’t think you’ll ever regret.
These choices changed your life for the better, all because you took a chance. You made your life better because you chose to do so, despite the inherent risks.
Telling Maxwell how you feel is a huge risk, but you don’t think you can lie anymore, not to him, not to Liam, and most importantly, not to yourself.
Besides, there’s something about Maxwell that makes you feel like everything is going to work out. It’s that same feeling you got when he first invited you to Cordonia and asked you to be his House’s suitor.
The unknown doesn’t seem to be as terrifying and insurmountable as long as Maxwell’s with you. After all, you’ve made it this far with each other’s help. No matter what the future holds, you think that the both of you can make it together.
“Maxwell, I have to tell you something.” Your voice comes out strong and steady, but you feel your heart start to race as you say the words. This is it, Wong. Just tell him how you feel.
He looks at you with an encouraging smile. “You can tell me anything, Liza.” His hand comes up to lightly touch your arm, to give you further reassurance.
Emboldened, you take a deep breath. “I… I don’t know if I can go through with the competition anymore. I think I’m falling for someone else.”
Silence.
The ruins are quiet.
Save for the sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can barely hear anything. Perhaps if you concentrate hard enough, you could hear the faint echo of footsteps or some faraway birdsong – but for now, all your attention has gone to the man in front of you.
You stare at the way Maxwell’s eyes widen, how he freezes on the spot. You watch as a myriad of complicated emotions flit across his face: shock, confusion, and – your heart does a somersault in your chest as you see it – hope.
You rush to get your words out, “Max, I’ve fallen for y–”
“No.”
It’s like someone pushed you into the icy river because all you can feel is a cold numbness spreading throughout your body.
“…No?” Your voice comes out small, feeble, and confused.
“Eliza, please.” His voice cracks on the second syllable of your name. Maxwell’s eyes are desperate, pleading, as they bore into yours. “You can’t… you can’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
You step back, shaking your head disbelievingly. “Maxwell, I don’t understand–”
“You’re confused.” He gently puts his hands on your shoulders, perhaps to give you reassurance. It doesn’t work. “The social season is a confusing time. It’s easy to bond really quickly with people here throughout the activities…You can’t trust how you might be feeling right now.”
Tears start to well up in your eyes. “But, Maxwell, I…”
He remains resolute. “Even if you’re having doubts, you’re here for the Prince.”
Why are you saying this?
You blink away the tears so you can see him better. Maxwell looks worse than how you feel. You can see him fight to keep a stony expression on his face, but the piercing sadness in his eyes gives him away.
Why? You want to ask, but the words remain lodged in your rapidly tightening throat. You have no right to look like that, like all of your dreams have just been crushed –
Except he does.
The realization hits you like lightning.
If you fell for someone else, if you decide to leave the competition, House Beaumont will fall into ruin. Maxwell’s life, as well as his relationship with his brother, will never be the same.
And it would’ve been all your fault.
You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a watery smile. “Y… you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Th-the social season’s really… Messing with my head. F-forget everything I said.”
You’re trying to hold it together, but you think you’re coming apart the way your words are.
You pull yourself out of Maxwell’s hold and turn your back on him. You aren’t going to let him see you cry. You know he’ll be sad if he sees you like this.
You won’t do this to him. You’ve already done enough.
“Eliza…”
“I… I think I see Liam up ahead. I should go.”
You hear Maxwell call your name once more, but you don’t dare look back.