Stepping in to fill her brother's shoes had seemed like a great idea at the time. The added bonus of off her grandmother made it all the sweeter, but now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, Shayne realized this was a quite possibly the stupidest thing she'd ever done.

And she'd done a lot of stupid shit.

Protestors lined up along the main street outside of the Spanish Parliament building, signs pitched and fists raised. Apparently news had leaked of her arrival to the country, and already they were baying for royal blood. Her Spanish was rusty, but she got the gist of what was splayed across those posters and banners.

The obscenities.

The anger.

The disappointment.

Her uncle had been a major advocate for gold mining within the country, and leveraged his support in favor of various American companies who came in and bled their country of its resource while destroying local communities as well as the environment. Making Americans and the crown wealthy, while leaving the people to suffer the consequences.

Marco had hoped to change all of that, and his wit and charm had given the people hope—confidence that they would soon have a leader they could trust. Turning his moniker of mockery—The Golden Prince—into one of respect. He was more than a prince; he was the symbol of their future.

And for the first time since touching down on Spanish soil, Shayne felt a lick of doubt ripple down her spine like rollerblades grinding a rail.

She brushed fingers through her choppy hair, the strands a vibrant emerald green, dressed in ripped jeans, over-sized tank cut low on the sides and braless...Puta madre, what the hell had possessed her to roll into the country like this?

Within an hour of the confrontation in her uncle's office, the Duchess had convened an emergency meeting with the entirety of Spanish parliament.

In her usual kneejerk way of handling the matter, Shayne had called for the royal limo and pounced in the backseat like she was James Bond about to face off against a supped up uber villain, and sniggered at the horrified shock that would befall the Duchess as she sauntered in, but that was the problem. A reckless move, but that was always the problem. Shayne was brash, impulsive and couldn't see beyond the tip of her nose when it came to assessing the consequences of her actions outside of the ring.

But as the car idled to a stop, Shayne had a single lucid moment of shocking clarity of the pictures about to be splashed across the evening news. And the message that it would spread to the country—her people, about the prospective leadership about to fill in her brother's barely vacated shoes.

She, the newly returned princess who had flown half way around the world at eighteen to escape the chokehold of propriety—the quintessential black sheep in the line of royal blue bloods—was about to greet her people for the first time looking like a typical queer twenty three year old LA hipster who knew fuck all about running a country.

Her door wrenched open and the roar of disdain washed over Shayne, a putrid flood that brought bile to rise in the back of her throat. Even with the wall of the closed gates between her and them, it was still alarming to be faced with such mobbish anger.

One of the royal household security team stepped into the opening mouth of the door and stuck out a hand.

"Princessa," he said gruffly. His square jaw was shadowed with a groomed beard, but she recognized the face immediately as one of the guards she'd taken down at the hospital outside of Marco's room when she'd rushed to his side after the accident.

The gleam in his narrowed eyes said he hadn't quite forgiven her for the broken nose and putting him down on his ass.

Stepping out of the limo, he tucked her at his side and rushed her through the mob with two other guards and into the parliament's doors. The chaos vanished behind her and Shayne released a steadying breath of relief as a parliament liaison approached. Her sturdy black heels muffled on the rich green carpet.

"Princessa Seina," she said, her eyes sliding up and down with a swallow. "The entire parliamentary board is assembled and unfortunately the Duchess has proceeded the meeting—"

"Of course she has." Cupping her fist, Shayne cracked her knuckles and rolled her jaw. "Where is she?"

"They're in the—"

But Shayne was already on the move, tracking the signs and directional arrows leading the way to the where the meeting of Parliament was already well underway. She burst through the chamber doors with a bang and silence descended like the harrowing boom of thunder.

The Duchess rose from her seat, quaking with rage. "You see? Do you see? This is what I was speaking of. We cannot allow such a disgrace to stand. We must—."

"Shut up," Shayne snapped and drew to a halt at the end of the very long, varnished table. Polished to a mirror gleam, she could see each set of eyes that carefully avoided her reflected sharply in the unmarred surface. "What is this? A coup?"

"Hello, Princessa," the woman at the head of the table rose. Her narrow shoulders encased in a snug charcoal blazer that matched her expertly tailored slacks and white blouse. "I am Senator Rivera. First, it is my honor to welcome you to Palacio de Senados. And second, by no means are we gathered against you today. The Duchess insisted that the members of parliament convene to review the legal documents you graciously provided her with this morning and—"

"And you'll find they're all in order," Shayne answered, arms crossed because she didn't have a clue in hell what to do with her hands otherwise. Shove them in her jean pockets? Wrap them around the Duchess' skinny neck?

"Yes, princessa, they appear to be. But as you can imagine this puts all of us—the monarchy included—in a particularly awkward position. Had His Royal Highness reached out to us before hand with his plans, we could've—"

"Could've what? Circumvented him? Found some loophole in the fine print to go around his back and put the Duchess on the throne instead? Because that is what she's after." Shayne cut her eyes to her grandmother, to the challenging tilt of her imperious chin and blazing blue eyes. Her cloud of perfectly styled curls trembling with the intensity of her ire.

The Duchess was a bomb set to explode.

"The question we are forced to confront is a question of integrity," another member of the parliament spoke up. A man in his mid-forties with slick dark hair and a handsome face that the news cameras loved. "As you can see the people are roiling for change. Many questioned whether or not Spain should even have a monarch anymore. Things were assuaged when word was released that your uncle, God rest his soul, had agreed to abdicate to Principe Marco, but this unexpected shift has cracked open a very weak foundation and churned up all kinds of unrest."

Rising from the table, he smoothed a hand across his front, stroking his fingers down the length of a blood red tie. "You have to admit, in the grand scheme of things, perhaps the Duchess would make a better choice to stand in as the face of the monarchy until His Royal Highness is recovered enough to resume his coronation. You are young, inexperienced in life and in politics. Wouldn't it be better to leave the country in more capable hands?"

He stopped at the end of the table, smile charming and eyes sincere.

It took every ounce of restraint she had in her not to punch the smug bastard in the face.

"And who are you?"

"Senator Gabriel Cabos."

She nodded gently, filing away the name for later. "Yes, Senator Cabos, I am young," Shayne agreed. "But I am a fighter. I will fight for my brother. I will fight for my country. And I will fight anyone who gets in my way."

"Princessa," Senator Rivera wound from the head of the table and hurried to her side with hands raised in supplication. "We're not trying to fight you. None of us want to challenge your brother on this matter, only to ensure we're putting forward the best possible foot with the people. There's been enough...upset and scandal. Can you assure us, without question, that there will be no cause for concern with you?"

Shayne opened her mouth to speak but Senator Rivera flagged her hand quickly, then gave a quick wave from head to toe. "Think carefully, Princessa. What you're about to take on is a challenge unlike anything you will have ever faced before. And a responsibility for which not many are suited. Already there are elements of your past that have given this council serious pause for thought. Your grandmother has been most...informative in that regard."

"Oh, I'm sure she has."

"It was my duty as—"

Shayne cut her eyes to her grandmother, silencing her with a look that had shook the knees of many opponents in the ring, then returned it to the many faces surrounding the table. Dozens of them. All with hard eyes and minds already made up. Only Senator Rivera seemed at all interested in giving Shayne the barest sliver of the benefit of doubt.

"I know what I look like," Shayne said, sweeping out her hands, "and I know what has been said about me in the past. I don't deny most of it."

She paused for a moment, as sniggers and whispered comments circled the table before pushing onward. "I am the daughter of Fernando and Esperanza. I am a Spanish citizen who loves her country, even though her country and family turned their back on her when she needed them most." She shot a look to her grandmother who stood, proud and remorseless. "I can't promise that nothing will go wrong. I can't promise that I won't fail. But I can promise not to give up. I can promise to work hard, with the Spanish government, to do my duty to my country, and my brother, to bring the people back around. The problem with the monarchy is you've never had someone who understand them the way I do. I've lived in the world as a commoner, I know what it's like to be disrespected and disappointed by your elected leaders. I can help change that."

"You expect to do the near impossible alone?" a stout, raspy voiced gentleman barked. "Maybe if you had a support system or a—"

"Or an image consultant?" Shit. The words slipped out before Shayne had a mind to stop them. 

"An image consultant," a dour faced woman interrupted with pewter hair pulled up in a tight bun. "Who would that be?"

"Rita Tugonon, I was put in touch with her briefly over the summer. And, well...we--she'd..."The words kept coming. It was like watching a train derail--seeing the carnage about to happen and not being able to do a damn thing to stop. 

"I've heard of her," oa white haired man with small eyes and a large mouth spoke up. "She did fantastic work with reshaping the President of Belgian in time for re-election after his escort scandal last month."

"And you're sure she's willing to aide you in this...transformation of public opinion?"

"She'll be here next week." Shit.

Senator Rivera brightened considerably. "Well, then. I think that changes things considerably."

The Duchess released a dazed laugh, cold and cruel around the edges. "Considerably? Senators, may I remind you that my granddaughter is many things--a nightclub DJ, an amateur kick boxer who enjoys getting pummeled to a bloody mess before a crowd, she's a drinking, fornicating tattooed queer. She failed the monarchy as a princess. And she will certainly fail as its queen. No image consultant will ever scrub away the stain of her disgrace upon this nation." 

It hurt. God help her, did those words hurt. But Shayne would be damned if she let the pain show and she met her grandmother's hateful gaze with nothing but smile. A titanium facade to hide the many bullet holes. Punching through where she was already riddled with scars.  

"Your grace, we have heard all you've had to say about the Princessa--you were more than clear of your disdain for both her person and her lifestyle, however, as it stands, the people know and are aware of the Princessa's arrival, and word has already leaked to the press of Principe Marco's wishes." Facing the table, Rivera faced the sea of Senators with the authority of a queen, herself. "We cannot appear divided in the subject without leading to further chaos and dissent. Therefore, I rule that we must support Princessa Seina in her role as interim Queen Consort until Principe Marco is recovered enough to be crowned as King of our country. All in favor?"

It took a moment, but soon enough a hand lifted. Then another. And by the third blink half the table was in agreement. The other half against.

"It appears we have a split table," Gabriel said.

Rivera raised her hand. "Not anymore. The Interim Succession Act is so moved."

"This is an outrage." The Duchess roared, cheeks blazed red and tears swelling in her eyes.

"I am sorry this bothers you so, your grace, and truth be told, I'm not sure if we've done the right thing here today, but we have little choice but to give the Princessa an opportunity to prove herself."

While the Duchess seethed and stalked from the chamber, a steam shooting from her ears and daggers from her eyes, Rivera squared off with Shayne.

"Your Highness, I want you to understand the support of the Senate comes with provisos. Every step you take from the moment you leave this building is towards maintaining the prestige of your title and office. A single misstep and we will have no choice but to back the Duchess' claim against you."

Sweat flashed across Shayne's skin, dampening the cotton of her shirt, her palms. "Yes. I understand."

"Good." Easing forward, Rivera added gently, "Don't giveus cause to regret this." 

**AN**

As promised, here's a new update. I'm working a little out of sequence so you'll noticed I'm a bit behind on Eshe and Cait - don't worry, they will be coming soon. I just decided to for the sake of keeping momentum, I would just give back in with whoever's voice was speaking loudest. No surprise it was Shayne. 

I hope you enjoy this showdown with her and the Duchess, yet again. I can definitely say - Shayne is in for a hell of a fight, the likes of which she's never seen before. 

AND ERMIGAWWWDDD will Rita ACTUALLY come back and help bail our girl out??????? 

Or will she leave Shayne hanging???