*-*-*

[20:59] Sam:

Did you unblock me yet???

[21:00] Deanie:

i can already tell im gonna fucking regret it, arent i

[21:00] Sam:

OH GOOD because Deanieee the nicest thing just happened ヾ('▽｀*)ﾉ☆

I watched the sunset with Paige!!! And it was just so wonderful aaaaaaa

Dean, she's so pretty

[Notice: this user has blocked you.]

[21:02] Sam:

Y U NO LOVE ME?!

[!] Message not delivered.

***

*Sam's P.O.V.*

Sam slides into the booth already expecting that he's going to spend the next however-many minutes wishing he could be anywhere but here. Because truly, the things that courtesy demands of him can be outrageous. He had to turn down an offer to go to the beach with Charlie, Kevin, Dean, and Paige (apparently something that they've decided is going to be a monthly tradition) again, in favor of... this, purely because he's the only Crown Prince in the lot of them, and as such, he has to be more available, blah blah blah.

Lord Alexei Ivanovich appears not more than a minute or two later with a smile that does not reach his eyes. "Good afternoon, Prince Winchester," he greets, inclining his head. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

"Not too long, no," Sam answers, smiling back with all the friendliness of a frozen wasteland. "Thank you for the invitation. Today does seem like a nice day to have some iced coffee."

Lie. Today seems like a nice day to go to the beach. They even took Georgia! Sam never thought he'd be envious of his own dog, but lately, he's started actually enjoying life instead of feeling like he's just going through the motions all the time, and it's mostly because of Paige if he's completely honest. He hadn't felt like he cared enough about anything to spend time with his cousin and other friends until Paige came and pulled them all together again.

...Holy shit does he not want to be here.

But Sam is nothing if not wonderful at hiding his true thoughts, so he just glances out the café window at the blue sky and pretends he isn't cursing the rules of etiquette for forcing him to go out for coffee with Ivanovich of all people. Honestly.

However, he will say that at least they're in a fairly private place, so he doesn't have to worry so much about the paparazzi as when he drags poor Paige all over town on their little expeditions. This is a café close to the palace, one that capitalizes on the nobility's specific need for a place to go to be still secluded but on more neutral ground than the Winchesters' palace itself. Security is fairly good, and it's been around for years.

They start off with small talk, of course.

"The weather has been lovely this week," Lord Ivanovich agrees. "I understand the urge to take time away from court to enjoy it."

"As do I," Sam says, laughing a completely false laugh. It comes more from his throat than his chest, like when he laughs at Deanie and Paige's banter. "How have your grand-nieces been? The last I heard, they were excited about their birthday party. How did it go?"

"Oh, it went splendidly," Ivanovich says, and for the first time, his smile actually looks ... genuine. The man has his faults (and oh, does he have them), but at least he loves his family. "They are quite thrilled to have entered the world of double-digit ages."

"Charming," Sam hums. "Nobody tell them how dull taxes are."

It's a dig at the recent pushes for tax reform and huge cuts across the board, which Sam has been opposing on behalf of the queen and of which Ivanovich is a proponent. Most supporters of the cuts think that the crown has been focusing too much on external affairs and rapid globalization—a somewhat valid concern, given the reign of Sam's grandfather—and want to stop providing their monetary support, but it's a tricky balance. When she took the throne, Queen Mary rolled back some but not all of her father's radical reform programs as an attempt to compromise her support for his ideas with her awareness that he bred far too much resentment in the old nobility.

The cold, detached look returns to Lord Ivanovich's face. "I don't find taxes so dull, Your Highness," he comments. "I think there are plenty of interesting, nuanced things to be said, in a conversation about them."

"Are there?" Sam asks, leaning his chin on one hand and smiling coolly. "Interesting. Last time we talked, your mind seemed awfully made-up on the topic. How is there nuance if you refuse to consider both sides? Or have you called me here to tell me you would like to switch your allegiances to the interests of the crown and state after all?"

"Straight to the point today, Your Highness?" Ivanovich raises an eyebrow. "It's unlike you to be so direct."

"Perhaps I am giving in to that urge you mentioned," Sam shrugs indolently, then takes a sip of his iced coffee. "Or perhaps it's my roundabout way of telling you something. And since you seem to want that something spelt out, perhaps it's my roundabout way of indicating that we have had this very same conversation enough times that I am starting to get tired of it."

Ivanovich sips his own coffee, giving Sam a moment to consider him. The man is more than old enough to be his father—a few years older than his mother, to be specific—meaning he grew up and started his political career under the reign of Sam's grandfather, King Samuel Winchester I, one of the most controversial figures of recent Ruritanian history.

Sam only has a few memories of his grandfather himself—he passed away when Sam was seven—but he knows more than enough about his policy decisions. King Samuel was interested in radical reform, feeling that Ruritania's isolationist status had forced the country into stagnation in the sciences and arts while Vespuccia, Pandora, and Zhōnghuá, to name a few, pulled ahead. Seeing this, he tried to force several decrees and programs to catch up but was ultimately too idealistic in his vision. In particular, several sects of the nobility were greatly displeased, most notably those tied to the military, which was receiving several budget cuts under Samuel's effort to rejuvenate the incentivization of education in Ruritania. House Ivanovich is one of those.

"Well, Your Highness," Ivanovich says evenly, "I have things to say, but it appears that you lack the ears to hear them, so until then, we are at a bit of an impasse. I can do nothing but repeat myself and hope that you hear me. I am deeply concerned for the future of our country, and if having the same conversation with you, the heir to its throne and representative of that future, several times is the only way I can do something about it, then so be it." A pause. "Unless you would rather I take more drastic action," he adds with a snort, a flat attempt at humour that leaves Sam hiding a frown.

"Alright," Sam says with a shake of his head. "I am well aware that you have little respect for my mother and even less for me, Lord Ivanovich, but surely even you know better than to insinuate a deficiency on my part. It is not a 'lack of ears', as you so politely put it, that keeps me from agreeing with you. Is it so hard for you to believe that perhaps there are multiple viewpoints on what is good for Ruritania?"

"And as ever," Ivanovich returns, "you ignore the bulk of the point to focus on the only part that could be conceived as an insult. Perhaps this is why we must keep having this conversation, Your Highness."

Sam takes another long sip of his coffee, weighing words in his mind. His talks with Ivanovich always go like this—trading barbs, acting like immature brats instead of reasonably grown men, and ultimately achieving nothing other than convincing him that Ivanovich is irritatingly persistent.

"You and I both know that in all affairs of state, I represent the Crown," he sighs. "You and I both know that I cannot let an insult to the Crown slide, no matter how small. Shall we get to the point? You're going to offer me something and I'm going to say I'm afraid I have to disagree, and then we'll both go our separate merry ways."

Lord Ivanovich looks at him with plain disapproval. "Your impatience hints at immaturity, Your Highness," he says with thinly veiled distaste.

"Now I almost think you're trying to get me on the defensive," Sam drawls. "I barely finished explaining again why I cannot ignore an insult to discuss the meat of the matter, and here you go insulting me again. Persistence is a trait to be admired, but this... I can think of other words to describe it, and they are markedly less admirable."

Lord Ivanovich looks so obviously irritated like he's itching to say something else that's a pointed insult because he just cannot stand Sam's smug self-assuredness, but he can't without walking into Sam's neatly made trap of words, and that knowledge fills Sam with even more smugness. He won't let himself get arrogant, but this is pretty funny.

"Very well," Ivanovich says after a moment. "I'm here to discuss a compromise about the tax reforms."

Finally.

"You have my attention," Sam hums, leaning forward slightly. "Do go on."

"I will cede my opposition to the tax cuts completely," Ivanovich says, and Sam has to hide his flash of surprise, "on the condition that you renegotiate the terms of the alliance with Pandora to exclude the mutual defence pact and the trade licenses."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "You want me to essentially gut the alliance in all but name in return for your public support of higher taxation on the nobility?" he repeats, not entirely sure he heard right. Is the man serious? He ought to know Sam will already say no to that.

"In essence, yes," Ivanovich says. He frowns as if he already knows Sam is about to turn him down. "Ruritania doesn't need the alliance, but the crown needs that tax revenue. Don't let your infatuation with Mains impede your decision-making skills, Your Highness. It could be your downfall."

His infatuation with—

"My support for the alliance has nothing to do with Princess Mains," Sam says coolly. He finishes off the rest of his coffee and stands, signalling quite clearly that he is done here. "Thank you ever so much for this fascinating talk, Lord Ivanovich. I'll be sure to think about it."

More lies. He just raises a hand in farewell and strolls away, placing the empty mug in the bin for used dishes on his way out, and leaves the café in favour for a walk in the sunlight.

*-*-*

[7:39] reminder that you're gay:

Charlie! <3 Mikey and I are leaving the skyport now, I'm so excited! I can't wait to see you!

[7:40] Charlie:

!!!

I can't wait to see you, too! It's been way too long!

Have a good flight! <3

***

*Charlie's P.O.V.*

Charlie is practically bouncing on her feet all day. Today, today, today! Crown Prince Michael (bleh) and Princess Joanna (!!!) will be arriving today and she absolutely cannot wait. Jo is her long-standing close friend of many years and is also the object of months' worth of pining. It's been a while since they last saw each other, which was on the Bradbury family's annual winter vacation to Víteliú, which happened to be the time that Charlie realized she was kind of head-over-heels for her friend.

Fun times!

"You look excited," Paige observes, smiling softly. Charlie laughs, grabs her hands, and hauls her into an impromptu spin, too excited to keep sitting still in the courtyard.

"I am!" she giggles. "I haven't seen Jo in ages, you know!"

Paige laughs and easily spins with her, the excellent dancer that she is. "Are the two of you close, then?"

Charlie nods enthusiastically. "We met years ago, at one of these diplomatic functions in Víteliú. We've been friends for a long time!" She grins. "Also, she's really cute, and I'm really gay for her, and there's that, too."

Paige's eyes widen, and then she smiles brightly, eyes shining behind her glasses. "Oh, that's wonderful! Are you two together, or...?"

"Not yet," Charlie says. She lets go of Paige's hands and plops down in the grass, then flops over onto her back with a dreamy sigh. "But I'm planning to ask her formal permission to court her soon. Possibly while she's here this week? I don't know yet. I might wait until winter because my family always takes a trip to Víteliú in December anyway, so I'll definitely be seeing her then, too..."

"Hmm," Paige says. She folds her legs and sits down much more gracefully than she did, and Charlie laughs at that. "Do you think she'll say yes when you ask?"

"I'm like... ninety-nine per cent sure," Charlie says honestly. She's pretty sure their conversations have veered into definite "flirting" territory before... many, many times. She's even drunk-texted Jo that "koooooooo ur so hot omf" and "*jo *omg hahahs", and Joanna replied with something along the lines of "You're very nice to look at yourself!", which had sent drunk Charlie into a fit of excited giggles. The one per cent of doubt merely comes from the fact that nothing in life is ever certain, (except for death, or whatever).

"Then why put it off?" Paige asks. She picks two clovers from the patch growing nearby and starts fiddling with the stems, and Charlie watches with idle curiosity as she ties the stems together and picks a third flower, adding it to the previous two.

"I dunno," she shrugs. "I guess as much as I like her, I'm a little afraid to say something to mess up our current relationship? Like, logically I know I won't, but ... nerves, you know?"

"Yeah," Paige says sympathetically. "I know exactly what you mean."

They sit quietly for a moment, Paige continuing her project with the clovers as Charlie closes her eyes and bathes in the sunshine, daydreaming about the banquet and ball tonight. Jo and Michael should have actually already arrived, but they won't be seeing visitors for a little while, considering that they'll want to settle in and rest after all the travel; Charlie is just waiting for a text from Jo that says 'I'm here, come see me'.

A familiar boof interrupts her reverie, and she opens her eyes just in time to see Georgia come trotting across the courtyard toward them. Funny, that she isn't with Sam. Then again, Georgia sometimes gets bored while Sam is stuck in meetings, which Charlie is pretty sure he is right now and is let outside to run wild in the courtyards. Paige's face lights up at the sight of the dog, and she holds out her arms and lets Georgia all but knock her over, laughing.

"Good girl!" she croons, enthusiastically rubbing Georgia's head and sides as Georgia noses at her face. "Good girl, Georgia, oh yes! Yes, you are!"

Charlie watches her coo over the dog in a mixture of Ruritanian and Pandorian, her delight evident in her face, and thinks wryly to herself that Sam would probably die if he saw this, a combination of his crush and his dog being adorable.

Well, having had that thought, as a faithful, responsible, good friend, there's only one thing she can do. She quickly gets her phone out, before Paige gets over the fact that Georgia is here, and records a short video, just a few seconds long, making sure to get Paige's laughter and Georgia's wagging tail as well as the flowers and sunshine all in her shot. What can she say? It's an art. An art that Sam is sure to appreciate, she thinks, amused, as she presses send.

Sam texts back with alarming alacrity, given that she's pretty sure he's supposed to be busy right now.

[11:04] ice ice baby:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!♥♥♥!!!!!!!!!!!!!♥!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!♥♥♥♥♥♥♥!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!♥!!!♥♥!!!!!!♥!♥♥!!!!!!♥!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!♥♥♥♥!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Charlie laughs to herself and sets her phone aside, then reaches out to pet Georgia too. Paige manages to sit up when she diverts Georgia's attention, and soon enough the dog calms down, lying in the grass with her back pressed against Paige's leg.

"Wow," Charlie laughs. "She really likes you, huh?"

"I probably just give her too many snacks," Paige admits, looking down fondly. She runs her hands through Georgia's long, golden fur and smiles, then goes back to her clover chain.

"What are you making?" Charlie asks curiously.

"Oh, it's just a flower crown," Paige says with a dismissive shrug. "I like to make them when I just want something to do with my hands, that's all. It's nothing fancy."

"Can you teach me?" Charlie asks, scooting closer. "It's pretty! I've never made one myself before, but I've always liked the way they look."

"Oh!" Paige blinks. "Um, sure, of course!" She sets the chain in her hands down in her lap, plucks two more clovers (she plucks from the bottom, just above the soil, Charlie notes) and leans forward to demonstrate. "You see, you just make a knot on one of them, like this. And you put it over the other stem, as close to the flower as you can get it, and pull it as tight as you can without breaking it. That part is a little hard, you have to be careful! And then you just break the original stem off and make a knot on the next one, and you put a new flower in there, and you keep going like that until it's as long as you like."

She holds the three chained flowers out to her, and Charlie takes them carefully. "Okay... well, it sounds easy, but we'll see in practice," she says, grinning. She's always loved a challenge, anyway, and this sounds like a great way to pass the time until she gets that text from Jo!

Paige laughs. "Let me know if you need help!"

They lapse into another comfortable silence, sitting in the grass and weaving flowers together. Or—well—in Charlie's case, trying to weave flowers together. It's harder than it looks; Paige has a steady chain, thick and solid, but her own attempt is flimsy and the flowers are strung too far apart, and she's pretty sure if she picks it up, it'll fall apart.

After a few minutes, her flower crown looks woefully delicate. Charlie blows out a breath, and Paige looks up questioningly.

"What am I doing wrong?" she asks, gesturing to the mess in her lap.

Paige takes one look and smiles. "You need to tie the knots closer to the base of the flowers themselves," she says, turning her almost-completed flower crown over to show her how she's tied each flower so close to the next. "You're sort of tying the stems around, um, the stems, too far down. If you get it closer to the flowers, it'll feel more secure."

"Hm," Charlie says, and with newfound determination, reaches to try again.

By the time she manages to tie enough flowers together to call it a decent-looking second attempt in progress, Paige has finished her flower crown. She looks at it, then down at snoozing Georgia at her side, and carefully places it on the dog's head. Georgia's ear twitches, but she doesn't move otherwise, and Paige claps her hands, delighted.

"Look!" she beams. "She's so cute!"

"Wow," Charlie teases. "Prince Sam really is rubbing off on you, huh?"

Paige pauses, adjusts her glasses, and looks directly at her with the most serious expression she's seen on her to date. "I would love Georgia even if I had never met Sam in my life," she says, firm and resolute. Then she turns away to rub Georgia's belly.

Charlie laughs, glances at her phone to ascertain that there has not, in fact, been a text that she somehow missed, and looks back down at her flower crown. The second attempt in progress already looks worlds better than the first did, and who knows? Maybe if it looks halfway decent when she finishes it, she could give it to Joanna. As a welcome present, of course. A welcome present, and also an ambiguously gay overture of 'good lord you're pretty and here are some flowers just for you.'

A few more minutes pass. Paige takes a few pictures of Georgia, crooning to her in Pandorian again, and then settles back down to text someone—probably her friend Bela, from what Charlie has heard from her—with a small smile firmly in place on her face.

"What do you say to her?" Charlie asks, pulling another stem through a knot and tugging gently. "When you speak in Pandorian, I mean. I learned some in school, but I'm not really fluent and you talk fast."

Paige laughs self-consciously. "That, and I was using a dialect common to my home area," she says. "But I didn't really say anything, it's the same as I would say in Ruritanian. She's a good girl, she's wonderful and very cute and I love her. It's just that she won't understand the words either way, so I might as well say them in Pandorian, you know? I don't get the chance to speak it that often with anyone other than Georgia."

Charlie nods, understanding. "That makes sense," she says more softly. "If... you'd like, I could try to speak it with you? I'll probably really mess up on the pronunciations, though, I have to warn you ahead of time. Don't make fun of me!"

Paige looks at her, slight surprise in her eyes. "You... wouldn't mind?"

"No," Charlie says in Pandorian, or attempts to because that's the way she remembers learning to say "no" in lessons, but in front of a native speaker, all bets are off and she can't help but feel self-conscious.

"Well, in that case, I can help you with the pronunciations," Paige offers, this time using precise and formal speech, which she greatly appreciates. "Thank you for offering, Lady Charlie."

They manage some conversation after that, though they spend a fair amount of time quietly sitting in each other's company, when suddenly Georgia perks up, her head whipping around toward the palace. Following her gaze, Charlie sees Sam striding toward them, smiling cheerfully.

"Paige! Charlie! Georgia, my dear!" he calls, dropping to his knees in the grass on Georgia's other side. Georgia is on her feet again, tail wagging as she noses at Sam's face and Sam laughs exuberantly, crooning even more ridiculously than Paige was a few minutes ago.

"Hi, Sam," Paige says, though she's still looking at Georgia. "How was the meeting?"

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Boring," he says, "and full of far fewer people I'd like to be stuck with. Especially when this one—" he boops Georgia's nose with a fingertip, and laughs again when it gets licked for his trouble "—abandoned me halfway through. Though I can't blame her for coming out here to lie in the grass with you, given that if I had had the choice, I would certainly have done the same!"

Charlie raises an eyebrow. If that isn't blatant flirting, she doesn't know what is.

"Georgia has been having a delightful time," she says. "Paige made her a flower crown!"

"So I see!" Sam says. He adjusts it so that it isn't precariously hanging onto Georgia's head by one of her ears, settling it properly in the middle again, and sighs. "How come Georgia gets a crown and I don't?"

"You weren't here," Paige blinks as if it's obvious. Which it is, and Sam is just ... being Sam, trying to get a rise out of everyone just to see if he can, and also flirting rather unsubtly with Paige. "Why would I have made one if you weren't here?"

It's interesting, Charlie thinks, looking at the two of them. There's a moment that she can pinpoint, a single day when their relationship changed—it was the snow day, last month, the day Paige had that big panic attack and froze herself half to death. They've been closer since then, noticeably, but they've both mellowed a bit in general, too. Paige seems more comfortable, and Sam smiles more genuinely these days.

"Why, you would make it for your poor fiancé, who probably perished of boredom while listening to stuffy nobles discuss the depths of details as to why they shouldn't be taxed," Sam sighs. "A flower crown in his memory, as he probably didn't make it through."

Paige smiles at that. "But you did make it," she points out, leaning over to pluck two more clovers from the thinning patch. She starts twining them together with the ease of practice again. "Besides, your crown will be much nicer if they're still fresh, not wilted."

"You don't actually have to make me one," Sam says, at least having the shame to look just a tad guilty. "I was joking, Paige."

Before Paige can answer, Georgia chooses the perfect moment to stand up, circle around, and then flop back down with her head in Paige's lap. Paige looks utterly charmed by this development, abandoning the flowers in her hands to scratch behind Georgia's ears.

Sam disguises his grin behind a sigh just as Charlie's phone goes off, and she scrambles to unlock it. "She's only marrying me for my dog, isn't she?" he asks, looking at her.

[11:26] reminder that you're gay:

Charlieee!!!!!!! :D We're here and I just finished unpacking for the week!!!!

Do you want to go out? Or stay in, I don't know!

[11:27] Charlie:

!!!!!!!

We can do either, it's up to you!!!!! I'm on my way to your room now :D

"She definitely is," Charlie agrees. She hops to her feet, grinning, and dusts the grass from her skirt, giving herself a last once-over to make sure she looks passable and then scoops up her own flower crown. "Sorry, guys, I gotta run! Enjoy your flowers."

"Enjoy your not-date!" Sam sings.

"Oh, I will!" She waves, twirls about gleefully, and takes off at a quick walk that's just shy of breaking into a run. She has somewhere to be, and it's not proper to keep a princess waiting.

***

*Paige's P.O.V.*

Paige's first meeting with Crown Prince Michael Harvelle of Víteliú is not, in fact, at the welcome ball scheduled for the evening of the Harvelle twins' arrival like she thought it would be, but instead is during an innocuous walk down a hallway on her way to meet Sam to walk Georgia.

She's just spotted Sam waiting past the junction of two corridors, Georgia at his feet, and is about to wave in greeting when the slow prickling feeling of unease—not her own, but vaguely directed at her by someone nearby—stops her in her tracks.

"Princess Mains!" an unfamiliar voice calls sharply, and Paige wheels around, already searching for the source, which turns out to be a fairly tall man who is approaching her at a fairly rapid pace. Paige wonders if she should be alarmed.

"Crown Prince Harvelle," she greets, inclining her head (deeply, because a visiting Crown Prince technically outranks her) in greeting. "I did not expect to meet you until tonight. How was your trip?"

"It was fine," Prince Harvelle says with a wave of his hand. He's a little too close for Paige's liking, making her feel almost cornered despite the lack of corners in the hallway. "I actually wanted to talk to you about tonight, however."

Paige blinks. "Of course," she says. "What about tonight?"

"Don't try anything with my sister," Prince Harvelle warns, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he glares at Paige. Is he serious? There isn't even a guarantee Paige will end up doing anything more than a customary dance out of courtesy with Princess Jo tonight—it's completely possible they'll just smile, talk once, and let the night slip by with no further interactions. The courts are certainly big enough that that wouldn't be surprising. Also, she's not gay. Why does everyone assume that?

And besides, perhaps more importantly...

"I'm engaged," Paige says incredulously. Yes, it is an arranged engagement. No, that doesn't mean she's somehow allowed to entertain thoughts of infidelity. Perhaps that's more common out here in the West, but in Pandora, it's strictly frowned upon to act outside a marriage, whether there are true feelings behind it or not.

"All the same," says Crown Prince Harvelle. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. And on Prince Winchester."

'I'm pretty sure we aren't the ones you have to worry about making a move on your sister,' Paige doesn't tell him, because friends don't betray each others' confidence. Maybe this ridiculous man is part of why Charlie is hesitant to formally ask Princess Harvelle's permission to court her.

"Whatever makes you feel most comfortable, Your Highness," Paige says instead, polite and neutral, and ducks toward the hallway where she saw Sam before Harvelle can say anything else. Sam pops up at her side not a minute later, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Did he just give you the shovel talk about Princess Jo?" he asks knowingly as Paige pets Georgia in greeting.

"How many times have you heard it?" Paige returns, shaking her head in disbelief. "Honestly. I'm not a lesbian."

"To be perfectly frank with you, I stopped keeping count," Sam says cheerfully. "At this point, I'm mostly convinced that it's just his way of saying hello."

Paige just shakes her head again as they start to walk down the corridor. "Wow."

"Yeah," Sam laughs. "He's a character. I hope he doesn't step on your feet tonight."

Paige sighs. She's the one who has to dance the opening dance at the welcome ball with Prince Michael—it'll be parallel, two couples, each composed of a Crown Prince with a Second Princess. But she would much rather dance with Princess Jo, after spending the morning listening to Charlie excitedly talk about all the wonderful things about her. Crown Prince Michael is, as Sam put it, a... a character.

"I'd like to think I know how to dance well enough to avoid his feet," she answers wryly, "but you never know. He could surprise me."

"He could," Sam agrees. "I'm not sure that that's the kind of surprise you'd like, though."

Paige offers him a sardonic look. "I'm pretty sure it's not."

"I'll have to make sure I find you good surprises, instead of bad ones, then," Sam says. "I would much rather make you smile!" He adds a wink, and Paige just laughs at him. He always jokes around like this, when it's just the two of them and not in court, and it's kind of funny. He flirts with people he's friends with, apparently. Which is fine, but...

But sometimes it's frustrating because Paige is engaged to him already and yes, they're friends, but it's still kind of... embarrassing? Awkward? Strange? Because of the way he's an attractive man and he knows it, and Paige knows it too, and to have Sam flirting with her, even though she knows Sam is just joking, is, um... frustrating, yes. That's the closest word she can think of for it.

"You don't need to worry about constant surprises," she says, suddenly intensely aware of every time Sam's arm brushes hers as they walk. They've certainly been closer than just walking side-by-side, but still, the more Paige thinks about it, the more self-conscious she gets. She's starting to realize she likes that closeness, likes it a lot, and she doesn't know what that means.

So she does what she always does when confronted with things that make her even moderately uncomfortable: running away.

"I'm feeling kind of tired," she says, stopping suddenly. Sam stops too, looking a little concerned, but before he can say anything, Paige just shakes her head and takes a step back, closer to the hallway that'll take her back to her rooms. "Sorry. I think I'm going to go take a nap," she says with a little laugh. "You know, so I can make sure I'm well-rested for the ball tonight."

"Oh. Well, alright, that's fine, though maybe Georgia might miss you," Sam says, keeping his voice light even though Paige can feel the faintest thread of disappointment under the surface. "Do you need anything?"

Paige shakes her head quickly. "No, no," she says. "I'm alright. Just... tired. Yeah. That's all."

And she needs some time alone, to think, and to avoid thinking, and probably to call home, because she hasn't done that today, and she won't have the chance to later, so she should take care of that now, and wow, look at that, she's already putting off thinking about it.

"Okay, then, Paige," Sam says, and there's something about the way he says Paige's name that makes Paige want to just sit down and listen to him say it over and over and over. Paige, Paige, Paige. She doesn't think she's ever really wanted to listen to someone say her name like this before, and it goes back to feed into her uncertainty, and that just makes her even more anxious to run away so she can think about this on her own terms (by which she means not think about it). "I'll come by to make sure you're awake before the ball?"

"Um, sure, yeah, that'd be fine," Paige says, hoping she doesn't sound as awkward as she feels. "Okay. See you later, Sam!"

Without waiting for Sam to offer to walk her to her door like he was probably about to do, Paige turns on her heel and strides away, keeping her shoulders back and head up to portray the confidence she's not feeling right now. Yes, calling home sounds like a good idea—calling home, and then maybe a nap. She used it as an excuse, but in all honesty, she probably could do with a nap before the ball. Overthinking is tiring.

When she gets to her room, she takes off her glasses, flops face-down on the bed, and groans. Why does she always have to do this? Just when things are looking up she always finds something else to worry about to the point of actual anxiety. And how quickly that worry escalates! Just ten minutes ago it had been safe and secure at the back of her mind, not troubling her, but now...

Ugh.

Her brain just feels like a jumble of confused thoughts, and when she thinks about it, it's mostly the fact that it's a jumble that's upsetting her. If she can just organize the confusion, maybe...

It takes a bit of wriggling around to get her to admit to herself that she can't get her phone out of her pocket while lying on top of it, but after that, she rolls over and opens a new note. She stares at it for a moment, a little bit overwhelmed by the pristine emptiness of the screen, then begins to type.

1. I don't think anything is actually wrong, outside my head.

2. Whatever is upsetting me is internal. This does not make it less of a problem; this is just a statement as to where it is coming from.

That last sentence is kind of hard to believe, but years of therapy have gotten her to the point of automatically telling herself that her feelings are alright to have, even if she doesn't necessarily believe herself when she says it. They say she'll get there, though, and she thinks she believes that.

3. I am upset because I am confused about my emotions.

That's progress. After this point is where things start to get very muddled. Paige tries anyway.

4. I am confused about my emotions about

She stops, hesitating, and finds that she doesn't know which words to type next. Which emotions is she confused about, anyway? What do they all pertain to? Is it maybe her relationships with her friends here, or with the broader court, or more specifically, with...

4. I am confused about my emotions about my relationship with Sam.

Yes. That seems solid. Previously, she wasn't entirely sure where the feelings were coming from, but that sentence seems accurate. This is helping her sort it out.

5. Sam is my friend, but I am confused because I don't feel the same way about him as I do about any of the other people I call friends, whether it's Bela, Charlie, Kevin, or Dean.

6. The way I feel about Sam is more like... I think I might have a crush on him?

She stares at the words for a long moment, almost in disbelief that she's admitted it now. This is the first time she's done that, even to herself, even in her head, and it's... weird. Logically, this is very stupid and annoying, because they're just friends, and they're still getting to know each other and they've only known each other for around half a year and is she really falling for him? Empathy gives her the tools to manage emotions, but not the ability to really manipulate her own feelings into not existing, so she's at a loss here, and...

No. One breath in, one breath out.

7. I might have a crush on him, which makes sense because he's both very sweet and very hot, and I do trust him. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but I'm still worrying anyway.

Besides, a crush doesn't really mean anything. It'll probably fade with some time. She and Sam can have a nice, strong relationship built on trust and a solid friendship, and she has no reason to bring the fact that she might have a crush into it. After all, Sam doesn't feel the same way, and it's just a little crush on her friend, so...

8. I'm not going to act on it, but it's good to be aware that this is what I'm feeling.

Ugh. Ugh.

She groans again, saves the note, shoves her phone away, and buries her face in her pillow. Feelings are so inconvenient. Is this seriously happening? Someone, somewhere, must be laughing at her for crushing on her own fiancé. The irony would be hilarious if it was anyone else.

A sudden fleeting fear pops up—if Prince Michael's suspicions are anything to go by, it's not unheard of in the West for partners in political marriages to have affairs on the side, and Paige doesn't know how well she would handle having to watch that—but she quashes it as ruthlessly as she can. Besides, basing anything on the way that Crown Prince Michael Harvelle acted is a new low, even for her anxiety disorder.

No, there's no point in dwelling on it and stressing. The two of them will be close no matter what, because no matter what, Paige refuses to let her relationship with Sam deteriorate, even if it does stay firmly platonic (she owes it to Pandora to keep the representation of the alliance strong and unified, no matter what), and that will have to be enough. No—it won't have to be enough, it just... will be.

It will be enough. It will.

Repeating that to herself enough times might make her stop doubting every single thought in her head (well, it might make her stop doubting all of them except for "this is a terrible idea you should run away", which ironically is the actual terrible idea).

"Ugh," she mutters, reaching for her phone. It'll be nice to push all this aside and hear her family's voices.