Hanging on a Moment

Author’s Note: This uses the prompt “I’ve waited for the moment for a long time”. This takes place after the events of book 2, chapter 19. 

Summary: Eliza has a special moment with Drake during a ball, but is everything what it seems?

Warnings: Contains mentions of gun violence. Also fairly angsty at times.

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If someone had told her when she first moved to New York that one day four handsome foreigners would walk into the bar where she was waitressing and change her life, she would never have believed them. In fact she probably would have found it a little creepy and wondered what exactly they had been binge watching recently.

But now, as Eliza sits in the grand ballroom of the Lythikos estate surrounded by nobles, to whose ranks she officially belonged, she can’t imagine her life turning out any other way. Sure, the last several months had been like climbing a mountain, full of countless hurdles to overcome, dangers to withstand, and storms to weather. Yet here she was, standing victoriously at the summit of her new life, ready for the next adventure to come her way.

Eliza subtly scans the crowd of nobles in search of the familiar faces of her new friends, her new family.

Bertrand, Maxwell and Savannah huddle close together around a table, eyes tenderly focused on a squirming Bartie. Squealing giggles rise above the din of chatter as Maxwell engages his young nephew in an enthusiastic game of ‘tickle monster’. Savannah and Bertrand sit side by side, hands gently resting atop one another on the table.

The warmth of the moment washes over her and she chuckles softly. Knowing Maxwell as well as she does, Eliza can only assume he’s the culprit responsible for manifesting this little bubble of bliss in the middle of an ocean of not-so-subtle gossip and political discourse.

At the front of the room, Liam stands hand in hand with a woman whose hair is as fiery as her personality; his new fiancée and Queen-to-be. They both wear genuinely contented smiles and every so often Olivia’s thumb rubs small comforting circles along the back of Liam’s hand.

Olivia’s eyes meet Eliza’s for a moment and she’s certain she sees a flicker of warmth in their gaze. She may not admit it yet, but Olivia was starting to think of her as a friend, and it amused Eliza to no end to point this out every chance she got.

The crowd suddenly quiets as the royal couple takes the stage. They take turns welcoming everyone to their official Engagement Ball, both as eloquent and stately as ever. But Eliza doesn’t hear a word they say. Instead her thoughts, as well as her eyes, are focused on the tall broad shouldered man in a dark suit leaning inconspicuously against a far wall. Strands of the wild chestnut hair she’d worked to tame hours early threaten to rebel and fall across his stoic face.

She wants to meet his gaze, wants him to look at her, even if just for a moment, with those deep brown eyes and see them sparkle with the mix of love and happiness he saves only for her. But she knows where his focus lies at the moment, where it has to lie; scanning the crowd for any hint of a threat to The Crown.

Drake had told her everything shortly after the Homecoming Ball; his true role in court as a secret guard for Liam and then, upon her arrival, for her. She had seen the tension in his face, the slight creases in his forehead and the apprehension in his eyes as he’d confessed to her, but she wasn’t angry at him for keeping her in the dark.

She’d known he had more secrets locked away behind the stone fortress surrounding his heart. In the months they’d spent together she had made spectacular headway in breaking it down, but there would always be more work to do, more layers to discover, and Eliza would never tire of the challenge. Every new tidbit of information he shared with her was a gift, one she would keep safe in a special place in her heart meant only for him. In turn, she was opening up to him more, divulging more stories of her life before New York, bringing her family back to life for a brief moment through the sharing of memories.

A swell of orchestral music infiltrates Eliza’s thoughts, pulling her back to the present. The ballroom is aflutter with movement once again as guests begin to make their way to the dance floor. A soft soprano voice calls her name and she turns to find Hana standing close, Penelope and Kiara in tow.

She feels someone, or something, brush against her other side mere seconds before a cold, wet nose nuzzles her elbow, causing her to start. A blush paints Penlope’s cheeks and her eyes go wide with trepidation as quiet chuckles escape the lips of the other women.

“It’s nice to you again too, boy,” Eliza says, affectionately scratching the dog on the head, the curly white hairs running thorough her fingers.

She gives her nervous friend a reassuring smile as Penelope calls her trusted pet back to her side and Eliza sees the tension release from her shoulders. The three women chat eagerly with her for a moment before excusing themselves and joining the other nobles gracefully gliding around the front of the room in an intricate dance.

Barely a second passes before a rough hand squeezes her shoulder tenderly, the memorable scent of Drake’s after-shave alerting her to his presence before her head swivels around to find him looming over her.

“Your Grace,” He states with a slight bow, as he tries and fails miserably to suppress a grin.

“Mr. Walker,” Eliza responds, biting her lower lip to contain the snicker threatening to escape.

“May I have this dance?” His eyes dance with a playful glimmer that sends a spark of anticipation down Eliza’s spine.

Placing her hand in his, she rises and they stride silently to the dance floor, their fingers interlocking perfectly, as if they were made to fit together. They move together seamlessly, Drake confidently leading Eliza through the intricate steps and twirls of the Cordonian Waltz. A sensation of pure happiness bursts from deep within her soul, spreading like wildfire throughout her body.

“I’ve waited for this moment for a long time,” Eliza purrs, closing her eyes and relaxing into Drake’s embrace as they sway together, her back pressed securely against his firm chest.

“What, to dance with me?” Drake jests, an uncharacteristic smile painting his face. “You know, we have danced before, Larson.” The sound of unadulterated joy in his voice pulls Eliza’s lips up into a grin so wide she can almost feel the dimples form on her cheeks.

“No,” She responds, laughing, as he twirls her outward again so they are face to face. “Well, actually yes, now that you mention it, I’ve wanted to do this particular dance with you since, well, the last time we were here. I thought you didn’t know it?”

“Oh, well… I took some lessons. I, uh, wanted to surprise you.” His eyes drop to the floor along with his smile, a deep blush forming near his jaw line.

“Lessons from who exactly?” She prods, grinning wildly.

Drake doesn’t respond, instead choosing to pretend to be concentrating on executing the dance. But Eliza follows his eyes as they quickly flick to the other side of the room where Maxwell is gleefully twirling Penelope. Realization dawns on her and she lets out a chest-rattling snort.

“Really? Maxwell?” She says, laughing heartily.

“He was the only one who wasn’t busy” Drake grumbles, his eyes furrowed, but soon a grin forms on the corners of his lips, the sound of Eliza’s infectious laugh too strong for him to resist.

Reaching up, Eliza places a feather-light kiss on his still smiling lips.

“Thank you” She whispers into his mouth.

The arm wrapped around her back pulls her closer and Drake leans down to capture her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his rough lips nearly bruising hers. When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless, their cheeks slightly flushed. Couples twirl around them, performing another precisely choreographed dance, but Drake and Eliza fail to notice. They sway to their own rhythm, lost in their own world.

“This,” Eliza says dreamily after several long moments of contended silence. “Being here with you, being free to be with you, this is what I’ve been waiting for Drake. I’ve been waiting so long to spend these moments with you, to spend every moment with you, not just stolen ones in-between.”

She meets his gaze and feels a tidal wave of love wash over her. His dark eyes are filled with the warmth of a thousand suns and she hopes her own expression can convey even a tenth of the emotion held within his.

“Me too, Larson, me too,” He says with a low, quiet voice, his accent a hair thicker than usual, then presses a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Larson, I love-“

BANG

Eliza stops abruptly as the sound of the shot reverberates though the air. Shouts ring out from every corner of the ballroom, but Eliza can’t hear them. She can’t hear anything. She’s too focused on what she sees, the masked gunman clad in all black armor standing in front of her, a smoking gun pointed straight at her. But she feels no pain, only Drake’s weight falling forward onto her.

And then she sees it, the dark pool of red quickly seeping through his shirt and suit jacket near the center of his chest.

“Drake!” She screams, as he slumps onto her completely limp.

“Drake!” She sobs, lowering him to the ground as carefully as she can. His eyes stare up at hers, blinking slowly, and she can see the warmth and spark within them quickly fading away.  A feeling of dread and hopelessness overtakes her.

“Someone help, please!” Eliza screams again, her voice cracking, but no one seems to hear, no one seems to care.

“Eliza,” A deep, calm voice permeates her mind and the edges of her vision go fuzzy.

“Eliza, wake up.” The voice says again and she can feel a firm hand on her shoulder, but when she turns to look her vision goes black.

“Drake?” She whispers.

---

It’s not Drake she sees when her eyelids flutter open, but Liam, his sapphire blue eyes swimming with worry.

“Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?” Liam asks quietly, voice laced with concern.

A dream. It had only been a dream, a nightmare.

Eliza nods, Liam’s words not fully registering in her still half-asleep brain. She sits up slowly and feels her senses waking up, beginning to take in the stimuli of the environment.

Throughout the room a chorus of rhythmic beeps in differing tones overlaps to create a sort of melancholy tune. Her hands brush against the smooth cushions of a plush couch. Daylight streams in from somewhere behind her, reflecting off of the white tile floors. The air feels cool in nasal passages as she inhales and it smells clean. Too clean. Eliza realizes. Hospital clean.

A spark ignites in her brain and reality rushes in, transferring her from one nightmare straight into another.

Her eyes flash to the bed in the center of the room where he lies motionless, the plethora of wires and tubes protruding from his body making him look more like a machine than a man.

Drake.

Terror invoking images flash in front of her eyes; Liam flinging an assassin over his shoulder; a masked gunman aiming straight for her; a flash of brown and blue obscuring her vision; the shock and pain in Drake’s dark eyes; the deep red stains on her pale hands; Drake lying still on the ballroom floor, his head in her lap, blood spreading outward from a wound in his upper abdomen.

Movement in her peripheral vision pushes the images from her mind. Liam is still standing beside her silently, watching her intently. She reaches out to him, squeezing his strong, smooth hand and scoots to one side of the couch, wordlessly summoning him to join her. He accepts the invitation readily, dropping down beside her and hugging her securely against his side. Eliza buries her face into Liam’s chest and he rests his chin on her head, neither of them speaking, both lost their own thoughts, simply craving the safety of a friendly embrace.

This wasn’t an unlikely occurrence now, the two of them finding solace in each other’s presence, not since the attack four days prior. Eliza had felt uneasy at first, allowing Liam to comfort her knowing how much of his own pain had been caused by her. Then she’d felt the tension release from his shoulders at her touch, heard his thundering heart quiet to a faint drumming, and she realized he needed her to ease his worries as much as she needed him.

The past didn’t matter anymore, the mistake she and Drake made by not telling Liam, the heartbreak they’d caused him, it was all miniscule compared to their current predicament. All that mattered now was staying safe and strong together, while the fate of their friends remained unknown.

After what feels like hours, Eliza slips out from Liam’s arms gently, turning to look at him. His normally well coifed flaxen hair is unkempt, large purplish-blue bags sag under his dull eyes, and the corners of his lips are turned downward in a contemplative frown. She wonders if he’d managed to get any more rest himself and swiftly concludes that it’s unlikely.

He’d been making trips back and forth between the palace and the hospital multiple times each day, wanting to spend as much time with her and with Drake as his kingly duties allowed. Each night he’d slept in the room with her, insisting she take the couch and leave him with the small, hard recliner. They’d been offered more comfortable accommodations, something more appropriate for their social standings, but they had both declined, neither wanting to leave Drake’s side lest he open his eyes.

“Any news?” Eliza practically whispers, her breath catching in her throat as she awaits Liam’s response.

“Nothing regarding Maxwell and Hana,” he states with a sigh, a hint of defeat in his voice.

“And Drake?” Her eye flicker over to the bed again, anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

“He’s still stable. The doctors are continuing to reduce his sedatives in hopes it will help him wake up.” He meets her gaze now, his eyebrows creased but softness fills his eyes. “You need to know, Eliza, if he doesn’t wake up soon, they’re not sure-“

“You’re Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have urgent news.” Bastien appears in the doorway, cutting Liam off, and Eliza releases a breath of relief. She knows what Liam was trying to say, she’d discussed the odds of Drake recovering with the doctors herself the day before, but she refuses to dwell on any outcome short of him returning to her.

Once Liam and Bastien have taken their leave, Eliza moves to the wooden chair near the head of the hospital bed. She settles in, gathering Drake’s hand in hers, and her heart drops at how weak it feels. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes as she watches his chest rise and fall rhythmically, the ventilator hissing softly on the down beat.

“I had another dream, Drake,” Eliza states, her voice soft but unwavering. “We were in Lythikos this time, at the Engagement Ball for Liam and Olivia. Yes, I know, you don’t like thinking about her with your best friend, but this was my dream and my subconscious wants what it wants.” A small chuckle escapes her lips as they turn upwards into the slightest of smiles.

“We danced the Cordonian Waltz, you know, the one where the man presses the woman’s back against his chest, and they are so close they can feel every muscle move together as they sway.”

She’s not sure why says it, or why she trails her pointer finger down his jaw line as she does. Probably why she says anything to him; to try and invoke some kind of emotional reaction that might help him come back to her.

“Larson, you’re going to be the death of me.”

The words trickle out from a corner of her memory. He’d said them jokingly on multiple occasions, not knowing how true they might be. He’d even said them that fateful night, while they were in her room exploring every inch of each other at long last.

“Now I can die a happy man.”

She feels the warm tears spill over her eyelids and cascade down her cheeks before raining down onto her hand which holds Drake’s.

“Damn it, Drake,” she blubbers “I don’t care how happy our night together made you, you are not going to… to leave me. I won’t let you.” She briskly wipes her tears away, taking in a slow, deep breath. Slightly more composed, she continues.

“I’ve lost too many people I’ve loved already; you are not allowed to add your name to that list. You’re as stubborn as I am, Drake, and it annoys the hell out of me sometimes, but right now it might do you some good. Don’t give up and don’t stop fighting, because I need you, ok? I know I seem strong and independent most days, but… you make me feel stronger than I’ve been in years. With you by my side I feel like I could conquer the world, but without you…” A choked sob escapes her lips and her voice goes soft.

“I know we’re both so broken, so rough around the edges of our hearts, but somehow, we just fit. You’re the puzzle piece I didn’t know I was missing until you showed up and made my life feel complete. So you’re not allowed to change that, ok? I heard what you almost told me, when we were watching the fireworks. You didn’t need to say it, I could see it in your eyes, but I wanted you to, wanted to hear you say those three little words, because I feel the same way.”

Eliza leans forward, her lips brushing against Drake’s ear.

“I love you, Drake Walker,” She whispers before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.

The room fills with the screeching of an alarm, but Eliza doesn’t hear it. She’s too focused on the fingers she feels wrapping around her hand and the bright brown orbs staring back at her. He doesn’t say anything, she knows he can’t, not yet, but his eyes and his touch tell her everything she needs to know.

He’d heard her, he loves her, and he’s not going anywhere.

-End