#hamilfluff

Alexander stiffened beside you as you both took an unconscious step away from each other. Your stomach began turning as the figure at the end of the hallway remained unresponsive.

With a shaky breath, you began walking towards the man at the other end of the hallway, but to your dismay, his eyes didn’t follow you. They remained locked on Alexander.

Still staring with an unreadable expression down the hall when you reached him, you gently laid your hands on his arms, your eyes pleading for his to meet yours. Startled by the contact, his eyes shot down to yours, this time with an emotion flooding them: betrayal.

You forced yourself not to flinch from the expression. “I- I can explain,” you whispered, but the words came out more forced than as an offer.

Your father’s eyes barely considered yours as they flicked back to Alexander. Instinctively, you glanced back at him as well and swallowed thickly as you noticed his petrified expression. Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and forced yourself to focus, fighting against your entire body’s instinct to panic. Anyone could walk down this hall right now and while they probably wouldn’t be able to draw any exact conclusions from the scene at hand, you couldn’t afford any rumors to fly. Because it only took so long for rumors to morph into the truth.

“Right, okay, we’re leaving,” you gritted, tightening your right hand on your father’s arm and pulling him down the hall away from Alexander, silently hoping Alexander would have the common sense not to follow you. Your father moved without comment, but then again he hardly ever had a comment. You dragged him through the manor until you reached his office, a recluse room as far away from your mother’s as it could be.

Once you were inside, you let go of his arm and quickly shut the door. Even though you had released him, he hadn’t moved from your side and you could still feel his presence as you stared at the door, hesitating to turn around. Biting your cheek to keep the tears building behind your eyes at bay, you tried to take a deep breath, waiting for your father to say something--anything. But when he remained silent, you decided to speak up.

“It’s not what you think,” you weakly reasoned, still facing your back towards him. But he still had nothing to say, so you turned around. He was staring at you, observing you, trying to piece together what was happening, and his eyes… his eyes looked as if they were trying to recognize the person standing in front of him. A tear fell onto your cheek.

You both stood there, staring at each other as the beats passed, but you refused to break the silence this time. And eventually, your father relented.

“I always thought you’d do better. But that boy is just your mother,” he confessed softly. There was no accusation in his voice, just disappointment as he turned from you and made his way towards his desk.

You stood stunned for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what your father just said. “He’s not Aremine,” you said simply, still in disbelief he would ever make the comparison. When your father refused to acknowledge your statement, you clenched your fist and gritted your teeth. “He’s not. He’s kind, and caring, and is actively working with us against her. If you read his papers, heard his ideas, you would like him, Father. I know you would.” You paused and waited for your father to respond, or even just look at you. But when he still ignored you, you became desperate. “I know what we’re doing is wrong, okay? I know how much it will hurt Bethany, and I don’t have an excuse. But we are not the mistakes of those who came before us. And I- I have it under control.” Your father’s eyes shot up to yours in an accusatory disbelief, so you doubled down on your statement. “I do. And when the time comes, I’ll end things between Alexander and I. Before anyone else finds out, and before Bethany is hurt. We both went into the relationship knowing there was an expiration date, so I promise… when the time comes, it’ll end.”

Your father stared at you, his expression softening ever so slightly, and you allowed yourself to let out a breath of relief. He still wasn’t happy with you, but his eyes conveyed that he would try to be understanding, and you supposed that’s all you could ask for.

Knowing you wouldn’t get any more conversation on the subject from your father, you turned dutifully to leave, but hesitated. Turning back to him slowly, you said in a steady voice, “Do I have your word you won’t speak of what you saw to anyone?” Your father met your eyes with a sort of regret in them, but relented a small nod. Satisfied, you left the room promptly, still shaking from the encounter.

When you had retreated all the way back to your hall, your skin became clammy noticing two people whispering seriously at the end of the hall. You stopped walking when Alexander’s eyes glanced over to yours and held them. The figure with him turned around, noticing his gaze, and you swallowed thickly when you recognized Bethany’s grim expression.

Briefly turning back and whispering something to Alexander, Bethany then turned and tried to confidently approach you in the hallway. Your feet felt cemented to the floor, at an utter loss as to why Bethany was looking at you so.

“Y/N,” Bethany greeted with a half attempted smile. “I was just looking for you, and Alexander was just telling me how you went to visit father this morning.”

“I’m back now,” you responded lamely, wishing Bethany didn’t have to always put up this pretense before she delivered bad news.

She grimaced at your response and clenched her eyes trying to compose herself. “Right, um…” she tried to begin, but she struggled to form the words. “I was looking for you because, well,” her sentence trailed off as she avoided your eyes.

“Bethany,” you leveled, needing to know what had your sister so worked up. “Whatever it is, you can just tell me,” you promised, holding your breath.

“Mother’s insisting I accompany her to the Summit this year instead of you,” she finally blurted out, and cringed waiting for your response.

Your face remained blank as you processed the words. Remaining unperturbed, your eyes met Bethany’s fearful ones. “Is that all?” you asked, relieved. Bethany furrowed her eyebrows at your response. “The Summit would be a good experience for you. Don’t let Lady Bryke pull the fountain prank on you, however. You only make that mistake once.” You flashed your dumbfounded sister a small smile and tousled her hair as you began to walk past her.

Seemingly catching up to your response in her head, Bethany ran to cut you off before entering your room. “You’re not mad?” she asked breathless. “Because this really is supposed to be a trip for the next in line, and I don’t know why mother would want me to go instead, and I won’t if you don’t want me to-”

“Whoa whoa, slow down, Bethie,” you stopped her with a gentle laugh. You noticed her expression flash to a brief state of nostalgia and pain upon hearing your childhood nickname for her, but you chose not to dwell on it. “I’ve already been to two Summits. It’s your turn.”

Bethany considered you for a brief instant before tackling you in a hug. “Thank you, Y/N!” she cried, and then she was gone, sprinting away surely to begin packing her things, leaving you once again in the hallway with Alexander. Sighing, you gestured for him to join you in your room.

Once the door was closed, he spoke. “How did things with your father go?” he asked, with a bit of shame in his voice.

You thought about the barely conversation you had with your father, and shook your head, not willing to go into details. “He’s not going to tell anyone,” you disclosed, figuring that was the only information of value to offer Alexander.

Alexander nodded, and moved on to the topic that was clearly bothering him. “How could you just… let her take your spot?” he inquired, obviously attempting to keep the judgement from his voice, and yet still failing.

You sighed, knowing Alexander would take issue with it. “It’s not Bethany’s fault. And I have to choose my battles. I led the last sector meeting, so it makes sense she would retaliate by taking Bethany to the Summit.”

“The Summit is not a sector meeting, Y/N,” Alexander tried to reason with you. “It’s a three month strategy meeting with all of your sector’s allies. It’s much bigger than some meeting at your estate.”

“Alexander, I’ll not here more on the subject. If I don’t go to the Summit, then I can still run CP here while Philip and Theodosia are still in Dmere. And if everything goes well with the Dmere meeting, the Summit will essentially be worthless to me anyways,” you explained, trying to calm Alexander down. Because something in his attitude was scaring you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You could see from the fire in his eyes he was still going to fight you on this, so you braced yourself for whatever he was about to say.

“But it’s like Aremine is trying to undermine your progress--replace you as her heir in the eyes of her allies.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but instead you closed your eyes and sighed at his words. Forcing a smile on your face, you placed a light kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you for always fighting for me, Alexander. But you just need to trust me on this one, okay?” you asked quietly. Noting your suddenly quiet reserve, he nodded slowly.

Both of you stood silently for a few more moment before Alexander finally broke the silence. “I- I have my walk with Bethany. I have to-”

“Go,” you commanded with a light smile. His face searched yours briefly for another second, and then gave a curt nod and dutifully left. You let out a loud sigh as you watched the door close behind him. The conversation playing and replaying over and over again in your mind.

Two substantial problems presented themselves in your most recent interaction with Alexander.

The first was he was beginning to choose you without reasoning in every situation over Bethany.

The second was he presented you with the solution to your promise to find your sector a new leader.

And unfortunately for you, those two problems created a third problem of itself: you could only solve one or the other.

A week passed and you were grateful Alexander had relented on the subject of allowing Bethany to attend the Summit… though part of you assumed he was only being so amicable about it because he realized Bethany and your mother leaving for three months left the two of you with three months to yourselves.

And you felt terrible to also be excited about that. You never wanted to be the sister who pushed her younger sister away. You never wanted to be the sister who began secretly dating her younger sister’s Choice. And you definitely never wanted to be the sister who looked forward to her younger sister’s departure so she could commit adultery easier.

Sighing, you buried your hands in your head at your desk, wondering who exactly you’d become when you met Alexander. Your mind flashed back to your father not recognizing you after catching you with Alexander and you bit your lip to keep the tears from building. In the moment, you hadn’t understood, but now. Sitting here in what felt like someone else’s life and bad decisions, a part of yourself didn’t recognize you either.

“Y/N?” A voice came softly from your doorway. Shooting up and taking a breath before forcing a smile on your face, you turned to face Alexander. “They’ll be departing soon,” he announced gently. You nodded, and quickly gathered the papers on your desk into a neat pile. With a deep breath, you smiled and made your way towards the door to say goodbye to Bethany together.

Bethany tackled you as soon as you turned the corner. When she released you, she went straight to Alexander. He held her tightly and whispered something softly to her. A prick of something hit your skin, but ignored it as you watched Bethany pull away from her fiance and turn towards you.

“Watch out for him while I’m gone?” she asked you, half playful, knowing Alexander had only lived in the palace for less than a year and was sure to still be rather uncomfortable by himself for three months.

You swallowed thickly as your eyes met Alexanders. “I think I can manage that,” you finally responded with a strained smile. You looked up at Alexander with a meaningful glance and cleared your throat. “Do you think I could get a moment alone with me sister?” you asked dutifully, and he glanced at Bethany and then back at you before nodding shortly and walking away.

Recognizing the expression on your face, Bethany’s face fell slightly. “Y/N? What is it?” she asked concerned, and you took a deep breath, gave her a pained smile and guided her to sit with you for a moment.

“I have something I should have told you a long time ago, I just… never could find it in me,” you began describing, avoiding Bethany’s concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “I need you to understand--before I tell you--that I never told you to protect you.” Bethany began to protest, surely to state that she didn’t need you protecting her, but you held up a hand to silence her and wait for you to finish. “I know you think you don’t need protecting. And I’m going to start trying to not be so… overbearing. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

Bethany relaxed slightly at this and nodded that she was ready for you to continue.

You fidgeted with your hands for a second, but finally met Bethany’s eyes. “John died in the war,” you managed to breathe out.

Your sister stared at you dumbfounded, unconsciously shaking her head. “What- What are you talking about, Y/N?”

Gritting your teeth, you pushed yourself to continue. “I received word two years ago that he had been shot and killed in battle,” you explained, tears threatening to break loose from your eyes as you resumed avoiding eye contact.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Bethany begin to shake her head. “No that’s- Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry,” she comforted at a loss for other words, and wrapped you in a tight hug. A few tears slipped from your eyes as Bethany whispered into your ear, “I’m sorry you felt like you needed to protect me from your grief. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

You let out a small laugh as she pulled away from you, and your hand gently grazed her cheek. “You never did anything wrong, Bethany. Old habits just die hard for me,” you explained through your tears, and you noticed at some point she had begun crying as well.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “Did Mother tell you?” she asked softly.

You stiffened. “No. And she doesn’t know I know,” you disclosed pointedly, become serious enough to get your point across. Bethany was taken aback by your statement.

“Then how-”

“I can’t tell you how Bethany. I just need you to trust me,” you cut her off with a rueful smile. Your sister opened her mouth to speak again, but eventually settled on just accepting your trust and nodding. “I’m telling you now because you’re going to a three month conference on the war that killed John. And you cannot speak any opinion on this war that is not our mother’s. Do you understand me?”

“But Y/N-”

You cut her off again. “I want you to form an opinion of your own. And I want you to cultivate it among those that are constructing the war at the Summit. But I need you to be safe, and I need you to promise me you will never speak your opinion at the Summit.”

So many questions ran through Bethany’s eyes that you couldn’t answer now without putting her in more danger. So instead you kissed her forehead and wrapped her in a tight hug. “We’ll speak after the Summit, okay? After you return from the Summit and we have the ball, we’ll talk,” you offered as a compromise.

Still staring at you unsure of what to make of your conversation, she finally nodded. “O-Okay. I trust you, Y/N,” she whispered shakily.

A presence came up on the two of you, and you both looked up teary eyed to Alexander. He had a questioning glint in his eyes, but respected it wasn’t his place to inquire about their conversation.

“They’re all waiting for you, Bethany,” he announced softly, and she nodded, and quickly threw her arms around you for one last hug before she got up and walked away with Alexander.

Standing up slowly, you worked your way through the household staff to the front of the entryway to see your mother and sister pile into the carriage. Alexander was down at the carriage speaking to Bethany softly. She lightly placed her hands on his cheeks and left him with a gentle kiss, before he pulled away and closed the carriage door.

Alexander stood outside the manor and watched as the carriage pulled away down the long lane. It seemed as if all the household staff, including yourself, were holding their breaths as they watched Aremine leave. By the time the carriage was just a speck in the distance, most of the tension in the crowd around you had relaxed and most were looking at you expectantly.

Right, you breathed. They would be looking to you for further instruction, and you knew exactly what you would tell them.

You turned around to face the entire household staff, feeling Alexander’s presence come up behind you. “Okay,” you began shakily as you felt fifty pairs of eyes stare at you. “Enjoy your three months, everyone. I’m sending you all home for paid leave. As it’s just Alexander, my father and I here, and the gardens won’t need tending as winter is almost upon us, I think the three of us can hold up without you all. Thank you for all your service over the years, but I want you all to see your families for once during the holidays.”

It seemed as if everyone were frozen by your words. You smiled triumphantly at their shock, knowing your mother had never given them more than a few days off in their years attending to the manor, and severely docked their pay when she had.

Finally, a maid in the front of the crowd spoke up. “But, ma’am. Won’t your mother find out?” she squeaked, terrified of returning to an angry Aremine, or worse: no job. But you simply gave a comforting smile.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t,” you promised with a small smile. “And I’ve grown up with you, Therese. All of you actually,” you reminded them, and Therese seemed shocked you knew her name at all. “I know you can have this manor looking like none of you ever left in three days. So I don’t want to see most of you until three days before the ball.” You saw a few tears shed throughout the crowd and you could feel the pride radiating off of Alexander from behind you.

“This is wonderful, my lady, but I’m afraid there’s another thing your mother is sure to catch on to,” Gertrude, the household cook spoke up. “She will notice if there’s a bunch of uneaten food that the staff normally eats.” She relayed the news sullenly, and most of the staff sobered up at the announcement.

This bit of news caught you off guard, but you considered it for a moment. “She doesn’t usually let you eat much, right?” you asked for a confirmation, and most of the crowd nodded. Turning to direct your next question specifically at Gertrude, you asked, “About how much food does the staff go through in a week?”

She was taken aback by the question, but then was at a loss. “It’s hard to say, my lady.”

“Would it be close to as much food as a feast for the entire staff and their families every week?” you asked generally.

Once again the crowd froze in shock as Gertrude sputtered for an answer. “I- I would guess, yes, my lady.”

You beamed. “Great! Then you’re all invited to return to the estate every Wednesday evening with your families for a feast. No one is, of course, required to come, but I really want to give back to you all after these years. So if the journey is manageable, and I know it may not be for some of you from further away, please know you’re always welcome,” you announced, and the reaction was immediate. All of the staff began chattering excitedly and you felt warm knowing you had made a direct impact in their lives. “Okay okay,” you called out, having a few more announcements before they departed. They all settled immediately, hanging on your every word. “The annual ball is the day my mother is to return from the Summit, so please plan to return three days before then. If you think you’ll need more than three days, you’re welcome to return early, just send me a notice. I will need to speak to Frederick for some ball plans, Raino for the stables, and Gertrude for the feasts before you leave, but as long as no one else has concerns, you are free to go. I’ll see some of you this Wednesday.”

The crowd quickly dispersed buzzing with thanks and gratitude. Several of your staff fought the crowd forward to shake your hand and thank you personally, to which you tried your best to thank them each by name. And each of them seemed so surprised that over the course of your lifetime you had learned what to call them. It warmed your heart.

The three who were asked to stay behind stood a little was away from you, discussing something with rapture. Before you could approach them, you heard a low whisper in your ear.

“That was incredible, Y/N,” Alexander told you, slightly in awe, and you turned to him with the brightest smile. You wanted to kiss him right there and then, but you knew you had to address the remainders of your staff first.

With a deep breath, you turned from Alexander and approached the trio, who all silenced in admiration upon noticing your presence.

Raino was the first to speak. “I’m willing to stay, ma’am,” he offered earnestly. “The stable are too big of a job for one person who’s never handled them before.”

You sighed, afraid this would be the case. “I wouldn’t ask you to stay if everyone else gets to leave. There must be some way to-”

“Ma’am, I insist. I won’t leave you with the stables,” he demanded. You considered him for a short time, then relented.

“Fine, but your sending for your family and they will spend the three months here with you in the guest house,” you compromised. His eyes went wide as he tried to protest, but you wouldn’t have it. “Raino, you have two sons and wife that want to see you for the holidays, and we have more than enough room for you at the estate. Go, send for them.”

Taking you by surprise, he forcibly wrapped you in a hug. “Thank you, miss. I had you pegged all wrong.” And then with a happy skip he ran to get message to his family.

With a smile you met Gertrude and Frederick’s teary expressions. “I really hate to ask you two this but-”

“We’ll be back promptly every Wednesday morning and leave that evening after the feast,” Gertrude cut you off, and you breathed a sigh of relief at their willingness. “I’ll be able to cook up all the food in that time.”

“And we can hash out details for the ball then too,” Frederick finished. You wrapped them gratefully in a hug and thanked them. “No thank you,” Frederick responded, as he pulled back. “You did some real good today, Lady Y/N.”

You weren’t sure if you would ever be able to wipe the smile off your face. Waving goodbye as you watched the two take their leave, you let out a happy sigh and spun suddenly on Alexander who was observing her with a unmanageable grin.

“You know, you really ought to-”

Cutting him off by throwing yourself at him and catching his mouth in a kiss, you felt his arms wrap tightly around you as you both thrived in your newfound freedom.

With a soft chuckle he broke away from you. “You know, if you wanted to get me alone, there are easier ways than dismissing your entire staff,” he teased you lightly, and you laughed.

“Yes,” you agreed, allowing a twinkle of a smirk to enter you eyes, “But if I did it any other way would I be able to do this?” you asked as you immediately interlaced your fingers with his, and began dragging him, racing through the halls. You both hollered as you ran, unafraid to make as much noise as you could that you were together and unashamedly so.

When you reached your room, you both breathlessly entered, and his lips trapped yours as soon as you were through the threshold. Drunkenly, you stumbled backwards as he gently guided you until the back of your legs hit your bed. You fell backwards and Alexander gently landed on top of you as your kiss persisted.

The two of you finally pulled back, trying to allow your mind to catch up to the position you were now both in. A light blush seeped into both of your cheeks, knowing this was the most forward either of you had ever been with each other.

You cleared your throat. “We just made out on my bed,” you commented, trying to keep your tone light.

Alexander hummed in agreement. “I think we’re ready,” he playfully announced.

Your cheeks immediately flushed bright red as you sputtered. “Ready?” you inquired nervously. Because you most certainly were not ready if he was implying what you thought he was implying. And yet his impish grin made you think that was just what he wanted you to think.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” he responded, allowing a clear tease into his voice this time, making you suspicious. You quirked your eyebrows in a question, and before you could registered he had moved, you felt a pillow being slammed in your face.

“Pillow fight!” he screamed, as he backed off you on the defensive. You burst out into a hefty laughter curling up on yourself on the bed.

“You’re unbelievable!” you cried out, specifically addressing his misdirection a moment earlier. You looked up at him beaming at you standing on the other end of the bed. Rolling onto your knees, you grabbed another one of your pillows and stood to face him.

He smirked, duly noting how serious you were about to take this. “Okay rules: Only contact is to be made with pillows. This bed is the turf. And it’s not over until one of us begs for mercy.”

“Neither of us are good at following rules, you know,” you taunted him, to which he shot you a playful smirk. Seeing he was seemingly not worried about this fact, however, you shrugged your shoulders. “You’re on,” you challenged, and then you lunged for him.

You aren’t sure how long the fight lasted, just at the end of it, both of you were begging for mercy due to the cramps in your abdomens from the endless laughter throughout the fight. Curled up on the bed together, still laughing, you ran your fingers softly through his hair as he looked up at you, sobering slightly. The sun had began to make its descent in the sky.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he asked quietly. And the way he said it betrayed he was nervous. And you knew he had been working up the courage to ask you all day. And most of you wanted him to stay more than anything.

But there was a small part of you that fought it.

“I told you we’re terrible at following rules,” you jested lightly, but he saw right through your deflection. His eyes shadowed over at you not giving a direct answer, so you sighed. “Alexander…” you tried to begin explaining, but he sat up seriously and began addressing your hesitation.

“You don’t have to worry about me leaving, because you know I never will, Y/N,” he coaxed you softly, and you clenched your eyes shut. It had taken you months to get over Alexander the last time you slept with him, and you hadn’t even gotten over him, you’d started a relationship with him.

You were sure you would regret it in the future, but present you won out. “Yeah okay,” you finally relented, and he offered you a genuine smile that made your insides flutter.

Gently wrapping you in his arms, he whispered again, “I won’t leave, Y/N.”

And you fought desperately to choke back the tears that were suddenly upon you.

Because how could you tell him that that was exactly what you were afraid of.

The first month passed quicker than you expected. Much to your dismay, Alexander and you had slipped into a rather comfortable routine.

But of course, how could it be an uncomfortable routine when you got to wake up beside him each and every morning.

What the two of you did together depended on a day to day basis. Some days you would spend hours out in the garden that was turning for the winter. Other days the two of you would stay holed up in the library from dawn to dusk. Every Wednesday he made a trip to the market to visit some friends while you planned for the upcoming ball.

Some days the both of you worked on CP details relentlessly, and he begged to hear you plan for getting a new leader for the sector, but you remained adamant. You kept insisting it was better for only you to know the plan so your mother wouldn’t see it coming. But some days you almost felt like he could tell there was more to it.

Like he could tell you didn’t want anyone, especially him, to see it coming.

But surprisingly, he usually let it go on the days you dedicated to planning for it.

Your favorite days, however, were the days you both sat at the piano and didn’t move for hours. You played the small collection of pieces you knew; Alexander played whatever you requested. As you were learning, Alexander had nearly every song you could imagine memorized. He claims piano was his solace after his mother died, and you held him a little tighter that day.

This day, however, was a special one, because Frederick had insisted to give you this Wednesday off, as you were ahead of planning than you usually were at this time of year. He was instead spending his time milling about the kitchen, which, if it were anyone else, you were sure Gertrude would kick him out immediately.

But you weren’t blind to the way your assistent and cook had grown on each other these past weeks as the only two in the manor. That was possibly the only reason you had relented and allowed Frederick to give you the time off.

So with your newly freed day, both you and Alexander agreed on a piano day.

“Can I- Can I play you something new?” he asked suddenly, as he finished a piece. You looked up at him curiously, as he’d never been shy about playing you anything before. Your head lay in his lap as he played above you, and gently, you smiled.

“I want to hear everything you have to play for me,” you confided. He passed you a grateful smile, but still looked unsure of himself.

Bringing one of his hands to scratch the back of his neck, his shifted anxiously, and you sat up and scooted right beside him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I- um- I wrote this song a few years ago,” he admitted bashfully. You shot him an encouraging smile and he let out a shaky breath as he met your eyes. “I just didn’t know then that I was writing it for you.”

You froze at his words and your eyes asked a million questions, but instead of answering any of them, his fingers began to gently glide across the keys. He began singing, his voice a little shaky, but you held on to every word. You began to tremble as you listened to the lyrics and realized he wrote this song for the girl he would fall in love with: you.

And that was terrifying in so many ways, but mainly because you’re falling in love with him as well.

There are so many things that are bound to go wrong with your relationship. He was engaged to your sister; you already used your Choice; your mother was a tyrannical witch who would tear you apart and have fun doing it the moment she found out.

But in this moment, none of those things seemed to be important. Because as he finished the song, and met your eyes nervously, you couldn’t find anything to say to him besides forcefully pulling him in for a kiss.

He was you weakness, and you knew that. But for this moment, you allowed yourself to be weak. For this moment, your weakness made you feel invincible.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Both of you shot apart and stared dumbfoundedly at the doorway, where Philip and Theodosia stood with incredibly unimpressed expressions.

Groaning and letting your face fall into your hand, you decided you would no longer kiss Alexander anywhere there wasn’t a padlock on the door.

“I have something to show you.”

You shivered as you heard the voice murmur softly in your ear. A soft smile crossed your lips as the paper in your hand fell rejected to the desk. Biting your lip, you slowly turned to face the boy who grinned at you proudly. Reluctantly, you let out a sigh and slowly placed your hand in Alexander’s outstretched, waiting hand. You had reports to write and data to organize for your mother, but something in you always found time for Alexander’s antics.

His hand tightened around yours as he pulled you out of the desk chair and began leading you out of your room. Stiffening as you entered the hallway still clasping hands, you forced yourself to relax. Your mother was out visiting the vineyards for the day, and Bethany was on her daily stroll through their acres of gardens, which Alexander had apparently opted out of today. There wasn’t anyone who could run into you in this wing of the manor. You sighed, letting out the tension in your shoulders. A little over a month sneaking around with Alexander and you hadn’t become any less paranoid about being discovered.

Alexander led you gently through the labyrinth of hallways and soon you were almost certain you knew where he was leading you. You let a small smile curve at the edge of your lips as he gently tugged open the door to the stairway leading out to the roof. In a subdued excitement, he smiled at you and gestured for you to go first. Narrowing your eyes slightly at him, you reluctantly turned your back to him and began climbing. You weren’t sure what Alexander had planned for you, but you were beginning to become wary of his refusal to explain anything on your journey here.

As you pushed the door to the roof open, a cool breeze greeted you. A peaceful look overtook your face as you walked to the center of the roof, taking a few deep breaths. The fresh air felt good in your lungs today: it cleared your thoughts from the letter you had received from Philip that morning.

He and Theodosia had gotten their clearance. They were set to travel to Dmere in a few weeks, bypassing your mother’s strict border control. Up until this point, your correspondence with the other sectors had remained limited to their infiltrators contacting you. Directly leaving and reentering your sector was uncharted territory, and you couldn’t help to be concerned for your best friends. They were to be married in a year; they had their whole happy lives together ahead of them.

If something happened to them, you would never forgive yourself.

Heaving a sigh, you instead tried to focus on the cool autumn air. Philip and Theodosia could handle themselves. They would be alright, you told yourself over and over again.

Finally, you forced a smile on your face as you turned around, remembering Alexander was still with you. His eyes met yours with a smirk, and you noticed his hands were no longer empty. Glancing curiously down at them, you observed a crudely-bounded, well-worn stack of papers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked questionably back up at Alexander, wondering where he had gotten the papers, why, and when they appeared. He hadn’t been carrying them the whole time, had he?

Keeping his almost insufferably proud grin, he raised his eyebrows pointedly. “What? You think you’re the only one around here that has magic?” His question was playful, and you scoffed endearingly at it, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Alexander’s face quickly became serious however, staring at you intently. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me today was your birthday?” he inquired, disappointed. You froze.

How had he found out? You pouted and ignored Alexander’s pleading face as you crossed your arms across your chest. “Is that what this is all about?” you demanded, suddenly no longer wanting to be here. His face fell, and you averted your eyes to the ground as you shifted your weight on your feet uncomfortably. “I don’t celebrate my birthday,” you finally mumbled, still avoiding his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he insisted, sincerely. You glared up at him, annoyed with his confidence. He had never been here for one of your birthdays, what did he know? “Bethany told me you act out The Queen of Amaria every year on your birthday in the Great Dining Hall,” he confessed. You huffed in frustration, though you weren’t quite sure what at. Were you upset Bethany had told him or that you had forgotten to expect Bethany to tell him?

He stared at you pointedly as you let your eyes reluctantly meet his. Throwing your hands down, you admitted the claim in defeat. “That’s just a childhood tradition that hasn’t died out yet,” you explained. You didn’t want to celebrate your birthday. Your mother had always made a point to ignore it, and eventually, it just became easier if you did too. By now, it was almost a tradition in itself to pretend it was, in fact, just another day.

Alexander considered you sadly for a few moments. Then he finally sighed. “Will you please let me celebrate with you?” he asked, his eyes begging you. But he could see in your eyes how hesitant you were, so he scrambled to offer an alternative. “At least just accept my present,” he offered, pushing the papers towards you.

You wished to decline, but he had seemed so excited to bring you up here and show you what he now held in his hands. It didn’t seem like he spent any of his precious and closely monitored money on you, which would have made you feel even more guilty. You considered the options, and finally gritted your teeth. Curiosity won.

Slowly, you padded up to Alexander and delicately took the papers into your hands. Your eyes met Alexander’s as he held his breath and you slowly lowered them to the top page on the stack. The papers looked and felt as if they had been religiously gone through; the discoloration of them made them a yellowish tint. In the center of the top page, in neat, black, bold print was the title.

Immortal Until the Day We Die: Stories and Essays by Rachel Buck

You stared at the words, unable to comprehend them for the longest time. Your mouth hung open as you tried to ask the thousands of questions running through your mind. Eventually, you wordlessly caught Alexander’s amused eyes with your wide ones. Trying to form a question, he stopped you gently.

“Your copy looks well worn, and the bookmark is in a different area of it every time I’m in your room, so I assumed you were a fan,” he explained sheepishly. You looked back down at the papers in your hands.

“I am,” you confirmed, breathlessly. Rachel Buck had been your favorite novelist and essayist since you were a child. Her hidden themes dangerously paralleled your mother’s regime, but it never prevented her from continuing to publish. Immortal Until the Day We Die remained your favorite book for many years: it was the perfect blend of Buck’s essays into her captivating stories. The copy you held in your hands had to been one of the first published, before the presses eventually picked it up and produced it more modernly.

You grazed your hand over the top page of the book in wonder. “This was my mother’s copy,” he supplied softly. Your eyes looked up at him widely, about to protest, but he held his hands up in defense. “She would want you to have it, Y/N,” he insisted, not allowing you to give back the gift.

Gazing back down that the invaluable gift, you wondered wistfully, “Your mother must have been one of the first people to own this book.”

Alexander gave a short, uncomfortable laugh. “Yeah, something like that,” he admitted bashfully. You shot your eyes up to his, furrowing your eyebrows. He avoid your eyes by staring at the book and clearing his throat. “Uh, this is actually the original copy of Immortal,” he explained, cheeks beginning to grow warm.

Every function in your body grinded to a stop. You’re surprised you didn’t drop the book right then and there. All of Rachel Buck’s originals had disappeared with her. There were hundreds of people who were willing to pay thousands of gold pieces for any of them that surfaced. Many tried to pawn off their early copies as the original, but it was said Buck wrote notes all over the inside of her copies, and that wasn’t easy to forge.

Swallowing thickly, you warily glanced back down at the book as your trembling hand flipped open to a random page. You let out an uncontrollable sob as you recognized the swoopy handwriting. It was here, in your hands. The object historians had searched desperately for for almost ten years now had just been handed to you.

Your eyes narrowed as you noticed a different, vaguely familiar handwriting in between Buck’s. Staring at it a little longer, your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the writing.

Scanning Alexander’s face with disbelief and mouth hung open, he let you fight for your question. “Did you write in this?” you finally asked incredulously. He smiled sheepishly, and your eyes widened. He wasn’t prepared for the anger that spewed from your lips next. “Alexander, this is invaluable. You know that right? You may have just ruined an artifact from one of the greatest authors in history. How could you-” Your words stuck in your stomach as your eyes drifted back down to where his handwriting intertwined with Buck’s.

But instead of treating his actions as seriously as you wished him to, Alexander merely chuckled at your reaction. You glared back up at him, but he softly held his hands up in defense with an amused smile. “Y/N, Y/N,” he tried to plead, but the smile still infected his voice. “She asked me to,” he explained simply.

Thousands of questions ran through your mind, but only one made it to the surface. “Who?” you demanded.

“My mother,” he responded softly. But he didn’t give you enough time to question the statement. “Rachel Buck.”

Your hands quickly shoved the book back into Alexander’s hands unconsciously as you turned around and took a few steps away. Air, you needed air. You were outside, how much more air could you get, you chided yourself. Your hands found their way to your forehead as you tried to focus on the information that was just presented to you.

Alexander was Rachel Buck’s son. Rachel Buck was Alexander’s mother. Your love interest was the spawn of the woman you looked up to and aspired to be every day for thirteen years. The woman who inspired you and kept you fighting every day raised the boy you were falling for. All of your thoughts spun in an endless loop.

A laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head. Slowly, you turned around and met Alexander’s mildly frightened eyes. Of course he was her son. From his attitude, to his views, to his writing style, the similarities were uncanny; you were honestly surprised you hadn’t noticed it before now. He was the embodiment of her, and he had offered you her: her book, her notes, her thoughts, himself.

Without saying a word, you walked back over to Alexander; he opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly cut him off by pressing your lips hard against his and digging your fingers in his hair. After a brief moment of being stunned, Alexander quickly reciprocated the kiss until you pulled away with tears brimming in your eyes.

Placing your hands gently on top of the book he still held, you looked up at him regretfully. “Thank you, Alexander,” you whispered. “Thank you for offering this--this incredible gift, but I cannot accept it.” The words came out with a bit of remorse, but his mother wasn’t for you. Your eyes averted from his and stared longingly at the sought after publication.

Two soft fingers touched lightly under your chin and gently pulled it upwards until your eyes met once again. “I wasn’t lying when I said she would want you to have it,” he insisted, holding the book out to you with sincerity. “She told me to write all my thoughts, opinions and ideas down in it, as I could improve and use everything she had written from a different perspective, and then pass it on to the next great mind that could surpass both of us.”

You could only hear the sound of your heart beating as you stared at Alexander with trepidation. “That’s a lot of pressure,” you tried to joke lightheartedly, but your face remained pensive as you bit your lip and considered the book being handed out to you. “Are you sure you want to give it to me?” you finally asked nervously. “You live with Lady Aremine now. You’re in meetings and walking by some of the greatest minds of our time every week. Surely one of them could-”

“Y/N, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. If I’m ever to pass on my mother’s original copies, the only person I would trust with them is you. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you are single-handedly the greatest mind of our time. The things you could add to this book, from your personal experience, to infiltrating Lady Aremine, to your overall intellect and perception, are endless. You have to accept this gift. It would be an injustice to my mother if you refused,” he urged you, in a passionate speech with every word calculated.

You stared at him helplessly, his speech rendering you incapable of forming a sentence. Your cheeks burned bright red from the onslaught of confidence in you. For a moment, you tried to let yourself believe the words he spoke, but quickly you rushed the thought out of your head. You only did what you had to. You weren’t trying to be the greatest; you just wanted to be free of your guilty conscious granted to you by your mother. But Alexander’s eyes remained unwavering. Clenching your eyes shut and letting out a sigh, you finally cracked.

“Okay,” you whispered. “If you’re sure… then okay.” He beamed and wrapped you in a tight hug as you let out a little laugh. Then the book was once again passed to you and you held it as if it were the most precious object in the world--for technically, it might be. Your eyes met Alexander’s and held them. “I will protect this with my life,” you promised.

He smiled softly. “I know you will,” he assured you. After a beat of silence, he threw his arm around your shoulder and gently began to lead you back down the steps as you marveled through the first page of notes. Pure joy elicited itself from his eyes as he watched your appreciation for his mother’s words. “Can I join your reenactment of The Queen of Amaria tonight?” he asked suddenly, tearing your thoughts from the page.

You looked up at him and surprise, and softened your eyes. “Of course,” you replied, offering a smile. He wrapped you in a hug before you exited the staircase and reentered the real world.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he mumbled softly into your hair. Goosebumps covered your skin as you sighed blissfully in response. Alexander had single-handedly restored happiness to your birthday.

You were incredibly screwed by how much you felt for this boy.

It was a couple weeks after you birthday you finally worked up the nerve to sit down with the original copy of Immortal, pen in hand. You had scoured through all the notes of the book at least four times by now, but you were simply to scared to pen down any of your thoughts. Alexander could think what he wanted, but your insights were nothing compared to what his mother had come up with.

You stared at a seemingly easy passage to write on and groaned in frustration as your pen didn’t move. Concentrating on the task at hand, you seemingly missed the sound of your door opening and closing quietly.

“Have you filled it to the brim with your ideas yet?” Alexander’s voice infiltrated the room, making you jump. He laughed amused at your reaction as he made his way over to you. Your cheeks pinked as he looked over your shoulder to observe what you had been writing. Noticing the lack of your handwriting on the page, he flipped back a page, and then another, trying to locate your familiar handwriting. When he looked down at you, he noticed the embarrassed expression on your face and the underappreciated pen in your hand. “Have you written anything?” he asked softly, a kind understanding in his voice as you hid your face in your hands.

You were silent for awhile and then glanced up at him pleadingly. “It doesn’t matter how long I stare at it, I can’t think of anything to write that won’t sound illiterate,” you confessed ashamed. He offered you a comforting smile as he stooped down to your level.

“Y/N, you won’t sound illiterate. This is just your opinions, your views. They could be completely different, add on to, or support anything that’s already written in here. Don’t stress about it,” he consoled you. Taking your hand in his, he squeezed it gently, and you shot him a grateful smile.

“Thank you. I’ll try again later,” you promised, kissing his knuckles and setting your pen down on the desk beside the book. Then you both stood as you led him over to the place you both unofficially deemed your spot for catching up for the day: the bay window. Both of you curled up facing each other and began discussing the events of the past few days.

A short lull entered the conversation, as most of your activities had been discussed, before Alexander impulsively tried to fill it.

“Y/N, have you heard of the Choice Hierarchy?”

Your heart immediately lurched to a stop as you felt the blood drain from your face.

Alexander stared at you expectantly as you tried to form a simple response, but your mouth was too dry to accomplish any task you set before it. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. Maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal as you immediately perceived it to be, you reasoned with yourself. Maybe Alexander had just heard of the Choice Hierarchy and was inquiring if you knew what it was.

Swallowing thickly and taking a shuddering deep breath, you managed to squeak out a word with hardly any panic in it. “Yeah,” you tried to play off nonchalantly. Immediately, however, you knew you said the wrong answer.

Alexander’s face quickly became stone cold, and he retreated ever so slightly from your touch. “You have?” he asked in disbelief, and you cringed at the anger and disappointment that laced his voice. What were you thinking? You should have just told him you hadn’t heard of it. Of course he was angry now. Your body began shaking trying to think of any excuse to get you out of this mess, but coming up short, you instead nodded your head and lowered your eyes to your fidgeting hands.

The air was a tense silence for several moments. You could feel the tears building in the back of your eyes, but held them back through sheer will.

Finally, Alexander attempted to interrupt the quiet. “Why haven’t you-“

Unable to handle hearing the end of his question, you forcibly pushed yourself out of the window seat and stood with your back to him, your hands flying up to hold your head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you called out, clearly upset and wishing the issue could just be dropped. But anyone who knew Alexander in the slightest knew that that was an impossibility.

“No,” Alexander retorted angrily. “We are talking about this, Y/N.”

“Alexander-“

“The Choice Hierarchy allows someone of older and nobler blood to override a Choice,” Alexander reiterated what you were already aware of with desperation in his voice. “It even restores the Choice of the other girl.” He let the words hang in the air as he waited for a response, which you weren’t too keen to give at the moment.

With a shaky breath, you attempted to reason with him. “It’s a really outdated practice. It’s seen as taboo anymore,” you forced out lightly, still keeping your back to Alexander. If you could wish for anything in your entire life, it would be for him to just drop this. Drop this before you hurt him.

“Have you considered it?” he demanded, ignoring your information.

You hesitated. “Yes,” you eventually admitted, cringing. A single tear emitted itself from your eye, and you knew it wouldn’t be the first to fall today.

“Why didn’t you talk it over with me?” Alexander asked, becoming increasingly frustrated.

Determinedly, you turned around and looked him straight in the eye. You knew he deserved to see you when you told him. “Because I can’t, so it doesn’t matter,” you admitted, more tears maring your cheeks as he looked visibly slapped by your words.

He observed you, slightly stunned, for several moments before he gritted his teeth and you saw the fire flash behind the tears building in his eyes. “Why can’t you?” he growled clenching his fist. You flinched at his anger. “Is it because of your mother?” You let out a little scoff at this and shook your head, which may have increased his anger. “Is it because of Bethany?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath. “No, Alexander,” you gritted at him, pleading.

“Then what is it?” he all but screamed.

Your eyes flew open and met his. Holding his eyes, you considered him for a few moments. Eventually, with a sigh, you relented. “John,” you admitted, defeated.

A strange expression washed over Alexander’s face as he processed through your answer. You bit your lip and endured the streams leaving your eyes as you watched him become increasingly dismayed and withdraw from you. A few tears escaped his own eyes as he considered you for a long while; you waited tensely for what he would say. But instead of voicing any of the thousands of words running through his mind, he silently began walking to the door purposefully.

You felt your chest cave in as you realized he was leaving you; he couldn’t leave you. Quickly you ran after him and grabbed his forearm tightly. He stopped with a huff and turned to meet you with an unemotional face.

“Please, Alexander,” you pleaded with him. “Please understand that I want to. I want to Choose you. I want you, us. I just, I can’t, and-“

He cut you off by gently removing your hand from his arm and staring at you hard. “If you’re hoping for John, how much of an ‘us’ exists for you to want?” You bit your cheeks at the blow and watched Alexander turn and exit the room silently.

As the door closed, you collapsed to your knees and buried your face in your hands. After a beat of trying to hold it in, you let out your uncontrollable sobs. You didn’t realize Alexander was looking for ways the two of you could actually be together; you didn’t realize you had been misleading by assuming he assumed it was an impossibility. How had you made this such a colossal mess?

Alexander pointedly avoided you for the two days following your half-confession. You knew he wouldn’t be as mad at you if you had just told him the whole truth. But you didn’t want to admit it out loud. It would make the pain too real to acknowledge John’s role in your relationship with Alexander. So you let him believe what he wanted and coped by endlessly sulking in your room.

By the third day of being ignored, you were ready to just not get out of bed. You zoned out more regularly and accomplished almost no work. In the afternoon, you found yourself staring aimlessly outside your bay window at the rain; briefly you considered going up to the roof and just lying in the precipitation so you couldn’t feel the tears run down your face anymore.

You sighed, frustrated and exhausted from being upset for so long, when movement caught your eye outside. Squinting, you could make out through the blurry windowpanes that a carriage was making its way up the drive. You sat up and watched as the vehicle closed in on your manor. A breath caught in your throat as you recognized the Burr crest on the side of the coach. In a split second decision, you flew from the window and snatched the paper that had been sitting on your desk for the past three days now as you made your way determinedly out of your bedroom door.

You made it to the entrance of the manor as Lady Burr and Theodosia exited the downpour for your foyer. One of your mother’s assistants stood waiting and greeted them pleasantly. Making your presence known, you walked up to them forcing a light hearted expression on your face. All three pairs of eyes trained on you in harmonic confusion.

“Welcome, Lady Burr,” you acknowledged. “May I borrow your assistant?” You pointedly glanced over at Theodosia who was fighting to keep a neutral face, but truly wished to know the nature behind your ambush. Lady Burr gave a hesitating side glance towards your friend, which you quickly worked to assuage. “It’ll only be for a few short moments.”

Relief washed through you as the Lady gave a short nod, and you quickly grasped Theodosia’s arm and dragged her to a side room, shutting the door behind you.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did something catastrophic happen with CP or-“

You regretfully had to quickly cut off her concern by shoving the piece of paper you were holding in her hands. “Is this real?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she unfolded the paper and gazed over the words. She froze and looked up at your desperate eyes in concern. “We’re having this conversation now?” she demanded, her voice laced with frustration and confusion. You bit your lip and begged. “Y/N, I expected this conversation almost three years ago, not now. Surely you know.” Theodosia struggled with trying to be sympathetic and comforting and hiding her anguish at having to be silent on the matter for years.

“I just need to hear it from you,” you confessed, tears filling your eyes.

She sighed and considered you. “Why now?” she demanded.

“Please, Theodosia,” you begged her again.

After a beat of silence, she handed the paper back to you. “Of course it’s real,” she confirmed, and you felt punched in the gut. “Not only that, but our field operatives saw him die themselves. You know, Philip and I had a whole speech prepared for you. We thought we’d all cope together, as we were all friends. But you left us behind.”

Tears emitted themselves from your eyes as Theodosia gritted back the tears. “I’m so sorry,” you managed to mumble, completely stunned at her friends confession. You had been so wrapped up in your own feelings when you had received the letter; you hadn’t even stopped to think how your friends were feeling. They lost John too.

With a sigh, she gently rested her hand on your cheek. “I know,” she whispered. “We forgave you years ago.” She wrapped you tightly in a hug as you tried not to completely unravel. When you both pulled back, you wiped the tears from your cheek as she spoke again. “What brought this on now, Y/N?” Theodosia inquired again softly. But you shook your head with a sarcastic laugh towards yourself.

“It’s not important,” you replied. “Be careful on your journey next week.” The words came out mumbled in a desperate attempt for your friend to forget her question. By the look on her face, she looked like she was about to protest, but something in her convinced her it wasn’t worth it. Instead she nodded slightly, squeezed your hand comfortingly, and exited the room to rejoin her Lady. You remained the room numb for several minutes.

Eventually, your feet carried you on autopilot back to your room, clutching John’s letter desperately. When you turned the hall to your room, you stopped short at the sight of Alexander walking towards you. He also stopped, and the two of you were at a standstill. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days, which you were sure was exactly the look you were sporting.

Alexander quickly broke the silence, however. “I was too harsh and forward, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he confessed, the words piling out of his mouth. “It was wrong of me to assume you wanted to Choose me, and I completely respect your feelings.” Instead of responding, however, you broke down sobbing.

Frightened, Alexander quickly made his way over to you and held you gently, trying to think of anything to say. But he was at a complete loss on the whole situation.

With shuddering breaths, you tried to calm yourself down enough to speak. “John’s dead,” you sobbed when you were able. Alexander stared at you confused, as he thought you had already known this, but you shook your head hysterically. “I mean really dead. No doubt about it. And I- Alexander, I did something so awful.” You buried face in his chest to continue crying. But he eventually pulled you away from his body and looked at you concerned.

“Y/N, what did you do?” he asked calmly, his comforting eyes searching your face for anything that could help soothe you.

You tried to hold it in; you had held it in for so long. Not a single person beside yourself knew, and it had to be better off that way. But the concern in Alexander’s eyes, the support of his hands softly pressed on his shoulders, and confirmation of what you knew all this time, you shuddered unable to bear the burden alone any longer.

“I Chose him,” you confessed with a loud sob, you hand immediately covering your mouth as you felt Alexander’s hands leave your shoulders. You watched as he unconsciously took a step away from you, trying to comprehend your words, or maybe un-hear them.

His eyes clouded over as he attempted to think of anything to say. The seconds seemed to drag on waiting for him to say something, anything.

“When?” he finally asked with a shaky voice.

Removing your hand from your mouth, you clutched it tightly against your chest. “The day he left for the war,” you disclosed quietly. “I- I thought it would bring him back to me. And I was so young and desperate and in love, I didn’t care if it didn’t. I would live out my days being bound to him.” Your voice cracked, tears spilling onto your face. “But now all I can think of when I think of him is how disappointed he would be in me. All he wanted from me was to move on and be happy, and I can’t do even that.” You buried your face in your palms and once again began crying.

Softly you heard him pad over to you and wrap you in his arms. “He’s not disappointed in you,” he murmured as he stroked your hair. “And neither am I. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I- I didn’t know you were dealing with this, or I wouldn’t have pushed the subject. You’re not stupid; you haven’t done anything awful. And absolutely none of this changes the way I feel about you.” You pulled back from him surprised, connecting your wide swollen eyes with his sincere ones with a bit of a question. “I am not going to leave you, Y/N,” he promised, and you felt every muscle in your body relax with relief.

Impulsively, you threw your arms around his neck and gently pressed your lips against his. His arms tightened around your waist, and pulled you flush against his body as he passionately returned the kiss. Both of you then settled into a tight hug, you squeezing your eyes and hooking your chin around his shoulder. You let out a shuddering breath, relieved to be lifted slightly from your mistake.

But when you opened your eyes, you froze, noticing a figure watching you down the hall. Ungracefully removing yourself from Alexander’s embrace, you stepped to the side of him and let your shoulders fall recognizing the person who now knew of your relationship.

Your hands began shaking as you called out, “Father?”

Thomas tried to ask you out for a week before he gave up.

If you could call it giving up.

“Y/N, wait! I’m not asking for anything romantic at all. You’re clearly not interested, but my friends and I are going to this amazing jazz band tonight that you would love,” he talked rapidly as he threw his body in front of your to block you from walking out of the doorway. His eyes were wild, but his grin remained mischievous.

You studied Thomas. He was admittedly attractive, but he also wasn’t any different than the boys you had dated or hooked up with before. His smile would make anyone weak in the knees; his mind was probably keeping a mental checklist entitled “Pants I Want to Get In”. The connection with him would be breathtaking for a very limited amount of time, and the fallout from the relationship would never quite be healed. And beyond all of that, Thomas was also just kind of an asshole.

You had sworn off these boys so violently, just being within a foot of Thomas repulsed you.

A sigh escaped your lips as you contemplated Thomas’ offer. You had heard of the band, and actually was planning on making a point to go. Though Thomas had never been a part of that plan.

Gritting your teeth and suppressing a groan, you finally replied, “Maybe I’ll see you there.” Thomas’ face lit up, and you rolled your eyes pushing past him.

As you walked out the door, you heard his voice call out after you, “Don’t worry! I won’t do anything to make you fall in love with me tonight.”

Your face immediately flushed with heat, but you convinced yourself it was just anger. He was lucky you didn’t rescind decision right then and there. Instead you just walked faster and more determined towards your dorm.

When you returned to your dorm room, you heatedly relayed Thomas’ latest offer to your roommate. Alex gave a disappointed frown when he heard you were going to the band despite hating Thomas.

“I like the band anyway,” you defended yourself. But Alex just shrugged his shoulders from his bed.

“I just think you should avoid this Thomas dude altogether. He sounds like trouble and an ass.” Though you couldn’t disagree with Alex’s logic, you couldn’t seem to convince yourself not to go to the concert. Besides, you told yourself, if anything did happen tonight, what was one night with Thomas that you didn’t already endure with other guys? Not everyone could be as lucky as Alex and have a John.

As you went to leave the room later that night for the concert, Alex suddenly sat up from reading his book laying on his bed. “Hey, Y/N?” You turned around quizzically and met Alex’s eyes. “Don’t fall in love tonight.”

You scoffed at the proposition. “Alex, that is the last thing that’s going to happen to me tonight.”

But you were wrong.

When you arrived at the venue, you were quickly able to seek out Thomas and his friends. Introductions were made to Angelica, Abigail, George, and James. Thomas explained Abigail’s boyfriend John couldn’t make it, and you smiled at them all, hoping your smile didn’t look too forced.

Your group took up a whole table in the small club, and you got seated between James and--of course--Thomas. But the evening wasn’t near as hateful as you expected it to be. You almost effortlessly assimilated into their group of friends, and eventually you were able to relax so much you could hold a light conversation with Thomas… or maybe it was the alcohol that allowed you to do that.

Either way, you actually managed to enjoy yourself. And the band was definitely worth any torture Thomas could have put you through during the night. Though the alcohol was definitely beginning to have more of an effect on you, you noticed after you had a light banter with Thomas about the best musicians out there and both of your gazes lingered a little too long on each other. You must have been imagining the look in his eyes, however, for when you shook the moment off and looked back at him, he seemed completely unperturbed in a conversation with George.

At one point in the night, Thomas left to get another round, and Angelica and Abigail went to the bathroom. You sat silently and contemplatively, listening to the slow song that was currently playing. George across the table hummed softly along, when a voice began speaking beside you.

“So Thomas couldn’t get you either then, I take it?” James asked, with a sloppy grin on his face. The question caught you off-guard, but you quickly recovered with a small chuckle.

“Oh he tried,” you stated rolling your eyes. “You?”

With a smirk, James gave a little laugh. “Oh yes, he tried.” He looked at you like he was considering something, but then nodded at something out past your shoulder. You turned around and saw Thomas with hands filled with beer stopped halfway back to the table by a girl, and by the look in Thomas’ eyes, no one at the table was getting any more alcohol any time soon. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore,” James commented lightly, “He’s moved on.”

With a mischievous grin to mask the sour feeling in your stomach, you turned back to James and noted, “I would, however, like him to come back to me long enough to get my beer.” A brilliant grin broke out on James’ face, and it unexpectedly made your insides warm and eased whatever was troubling you earlier.

Your conversation with James continued long into the night, and you found you both were essentially the same person. And it was just so infectious to meet someone you just automatically clicked with. You learned James didn’t actually go to your school, but one across the city. He made a point though to journey to this side for “good friends and company”, he worded it.

At the end of the night when you were you were all getting up to leave, Angelica snuck behind you and James and whispered “Get a room”. A blush immediately warmed your face, but not unpleasantly; James chuckled and put his arm around you as he stood up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Thomas staring at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite pin.

No, you were sure you were just imagining it, for when your eyes met Thomas’, he held a light expression on his face, and began teasing you. “I told you, you would like this band,” he boasted with a wink, then quickly turned without another word and left the club.

You ignored the small pang in your stomach and focused instead on the amazing guy you just discovered: James. With a grin, you both exited the club with arms wrapped around each other.

It only took James three days after that to ask you out.

And now only three years later, you both were still happily together in a serious relationship; quite the opposite of your best friend Thomas, who was soon going to run out of people to bring home from the club, you were convinced.

“You know the deal,” Thomas said to you seriously as you laid sprawled out on the couch. “James gets you two nights a weekend; I get you one. We’re going to the club.” You groaned. You wished your boyfriend and best friend weren’t also good friends that could trade away your time. Though it did make things run pretty smoothly, you admitted to yourself regretfully.

“We never do anything but go to the club. I get drunk. You get drunk. You come home with the boy or girl of your choosing. You get laid. I call James because I’m bored. And then in the morning I make your night buddy breakfast, and send them on their merry way,” you complained, reciting exactly what happened every Saturday night. Thomas laughed, unable to deny the truth of it. He roughly sat down on top of you, and you shot him a glare.

“Well, that’s your own fault,” he stated simply. You looked at him confused. “You don’t have to make them breakfast,” he shrugged. You playfully tried to shove him off of you, but he just forced himself down on you until your foreheads were touching.

His eyes were so close to your face that they blurred, but you could still see his blue eyes gazing into yours. Your stomach flipped. He pulled this shit on you all the time, and for someone who had a steady boyfriend and loved said steady boyfriend, it should not have this type of effect on you.

But it did. It always did.

Reacting as you always did, however, you rolled off the couch pinning him under you. His breath caught from the fall, and he smirked. You felt his hands grab your waist, and you bit your cheek as you rolled your eyes. A neutral expression fought to keep its place on your face, as you were acutely aware Thomas was aware of you hardening on his hips. But as this wasn’t the first time either of you found yourselves in this situation, Thomas let out a brash chuckle. Keep it playful, you reminded yourself.

“Imagine if James walked in on us like this,” he teased you innocently. With a smirk, you leaned down until your lips were a fatal distance apart.

“He wouldn’t bat an eye, because he knows how much of a whore you are,” you responded with a gleam in your eye. With this, Thomas let out a loud laugh and let your hips go. You quickly jumped up and turned to walk towards your bedroom.

“A whore and proud,” Thomas proclaimed, still laughing. You gave out a little chuckle.

When you reached your bedroom door, you turned and made a face at Thomas. “Why did I ever agree to share an apartment with you?” you asked sarcastically, as well as contemplatively.

“They could make a show about us!” Thomas called after you as you shut your door, and you shook your head still laughing. “The Whore and the Prude! Only showing Saturday nights.” You laughed heartily at the joke and proceeded to change into clothes for the club when your phone started ringing.

You picked it up eagerly when you saw it was James. “Save me, we’re going to the club again,” you half joked with him, immediately as you answered the phone. There was a long pause.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ve been contemplating this for awhile…”

You don’t know how much time passed before Thomas knocked on your door.

“Dude, seriously, if we don’t leave soon, I’m not going to get-” He cut off as soon as he saw you curled up on the floor staring at your phone. He stood in the doorway waiting for you to say anything. Slowly, you let your eyes meet his.

“James, um… James just, uh… He.” You closed your eyes and sighed, and then reopened them to find Thomas’ worried face. “He just broke up with me,” you finally admitted, immediately averting your eyes as soon as the words hit the air. The silence hung for several seconds before Thomas spoke.

“He what?” You could feel his eyes on you, looking for you to contradict what you had just said, but you kept your eyes trained downward. Thomas’ eyes moved to the phone. “He broke up with you over the phone?” When you didn’t respond, he became indignant. “That utter bastard, I’m going to-”

“Don’t,” you said quietly. Thomas stopped and looked at you, pain in his eyes. “You’ll only make it worse.” It had been almost fifteen minutes now, and still not a single tear had fallen from your eyes. You felt numb. “Can I-” You stopped and swallowed quickly before continuing. “Can I get a raincheck on the club?” You looked up and met his eyes once again.

He looked at you with such empathy, it made you want to look away again, but you held his blue eyes with yours. “Of course,” he said simply. “I’ll stay home with you, so-”

“No,” you said a bit too harshly. Thomas looked taken aback, and you didn’t have the strength in you to look at him anymore. “I just need to be alone right now.” I just need to not be with you right now.

He stayed silent for a moment, then finally said, “Okay. Call me if you need anything.” You nodded mutely and listened as he slowly backed his way out of the room and eventually left the apartment.

You curled up once again, pushing your head into your knees. James’ words rattled around in your brain.

“I think we both know who you fell in love with that night.”

“I don’t hold it against you.”

“You two act more like a couple anyways.”

You had loved him. You knew you had. You wanted to marry him. You were going to pick out a ring. You were going to live out the rest of your lives together.

You paused. Weren’t you supposed to cry when someone you loved broke up with you? You shook the thought from your head. James was delusional. There wasn’t any way Thomas-

Thomas.

You had tried so hard not to think his name. But as soon as you did, your thoughts became overflowed.

Waking up to early morning violin practice, and coming out of your room groggily to a chipper Thomas. Having to cook almost every meal, because if Thomas cooked, you knew it’d be mac and cheese. Thomas complaining you didn’t eat enough mac and cheese. Having to put a blanket around his shoulders after he passed out while studying. Seeing Thomas walk around the apartment unperturbed after a shower with just a towel around his waist. His endless taunts and horseplay. Making breakfast for his overnight guests, but being the one who gets to stay with him when breakfast is over.

Of course you were in love with Thomas, you admitted to yourself for the first and only time. And only then did you allow yourself to cry. James was right.

After you allowed yourself to grieve over the fact you stayed with an amazing man for three years so you wouldn’t have to address your feelings for the annoying, arrogant man who would probably never settle down with anyone, you slowly moved yourself to the couch and put on a movie. Anything to ignore reality. You were half asleep when the door to the apartment opened and closed.

You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew it was too early for Thomas to have brought anyone home. You sat up groggy and confused. And there was Thomas. Just staring at you helplessly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Thomas? What are you doing back so early?” you whispered for no reason.

He too, responded in a hushed voice. “It just didn’t feel right to leave you like this.”

His answer caught you off-guard, and you pondered it for a moment. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Thomas,” you responded, straining to keep the tears from exploiting themselves. “But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Or I’ll be fine.”

His face looked pained. “No, I,” he grimaced and closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I’m telling you I couldn’t bring someone back here while you’re here like this.”

You stared at him confused. Finally, you replied in the same tone, “And I’m telling you not to worry about me.”

He threw his hands up, and let out an exasperated sigh. You looked at him with wide eyes as he began pacing the living room, trying to figure out what was going on. When he finally calmed himself down, he stopped and looked at you with those wild blue eyes.

“When I say ‘leave you like this’,” he struggled to explain, “I don’t mean ‘leave you while you’re upset’.” He gave you a pointed look, but you still had no idea what he was talking about. He hung his head and buried it in a hand, and then he looked up at you and tried again. “I mean ‘leave you while you’re single’.”

You stared at him for a while, noting he was visibly cringing waiting for a reply. But you still didn’t quite understand.

“ ‘Leave you while you’re single’? Thomas… Just because I’m single doesn’t mean you can’t hook up with people. I’m seriously, fi-”

A loud, annoyed grunt escaped Thomas’ mouth, along with a “God damn it, Y/N.” You looked at him confused, but before you could read his face, he lunged at you.

It took your senses a few moments to catch up with what was happening. His warm, soft lips--which you had teased many times before--pressed hungrily into yours. His fingers greedily ran through your hair. You moaned softly as you felt him straddling your hips. You felt your hands slip under his shirt to graze his warm skin.

Suddenly, he quickly broke your embrace and stared at you with disbelief glittering in his pale blue eyes.

“Shit,” Thomas muttered, quickly backing off of you and stumbling on the coffee table in the process. “I’m a horrible friend. Shit. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have- I-” He cut off, his wide eyes pleading with yours. You stared at Thomas, stunned, trying to find the right words to say.

Because you had so much to say, but you mind was completely clogged by that kiss.

Thomas, observing your state of panic, ran his fingers through his hair, and turned from you. “Shit!” he said, out loud this time, visibly cringing as he said it.

You both stayed frozen for a long while. Eventually, you broke the silence. “Thomas?” you asked quietly. His body stiffened at the sound of your voice. “I- Am I going to have to make breakfast for myself tomorrow morning?”

Thomas slowly turned and met your eyes, questioning whether he heard you right. You let your eyes hold his steadily, allowing them to confirm his thoughts.

“You’re going to have to make yourself breakfast a lot of mornings,” he commented slowly.

Laughing, you stood and embrace Thomas, running your fingers through his thick, curly, dark hair and pulling him back down on top of you.

The next morning, you woke with a headache you wished could be blamed on the alcohol. But you knew it was a gentle reminder from your body that you had fallen asleep with wet streams of tears rolling off your cheeks accompanied by the helpless shaking of your curled body. You remained in your fetal position until the daylight demanded attention through the window. And then with a heavy sigh, you slowly removed yourself from the safety of your bed.

As you numbly began undressing from your nightgown, your breath caught as your hands landed on your hips to pull the dress over your head. Just at the simple sensation, a memory took over. Larger hands tugged at your waist desperately. The soft hair running through your fingers counterbalanced the rough lips pressing against yours.

You gasped and bit your lip hard, clenching your eyes shut to gain control. The events of the previous night wouldn’t be lingered on. It was a drunken kiss. A mistake that you consciously made. Something you would have to live with. But not something you would let own you.

Letting out a slow stream of air, you gently shook yourself into successfully removing your nightgown. As you slipped into your dress for the day and began tying up the simple lace in the back, you glanced up at the clock.

Shit.

You sped up your tying process frantically as you realized you were supposed to meet Philip and Theodosia in five minutes for lunch. Your feet hurried you over to your desk as you pulled the dress lace tight and quickly grabbed a ribbon to pull your hair back. Once your hair was secured, you bent down and opened your bottom desk drawer. Pulling out the lined box inside, you pressed gently on the fake drawer bottom and retrieved the folder from inside the secret compartment.

Not wanting to waste time lacing up boots, you ran out the door in your slippers, figuring your dress was long enough to hide them anyways. Grateful your mother would still be absent from the household for another two days, you took the direct path to the spare dining hall over your usual, safe winding path to save time.

Unfortunately your timing betrayed you.

As you rounded the corner to the dining hall, a figure from the opposite end of the hallway caught your eye. You froze as your skin began to become icy.

Alexander also froze, studying you with such an intensity you were sure he could see right through you. But after a short moment, you snapped back into the task at hand.

Your eyes averted from his, and with your head down, you determinedly stalked to the door, thankfully slightly more on your side of the hallway. But as soon as you took your first step, Alexander called out.

“Wait, Y/N, we should- we should talk,” he pleaded, as you blatantly ignored his calls. He began to walk towards you and you ducked into the dining hall door with gritted teeth.

Philip and Theodosia looked up at you surprised as you flew into the room and stopped with your eyes closed to compose yourself. When you looked back at them, Theodosia furrowed her eyebrows and frowned at you.

“Where’s Alexander?” she asked pointedly, probably making the correct assumption that you hadn’t even remembered to invite him. Though, to be fair, Theodosia’s reasoning probably entailed your general dislike for Alexander. While the actual reasoning was quite the opposite, given the circumstances.

You opened your mouth to respond and reason with Theodosia as the door behind you burst open. You turned around startled and strained to hold in a groan.

“Y/N, please, we need to talk about-”

Alexander cut off as he saw he was also in the company of Philip and Theodosia. His words trailed off and his eyes wandered questioning to you as you bit your lip uncomfortably.

“Good! You’re here!” you heard Theodosia announce smugly from behind you. “To be completely honest, I thought Y/N wimped out of inviting you.”

Alexander’s eyes questioned yours, and you shook your head slightly as to not say anything. After a moment, he seemed to consent by pressing his lips into a firm line and giving a short nod.

“Just go along with it, and we’ll talk later,” you murmured, promising him a conversation you would rather avoid. This, however, convinced him more thoroughly to accept what was happening. With a small sigh, you turned around with a light smile at Theodosia. “I told you I would invite him, didn’t I?” you asked innocently. Theodosia merely rolled your eyes, somehow sensing you had gotten lucky. You began walking towards the table with a slight smirk, noting Alexander’s presence close behind you.

Alexander sat down pensively as Philip and Theodosia watched him expectantly. After a short moment, he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Um, am I allowed to ask why I’m here?” he inquired nervously. Now their eyes shifted to you.

You shrugged your shoulders avoiding eye contact. “You told me to invite him, not to brief him. I did my job,” you reasoned with a pointed look. Philip smirked while Theodosia rolled her eyes with a soft tone on her face. “Besides,” you continued, “I don’t think we should brief him until he agrees.”

“Agrees to what?” Alexander’s voice asked. You glanced uneasily between the other two, and finally landed your eyes on Alexander’s. And those damned beautiful eyes were pleading an explanation from you.

You pressed your lips together and then sighed. “We can’t tell you,” you finally admitted regretfully. His eyes narrowed as yours held his steadily. You resisted the urge to reach out and gently hold his arm. “You’ll just have to agree. Blind faith.”

He studied your eyes carefully, and you felt the warm pit in your stomach ignite, trying to press the way those eyes looked at you under stars from your mind. You couldn’t let your mind wander. Not here. Your teeth chewed on the inside of your cheek. Alexander’s eyes looked scared and unsure, and you had no way of soothing it. A frown crossed your mouth.

“You can walk out right now,” you offered in a softer, more sincere tone. His expression softened slightly and you allowed yourself to relax a little. “We won’t take any offense. It’s a big decision, and I’m sorry we can’t explain anything until you make it.”

He pulled his expression into a somber one and briefly broke eye contact with you to glance at Philip and Theodosia. When his eyes met yours again, he seemed conflicted.

“Be honest with me,” he instructed, and you nodded slightly. “Do I want to agree?”

You weighed his question and blocked out Theodosia’s sharp inhale of breath. You already knew what she was thinking: you would say no. You didn’t want Alexander with them, so you would turn him away while you had his trust.

But it only took a few moments of consideration to come to an honest answer.

“Yes,” you admitted regretfully. “You really want to agree.”

All of his apprehension vanished at your words, and he nodded in agreement. “Then okay. I agree,” he stated, his eyes never leaving yours. You offered a small strained smile.

“I’m sorry for putting you into danger,” you confessed, not willing to meet his bewildered look. “I needed to tell you that before you excitedly dive into our mess,” you mumbled.

Alexander watched you carefully, and then moved his eyes to Theodosia, who was beaming at him.

“Welcome to Civilian Protection, Alexander,” Theodosia announced.

“I prefer to call it Mommy Issues, but do as you will,” Philip inserted with a playful shrug.

You snorted at the comment, against your will. “You do not,” you reprimanded with an eye roll. “And please never refer to my mother as ‘mommy’ again,” you added after a second thought. Philip burst out in laughter as Theodosia gave the two of you unimpressed glares.

Determined to continue with the speech you were sure Theodosia already had planned, she held Alexander’s eyes and continued. “We’ll get more into detail as the meeting gets more in depth, but right now the basics you’ll need to know are we’re a network of dedicated volunteers throughout the sector planning and executing various actions to keep the civilians of this sector safe from the tyrannical rule of Lady Aremine. Philip, John, Y/N, and I started up CP five years ago when the war broke out. We meet once a month in this room after the monthly sector meeting to plan any upcoming retaliations we’ll have to execute against the Lady’s commands.”

You could see all the questions swarming in his mind, and the three of you waited patiently for one to surface.

“If you’re an Anti-Aremine group, why do you meet under her roof? Couldn’t she be spying on us?” he finally asked perplexed.

“Mother would become suspicious if I left the house once a month; however, the four of us already were meeting after every sector meeting for lunch, so we just converted those lunches into our meetings,” you explained carefully. “As for being spied on, this room used to be a command room for the generals in their wars. The general who designed the house--Lady Erinne--made sure to secure every nook and cranny of this room to ensure spying was entirely impossible. The room was redesigned a few generations ago when a new command room was installed in the basement.”

Alexander stared at you in awe; a slight blush greeted your skin as you looked down nervously.

“Y/N can explain a lot of the gritty details of CP to you later,” Philip pushed into the conversation gently, more serious this time. “She’s the actual founder of the group as she came to the rest of us with the idea, and she’s the one who makes most of what we do possible. She’ll make sure you’re caught up to speed. But right now, Y/N, we need to discuss the negotiations,” Philip informed you seriously. You sighed.

You paused for a moment, gathering yourself before asking the inevitable question that would ruin your day. “What are the other sectors saying?” you finally spoke, dreading the answer. You tried your best to ignore the incredulous eyes boring into the side of your face beside you.

Philip grimaced, looking down at the sheet in his hands. “Nothing good. They think it’s a ludicrous plan and we’ll never be able to pull through it. The sector that pulls the most weight with the other sectors is Dmere. If we get them, we’ll get the rest of them... probably. But the only way Dmere will even consider agreeing is if there’s a transfer of power.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. You had been afraid of that. You felt three pairs of eyes watch you carefully. “Did you explain that we can’t promise that?” you asked softly.

“I did, but they said we could promise it if we really wanted to,” Philip informed you regretfully.

You clenched your eyes shut and tapped your fingers on the table, trying to think. There had to be another solution, right? But any solutions eluded you. Eventually you opened your eyes and took a cautious side glance at Alexander. No real reason existed for you to trust his opinion as much as you did, but you found yourself needing it anyways. You raised your eyebrows at him, and he shook his head lost.

“I don’t know what we’re talking about,” he confessed, and you gave him a soft smile.

“It’s a negotiation with all the other sectors to cease fire on the war without my mother’s knowledge,” you explained slowly. Alexander’s eyes widened.

“You can do that?” he asked in awe, and you grimaced.

“Apparently not with my mother still in power,” you muttered. You tried to take a few calming breaths, but Theodosia interrupted you.

“Y/N, I know you don’t want to consider it, but-”

You slammed your fist down on the table, startling everyone. “I will not kill my mother,” you growled. Everyone sat stoic, watching you with alarm. “I established that clear at the beginning of CP. We will not assassinate her to win. We will always find another way.”

Philip and Theodosia shared a wary glance, and then they both finally nodded somberly, knowing it was useless to argue with you. You closed your eyes and steadied your breathing.

“Tell them I’ll need two years,” you finally instructed, opening your eyes and meeting Philip’s. “If they give me two years of a silent cease fire, I can promise them a new leader of this sector.” You gritted your teeth and avoided all three sets of wide eyes staring at you. Finally, Philip cleared his throat.

“Okay,” he said softly, shooting you a questioning look, but you were still pointedly staring at the table.

With a sigh, you opened the folder in front of you. “Where are we on last month’s mage relocations?” you asked in a forced neutral tone. This time it was Theodosia who responded.

“All of them safely relocated and settled in neighboring sectors. Which reminds me, our Yarrick sector correspondent has suggested that they’re close to capacity limit on refugees at the moment. Tiln and Wehj have offered safe passage of refugees, so we just need to work out an altered plan to start shuttling them to those sectors instead.”

You nodded briefly, unconcerned. Revamping the relocation procedure slightly shouldn’t be any problem. “Tell Yarrick that we appreciate their open doors and cooperation,” you noted, and Theodosia nodded, writing the message down.

Alexander stared incredulously at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “You guys relocate mages before she can get to them?” he asked in awe.

You shook your head slightly. “We try to do that, but a lot of times there in such good hiding from her, we can’t find them. So instead we let them come to us,” you explained with a shrug.

“You let them come to us?” Alexander repeated, confused.

“Alexander, how many mages do you think Aremine has sentenced to death in the past five years?” Philip asked intrigued.

Alexander contemplated the question. “I don’t know. Two hundred?”

“Three hundred and twelve,” Philip answered, with a shake of the head. “Now how many of those mages do you think died?”

“Three hundred and six,” Alexander responded. You smiled slightly that he didn’t count his six from the sector meeting two months ago.

Philip looked Alexander directly in the eye and deadpanned, “Three.”

Alexander gawked at the number and began scrambling for words. “But-but… How?”

Philip smirked in satisfaction at Alexander’s reaction and leaned back in his chair. Shrugging his shoulders, he shot Alexander a mischievous smile. “What can I say?” Philip bragged rightfully. “I’m good at what I do.”

“What he means is,” you cut in, slightly more serious, “Philip heads our mage rescues. He leads a small team of now highly trained operatives to fake convicted mages’ deaths and safely relocate them to the neighboring sectors.” Alexander’s mouth hung slightly open as he studied you silently under your slight blush. “I don’t really know more about that operation than that. Philip likes to keep what he does quiet.” You trailed off at the end of your statement, not wanting to disclose the reason for Philip’s secrecy to Alexander.

Philip’s gaze met yours, understanding your hesitancy, or at least part of it. “It’s just a precaution in case the worst happens. I’ve found the less the people I’m saving know, the easier it is for me to believably pull off the operation,” he explained to Alexander softly. You felt Alexander’s eyes wildly search your expression as you steadily gazed at the files in your folder pointedly. You knew Alexander had just realized two important things.

The first was Philip wouldn’t disclose information on his mage rescues with you because he was afraid he would have to perform one for you if Lady Aremine ever decided to get rid of you.

The second was Alexander was the only one who knew your mother had already tried to get rid of you.

Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you desperately scrambled to change the subject before Alexander gave your secret away.

“Theodosia heads our letters force,” you stated steadily, not making eye contact with the man next to you. “Her and a widespread dedicated team visit each of our soldiers before heading off to war in private. In the meetings, the new recruits are given time to write a letter to their family, which is subsequently turned into Theodosia’s team. Our main inside man at the war front keeps careful track of the soldiers we lose. Every week, we get an updated list of the men who gave their lives. It is then that we give the letter to the family, to always have something for them to remember by.”

“The trick is,” Theodosia cut in with a solemn tone, “Lady Aremine has all outgoing letters from the war burned upon departure from their camps. She can’t risk the people finding out about how much we’re losing, which means family’s can’t learn how many of their sons have died. The letter system is in place to offer closure to the families.”

Alexander looked as if he mouth was dry, trying to form any words. You realized that this all might be overwhelming at one time. Maybe you should have introduced him to CP in smaller steps, so-

“But what if Lady Aremine discovers families are getting letters? Wouldn’t she know then that something was up?” Alexander asked with a burning curiosity. Theodosia was right; it would take no time at all for Alexander to become consumed by this organization.

Theodosia shot him a smug smile and a pointed look towards you. “Oh, she would be livid if she found out. Luckily, however, she won’t. It’s pretty complicated process, and by the look you’re giving me right now, you don’t believe me, but trust me. Y/N came up with this at the start of CP, and it’s never failed. Essentially, Lady Aremine is incredibly vain and is hyperly aware of her lack of support throughout the sector; however, instead of caring about what people think of her, she punishes them. Both Aremine supporters and challengers fight in her war. The difference is supporters volunteer and challengers are drafted. All men drafted to the war are unchosen sons of Aremine challengers’ households, which essentially is the majority of the sector.

“These families hate Aremine as much as you or I. So we’ve implemented a system--a code of means. When we receive a name, we visit the house and leave a symbol on a pebble outside their door. The next day, another pebble will be there with one of two symbols: a symbol that tells us we’re free to approach the family or a symbol that tells us Aremine supporters are in the area and we need to wait to visit them. When we receive the first symbol, we approach the family with their letter and instructions not to tell anyone. The plan works so smoothly, it’s astounding. One of the many reminders that we’re all in this against Aremine. And that Y/N is a genius.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “You’re giving me too much credit, Theodosia. It was a gamble to trust our whole operation on those people not talking. A long shot. But I just trust people,” you admitted, your lips pressed in a straight line.

“Well, your long shot idea has kept families’ connected to their loved ones for five years, so I think I’m giving plenty of credit where it’s due,” Theodosia commented with finality. You kept your lips tight and once again avoided eye contact with everyone. Philip and Theodosia were making you out to be a lot better than you were. All you had done is grown up to think like your mother, and learned how to counterattack from there. Anyone in your position would have been able to do the same.

“As much as I would love to stay and just discuss different protections we could implement with you, Alexander, I’m afraid Theodosia and I must be off,” Philip cut in, regrettably. “The wedding’s in a year and Lady Schuyler’s tailor is meeting us today. I am, however, incredibly excited to see what you bring to CP. Just from what I’ve seen from you in Lady Aremine’s meetings, I think you’ll become an asset.” Alexander bit back a smile at the compliment as Philip stood with the corners of his lips tugged slightly upwards.

Theodosia stood after him; you could visibly see her change from Theodosia the Protector to Theodosia the Friend as she distanced herself from the meeting table.

“Wish me luck,” Theodosia playfully requested with a sparkle in her eye. “Lady Schuyler always tries to put me in colors suiting her pale complexion that look atrocious on me. I would give anything for a blue gown from her.” An amused smile continued to play at her lips as you smirked in return. Theodosia’s arm latched gently into Philip’s; with a soft wave, they dismissed themselves and left you alone with the man beside you.

As the door shut behind your friends, you purposefully began busying yourself with the papers in the folder and pointedly avoided Alexander’s obvious gaze. Your insides began inverting, and you wished with all your heart to be back huddled in your bed. The two of you obviously needed to talk, but you had nothing to say. Or too much to say. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander finally stated, shattering the silence. You froze and shot your eyes up to his, confused.

As your eyebrows furrowed, you asked, “For what?” A small part of you knew what you feared he was apologizing for. And as horrible as the entire situation was, you didn’t think you could bear it if he regretted the kiss. As stupid and reckless as it sounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the previous night for the reasons you should.

“I accused you of not doing anything, of being a sell out,” he admitted ashamed, avoiding your wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have… I should have known that you were already doing more than I could fathom. It was completely unfair of me. And I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stared at him sadly for a moment, watching as he gazed intently at his fidgeting thumbs. Your lips pressed together, ignoring the buzzing in your stomach.

Finally, a soft sigh escaped your lips. “There’s no way you could have known, Alexander. I’m not harboring any hard feelings on the matter. And you- you weren’t completely wrong. I can be a sell out.” You bit your lip as it was your turn to avoid eye contact.

“You’re not a sell out,” Alexander’s voice rang out forcibly. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a shuddering breath; opening them cautiously, your hopeful eyes searched Alexander’s determined ones.

A small smile turned at the corner of your lips as you took in your new ally. “Thank you, Alexander,” you whispered.

There were a few beats of unfilled silence before Alexander asked you something you knew had been eating away at him.

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell Philip and Theodosia your mother was behind our abduction?” he inquired, concerned. You sucked in a breath and began fidgeting.

Shooting Alexander an unconvincing smile, you shrugged. “I just don’t want them to be worried about me,” you explained, trying to keep your voice light. But Alexander just stared at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“They should be worried about you,” he deadpanned. You grimaced, knowing he was right.

Shifting in your seat and downcasting your eyes, you struggled to find the words you needed to explain. “Philip and Theodosia… They try to understand what it’s like to have Aremine as a mother, but they just can’t… All those people out there being threatened and dying because of my mother? It’s my responsibility to save them. If Philip and Theodosia discovered how close my mother got to disposing of me… Everything I’ve worked for to correct my mother’s horrors would be over. They would expose CP and use all of their resources to help me.”

“Saving the world doesn’t solely rest on your shoulder’s,” Alexander reasoned with you, a hint of frustration slipping into his voice. “Maybe Philip and Theodosia should save you, since you seem so adamant against saving yourself.”

You sighed. “Alexander, my mother puts people in danger every day. Even if they saved me, I would still be in danger. She would hunt me down. At least here I can help the others,” you argued softly, the passion in your voice demanding Alexander respect your position. “Either they save me, or I save hundreds, even thousands. I’m not special or important enough to be considered in the grand scheme of things.”

“I think that depends on who you ask,” he murmured softly, his intense gaze warming your cheeks.

You both sat like that for a bit, waiting to see if either of you would speak again. You were relieved Alexander had decided to let the issue go, but you were still a bit shaken by the note he had left the issue on. Turning back and grabbing your folder, you made a motion to stand. Alexander merely gazed at you from his sitting position. “Come on,” you chided him softly.

Your voice snapped him back into the present as he stood readily. Almost as if out of instinct, his hand ghosted yours, like he intended to interlock fingers. Noticing his mistake, however, his hand quickly drifted from yours, and your mind released a sigh of relief. The two of you walked in silence towards the door.

As you reached out to open the door, Alexander inhaled sharply.

“We should talk about it,” he garbled, trying to speak too fast.

You froze with your hand on the doorknob and your back to him. A small part of you had hoped he would let it go. But you knew he was right. You needed to talk about it.

You needed to set boundaries.

With a regretful sigh, you turned around and met Alexander’s wild eyes.

“We don’t get drunk around each other ever again,” you stated with finality. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you raised yours. “That’s rule number one.”

He shook his head and held his hand up to stop you. “Rule number one?”

“If you’re going to be in CP, we’re going to have to be around each other a lot,” you explained, trying to keep your voice even. But one glance at the look painted on his face, and you broke. “Plus, I want us to be friends, Alexander. All of this would just be easier if we were friends, right?” Your eyes pleaded with his that this nonsense you were telling yourself somehow made sense.

Alexander considered you for a moment, licking his dry lips. Then averting his eyes and uncomfortably shifting his hand to the back of his neck, he nodded. “Yeah, that would be- that would probably be the easiest.”

You pursed your tightened lips and nodded stiffly. “Okay,” you confirmed, slightly relieved. “So rules. No getting drunk around each other. No going to the roof together. No touching each other.”

Alexander snorted at this, and you frowned. “Let me guess, no whispering anything inappropriate to you as you pass down the hallway? No playing footsie with you during family dinner? No sleeping in your bed?”

Your eyes narrowed at his joke as you tried to maintain the blush that was now invading your cheeks. “Well,” you started with a snarky inflection in your voice. “I wasn’t going to make the last one a rule, but if you insist.” You let the sentence fade away as you rolled your eyes and shrugged your shoulders.

Alexander let out a small laugh at this, his eyes glowing, you couldn’t help but notice. “Okay, but really Y/N, give me some real rules here. Some real boundaries,” he inquired, suddenly becoming sincere.

You were caught off guard. “I- I did,” you responded, with a slightly defensive tone.

“No,” he countered gently. “You gave me obvious things we shouldn’t do. I mean, what could I do that would make you uncomfortable? We both laid our feelings out there last night, Y/N. Bethany’s your sister and it was unreasonable for me to put that much on you. What can I do to make it up to you? What can I do to make this easier?”

“You can stop being so damn caring,” you quipped without thinking. Your face burned redder than before as Alexander let out a short bark of laughter. “I’m serious,” you demanded, beginning to giggle a bit yourself. “It’s a lot easier on me when you’re an ass.”

An amused smile broke out on Alexander’s face before he playfully wiped it off and became incredibly serious. “Right, okay. I think I’m going to set up a stand in between our rooms, and every time you pass, I’ll hand out personal insults.”

You giggled more at the serious offer Alexander made and shook your head. “I think just glaring at me at the dinner table will suffice,” you countered.

His face once again relaxed into his all too familiar smirk. Your lips turned upwards at the corners in response. But there was a worry behind your eyes that neither of you could miss.

“We can do this, right?” you asked anxiously. “We can be friends without messing this up more than we already have?”

Alexander studied you sadly before taking a deep breath and blinding you with that smile.

“Hey, what could go wrong? We’ve got rules to follow.”

It took exactly three and a half weeks to break (almost) all of your rules. 

As it turns out, neither you nor Alexander are very good at self-discipline.

The first week passed with no incidents, as you both were incredibly careful around each other. But as the two of you became closer and naturally slipped into a strongly bonded friendship, the care and control slowly slipped away.

It started off accidental. Alexander didn’t realize you were already on the rooftop, and so he unknowingly joined you one day halfway through the second week. He immediately turned to leave you, but at the time, it seemed silly that the two of you couldn’t share a rooftop. You were, after all, friends. So you beckoned him back.

Three days later, neither of you decided to approach the fact that your hands had naturally gravitated towards each other’s and clasped while you were walking through the orchard. Actually, at that moment, it seemed more pressing for the two of you to continue discussing CP’s negotiations with the surrounding sectors than how comfortably your hands fit together.

A few nights later, your foot accidentally brushed against Alexander’s at the dinner table as Bethany spoke adamantly about Peggy’s upcoming birthday ball. Before your eyes could apologize, Alexander smirked and gently kicked your foot. Your apology turned into a glare as you bit your cheek and periodically brushed your feet against Alexander’s in response to his touches throughout the dinner.

The following week, you passed Alexander on the way to your room. Just the sight of him caused a light smirk to automatically appear anymore. Seeing yours, Alexander’s face lit up into his own mischievous smirk. As you passed him, he whispered, “You wouldn’t be smirking if you knew what I was thinking about.”

Your face immediately flushed, and you whipped around angrily. But Alexander was already nonchalantly strolling down the hallway with his back to you. With a huff and a shake of your head, you continued on towards your room.

And somehow, later that week, you found yourself sitting at a bar in town with the most infuriating and infatuating man.

Bethany had begged the two of you to join her downtown to meet up with her friends for the Autumn Festival. Angela had pulled Bethany away to an “exclusive” party for their friends. Alexander and you had protested about being separated, but Bethany merely shot you both an apologetic look and shouted a suggestion that the two of you wait for her in the bar.

It didn’t take long for you to become buzzed or for the bartender to notice the tense silence between you and your company. The more alcohol the two of you consumed, the less your eyes met. You clenched your eyes shut and damned everything.

Damn Bethany for leaving you with Alexander. Damn the weather for raining and forcing you into the only shelter available. Damn the said shelter for requiring you to buy alcohol to remain in the facility. But most importantly, damn Alexander.

“What were you thinking about?” you slurred, awkwardly breaking the silence. You opened your eyes and met Alexander’s confused ones. “When you passed me in the hall the other day. What were you thinking about?”

Alexander shook his head and finished off his mug. “Is it one of your questions?” he asked, almost mockingly. You begrudgingly shook your head, willing to trust Alexander this time. “Then I’m not telling you,” he replied, looking pointedly at you dead in the eye and pushing his mug forward to signal a refill.

You sighed and stared at your half full glass. “Why don’t you just do it?” you asked, a neutral tone to the slurred words. You noticed Alexander’s head perk up at your words, but you refused to meet his eyes. “I don’t think it’s a wellkept secret the two of us wish to kiss again, so why don’t you just…” You sentence trailed off suggestively, as you waved your arm in a circle in hopes to distract from the tears building in the corners of your eyes.

Alexander studied you for a long time before responding. “I think it would be a clear violation of the rules,” he tried to point out lightly, but one glance at the heavy look in his eyes as he gazed at you revealed his true feelings.

You scoffed with a short laugh, and took a sip of the bitter beer. “I think we’ve sufficiently shot the rules to hell,” you countered, pointedly raising your eyebrows.

He smirked, and then morphed his expression into a serious gaze, shaking his head. “I haven’t slept in your bed,” he reminded you playfully.

“Do you want to?” you asked. In your intoxicated state, the retort came out a bit more serious than the lighthearted one you were shooting for. Both of your cheeks immediately flushed with a dark red as you avoided each other’s eyes. “I should stop drinking,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

A large hand gently tugged at your arm, and you turned to see a sympathetic Alexander pulling you from the bar. “I’ll make sure Bethany has a ride home, and then we can go,” he explained softly, and you nodded numbly in agreement.

By the time you had waited in the carriage for Alexander to make arrangements for Bethany and journeyed home, you were regrettably sober. And by the look in Alexander’s eyes, so was he.

Neither of you said anything as you walked to your hallway. But instead of turning off into his room, Alexander followed you into your room and shut the door behind him. Sighing, you untied your cloak and kept your back to him.

“Alexander, do we have to do this now?” you asked impatiently. But you knew the impatient tone was a mere side effect of how hopeless you felt in that moment.

“Yes,” he responded with a finality. You turned around slowly to meet his gaze. “We have to do this now. We should have done this weeks ago. Y/N: What are we doing?”

You considered Alexander for a long time before taking a deep breath. “I’m selfish,” you stated. Alexander’s eyebrows furrowed, but you held up a hand and shook your head so you could continue. “Not in a cute ‘I take care of myself’ way. In a ‘I won’t let anyone borrow my books’ way. In a ‘I count how much of my favorite foods I have even though I would have plenty if someone took some but I’ll still make an uncalled for ordeal about it if you do take some’ way. In a ‘I would talk all day about myself if anyone allowed me to’ way. And beyond that, I’m manipulative. If anyone--even loved ones--make me feel threatened, I know exactly how to make them feel like they’re the ones with problems, when most of the time it is me. I’ll start petty fights for no reason. I’m a compulsive liar because I feel like it keeps Bethany safe. I always-”

“Y/N!” Alexander all but shouted to stop you from talking. The look in his eyes was almost one of fear. “What are you doing?”

You sighed and hung your shoulders defeated, your eyes suddenly becoming dismal. “I- I’m giving you all the reasons you shouldn’t look at me that way,” you stated simply.

His breath caught as his eyes narrowed. After a few beats, he finally spoke.

“You know there’s almost nothing you could tell me that could stop me,” he argued gently. You shook your head and shook back the tears.

Pressing your hands to your forehead, you tried to hold yourself together. “I can’t let you do this to yourself, Alexander. I already brought you into my mother’s line of fire with CP and to add this on top of it-”

“You shouldn’t be scared of your mother,” Alexander blurted, looking like he immediately regretted the words.

Your eyes narrowed in a deadly manner. “What are you talking about?” you demanded. You were not going to have this fight with him again.

Alexander shifted uncomfortably and avoided eye contact. “I- I, um… I may have threatened your mother,” he admitted regretfully. The blood drained out of your body.

“You what?” you questioned breathlessly, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Your mind quickly swept through all the things your mother wouldn’t hesitate to do to someone who threatened her. Each one turned your stomach more than the next. How could Alexander be so… so… reckless?

“Y/N, it’s really not as bad as it sounds,” he attempted to reason with you, but he put up his hands defensively when you glared at him. “It- it was almost six months ago.”

You froze. Six months ago would have been right after you’d escaped. Your mouth tried to form a question, but Alexander quipped an answer to the unvoiced inquiries.

“I simply told her I knew about your powers, I was Bethany’s only Choice so she can’t get rid of me, and if she ever hurts you or tries to get rid of you again, I would tell the entire world exactly what she’d done,” Alexander explained quickly. When he was done, he watched you carefully, breathless. Waiting for some type of reaction.

But you merely stood staring at him dumbfounded. He went up against your mother for you. He threatened your mother for you. Even when the two of you seemingly hated each other, he still did it for you.

Find someone who defends you and know I am happy for you.

John’s words seared through your mind, as you blinked and snapped back to reality. The look in Alexander’s eyes overwhelmed you as small streams began eroding your cheeks. Burying your face in your hands, you took a few deep shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Y/N?” Alexander asked softly, a slight fear in his voice that what he had done had upset you.

But instead of responding, you shook your head and looked up at him with a bitter smile. He watched as your light steps made their way towards him, and without pausing for a moment, you gently tugged his head towards yours.

This kiss was different than your first one. It wasn’t as wild or frenzied, but rather his soft lips comforted yours. His hands wrapped around your waist and held you securely, as your body began shaking because of your sobs.

You gently broke the kiss shortly after it began, and lowered your eyes quickly. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, tears still streaming as the sobs erupted and Alexander pulled you into his chest.

You had waited years for anyone John thought was out there for you. And you finally found the only person crazy or stupid or brave enough to face down your mother for you, and he was the one person it was an impossibility to be with. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“I know,” Alexander whispered, and you realized you had been whispering to yourself.

Meekly, you pulled back from Alexander’s embrace. Your eyes met his and you set your jaw determinedly.

“Considering everything, it’s incredibly reckless and honestly impossible for us to do this, but,” you trailed off, lowering your eyes.

Gently, Alexander’s hand pulled your chin back up so your eyes would stay with his. They pleaded with you, and you bit your cheek to hide the second round of tears building up.

“Y/N, please. Just- What are we doing?” he begged an answer from you.

With a sigh, you relented. “But I can’t not do this. I can’t not be with you,” you admitted softly. His lips pressed softly against yours at your response, and you smiled sadly at him as he pulled away.

“And the rest of this?” he asked, gesturing broadly to the two of yours gigantic piles of problems.

You formed a tight line with your lips and sighed. “We just figure it out as we go,” you finally conceded. “And if one of us wants out, we’re out. We both have to be willing to risk it at all times.”

Alexander nodded solemnly in agreement, and you suddenly had the sensation of an outer body experience. How did you get here? Why were you doing this?

And then Alexander gave you that soft smile, and a small peck on the cheek, and you knew you were doomed from the beginning. You had always been doomed.

As Alexander turned and walked from your room, you sighed.

There was one thing all of your friends could agree on: brunch was the best tradition you all had started.

“Jesus, Laf, did you get any batter in the waffle maker?” you asked half jokingly, as tan goo settled all over the John’s counter. John just sighed as Lafayette became indignant.

“I just put a little too much in!” he protested as batter continued to pour from the sides. You rolled your eyes and turned back to placing your cinnamon rolls in a pan to be baked.

John looked up worriedly from his pan full of julienned potatoes holding a bottle of vegetable oil. “Guys, how much oil do I put in? I’ve never done the hash browns before,” he disclosed, waiting for someone to take over for him. But rules were rules at brunch: once you claim a food, you finish it.

Mostly because then there was only one person to blame when that food got inevitably destroyed.

“A lot if you want them to become crispy,” Angelica replied, sitting on the counter from the other side of the kitchen. Hercule’s little brother Hugh watched your dysfunctional group try to make food with amusement from behind the counter Angelica was sitting on.

“You guys could help, you know!” you called back, grabbing the tube the cinnamon rolls came from and checking how long they needed to be put in the oven.

Angelica merely laughed. “I think you’re fine right now,” she commented, and you grumbled as you shoved your panned up rolls in the oven.

“Angelica and Hugh on dishes duty?” Herc asked you quietly as you stood up from the oven.

You smirked. “Works for me,” you murmured back. Herc smiled at you as he continued mixing his eggs in the skillet for the scrambled eggs, and you did your best to hide your blush. Then you looked past Hercules at Lafayette. The batter on the table was growing. You sighed.

“Laf, if it keeps overflowing, put less batter in,” you instructed. He shot you an annoyed glare.

“You think I’m trying this?” he asked frustrated, waving his batter ladle around, and subsequently splattering himself with the goo. You giggled as he stared defeated at the raw waffle on his chest.

“Um, guys?” John asked concerned as he furrowed his eyebrows and stared at his hash browns. “How long are these supposed to take?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, like 5-10 minutes?”

He glanced up at you distressed. “Why aren’t they getting crispy?” At hearing this, Angelica–the usual maker of hash browns–hopped off the counter and peered over John’s shoulder at his pan.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice half-amused, half-annoyed. “I said put a lot in, not drown them in oil to the point the animals in the gulf feel bad for them. How much did you put in here?” she asked in disbelief. John slowly held up the once one-fourth filled but now empty vegetable oil bottle.

Angelica’s eyes widen and jaw dropped. She was about to say something when John cut her off. “Can we fix it?” he asked sincerely. She sighed.

“Put another bag of hash browns in this pan. Maybe it’ll all even out,” she suggested.

Herc was shaking to your side, and you looked up and noticed him trying not to laugh at John out loud. You playfully slapped him and pointed a finger. “Be nice,” you mouthed, right before you both went into a fit of giggles. John glared at you, but Herc calmed himself down enough to ask him a question.

“Hey John, do you guys have Tobasco here?”

Still with a bitter face, John pointed up to a cabinet, to which Herc eagerly grabbed the Tobasco from. “A little Tobasco makes every scrambled egg better,” he explained to you pointedly and you laughed.

The alarm on the stove went off for your rolls and you took them out, just as everyone else’s food was finishing up. You added the icing and set them on the table as Hugh set out places for everyone. Then everyone else followed suit with their food. The six of you sat around and surveyed the food, considering what would be the worst to choke down. Everyone figured the hash browns and shrugged. You would have to eat them anyways. All food must be finished at brunch.

Everyone grabbed their helping of everything as the back door opened and closed.

“I’m here!” you heard Alexander’s voice come from the back room. You all groaned.

Laf glared at Alex as he walked in. “You’re late, as usual. So you’re on dishes with Angelica,” he ordered.

Alex rolled his eyes. “I figured. But you guys are at least glad I’m here, right?” he asked with a smirk. All of you rolled your eyes as he sat down and began scooping up the food.

Your eyes all met and then nodded. It was time.

Laf was the first to complain.

“I knew these hash browns would be bad, but what the hell, Laurens?” Laf asked, glaring at John as he coughed. John looked innocently up at him. Laf pointed angrily down at the potatoes on his plate. “All I can taste is oil and salt.”

John shrugged. “I tried to balance out the oil taste with a lot of salt.” Everyone groaned at the thought of having to eat the hash browns in the near future.

You took a bite of Herc’s scrambled eggs, and coughed. “Herc, when you say ‘a little Tobasco’, how much are you talking?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “The bottle isn’t that big. I just poured it all in.”

Angelica sighed looking at the scrambled eggs she was about to put in her mouth. She then scraped the eggs off, deciding to deal with them later, and instead focused on the waffles.

She stuck her fork in them, and look up exasperatedly at Lafayette. “Why is this waffle rock hard?”

Laf held up his hands in defense. “Why is everyone attacking me and my waffles? Focus on John and his oil salt.”

You observed everyone and faked a superior tone. “Well, well, well, my cinnamon rolls seem to be the highlight of this breakfast,” you commented smugly, and everyone glared at you as you laughed.

Everyone was silent for a moment, and Herc to your side began laughing slightly. You looked at him concerned and he pointed down at the cinnamon roll he just cut into on his plate.

It was basically just melted dough.

You sighed as everyone began laughing. You would never hear the end of this, but you smirked. Another Sunday, another brunch with completely inedible food.

But you all kept eating and complaining and defending yourselves throughout the meal. And when all the food was gone, you all agreed it was the worst brunch yet, and you couldn’t wait to see what happened next week.

As Alexander began starting on dishes, Angelica walked up to you. You shook your head and pointed at the kitchen. “Nope, you’re not getting out of dishes again Angelica. Go,” you commanded. She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going. I just came over to ask if you could bring Herc home. We carpooled, but I have a headache,” she asked solemnly. Herc’s house was slightly out of the way for you, but you acquiesced, narrowing your eyes slightly at Angelica who feigned innocence.

When dishes were over, Hugh made his way over to you. “Goodbye, Y/N,” he hugged you quickly. You stopped him and furrowed your eyebrows.

“Hugh, you’re going home with me. Angelica’s not feeling well and is going straight home,” you explained. Hugh gave an uncomfortable glance between you and Angelica who was behind you.

“Uh, well,” he struggled to find the words. “She didn’t mention that, so, um… Bye!” Before you could process what was happening, Angelica and Hugh bolted out the door. You stood in disbelief. You’d been played.

Awkwardly, you turned back around and faced Herc, who also had a faint blush on his cheeks. You sighed.

“Guess it’s just us then,” you stated, trying to break the tension. Herc shot you a soft smile, and you both made your way out the door to your car.

The car ride was a strange mixture of feeling content, and feeling slightly on edge. You both tried to keep a casual conversation going, but you both noticed the elephant in the car: you both knew why you were in here. Herc was supposed to ask you out.

But you knew it wouldn’t happen. Even though the two of you knew that you mutually liked each other, Herc just wasn’t prepared to ask you out yet. And honestly, you weren’t prepared for him to ask you out either. You were willing to be patient. Your friends were not. As you drove, Hercules mentioned the movie him, Angelica, and John were planning on seeing that night. Not even thinking of the implications of it, you offhandedly mentioned wanting to see the movie.

Hercules became very quiet and you silently cursed yourself. Eventually however, he responded.

“I mean, you could come with us,” he offered uncomfortably. Your heart tightened.

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to force him into offering if he really didn’t want to take you.

“Yeah,” he stated in a slightly higher voice. “I’ll- I’ll pick you up tonight, since you’re driving me home now. I mean, only if you want me to,” he offered, and your palms began becoming sweaty. You took a deep breath.

“Yeah, sure,” you answered, the words sticking in your throat. He gave you a tight smile as you pulled into his driveway and exited the car, to which you returned with your forced smile of your own.

On the drive back to your house, Angelica called you.

“So?” she asked excitedly. “Did he take his chance?” You rolled your eyes.

“I honestly hate you right now, Ang,” you commented, to which she responded with a laugh. “No, he did not ask me out.”

“What the hell?” she screeched from the other end of the phone. “Nothing? I set him up for it and he doesn’t take it?”

You gritted your teeth. “Ang, he doesn’t need set up. And besides me inviting myself along to your movie tonight and him offering to pick me up, nothing happened.”

Angelica paused. “He invited you to the movie tonight?”

“Were you not listening? I invited myself. Don’t make this into what it’s not… Ang? Angelica?” You glanced down at your phone. Lost call. You sighed as you pulled into your driveway.

You spent the rest on the day aimlessly wandering your house. Your parents had a fundraising benefit they would be out for all day, which left you and your sister alone for the afternoon. Just from passing by her room the few times you had made your way down that end of the house, you could tell she was re-binging The Last Airbender and wouldn’t be out of her room for awhile.

And that left you alone with your thoughts.

Why had you been so dumb and made Herc so uncomfortable by forcing his hand in inviting you to the movie? It wasn’t like you two hadn’t gone to the movies with other people before, but it was always a mutual decision. Herc never had to invite you. And you never had to think of the larger implications of it. This was exactly why the two of you weren’t ready to date. Neither of you knew how to handle this.

You sighed and slumped down at the kitchen table. Glumly, you checked the time and noticed it was getting close to the time Hercules would pick you up. Time to get ready you supposed.

As you ran to your room, you stopped outside your sister’s door. “Shan, free for all for dinner, okay?” You heard a mumbled “whatever” and an intense explosion come from her laptop. A smirk crossed your face as you walked away.

You quickly changed into comfy jeans and a simple sweater, knowing even though it was warm outside, it would be cool enough to house rescued penguins in the theater. Absentmindedly, you ate the sandwich you made at your dinner table and watched out the front window for headlights. As you were finishing, they pulled into the driveway and your heart gave a little extra ‘thump’.

Grabbing your purse, you yelled, “I’m going out, Shan! Be back later!”

To which you received a “Katara no!” and you counted it as an “Okay!”

The first thing that hit you when you opened the passenger side door was the smell of Hercules’ cologne. It was familiar and comforting. You felt your stomach calm and your body relax. It was just Herc. It was just a movie with friends. It was nothing to be anxious about.

Herc started in on a story about Hugh trying to finally get their stuck basketball down from the ceiling. (The story of how it got there so infamous among the friend group, they’ve often argued it should never get rescued, but remain intact for monument purposes.) You giggled at the conclusion of the story of Hugh’s once again failed attempt and countered the story with how Shannon stayed in her room all day binge watching The Last Airbender. To which Hercules half-joked about turning around and joining her.

When you noticed you were getting close to the theater, you announced you were going to call Angelica to see where her and John wanted to meet you. Herc nodded in a agreement, and you quickly pulled out the phone and dialed the last person who had called you.

“Hey Ang, we’re almost here. Wanna meet in the lobby?” you asked, as soon as she picked up.

There was a slight pause, and you grew suspicious. “Uh, Y/N, I’m so sorry, but something came up, and John and I can’t make it anymore.” You slowly felt heat creep into your cheeks as you realized what she was doing.

“Angelica,” you growled warningly, but it didn’t deter her a bit.

“I’m so sorry. I wish we could get out of it, but we can’t. Let us know how the movie is!” she said as she made her move to hang up. You sat stunned as you heard a little rustling.

“Um, hey, Y/N?” John voice came over the phone. “I really wanted to see this movie, but Angelica’s holding me captive right now, so you and Herc better not make this all in vain.”

Angelica and you both screeched “John!” at the same time as he chuckled and hung up. Herc looked over at your exasperated look with one eyebrow raised and an amused expression. You tried to shoot him a little smile but dreaded saying the words that were about to come from your mouth.

“Uh, they, uh,” you stuttered, and his eyes met yours concerned. “They ditched us,” you finally admitted, averting your eyes and hoping the dark night would cover a little bit of the blush on your face as your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sweater.

Herc parked outside the theater and remained silent for a few moments. “Well,” he finally started slowly. “We’re here. Might as well see the movie,” he offered, with an unsure expression on his face as you peeked up at him.

With a sigh, you offered him a comforting smile. “Yeah, might as well,” you repeated lamely. Herc made his way out of the car and you used the time his back was turned to you to curse your friends. You were not going to be tricked into your first date with Hercules, the assholes.

After steadying your breathing, you exited the car and met Hercules at the back end of it. The two of you tried to keep light expressions as you made your way into the theater. But with every step, your heart pounded a little louder. Why couldn’t Angelica just have let this be a nice casual night out with friends?

As you approached the ticket window, you swiftly stepped ahead of Hercules and requested a ticket to avoid any potentially awkward scenarios in which the man at the window assumed Hercules was also buying your ticket. If you both bought your own tickets, it definitely was less of a date, you reasoned with yourself.

The threshold of the theater greeted you with a blast of unnecessarily cold air, and you let out an involuntary shiver. All of your senses gravitated you towards the heat source walking right behind you; nevertheless, you set your head straight and walked down the aisle. Stopping at a row about halfway down the theater, you glanced up at Hercules who gave you a wordless approval at your row of choice. Quietly, you plopped down in the seat and remain stoic as Hercules took his seat beside you.

Eventually, Hercules started up small talk about brunch earlier that morning and compared it to the group’s other food fiascos. And like always, it was so easy to talk to Herc that you slowly melted back into comfort with the conversation, glad neither of you were making this weird as it obviously was supposed to be.

Or maybe it was weird and you were in severe denial.

Either way, you enjoyed spending time with Herc, even though you didn’t know what you wanted this to be classified. Not a date, per se. But you didn’t want it to be nothing either. Which left you in a bit of a dilemma you could ignore while talking lightheartedly with Herc. But when the movie started, you knew you were doomed to your thoughts.

You couldn’t focus on the movie. You couldn’t move. And you most definitely couldn’t stop being painfully aware of the person sitting next to you.

At one point in the movie, his hand accidentally brushed yours; you stiffened so visibly, it took all your willpower not to slap yourself right then and there. Hercules gave you a side glance you couldn’t read, but you stared straight ahead, intently focusing on the movie you no longer had an interest in while you cheeks blazed. You prayed you couldn’t see how much you were blushing. How much of an effect he had on you.

You almost let out a sigh of relief as the credits began rolling. You had made it. Hercules shot you a strained smile, and tried to nonchalantly ask what you thought of the movie. “It was good” was your response, and the subject was dropped as you made your way back out to his car.

The two of you remained silently most of the way home. Your eyes stared blankly out the window as you tried to think of anything to say. But you were never good at the small talk, or easing over an awkward situation. That was always Herc’s role. And even he couldn’t soothe this.

When you neared your house, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You knew who it was before the message was even read.

“The movie’s over now right? So??” Angelica asked, and the tone of excitement got through the text. Unsure of how to respond, however, you ignored it.

“Hey I can see you read my text. What happened?”

You continued to stare out the window, blatantly ignoring the texts and just wishing to be out of the car. Because you didn’t know what you were feeling. You had thought you didn’t want this to be your date, but the way Herc was being so quiet scared you.

Maybe he didn’t want this to be a date because he never wanted anything to be a date between the two of you.

Your heart squeeze painfully at the thought as your phone buzzed, notifying of yet another text of Angelica’s.

“Y/N, please stop ignoring me. Just tell me what happened.”

You gritted your teeth as you read the words. Then with a deep breath as Herc turned into your driveway, you typed a response.

“Nothing.”

A typing bubble popped up immediately, but you shut your phone off, feeling a bit of pressure build up behind your eyes. You couldn’t do this right now. Your phone buzzed and you didn’t even bother to look down at it.

Though parked in your driveway, you remained in Herc’s car still for a moment. Then you took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “Thank you,” you mumbled, unbuckling your seatbelt.

As your hand reached for the door handle, Herc announced a quick “Hey!” and you turned back confused. With eyebrows furrowed, you inquired what he wanted.

“I- um- I…” He trailed off and let out a large gust of air. “Nevermind,” he finally concluded lamely. You bit your lip and grimaced, turning to make your way out of the car.”

“Wait, okay. I can- um-” He cringed as he tried the form the words, and then his eyes met yours; he sighed. “Do you want to get dinner this Friday?”

You felt frozen. Not a muscle in your body moved as you tried to comprehend the words.

You bit your lip and looked up at him unsurely. “With everyone else?” you squeaked.

He let out a small chuckle. “No. Just the two of us. Like a date. I’m- I’m asking you on a date, Y/N.”

“Oh,” you responded lamely, still trying to process his words. A date. He actually asked you out on a date. And you realized your insides were getting warm and a smile was crossing your face. A date. You’d like that. “I’d like that,” you finally responded sincerely, and he gave you a relieved smile.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as your eyes met his, and in that moment, everything suddenly felt right. It wasn’t awkward or unknown anymore. Your Hercules was right here. And you were going on a date with him.

He leaned toward you, and you almost met him in the middle, but you pulled back as his lips ghosted yours. His hurt expression wounded you a bit, but you explained shakily.

“If we kiss now, that’ll make this our first date, and this can’t be our first date, because we were dumb the whole night,” you detailed self-consciously. It sounded stupider out loud than it did in your head.

But he just smirked. “I wouldn’t want our first date to be any other way. Makes for a good story someday,” he commented, as he leaned forward closing the distance between the two of you.

As his lips softly pressed yours, you felt lighter than you ever had before. Your hands clung desperately to his shirt as his pulled away; your demeanor was now slightly intoxicated as you beamed shyly at Hercules, unsure if that just really happened. Mumbling your hand searching blindly for the door handle behind you, and you stumbled out of his car with a soft “Goodbye, Herc”.

You turned to walk to you front door, finally paying attention to the wildly buzzing phone in your hand. Without even reading the messages Angelica sent you, you quickly typed one in response.

“We have a dinner date set for Friday.”

It took mere seconds for a response.

“WHAT.”

“And we kissed.”

“YOU CALL THAT NOTHING?” she responded a few seconds later, and you giggled as you saw her name pop up as an incoming call.

As you hit accept and opened up the front door to your house, you smirked, thinking it definitely wasn’t nothing.

You officially made it two-thirds of the way to your decision, you thought glumly as you flopped down unceremoniously onto your mattress.

Four months had passed since your father abandoned you with the second worst King you knew. The first of course being your father. But King George was a very close second.

In two months there would be a ball. And you would either have to accept or decline the betrothal to King George. And you weren’t any closer now than you were four months ago in deciding whether declining George and risking spending the rest of your life with your father was worth getting out of this castle.

Not that that was the only problem you had to face.

You were far from the first suitor to be betrothed to the arrogant king. The seventh, actually. He had declined all that came before you. It seemed that even if you decided to accept the arrangement, the king was intent on staying unwed.

“Princess Y/N?” a maid meekly called from the doorway. You took a deep breath and sat up with a small smile attached to your lips. “The King wishes to have a word,” the maid continued with a little curtsey. You nodded in acknowledgement and slowly shifted yourself off of your bed.

Your feet carried you slowly to the King’s office where you knew you would find him bent over a stack of papers. Most of these conversations only wound up being about which diplomats you would have the honor of entertaining in the next week. If you were lucky, he would look up from his desk to tell you about them. If not, you would get names, and would proceed to research the guests on your own.

But when you walked in, you were surprised to find the King leaning against his desk waiting for you.

“Ah, Princess Y/N. We have some things to discuss,” he stated professionally. Pushing off the desk with his hands and beginning to walk towards you and continued. “Truth be told, this is usually the point in time I inform my betrothed I will decline our arrangement. She cries about how she loves me, and I send her on her way to enjoy her last two months here.”

“You send away women who love you?” The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. You immediately downturned your eyes to the ground, but snuck a peek back up at the King’s reaction. He looked at you amused.

With a sigh, he responded, “I have no use for someone who loves and adores me. I don’t even really need someone who respects me. My country needs someone who can help me. Can you help me, Y/N?” His asked asked you sincerely, and you shifted uncomfortably.

“I hate you,” you finally responded. “You’re an arrogant bastard.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the King laughed at your response.

“And I think of you as a self involved bitch. But all the better, I believe. We won’t have to worry about each other’s feelings, which could get messy in our positions,” he quipped with a forced smile. But seeing your look of discomfort and anger, he sighed and became serious again. “All of you come here with the same issues. Usually to do with your father. Don’t think of it as a marriage offer, but rather a job offer to get you out. Neither of us will expect any more from each other. Consider it.” You tried to open your mouth to respond, but he gave you a pointed look and gestured towards the door. With an indignant huff, you turned on your heel and stalked out.

He was insufferable, but he was right. He may be your only way out.

A few weeks later you were still considering the Kings offer. You had found yourself wandering the castle many times late at night. You weighed the pros and cons. You tried to find an answer. But none came to you.

This particular night, however, your worrisome thoughts were put to rest by a soothing melody hanging in the air. Subconsciously, your feet followed the sound of the piano through the twists and turns of the halls, remembering the tunes your mother used to play to you as a child. With a small smile, you peeked into the reading room to see which of the staff was sneaking in their time with the piano this late at night.

You jumped back from the door, however, when you recognized the all too familiar silhouette of the King sitting at the piano.

Hurriedly, you swept back to your room and crawled into bed promptly. You groaned as you tried to close your eyes to rest. Rest wouldn’t greet you; your mind was too preoccupied with the memory of the King’s peaceful and gentle face as his fingers expertly glided the keys of the piano.

The next morning you tried to inquire about your sight the night before with the maids inconspicuously.

“The piano in the reading room: can anyone play it, or is it for special purposes only?” you asked nonchalantly as the maids tidied different aspects of your while you sat on your bed, hugging a pillow and observing them.

Gretchen, who was dusting around the fireplace, responded first. “I believe it’s for anyone, ma’am,” she commented.

“But the King often finds himself playing there late at night, if that’s what you’re asking, ma’am,” Jemma added with a smirk. Your cheeks flushed red as you became indignant.

“That most certainly was not what I was asking,” you sputtered. Gretchen and Jemma shared a pointed look at each other. “What was that?” you asked defensively. They both turned to you with innocent expressions, and you huffed as you hopped of the bed, your pillow still in hand.

“What was what, ma’am?” Jemma asked mischievously. She had always been the braver one around you.

You gave an annoyed eyeroll. “That look. What was that look?” you demanded.

Gretchen and Jemma hesitated looking at each other, but it was Gretchen who ultimately spoke up. “The household staff has a bet,” she explained meekly. You raised your eyebrow in a gesture for her to continue. “About whether you’ll fall in love with the King first, or he’ll fall in love with you first.”

Your blood became icy as you clutched the pillow with a hard face. “Well, that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?” you asked. “Because there’s absolutely no way he would fall in love with me, the bastard. And I have no intentions of seeing him as anything but an ass, so there. Call the bets off.” You slumped back down on your bed. Your eyes were drawn up when you heard the giggling across the room.

“Ma’am, you and King have got it bad,” Jemma commented through her laughs. Your skin crawled, and in response, you grabbed another pillow, and threw both pillows in your hands at once towards your maids. The squealed as the pillows hit them and looked at you confused. Standing on your bed, you swept another pillow into your arms.

“I will not stand for such accusations against me,” you stated in an over the top royal voice. “I challenge thee-s to a duel.” A smirk formed on your mouth as you held up your pillow. Catching on and taking their pillows into their own hands, Gretchen and Jemma charged your bed.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea to challenge two people to a pillow fight when you had no back up, but it didn’t stop you from fighting your hardest. Eventually the three of you collapsed onto your bed in a fit of giggles.

“You’ve always been our favorite betrothed, ma’am,” Gretchen finally commented softly. “Give our King a chance.” Jemma nodded her head in agreement.

You tried not to dwell on her words too much. “You just destroyed me in a pillow duel, Gretchen,” you responded softly with a laugh. “No need to call me, ma’am.” Both of them smiled gratefully back up at you.

Their smiles followed you into dinner that evening. That and Gretchen’s plea. You were surprised to find yourself shaking a bit nervously walking into the dining hall for your nightly dinner with the King. It was ridiculous, really. Because even though things had started to change for you, they were still the same for him.

“I’ve heard there’s no one better in this quadrant of the world with foreign relations than you. Is that true?”

You almost dropped your fork when the King addressed you. You almost looked around to see if someone else had arrived to the dinner you didn’t notice, but when your eyes looked up, he was staring directly at you with an unreadable face.

“I- um,” you stuttered, trying to find a response. The King had never tried to start a conversation before. “I wouldn’t say that,” you eventually finished lamely, turning your eyes back down to your plate quickly and using your fork to simply move your food around your plate, as you had lost your appetite. You hoped the blush in your cheeks wasn’t visible from the other end of the table.

You could feel the King’s eyes study you for a moment before speaking again. “Were you behind your kingdom’s dealing with Aremonia?” This time you refused to meet the King’s eyes as your blush became deeper.

“Yes,” you finally admitted. Your eyes peeked up at the King’s, which were still unreadable.

“Well,” the King finally commented. “Then I would argue the truth to my previous statement. I’m currently trying to get a deal with them myself, and they drive a hard bargain.” You knew what he was asking for. You had to take a deep breath before consenting, however.

“If you would like, I could help you,” you offered slowly. The King’s eye’s lit up at your offer, and you tried to silence the feeling in your stomach.

Wiping his hands in his napkin, the King stood and looked at you expectantly. “We can go now, unless you aren’t finished?” he suggested, gesturing to your fork still aimlessly readjusting your food. Quickly you shook your head and stood from your chair, following the King out the door to his study.

When you arrived, he quickly searched through his mounds of papers and shoved one in your hands. While you began reading it, he began moving documents off one of the chairs to the side of the desk.

“Sneaky bastards, aren’t they?” you mumbled reading their proposals. This grabbed the attention of the King who promptly made his way over to you to read over your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shy away from his presence ghosting your left shoulder. “H-how long have you been in contact with them?” you asked, steadily trying to regain your confidence around him.

“About a month now,” George answered readily. You were left with no time to dwell on the fact you thought of him as George, as he continued speaking. “Each time they respond to my offer with a harder bargain. And I can’t refuse them outright because I desperately need their coal. I wish to send a diplomat to settle this in person, but I don’t know what to tell them to accept. How did your little kingdom ever get such a great deal with them? How did you manage that?” He eyes asked you sincerely, and your throat went dry, before you shook your head and looked back down at the agreement.

“You need two thousand lots of coal. How many timber logs is that fairly worth?” you asked concerned.

“Around three thousand,” he answered shamefully. Your eyes shot up in surprise.

You held up George’s latest offer. “This offers them ten thousand.”

“I know,” he answered slowly.

“What kind of affect would that have on your economy?” you demanded. George shifted his eyes away from yours and refused to answer. “George, what kind of effect?” you asked again, softer this time. His eyes shot up to yours at the mention of his name, but you both ignored it.

“A devastating one,” he finally admitted.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Then why-”

“Winter is coming, Y/N,” he cut you off. “Either I give up a third of my country’s resources to obtain heat for my people, or I burn through my country’s resources to obtain heat for my people. There’s no other option.”

George looked completely defeated. You swallowed thickly witnessing his passion for protecting his subjects and wondering how you had missed that before. Of course he had ignored you. You were just a visitor. But he had people living in this country he was responsible for. You took a deep breath.

“You have another option,” you finally offered. He looked up at you with hope, and you were happy to do this for him. To let you in on your country’s secret for him. “Send your diplomat and offer them the three thousand,” you continued. He tried to protest, but you held up your hand to stop him. “When they refuse, tell your diplomat to ask them how their civil war is going.” George’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you pushed on. “Ask them if they want any back up from any other countries and list all the big names. The ones that don’t depend on Aremonia and will pull out support if they hear that their country is in a fragile state. Then offer them two thousand and your silence on the matter. They’ll take it gratefully.”

George observed you silently in awe, but then shook his head. “You want me to blackmail them with the threat of spreading rumors about a fake war?”

You shook your head. “I want you to threaten to reveal their very well concealed and very real war.”

George’s eyes widened at the information. “How-”

You grimaced. “Everyone heard of the skirmishes. My father seemed to be the only one to take them seriously. My father sent me to Aremonia as the war broke out. I quickly made a deal mostly in our favor that we receive a hefty amount of goods from Aremonia. What the rest of the world doesn’t know is in return my kingdom and I offered our silence and protection from their war ever reaching the ears of the outside world. I knew their country would be in shambles if countries pulled out from supporting them.”

George studied you carefully. “Wouldn’t this put your country at risk for breaking your end of the deal?”

You shrugged. “My country didn’t need my end of the deal. It was manipulative and deceitful to take that many resources from them in the middle of a war, especially when we didn’t need them. Your people need warmth. Don’t worry about us,” you explained quietly. And once again, you couldn’t read the expression written in George’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he finally responded. You nodded, and numbly made your way out your door.

The next day George promptly sent his diplomat out to Aremonia. And to your surprise, in the following weeks, George began asking for your advice more and more often. The two of you grew used to each other’s company for all of your waking hours. You almost considered him a friend.

Almost.

Every time you returned from his office, Jemma and Gretchen were in your room smirking. And every time you were less and less sure they didn’t have something to smirk about.

And before you knew it, you were standing on the ballroom floor in your extravagant red ballgown. The ball you would have to decided whether or not to accept George had arrived.

He had already told you he was going to accept you. Last night, actually. As he walked you down the corridors back to your room after one of your weekly piano sessions. After helping him these past weeks, you understood why he needed them. And you enjoyed accompanying him just to listen.

He had stopped you before you entered your room and told you he would say yes. Then he turned and walked away before you could respond. And you were grateful for that because you realized you hadn’t decided yet.

You had thought you had. Ask you anytime in the past couple weeks, it would have been an automatic yes. But something had changed. Something was off now.

You were pulled from your thoughts by George approaching you holding out his hand with a smile. Your stomach fluttered and you laughed at his cheesy expression, gratefully accepting his invitation to dance. His hand lightly took yours and his other wrapped around your waist, which caused you to momentarily cease breathing.

As the waltz began, your feet began moving in unison, gliding across the floor. The both of you laughed about stepping on each other’s feet every now and then, but mostly enjoyed each other’s company. Towards the end of the dance, however, he brought his head close to yours and murmured in your ear. “My diplomat returned today from Aremonia. They accepted.”

You pulled back, an excited smile lighting up your face as he led you across the ballroom floor. “George, that’s fantastic,” you congratulated him sincerely. And in that moment, looking into his eyes, you felt it. You felt the thing that was off. The think that was holding you back from saying yes.

You had fallen in love.

The dance ended, and you panicked and quickly detached yourself from George. He gave you a puzzled look, but his attention was drawn away when the Royal Visor announced the King and the Princess would announce their decision at the end of the next dance. While George’s attention was turned, you quickly slipped off the ballroom floor and into a side connecting hallway, in which you crumpled and tried to figure out what to do.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed huddle there before Gretchen and Jemma came to find you.

“Y/N? You have to announce your decision soon. The King’s looking everywhere for you,” Gretchen said upon finding you in the hall.

“I-I know, I just need a moment to decide,” you answered quietly not meeting their eyes. But you could tell they were suddenly confused.

Jemma was the one who hesitantly spoke. “Decide? Y/N? I thought the decision was clear? The way you talk with him and look at him? I thought you…” She trailed off uncomfortably, and you finally looked at them with tears in your eyes.

“That’s the problem isn’t it?” you finally asked softly. “George doesn’t want someone who’s in love with him. And I owe him as much to respect that.”

Both of your maids tried to speak up at this, when you all heard a throat clear at the end of the hall.

George.

You quickly averted eye contact, and regretfully noted you had trapped yourself in this hallway. Gretchen and Jemma made a quick exit past George into the ballroom, and you were suddenly alone with him.

He walked slowly towards you, but he didn’t speak, so you tried.

“I’m sorry,” you squeaked. And then you decided to try to bolt for it, but as you tried to run past him, his hand grabbed your arm firmly. When your eyes met his, you were surprised to find them looking as hurt as they did.

“You’re thinking about declining?” he asked. “Why would you ever think about declining?”

You shifted uncomfortably, unable to hold his eyes any longer. “You have to let me go, George,” you finally commanded quietly. “I’ve considered all the options, and it really just comes down to I’m just like the rest of them. I’m just another princess who fell in love with you.”

George was silent for a few moment and finally let go of your arm. But you found yourself frozen to the ground as his hand snaked around your back and pulled you closer to him.

“Did you ever consider I might have fallen in love with you as well?” he mumbled softly as his free hand gently wove itself into your hair. You clenched your eyes shut and tried to steady your breathing.

After a few breaths, you finally strangled the words “Not really” off your lips, and you heard George give a shaky laugh before his soft lips connected with yours.

As soon the warmth of his lips covered yours, it felt like a switch was flipped in you. Your arms that were hanging limply to the sides quickly wrapped around his chest and pulled him flush against you. The sudden movement caused you both to stumble, and your back hit the wall behind your forcefully, knocking your breath out of you, which gave George a chance to begin chuckling again.

He connected his forehead with yours and smiled like a very happy child. You giggled at the sight, your whole body still buzzing and wondering if this was real.

“You know, I knew I was in love with you when I walked by your room the one afternoon and you were having a duel with your maids,” he commented softly. Your cheeks flushed at the realization he had witnessed her defending her hatred towards him with pillows, and began laughing again. “Come on,” he said as he pulled himself away from you and offered you a hand to lead you back to the ball. “It’s time for us to make our decisions.”

With a small smile, you took his hand and let him lead you back to the ballroom. But right before the two of you entered, you stopped him. He looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

My love, before I left, you asked what you could do to save me. I finally have an answer for you: find someone who defends you and know I am happy for you. Don’t live your life waiting on me, Y/N. The best and only thing you can do for me is let yourself love and be happy. I know you better than anyone else in this world, and I know you won’t want to do this, even for me. But when you meet that person, promise me you won’t fight it as much as you wish to.

I love you, Y/N. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be your someone.

You folded the letter by its now well worn crease. Part of you wished John hadn’t known he was going to die. Maybe then he would have written to you about the nights under the willow tree or the days you hid on the rooftop. Maybe then he wouldn’t have asked something so impossible of you.

Sighing loudly, you filed John’s letter away back in the back of your drawer. You always wondered why John seemed so confident you would meet someone else. Why he was so confident that if he asked something of you, you would come through.

He was too late, you thought to yourself sadly. He didn’t tell you to let him go until he had already become your someone.

Of course, there was a short while you tried to believe John. But in the two months since admitting John’s death, Alexander began entering your mind like that less and less. It helped that Alexander had made his feelings towards Bethany clear.

And you were grateful for it as well. Everyone was less tense now that you and Alexander could hold short conversations, especially Bethany. It was just like you had told yourself: once your feelings passed, the nightmare would be over.

“Y/N?” Bethany inquired, entering your room without preamble. “Mother wishes to see you. It seemed important.”

A cold feeling entered your stomach. “Alright,” you replied, forcing a smile on your face as Bethany turned to leave. But as soon as she exited, your body switched into a panic.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen or spoken to your mother since your abduction months ago. But this was the first time you had been summoned. And something in you knew enough time had passed for the other shoe to drop.

After taking a few deep breaths, you shakily stood and made your way out your door. Thousands of possible outcomes of meeting your mother swarmed your mind, each one making you more and more nervous. But one question stood out among the rest: Why had she waited this long to confront you?

By the time you reached your mother’s door, you had accumulated more questions, but not a single answer. With a deep breath and sweaty palms, you slowly pushed open the door.

Your mother was seated at her desk, busy working on paperwork for what you assumed was the marketplace renovations the council had voted on last month. You waited patiently for her to look up from her work, but when it reached almost three full minutes of no acknowledgement, you cleared your throat quietly to announce your presence.

The Lady glanced up at you with an annoyed expression and then turned back to her work. It was almost a minute later when she finally addressed you, still not removing her eyes from the papers in front of her.

“Next week I have an emergency meeting with Lady Weiter outside the battleground. I won’t be able to make a return trip home in time for the monthly meeting. I trust you’re prepared to head it up?” As she asked the question, her eyes glanced up at you expectantly from her page. The words stuck in your throat.

She wanted you to run a sector meeting?

Your mother sighed, irritated at your lack of response. “It’s a simple time conflict, Y/N. Can you head the sector meeting or not?” Her eyes held you expectantly as she gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to ask you to do this, you realized. But she had to.

Realizing if you didn’t respond she would rescind her offer, your head quickly began to bob eagerly up and down. With a long sigh, your mother looked back down at her paperwork waved you off with one hand. Biting your lip to hold back your smile, you spun and quietly made your way out the door. You held in your emotions until you turned down the hall to your room.

And then you couldn’t seem to contain yourself any longer and squealed like a child, jumping up and down. This is what you had been waiting for. This was your chance to prove yourself to the council, and maybe gain some support. You let out a laugh and spun around in a circle.

“Okay, either you just finished a really good book, or we’re having chicken dumplings for dinner: I have never seen you this happy.”

The voice rang out from the door behind you and you could hear a familiar smirk in the tone. You turned quickly, a smile still painted on your face as you rolled your eyes at Alexander leaning against his doorframe. He gave you a soft smile, and his eyes were glittering as they met yours.

“Both, actually,” you replied sarcastically, still laughing. Alexander scrunched up his nose in laughter in response. “But,” you started again, with a sly grin on your face, grabbing his attention, “you are looking at this month’s sector meeting leader.” You gestured to yourself extravagantly, and Alexander’s eyes widened.

When his mind finally comprehended the news, he broke out into a proud beam and exited his door to embrace you. You hugged him happily, glad you could consider him a friend again. Glad you didn’t have to deal with those messy feelings anymore.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Alexander’s voice murmured over your right ear. Your breath caught and skin prickled at the sound of his soft voice, but you refused to dwell on it. Instead, you pulled back from the hug and met Alexander’s eyes once more. You wished you could read the emotion in them, but then again, you probably didn’t want to know.

With a more forced smile this time, you murmured a “thank you” and turned to make your way to your room. Your thoughts changed gear as you remembered to inform Philip of the news as you shut the door behind you: your body still shaking and buzzing slightly from the encounter. Quickly, you glided to your desk, pulled out a new sheet of paper, and grabbed your pen.

The rest of the week passed in a blur. It was arranged so the day that your mother left for her meeting, Philip arrived to help with the final nuisances of heading a sector meeting. You were so busy planning everything, you saw no one but Philip for the entire week. Not that there was anyone else you wanted to see, you told yourself.

The morning of the meeting, you padded aimlessly around the estate in your nightgown. The sun was just rising, so you had a couple hours before the Ladies would start arriving. You and Philip has finished all the paperwork and agenda last night. He was probably fast asleep.

But your nerves kept you on your feet. A lot of your future was to be decided today. You were sure your mother still had plans to disinherit you one way or another, but if you received some support from the council, it would be near impossible for her to just get rid of you. You needed to win them over today. You needed them to join your team.

After your third lap, you sighed. The members of the household had already been up for awhile, and you should probably return to help begin preparations.

As you turned the corner to make your way towards your room, you met a stoic figure staring at a portrait. His sad eyes gazed longingly at the beautiful woman. With a shuddering breath, you softly walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, embracing him in an unsolicited hug and resting your head on his soft shoulder.

“That’s not her any more, Father,” you whispered gently, addressing the younger form of your mother in the portrait. She looked happy and innocent. The portrait was commissioned just after your parents had married. Just after she took over the household.

Your father remained silent and still for a moment. But eventually, he shook himself out of his daydream, and turned to you to reciprocate the hug. “You’ll be just as great as she was today, Y/N,” he murmured softly. Tears plugged the back of your eyes, but you bit your cheek to stop them from overflowing.

You pulled back and observed your father: the ghost of the household. “You should sit in on the meeting today,” you suggested, hopefully. You wanted him to be there. But he merely shook his head.

“Don’t blow this because of me. Your mother will never let you near another meeting if you invite me while she’s away,” he chided you gently. You sighed, knowing the truth to his words. Then he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “Go. They’ll be arriving soon,” he commanded with sad eyes. You took him in one last time, and then continued your walk back to your room, now with heavier steps.

Even when your mother was gone, your father was still too afraid to walk in her house.

When you opened the door to your room, Philip greeted you.

“Hey, good morning!” he said with a beam, obviously not taking in your distressed expression. “They’ll be arriving soon, but I can handle the preparations. You just get changed and try to collect yourself.” He instructed you so confidently, you couldn’t not do what he told you. Even though you knew he wanted to be the one to greet the Ladies solely because Theodosia would be accompanying Lady Schuyler this month.

The hours before the meeting stretched into what felt like years. You had too much time to collect yourself, that you now felt like falling apart. You were on the verge of just breaking down, just to get it out of your system, when Philip popped his head back into your room.

“It’s time,” he said solemnly. You took a deep breath and pushed yourself off your bed. Calmly and composed, you walked to your desk and picked up your papers. This was it.

You walked into the familiar room with the familiar faces, and stood in an unfamiliar position. Taking everyone in and sneaking a comforting glance down at Philip seated at your side, you began.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted, forcing a smile on your face. A few Ladies smiled back at you, but most looked at you warily. You ignored the sick feeling in your stomach. “I trust this meeting will go as smoothly as its predecessors. Let’s begin.”

You managed to keep your nerves in check for the entire meeting, bringing up the topics as listed on your agenda and mediating any discussion over them. It was slightly relieving to know you wouldn’t have to make your mother’s speech at the end as there were no mage users caught this month. It made your goal easier to accomplish.

Throughout the meeting you noticed you were gaining more and more looks of appreciation and trust. As the final topic concluded, you felt your heart squeeze. This was your last survey of how you had been doing.

You cleared your throat as you stood. “Ladies, thank you for joining me for a successful meeting. I look forward to working with you all more in depth in the future.” You noticed two Ladies pointedly avoiding your gaze, but the rest smiled approvingly. Your heart soared and you felt a weight lift off your chest. Unconsciously, you glanced down to your right, but your eyes went a person back from Philip: Alexander.

He beamed at you and your heart buzzed, but you refused to react to it. Honestly, you had forgotten he had been there most of the time throughout the meeting. The meeting had required so much of your attention. But now… Now your attention wasn’t directed to anything besides him. Your cheeks warmed.

You were jolted out of your thoughts by a strong clap on the back. You turned around--where had all the Ladies gone?

"Y/N, you've been standing there for ages. Come on, come celebrate! You did so well!" Philip grinned as he spoke and you couldn't help but smile back. His joy was contagious.

"Alright," you said, reluctantly acquiescing. You snuck a glance back at Alexander, but he was already shuffling out the door. Philip pulled your attention again, and you painted a smile on your face as you followed him out the door.

Philip, Theodosia, and you spent the better part of the rest of the day churning through seven bottles of your household’s excess wine. Since your mother had begun believing being intoxicated would increase a person’s chances of being seduced by mages, the three of you knew exactly when to take advantage of the free alcohol.

You giggled at Theo scrunching her nose as Philip said something to make fun of her. The library was quiet as you watched the sunset, and you laid flat on the floor, feeling the weight of the wine clogging your mind.

“Y/N?” Philip asked, returning you from your thoughts. You turned your head and hummed in acknowledgement, but Philip and Theo looked at you expectantly. You realized they must have asked you a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” you mumbled through your slurred voice. This time, it was Theo who spoke up.

“We were talking about our lunch tomorrow,” Theo explained, a hint of seriousness to her tone. You sat up concerned.

“What about it?” you inquired with a frown.

Philip and Theo exchanged wary glances at each other before Philip sighed. “We know you won’t be too keen on the idea, but we think you should bring Alexander.”

You stared at them for a long time and then finally shook your head. “No. Alexander will not be attending lunch with us, ever,” you responded with finality.

Theo looked uncomfortable as she began to speak. “Y/N, you know he’s a perfect match. You need to invite him,” she replied firmly. You gave them both a helpless expression as your cheeks began to flush uncontrollably. To hide a bit of the color, you laid back down on the floor and covered your face with your hands.

“Fine,” you finally gave it. “I’ll ask him,” you grumbled, wondering how exactly you were going to manage that and then deciding it was a problem for tomorrow: when you were sober.

You sighed loudly and sat back up. It was now dark outside. Philip and Theo began standing up beside you and you watched them. They looked down at you and each gave you a small smile.

“You did amazing today, Y/N,” Philip told you for what felt like the hundredth time. You stood up and gave both of your friends hugs. “Go get some sleep,” he commanded softly. You gave a small smile as him and Theo walked out of the library holding hands.

You clenched your eyes shut and cleared your mind of all the voices bothering you. And then you began walking towards your room.

But instead of heading to your room, you impulsively turned down the next hall and sloppily climbed the stairs at the end of it, giggling the whole way. You wanted to be up with the stars after today, you thought with a smile.

When you reached the top of the staircase, you swung the heavy wooden door open without ceremony. The breeze of the night wind greeted you with the warm summer’s night, and you smiled at the sight of the stars, stepping out onto the rooftop.

Your mind was still mostly sober, yet registering things slower. Something was off. Something was different. And you couldn’t quite-

“Alexander?” you whispered when you noticed his figure to the side. He sat at the edge of the rooftop, staring at you frozen. Your mind second handedly took in the half empty wine bottle sitting to his right. But mostly, you took in his eyes.

They blended in with the stars.

Your body began to vibrate with a happiness you weren’t sure you were allowed to own. But you wanted this. You wanted to end this night with Alexander--your friend Alexander--on this rooftop. With a small smile, you glided over to Alexander’s perch and sat down beside him.

He still stared at you, wordless.

You gave him a questioning look. “Is something wrong?” you asked playfully. But he continued to stare at you like- Your eyes widened.

Stupid, Y/N, you thought to yourself. He was in love with Bethany, and he thought you were- Well you weren’t, but him thinking it was enough to make you realize how stupid you were being. You closed your eyes and shook your head slightly.

“I’m sorry, I should-” you cut off your mumbling, with your hands pushing you up to stand. Your cheeks flushed red, embarrassed. How could you let yourself become so obvious in your intoxicated state? You half considered just jumping off the rooftop if it would allow you to escape faster.

But as you were halfway standing up, Alexander jumped into action. “No, wait! Y/N! P-please. Sit with me, I’m sorry. I won’t-” He cut off uncomfortably, as his cheeks began to match a hue of your own. His unfinished sentence hung in the air.

I won’t tell Bethany.

You knew you shouldn’t have sat back down, but you couldn’t help it. An awkward silence passed between the two of you as you both just stared ahead into the night sky. You were very acutely aware of his body’s presence next to you. And suddenly, you needed it to not be quiet. You needed to not be able to hear where your thoughts were going.

“Do you come up here often?” you asked softly, glancing up at him shyly. His eyes met yours with an unreadable emotion.

He was silent for a moment before he responded. “I try to come up here as many nights as possible,” he finally responded. You nodded and then actually absorbed his answer.

You wrinkled your nose confused and held his gaze. “Why?” you inquired noisily. “I get the charm of the place, but wouldn’t coming up here all the time take away from it a little?”

He seemed to relax a little that you were settling into your usual banter, and he considered you question. “Not necessarily. This is my favorite place to just think,” he responded softly. “It’s my favorite place to create stories, and that never gets old.”

You gazed up at the stars and could feel what he was describing. Unconsciously, you began to lean more into him, and he stiffened a little, but didn’t make any protest. And you realized you just wanted to listen to Alexander talk. About anything. You wanted to hear him tell one of his stories in his place.

“What’s your favorite story?” you asked dreamily. His entire body grew rigid, and you pulled away from him, furrowing your eyebrows.

He looked at you petrified. And then tried to force himself to relax as he shook his head.

“You don’t want to ask me that question,” he finally said softly. Your eyebrows raised, inquiring an explanation, but he refused to give any.

You huffed, playfully annoyed. “I didn’t want it to come to this,” you commented. His eyes questioned yours, and you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s going to have to be one of my questions now, if you refuse to answer.”

It took him a few seconds to register you were talking of your deal in captivity. You had two honestly answered questions left. He was sent into a panic.

“W-why would you want to waste one of your questions on that?” he asked, genuinely confused.

You took him in and shrugged your shoulders again. “You’re not answering it, so now I’m more curious than anything,” you answered lightly, but upon observing his terrified expression, you frowned. “What is so secret about this story? What could be that bad about it?”

He shook his head again. “Y/N, I promise, you don’t want to know.”

You gritted your teeth. “Well, I’m going to get to know anyways,” you demanded. “It’s one of my questions, so… spill.” Why did you always end up angry at Alexander? Were you even angry at him? Or yourself?

He clenched his eyes and sighed. He was silent for a long while, and then opened his eyes and stared into the night, refusing to meet your gaze. “It’s a story about a stall boy who meets two beautiful and well-endowed sisters.”

Your skin turned icy in the warm night as you stared at Alexander. “You are horrible, did you know that?” Alexander looked up at you with surprised eyes, and you began standing up furiously. “You owed me a truthful answer, and you pull this shit on me?” You sense a bit of confusion in his eyes as he scrambled to stand up after you.

You knew you were overreacting, but you couldn’t hear what he was about to tell you. You had thought you were doing better. Turning your back so you could hide the tears, you began stalking towards the door. It was just the wine, you told yourself. You had to be doing better. You couldn’t be pining after Bethany’s Choice for the rest of your life.

“Y/N, I am being honest, please,” he cried out behind you. You froze and collected your thoughts. You could face this, focus, you told yourself. With an icy glare, you turned around.

“Well, congratulations that your real life is a damn fairytale, then,” you responded coldly. His eyes widened as you continued. “Was this just to get back at me? To prove you’re so happy with Bethany?”

He shook his head. “What? No. It’s not like that.”

You gritted your teeth. “Then tell me what it’s ‘like’,” you demanded sarcastically, trying to stop the tears from pooling over. You were over him, you kept repeating to yourself. The nightmare had ended. It had ended.

“In this version of the story, the younger sister doesn’t Choose the stall boy,” he confessed quickly. And the two of you were at a standstill.

You stared at him angrily until you could find the words. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you growled. “That you would rather be anywhere but with Bethany? That you wish you were just never Chosen?” Again, his eyes widened at your words.

“You think I don’t want to be Chosen?” he asked incredulously. You raised your eyebrows as a confirmation and narrowed them as he almost began laughing. “Y/N, that’s not how it ends either,” he explained carefully. Slowly, his face began to shine beet red.

“Then how does your wonderful, spectacular, fairytale life end, Alexander? Please, enlighten me,” you inquired bitterly. Your jaw was set like stone.

He hesitated and took in your angry form. Cringing, softly he said, “In my favorite version, it’s the elder sister who Chooses the stall boy.” It took a moment for the words to register.

And then all of your anger evaporated out of you.

You gazed into his sad eyes; they were staring back intently. A voice inside you was screaming “He wishes you Chose him!”, but you couldn’t allowed yourself to listen to it. Your unrequited feelings you would eventually get over just became real. Your body began shaking.

“You’re right,” you whispered softly. His eyes lit up in anticipation, and you cringed. “I didn’t want to know that.”

His expression plummeted at your words; you felt sick to your stomach. But you gritted your teeth and kept your expression neutral. You had to end this before this started. You couldn’t do this to Bethany. And you especially couldn’t do it to yourself. You had to let him think what you knew he was thinking, even though you wanted to scream that he was wrong.

His eyes avoided yours as he mumbled an apology. You stood stoic as he moved to walk around you to escape.

“Let him go” you repeated to yourself over and over again. But as he passed, he glanced up at you with those sad, beautiful eyes. And something in you cracked just enough to let him in.

You froze and let him walk a few more steps. But eventually, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I wish I would have Chosen you, too,” you confessed, the words tumbling out of your mouth too fast to stop them.

The sound of his footsteps ceased, and you cringed. Gradually, you turned to face him with his helpless eyes to match your own. You couldn’t believe you ever thought you would be able to let him go.

He took a step towards you, and you refused the urge to back away. “Say it again?” he pleaded desperately as he edged closer to you. Your words stuck in your throat as you stared at him. Suddenly, his arm was wrapped around your waist, with his other hand toying with your hair. You closed your eyes and tried to focused on breathing, but all you could focus on was Alexander’s breath on your cheek.

“Y/N?” he asked, begging you to respond. But your mind was overflowed with too many emotions. Alexander was too close.

You managed to form three words you needed to say. “Don’t kiss me,” you instructed. Your eyes met his hurt ones as he gently dug his fingers deeper into your hair. You stifled a moan and looked at Alexander seriously. “Please, don’t,” you whispered again, shuddering under his touch and allowing your arms to snake around his back.

His expression seemed wounded as he inquired why. His forehead connected with yours and you subconsciously leaned closer into him.

“It’ll change everything,” you whispered hoarsely. He let out a small chuckle.

“Aren’t we a little past that?” he asked sadly. It honestly had never occurred to you that you were. How could you be too far gone already when just this morning everything was under control?

You shook your head. “We can’t be. For Bethany. We can’t,” you repeated to yourself, and Alexander let go of you with a small grimace. Tears pooled in both of your eyes as you both refused to acknowledge how unnatural it felt to not be embracing. You took a shuddering breath, and lowered your eyes from his.

“I-I should… then…” Alexander half-heartedly pointed towards the door, and began walking.

You could feel your world shattering around you as you watched him walk away. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way. You were supposed to be relieved. You had done the right thing. You had done the right thi-

Alexander’s hand touched the doorknob, and your previously forgotten alcohol consumption came storming back into your mind; you were completely intoxicated. And so was he. And of every moment left to come in your life, this could be the only one you would have an excuse to make a horrible mistake.

This could be your only chance to be with Alexander.

And just like that, your mind had flipped a switch you had thought you had hidden. All these months, you had tried so hard to keep it from yourself. But now you couldn’t help what happened next. Your body was propelled into motion.

“Alexander,” you called out. He turned around just in time to catch you.

The force of your body crashing into his slammed the door shut behind him. His rough lips pressed against yours as his hands roamed your lower back. Your fingers began tangling his stupidly soft hair and pulling slightly. He softly ran his tongue over your lower lip, and you gasped slightly, which he took as his cue.

Leaning down slightly, his hands grabbed your upper thighs through your dress and lifted you up. Immediately reacting, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing your bodies flush to each other. He spun you around, and you gasped as your back hit the wall beside the door. Before your mind could begin processing anything, however, his lips were once again connected with yours and you lost any thoughts that may have been forming.

After what felt like years, you both stopped to breathe, and your eyes met. And you both knew. Despite your intoxicated state, you were too sober to continue. Slowly, Alexander dropped your legs and took as step back as you kept your back pressed against the wall. Both of your were breathing heavily and looked at each each other helplessly. Alexander ran his fingers through his hair and cringed while you wrapped your arms around yourself to hold yourself together. Then without another word, Alexander roughly pulled open the door beside you and exited the rooftop.

You stood there for a few moments, trying to gather your thoughts, and then sank slowly to the ground, holding yourself the whole way. As you sat with a thud, sobs began racking your body uncontrollably.

“Shit!” you screamed into the silent night. You curled your arms around your knees and buried your head.

There were traditions you had to follow that you flat out hated. There were traditions you had to follow that you didn’t particularly mind. And then there were the traditions you had to follow that you thought you didn’t mind, but now were in the position of hating.

“Y/N, it’s been three months since Alexander moved in. Can’t you at least talk to him?” Bethany asked, sprawled out on your bed. You could feel her eyes staring at you intently though your back was turned to her sitting at your desk.

You tried to ignore the question as if you were too engrossed in your paperwork to notice. But you were glad you’re back was to Bethany. Then she wouldn’t be able to see the light blush that was now painted on your cheeks. Because as misfortune hadn’t hit you hard enough the day you managed to find your way home, the next day you had realized Bethany was not yet old enough to marry her Choice.

And as tradition states, this meant Alexander had to begin living in your household: specifically, two doors down the hall from you.

Growing up, you never questioned having the Chosen assimilate to the household until the girl reached the age of seventeen. You found yourself questioning the moral behind the tradition a lot, however, these days. It certainly did nothing for your friendship with Alexander.

You couldn’t be in the same room as him. You couldn’t look him in the eye. And you couldn’t concentrate when you were around him. Which posed a problem as he was 100 yards from you almost constantly.

You had been trying to play it off as you were back to being indifferent, and he did the same. But every now and then, you would catch him looking at you, and you could feel it.

“Pretentious bitch.”

Cringing and gritting your teeth, you pushed the thought from your mind. You had let yourself shrink too far inside yourself to try to come out now. Neither of you could be the people you were in the cell anymore. Especially not with your mother around.

“Y/N?” Bethany asked, a little more impatiently this time. Her voice pulled you from your thoughts and you hummed absentmindedly in response. “Y/N, I’m being serious. You guys escaped certain death together, and now you’re acting like you hate each other.”

“Bethany,” you sighed, controlling your expression into a tired look, and then turning to face her. As expected, she was now pouting. “Why don’t you talk to Alexander about this? He’s your Choice, right?”

To your surprise, Bethany’s eyes flared in anger. Quickly, she scooted off the bed and stood indignantly. “Is that what this is about? That I Chose Alexander?” she demanded. You fought the heat rising to your face, but she took it as a confirmation and gritted her teeth in disbelief. “Y/N, I cannot- He is my Choice. And I know you think I’m too young and he’s not right for me, but part of me hoped you would set aside your petty feelings of annoyance towards him long enough to support me. Remind me to never hope for anything from you again.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, but you held your stone cold expression. Having Bethany upset with you for hating her Choice was hard. But having Bethany upset with you for liking her Choice would be harder. You could tell this frustration had been building up since you returned, and she had tried hard not to address it due to your homecoming. But this was as hard as it would get, you told yourself. Eventually you wouldn’t like Alexander anymore, and this whole nightmare would end.

You watched as Bethany angrily marched out your door, but she stopped right before she slammed it shut and stared you dead in the eye. “And for the record, I do talk about it with Alexander because he is my Choice and the person I will spend the rest of my life with. But I was talking about it with you because you’re my sister and I’ve already spent my entire life with you.” And tears streaming down her face, she dutifully slammed the door behind her as she walked out.

The confrontation left you feeling nauseous. Slowly, you stood from your chair and curled up in your bed. You released the tears slowly, trying not to overreact too much to Bethany’s words. She just didn’t know any better. But it just felt like even when you were protecting her, you couldn’t.

You weren’t sure when the tears soothed you to sleep, but you woke up disoriented and in the dark, as the sun had gone down. As you groggily sat up, you heard a knock at the door, and realized that must have been what woke you up. Slowly, you scooted off the bed and shuffled your feet to the door.

You weren’t awake enough to deal with who greeted you on the other side.

“Bethany’s forcing us to eat dinner together,” Alexander stated blandly as soon as you opened the door. You paused for a moment, allowing your brain to catch up with the events happening, and then shut the door. You began breathing heavily, and after a few moments, you opened the door again.

A very indignant Alexander stood before you. “Seriously? We’ve regressed that much?” he asked angrily.

In your still groggy state, you couldn’t stop your next words from emitting your mouth. “Regressed from what, Alexander?” you questioned, looking at him pointedly. To your surprise, his eyes avoided yours. After a beat of silence, you mumbled, “That’s what I thought.”

The two of you stood in awkward silence. You could feel his thoughts radiating off on you. It’s not like you were subtle about your feelings. And he had always technically been with Bethany. Who falls for their younger sister’s potential Choice?

Pretentious bitches, that’s who.

You shook your head and sighed loudly. Then your eyes met Alexander’s. “I’m only attending dinner with you because I already pissed Bethany off once today,” you clarified as you pushed past Alexander into the hallway.

Your eyes met his again, and he was smirking. “I know. I heard all about it,” he commented jokingly. But you glared back at him, which wiped the smirk off his face.

You wished you could have laughed. You wished you could have playfully commented back. You wish you could have been the girl who got to do that with Alexander. But you weren’t. Bethany was. Three months ago you had told yourself it would only take a month to move on; you still couldn’t trust yourself to smile at his jokes.

Both of you remained silent and tense for the rest of the walk to the kitchen.

Bethany must have told the cooks to expect you, as two settings were already prepared. It was only now you were able to check the clock and realize how long you had actually slept. Family dinner had happened two hours ago.

For the most part, the two of you ate in silence. You tried not to allow your memories float back to when you would eat your bread together on the floor of your cell, but eventually, you couldn’t stop the memories. You stopped eating and more rearranged the food on your plate with your fork.

Bethany’s words from this afternoon rang in your head. All she wanted was for you to speak to Alexander. You could do that. You managed to do it when you hated him, forgetting the fact that most of your conversations with Alexander back then usually ended up in fighting.

“So what do you think of living here?” you asked quietly. He looked up at you, startled you were engaging in conversation. Your eyes avoided his by staring intently at the chicken that was now shredded on your plate.

“I think it’s cruel I have to be with Bethany, but live down the hall from you, when it’s you I have feelings for,” the imaginary Alexander inside your head responded. You laughed silently to yourself as the real Alexander finally came to terms with the fact you asked him a question.

“It’s fine,” he stated simply. You peeked your eyes up at him curiously to find him studying you intently. It took all your effort to keep your cheeks from burning.

“Just fine?” you asked, struggling to hold on to the conversation.

Alexander sighed, and looked at you. “Y/N, we were friends once, right?” he asked. He sounded tired. Like he actually wasn’t sure whether or not you had been friends or not and had spent many hours pondering it. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Sure,” you finally answered quietly.

“Then can you pretend I’m your friend again for the next five minutes?” he demanded.

You stared at him open mouthed. You wanted to say no and walk out because you didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. Mostly because you didn’t know what he was going to say. “Sure,” you found yourself strangling out, forcing your panic down.

Alexander took a deep breath. “I’ve been here for three months, and here’s what I’ve learned: you’re a sell out,” he said steadily. “I understand you want to keep yourself safe in this household, but the way you readily agree with your mother on everything is honestly horrifying.”

Your skin prickled at his words and you gritted your teeth. “That’s what a friend would say to me?” you asked defensively. “My mother had me kidnapped and almost killed.”

“You mother has people kidnapped and killed everyday,” Alexander deadpanned.

You slammed your hands on the table, feeling a range of emotions from helplessness to fury. “Exactly! And you want me to, what? Backtalk her?” you asked incredulously.

“I want you to speak up for yourself and the others your mother is persecuting,” Alexander shot back frustrated. “Why don’t you speak up?”

“Because me speaking up won’t stop her, Alexander!” you exclaimed, becoming more angry. “That’s not how this works.”

“So just because you think it won’t change anything, you’re better off not doing anything at all?” Alexander asked, challenging you. Your entire body flared at the insinuation.

“That’s not what I said,” you growled.

Alexander gave you a pointed look. “Okay, then name one thing you’ve done to stop your mother if speaking up won’t work,” he demanded. You clenched your jaw shut and avoided eye contact. Alexander stood from his chair. “How do you sleep at night?” he asked after a couple beats of silence. He almost sounded like he was disappointed, like he had had hope in you.

“I don’t,” you mumbled quietly. You looked up at him defeated, and your eyes met. Alexander took you in for a long moment, and then silently turned and left the room.

You took a shuddering breath. Maybe it wasn’t possible to have a conversation with Alexander without fighting. And maybe that was for the better.

Alexander refused to speak to you for the next three days to Bethany’s dismay. She kept trying to get out of you what happened at the dinner, but you also refused to talk about it, which frustrated Bethany to no end. But to your surprise, she let it go. Apparently she found you arguing with Alexander better than you avoiding him out of spite.

On the first of the month, the household was in a bustle as it usually was on the day of the monthly sector meeting. As your household was the head of your sector, each surrounding Lady and their advisors met and spent the night in the spare rooms the first of every month. The first Ladies were set to arrive at any time, and you were putting the last minute touches on the agenda for the day, glad your mother was avoiding you more than usual the past three months.

“Y/N! Did you hear?” Bethany called out from down the hall as you were walking the agenda to the meeting room. You looked up dryly to greet her and then inquired what she was talking about.

“Alexander asked if he could sit in on the meeting as one of mother’s advisors, and she approved!” she stated proudly. Your stomach flipped.

“He can’t be in there,” you desperately tried to reason with Bethany. Her face fell. But you didn’t have time to worry about her thoughts or her pride. You knew exactly what Alexander would try to do in the meeting.

To your surprise, Bethany didn’t wait for your side of the argument and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, he’s going to be and you better get over it,” she stated angrily, and then stalked away. You stood there stunned as your skin became clammy.

You were a mess of nerves for the next hours. Before the meeting began, you tried to pull Alexander aside, but he swerved around Lady Trellaine to avoid you. And so now you had to wait.

You couldn’t concentrate throughout the meeting. Alexander was seated directly next to you, but thankfully Philip was directly across, as usual. It was quite lucky Philip was one of Lady Schuyler’s most trusted advisors. He always made these meetings more bearable. Especially today.

You noticed all the eyes at the table were turned to you, and you turned and realized your mother had said your name. This was it. This was the only part of the meeting your mother allowed you to introduce: the last part of the program. You stood shaking and took a deep breath.

“As usual, there have been a number of magic sightings across our sector in the past month. We have managed to capture six of our mage perpetrators: twin brothers by the name of Daviss, a lady by the name Redine, and a family of three by the name Leroy. Even their six year old daughter has been found tainted by the dark art.” The words came up slowly and calculated, just as you had practiced over and over again. When you were finished introducing, you quickly sat down before you could become choked up.

As you sat down, Alexander’s eyes burned into you incredulously, as if he wasn’t sure if he quite believed you said what you said. But you knew the worst was still to come. Your mother stood up and you stiffened and stared straight ahead.

“These monsters need to be cleansed,” your mother began. You clenched your jaw, even though you should already be immune to this speech. “If the Great Spirit were with them, they would gladly give up their lives for the good of the rest of us. We must help them find this peace. They shall hang tomorrow morning, and we will pray they find peace and purity in their next life.” Everyone at the table besides you, Philip and Alexander nodded solemnly in agreement. Your thoughts wandered to the six year old girl, and you steeled yourself against your tears.

“Lady Aremine,” Alexander’s voice rang out in an almost growl beside you. You stiffened and begged for Alexander not to do what he was about to do. Without asking it to, your hand instinctively and inconspicuously reached to your side and clenched Alexander’s hand in an attempt to hold him back. But he merely removed his hand from yours and stood up calmly. “Don’t you think this isn’t the right treatment for these people? This punishment does not fit the crime.”

Your eyes searched Philip’s desperately, but he merely stared at Alexander stunned. Nobody in the room was breathing. The tension was visible on everyone’s face. Every muscle in your body screamed for you to run. Get out.

But you stayed stoic in your seat.

“Alexander,” you mother began patiently, “such interesting foresight.” The words came out like venom. “What would you have me do instead?”

It was a trap. You knew it was a trap. But if you warned Alexander, your mother would think you were a part of this. She would think you put him up to this. And so you stayed silent.

“Well, for starters, you could not hang these people,” Alexander demanded angrily. Your eyes flicked to Philip’s with fear, and he met yours.

Your mother smiled her cruel smile. “Alright then,” she said pleasantly. “Fahlar?” The man who oversaw all the executions in your sector looked up at your mother with a mockingly happy face. “Cancel the hangings tomorrow.” Fahlar nodded and you felt Alexander relax beside you. “Instead, we’re going to do something that ‘fits the crime’, as my future son-in-law has suggested.” Her eyes met Fahlar, as if they both shared a joke and knew the punchline coming next. “Burn them. In their cells. Tonight.”

And with that, your mother picked up her papers and executively left the room.

Your entire body fell slack, and you sat trying not to concentrate on the tears. Alexander sat down defeated and in disbelief beside you. As the rest of the Ladies and advisors left the room, he numbly stood up with them and left a little slower. Philip was already out the door with Lady Schuyler. And so you were alone.

And then you were angry.

You stood and marched to the door Alexander was exiting. The rest of the meeting goers were too far ahead for what you were about to do to cause a scene.

“I told you to leave it alone!” you shouted at him, halfway across the room. He froze in the doorway. “I told you!” Now the tears were beginning to stain your face as you came upon him.

Slowly he turned around and looked at you regretfully. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you screamed again. You were becoming hysterical, but you allowed it for the moment. You hands started shoving him. “I told you not to challenge her! I told you it doesn’t work!” By now your hands were constantly hitting his chest with as much force as you could put into them. He silently took all the blows with flinches and no protest. “They’ll burn because of you!” And you could see it in his eyes. You had broken him. But you weren’t done taking your aggression out on him.

Suddenly two arms wrapped around you and forcibly removed you from Alexander, kicking and screaming. The hands shoved you against and pinned you to a wall.

“He was just trying to help, Y/N,” Philip said in a low voice to you. But you still struggled against his grip.

“It was reckless!” you cried out, the tears still streaming. “I told him to leave it alone.” By now, you were more tears than fury, so Philip let go of your shoulders and wrapped you in a tight hug instead.

Eventually, Philip pulled back and looked at you intently. “Alexander knows of your powers, right?” he asked carefully. You hesitated but nodded slowly. Philip formed his lips into a tight line. “I think he did it for you,” Philip admitted softly. “He looked as if you presenting was his final breaking point. Honestly, I’ve wished several times to have as much courage as that. Maybe he was stupid. Or maybe he cares about you. But Y/N, don’t persecute him for this. Go easier on the guy.”

You tried not to dwell too much on Philip’s words. “But, those people. They’ll-”

Philip shook his head and shushed you. “He didn’t change anything but move the plan up.” You nodded numbly. “It’s late, Y/N,” Philip comforted. “Get some sleep.”

You nodded again, and began walking back to your room. When you looked up, you half expected Alexander to still be standing there, but to your relief, he must have escaped when Philip pulled you off of him.

The next day you ran across Alexander in the library. Which shouldn’t have necessarily surprised you as you and Alexander were the only two in the household to ever use the library. But what did surprise you was he wasn’t reading.

Instead his hands floated across the keys of the piano creating a soothing melody.

You stopped from the side and studied him carefully. Telling from the bags under his eyes, he didn’t sleep last night. Slowly you took in his features one by one. The long, disheveled hair that blew across his face outside at his stand. The lips that quirked into an amused smile whenever anyone does anything mildly funny. The long soft fingers that once held yours, but now expertly found their path on the ebony keys. And those beautiful eyes. The ones that comforted you, and aggravated you, and made you feel an undeniable calm.

“Maybe he cares about you.”

Philip’s words rang in your head, and you tried to push them out. Without realizing it, however, you sighed out loud, startling Alexander.

As soon as he realized it was you, he began sputtering, “Listen, Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn’t-”

You shook your head and cut him off. “Alexander, it’s okay. You didn’t change anything. She’s just trying to get in your head.”

He didn’t accept this response. “That doesn’t make it okay. And I have some fault in it. And I just- I don’t want you to deal with this. It’s awful,” he finished lamely. You were both silent for a moment, before he burst out again. “And those people!” This time tears began building in his eyes, but you quickly went to comfort him, joining him on the bench.

“Hey, it’s- it’s okay. They, um,” you paused, unsure if you wanted to continue what you were saying. But looking into Alexander’s desperate eyes, you felt compelled. “You can’t repeat any of this to anyone. But… there were no bodies found in the ruin of the cell. We think they manage to escape before they were burned. But as far as my mother knows, they’re dead. So we need to keep it that way,” you disclosed, giving Alexander a pointed look. His eyes widened at the information, and soon you found yourself wrapped in a hug. Your body was a mess of wanting to pull away and wanting to stay forever.

Eventually however, Alexander pulled away, still crying. He laughed in relief, and you gave a small smile. But then he soon became solemn again.

“Y/N, I miss having you as a friend,” he said quietly. You felt a slight heat rise to your face as you tried to keep a straight expression.

You looked up at him and gave a strained smile. “Bethany is lucky to have Chosen you,” you commented. But then realizing what you said, you quickly averted your eyes from his. Alexander merely smiled softly.

“I’m the one who should feel lucky,” he responded softly. This time you looked up at him, and he had a soft glow in his eye.

“You really love her, don’t you?” you asked carefully.

His eyes met yours in surprise before he gave another smile. “I promised I would, didn’t I?” he asked. His eyes searched yours, but you weren’t sure for what, so you merely nodded. “And what about you?” he asked quietly. “Any word on John?”

You gritted your teeth and forced another smile up at Alexander. This time however, a tear escaped your eye. “Did you know that you only get a letter from someone at war when they die? It’s not supposed to be like that, but it doesn’t take long to figure out the pattern,” you explained mumbling. Alexander looked as if he was going to say something, but you cut him off. “I didn’t get out of bed for two days when I got a letter from John,” you admitted, avoiding eye contact.

Alexander was silent for a long moment.

“How long ago?” he asked solemnly.

You shrugged your shoulders. “About two years ago,” you confessed. You felt Alexander stiffen beside you. And you looked up with tears in your eyes. “Bethany was so worried about me, but I couldn’t tell her. She had grown to love John as a brother, and she would refuse to believe Mother hadn’t told us he had died. I had to protect her. So I didn’t tell anyone,” you continued. Then you gave Alexander a long look. “Bethany is my entire life. And I know she’s angry at me most of the time, but that’s because I’m protecting her. Can you do that? Can you hide things from her to protect her?”

Alexander considered your words carefully and once again was searching your expression for something you couldn’t pin. Finally, he swallowed thickly, averted his eyes from yours, and responded.