The Selection (Troyler AU)

♔Part XXV♔

First real update as the most popular fic on my account :)

So like Tyler wrote a fucking book and I still have not been able to fathom it so I've been drowning myself in Drarry trash (one of the ships that I've lowkey agreed with but never actually shipped until now when I succumbed to the trash) and writing and the piano version of Chandelier and eugh eugh eugh I'm really really trashy rn.

Also apparently #HopeForWorldLeader is a thing okay then.

Tyler POV

I found Hannah soon after leaving my father to fend for himself against the two women, wasting no time in proceeding with the preparations, knowing that if I couldn't arrange the formal outfits to be made, the Servants and Maids would never be allowed to attend the ball.

It wasn't hard to find her; she was relaxing in her leisure room, scanning a copy of Illéa Weekly, which she must've snagged from her father when he wasn't looking, during what must've been one of her breaks. She had merely glanced up from her reading when I entered, not surprised by my appearance - Hannah's room is one of the few places Guards never check for when I have to report to something, so I happen to come here a lot when I have a particularly troublesome responsibility that I want to avoid. Not to mention it was a nice room, too; luxurious and palatial as it was, it was connected to her bedroom, with extravagant morsels within reach at all times, and a T.V. nicer than some of the ones my father's Advisors own.

I didn't consider it strange that I was allowed to come in at any time. She, like the majority of the inhabitants of the Palace, have learned that being inclined to things like sleeping underdressed and changing in your actual bedroom, as opposed to doing it in the connected bathroom, was one of the dumbest ideas you could have. During attacks, drills, and routine lineups, Guards have a tendency to burst open doors without considering the chance of someone only in their underwear on the other side, and no one wants to face the humiliation of having to be dragged outside in a pair of old, white underwear. With that in mind, I would never be walking in on her in an awkward moment, so she was perfectly fine with me having a spare key.

"I need a favor," I stated, deciding that being upfront would save time and energy, that could be out towards getting the staff to the ball.

She tipped the top of her newspaper down, giving me her attention as she raised her eyebrows in a Go on gesture.

"So, I may have just convinced my father to let me invite the entire staff - Servants, Maids, and all - to Queen Grace's ball. . ."

And then it all came spilling out, as I explained my idea to invite them all, my father's reaction, the odd encounter with my mother and the Queen working together against my father, until I finally got to the part revolving around his order to have her arrange the formal attire for everyone. I had no doubt she could do it; Hannah herself was a seamstress, one of the most experienced ones in the entire Palace, despite her being so averse to ever wearing anything she creates. She was practically the head of the other tailors already, but she never wanted the responsibility, so I'd never suggested the idea to my father. Besides, she had enough on her plate already, since she had just as many responsibilities as the rest of the staff members, if not more.

At the end of my proposal, she simply stroked her chin thoughtfully, setting her paper down on the table beside her after a moment. She sat up, now giving me her full attention, as she raised her brow in query. "What brought this on?"

"Huh?"

"I mean," she went on to elaborate, lifting her hands as she talked,"You've never tried so hard to invite all of us before now. I don't know, it just seems weird, to go for it now, especially when you know how your father might've reacted, had Grace not been in the room."