*Paige's P.O.V.*

Over the next month or so, Paige settles into a comfortable enough routine. Her mornings are spent representing Pandora in Ruritanian international court—her position as a foreign princess betrothed to the royal family is similar to that of an ambassador, with a few key differences. Pandora additionally has a representative, real ambassador, who was out of the country during Paige's arrival but who Paige is delighted to finally see again.

"Princess Paige!" cries Lady Ambassador Donna Hanscum, running forward to clasp Paige in a tight hug that's so enthusiastic it nearly knocks her over backwards into Sam. Paige laughs, though, hugging her back gladly. It's a relief to see a familiar face out here!

"Hi, Donna," she greets when they pull apart, smiling. "It's good to see you again. It's been a long time!"

"It has!" Donna agrees, absolutely beaming. She keeps a hold of Paige's hands as she turns to Sam and adds, "It's a pleasure to see you, too, Your Royal Highness!"

"The pleasure is mine, as always, Ambassador Hanscum," Sam assures. He looks back and forth between Donna and Paige, eyebrows raised. "So, you two know each other?"

"Ah, yes," Paige says, smiling when Donna squeezes her hands excitedly. "We took some classes together when we were younger, and we've kept in touch to some degree over the years."

"I often helped Princess Paige with her homework," Donna laughs, finally letting go of Paige. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be here for your welcome celebrations," she adds, contrite, and Paige shakes her head quickly.

"A family emergency is a family emergency, Donna," she assures, wide-eyed as she shakes her head. "It's completely understandable that you weren't here! I'm just relieved your mother is alright."

Donna's smile fades slightly, a troubled look in her eyes. "Yes," she says, more subdued. "Me too. We were all very worried for a while there." But she brightens again quickly, adding, "But she's expected to make a full recovery, barring any complications!"

"That's a relief," says Paige. She pauses, glancing back up at Sam, and then asks, "Are you busy right now, Donna? Sam and I were going to go out for lunch if you'd like to join us."

"I would love to come, but maybe another time would be better," Donna says regretfully. "There are still a few things I need to take care of today, in light of that trip and everything. Thank you for the invitation, though, Princess Paige!"

"Oh, of course!" Paige smiles back. "Let me know if there's anything I can do for you, alright?"

Donna grabs her hands and squeezes them tightly again. "You've always been so kind," she says cheerfully. "I will. I have to go now, but I just wanted to greet you as soon as I could. I hope you both have a good time at lunch!"

"Alright," Paige says, squeezing back. "See you later!"

"It was nice seeing you, Ambassador Hanscum," Sam adds, draping his arm around Paige's shoulders. "We'll get going now, then!"

After saying their goodbyes, Paige and Sam head out for their lunch. Normally, they don't go out—what's the need? with a palace that has a fully equipped and staffed kitchen?—but Sam said he wanted to show Paige around Lawrence some more, so they're taking the afternoon for that.

Letting Sam lead the way, Paige glances up at him curiously. "So," she says. "Where are we going?"

"Lots of places!" Sam says cheerfully. "You were there in court this morning, you saw how annoyed Ivanovich and Miloslavskaya got with me. I think it'll be nice for us to avoid this place for a while! They're all so negative. Such drags."

...Right. Paige nods silently and contemplates the man at her side, wearing a completely different smile than the one he had in the royal courtroom. In court, it's easy to see how he gained the reputation of having an icy, uncaring heart—he's so cold, Paige thinks. To everyone. It's like he becomes a totally different person than the fun-loving and gentle one Paige has gotten to know.

Which kind of makes her wonder if gentle Sam is how Sam would prefer to be, and court just forced him to be cold, or if cold Sam puts on a gentle mask because he knows that it would be the easiest way to get to Paige?

With most people, she would just assume the worst case scenario—here, the latter possibility—and move on from the fretting. But it's different with Sam because they're engaged. Paige wants to be able to trust him. Her parents had an arranged marriage, albeit one with domestic benefits rather than international, but they grew to love each other anyway, even if they've drifted slightly. Perhaps she's too idealistic, but she'd like to have a marriage like that herself, but without the drifting part. A lot.

It's just hard, never knowing if she can actually trust the people around her, never being sure whether she's just a pawn to them or not. It's also very tiring. Empathy definitely helps her figure out true motivations, but it's only really effective around those never trained to counter it. Most people at courts have that training.

"I'm surprised we have the free time to go out and wander town all day," Paige remarks, keeping her tone light and conversational. Even if she's internally confused about the nature of trust, she can't let that bleed over into their day.

Sam laughs. "Of course we do!" he says as if it should have been obvious. "Don't you think it's important for us to build a strong relationship so that we can present a united front later, as king and queen?"

"I guess so," Paige supposes, stuffing her uncertainty into a bottle and tossing it away into the darker recesses of her mind, where it will undoubtedly age like a fine wine and be all the more potent when she stumbles upon it again. Part of her really wants to pull Sam aside and say 'look, I think we need to have a frank conversation about trust before this can go anywhere,' but she hesitates. Doesn't do it.

She's not really that sure why not, either. It just... it feels pointless, in a way. She's not sure how much of her doubt rises from legitimate concern as opposed to her anxiety, and until she can sort that out in her head, she doesn't want to bring it up, not with the risk of having to bring up having an anxiety disorder. She still doesn't feel ready to have that conversation.

And that reminds her... Her pills are running low, too.

Paige bites her lip and lets Sam pull her along to the first of their many destinations for the day. She'll have to deal with all of this soon. Soon, but not yet.

"By the way," Sam says, too nonchalantly to be casual. When Paige glances up at him, his eyes are steely and cool. "A little bird told me Lord Ivanovich approached you at the ball last month. I expected that, but I've been meaning to ask, has he said anything else to you?"

"Define 'anything else'," Paige says carefully. "He and I have had a few civil interactions between then and now, but I wouldn't say he ever told me anything he didn't tell me the night of the ball itself."

Lord Ivanovich: just another of the many problems Paige has to keep track of and continue to juggle. That threat isn't one she plans to take lightly, either—depending on the manner in which she might die, it could have serious consequences for the alliance. If it even looks like foul play was involved in the death of their second princess, Pandora would be very likely to mistrust Ruritania, possibly to the extent of abandoning the alliance in return for allowing Paige to be killed, and the authority of the Winchester family would be undermined, because Paige would have been assassinated while under their protection, which would reflect badly on them.

In that way, maybe she ought to tell Sam that Ivanovich more or less outright threatened to have her killed. She might not know yet if she can trust Sam with her anxiety-related problems or anything personal, but it should be safe to trust him with her life, amusingly enough. Then again, Sam probably already knows that that was more or less implied. It seems like under-the-table death threats might be a given in Ruritanian dealings.

"Is something troubling you?" Sam asks as if he can tell Paige is debating whether to bring this very matter up with him. It's uncanny enough that Paige has to double-check that she's not projecting her emotions subconsciously.

She chews on her lip in thought for a moment, fretting, and then finally takes a deep breath. "I suppose I just have a tendency to worry," she says.

That sharp gaze narrows. Paige can definitely see a resemblance to the Queen. "Worry about what?" Sam asks. "About what Ivanovich said about paying you off to send you back to Pandora?"

"Not exactly, no," Paige hedges. "More about the part where he... well, you know. If he was to have me killed, it would reflect badly on you and your mother, and it would also, more than likely, severely undermine the alliance, considering the fact that my presence here is supposed to signify the trust between our countries."

Sam gives her an unreadable look, eyes stormy. "If he was to have you killed?" he repeats, and there is chilly steel in his voice now, too, but his arm around Paige's shoulders remains a comforting weight.

"Assassination is always a possibility," Paige says awkwardly, keeping her gaze straight ahead. "You know that."

"I do," Sam agrees. Paige risks a glance up at him and sees that he has the same icy expression he wears in court, looking out over the courtyard they're walking through. "Did he threaten you?"

"Not really," Paige says, and then sighs because that's not entirely true. "I mean... sort of. He didn't try to blackmail me if that's what you mean. He's just tried to intimidate me, more than anything."

"No—Paige," Sam sighs shortly, running his other hand through his hair. He stops walking, and Paige stops too, confused, as Sam turns to face her and places both hands on her shoulders. "Paige, I'm not asking all this to find out what the political issues are. I already know those things, I don't need to find out from you."

Paige can feel herself crumpling internally—'I don't need to find out from you, you're telling me things I already know, you're wasting my time'—and valiantly struggles to force herself to push the self-doubt and all its awful whispers away. Still, she can't quite meet Sam's eyes, staring at a point over his shoulder instead. "Then... why are you asking?"

Sam gives her a funny look as if he's surprised Paige is asking him that question. "I want to know if you're alright, of course," he says, and his fingers skim down Paige's arms until they find Paige's hands. He takes Paige's hands gently, far more gently than Paige expected him to after how coldly angry he looked just seconds ago and strokes his thumbs over the backs of Paige's knuckles.

"I'm asking," he adds, "because I can find out all the political things I need to know from Jody, but you're the only one who can tell me about the Paige things."

Paige's brain chooses this moment to conveniently short-circuit and fizzle out.

"Oh," she manages. "I, um... I'm fine?"

Sam presses his lips together, dissatisfied. "I feel like you're lying."

The breath catches in Paige's throat. What is she supposed to say? There are far too many things going on in her mind for her to pick just one, and it's all so highly personal, and Sam probably doesn't actually want to hear all of it...

"But," Sam continues when Paige doesn't say anything and just stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, "if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I won't force you."

He sounds disappointed. Paige considers telling him, 'no, see, it's not that I don't ever want to tell you, it's that you need to give me prior notice before asking me to talk about personal things so that I can figure out what I want to say and how to say it instead of freezing up, like this. I can give you a form to fill out for that, I'll need it forty-eight hours before a personal conversation is instigated...'

"Thank you," she manages instead, finding her voice. "For giving me time. I... don't know what to say right now."

Sam smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

Paige nods, because what else is she supposed to do? She can't just say 'no, go away' or something, despite how alarmed this conversation has her.

"When we first met," Sam says, "you told me you wanted me to be myself, that's all. Is that still true?"

"Yes," Paige says immediately, relief coursing through her. That's probably the one question she has a definite answer to—it will always be yes. She wants nothing more than for Sam to be as genuine as possible with her; people trying to be something they are not never ends well, in Paige's experience, and also dealing with lies makes life as an empath that much harder. "Yes, always."

"Hmm," Sam hums thoughtfully, his gaze still piercing and sharp and intent as he looks down at Paige.

Paige swallows and continues to avoid actual eye contact by focusing on the curve of his lengthy hair, falling gracefully to frame his face. Or um —well,

"What about you?" Sam asks, and Paige jerks out of her disjointed, distracted thoughts.

"Me?"

"What do you want to be?" he clarifies, then pauses, tilts his head to one side in thought. "What do you want us to be?"

Paige hesitates. Ideally, she wants them to be... to be soulmates, maybe, in some sense of the word. They don't have to fall in love, but she wants a deep bond and a connection and trust, trust strong enough to warrant the word unbreakable, and she wants support and kindness and a love of some sort, whether romantic or not. Ideally, she wants a marriage like that of her parents, is what she's getting at.

Realistically, she has no idea how to get there, and realistically, it sounds way too far off to be practical. How her parents did it, she'll never know. Maybe she should ask them for advice.

"I'd... like us to be friends," she says after a moment, and some of the storm swirling behind Sam's eyes dissipates. "Friends, but friends who let our relationship grow naturally. If that's—if that's alright? I mean... That's what I want, anyway."

"Me too," Sam agrees. This time, his smile has genuine warmth. "I'm glad you feel the same way."

"Yeah," Paige says, and then, feeling awkward for leaving it there, she adds, "I, ah, I didn't mean to be so distant when you've just been trying to help me. I'm sorry."

Sam blinks. "It's alright," he says. Then he squeezes Paige's hands. "And Paige?"

"Yes?"

"Can I show you something?"

Paige hesitates briefly, just for an instant, and then nods.

The temperature suddenly drops by at least ten degrees, and Paige has to suppress a sudden shiver. A breeze tousles both of their hair and it's cold, the kind of cold that's too sudden to be anything but magical. The smile on Sam's face is cold, too, the sharp, biting kind of cold that warns of the perils of winter that lurk just below the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

Ice Prince, Paige thinks, wide-eyed as she looks up at those frigid hazel eyes, glowing ever so slightly thanks to Sam's powers. This is the first time he's ever used his magic in front of Paige, and the raw power that swirls just below the surface, waiting for his call, is a little bit, well... terrifying. She's seen ice magic before, but this is different. She never knew Sam had this kind of strength.

But his hands, still gently holding Paige's, are warm. Paige squeezes his hands back as Sam holds the spell for just a moment longer, just long enough that Paige can feel the strength he keeps shielded most of the time, and then he stops the magic.

"You shouldn't worry about assassination too much," Sam says as the warmth seeps back into the world and the light in his eyes fades.

His smile is still dangerously sharp. But it doesn't frighten Paige.

Sam, she's coming to realize, is a lot like Bela. Sure, Bela uses knives and shadow enchantment, and Sam uses cutting words and ice spells, but both of them are utterly terrifying when they find someone they want to protect.

"I won't," she says, and Sam's smile warms.

"Good," he replies. "Because," and he lifts one of Paige's hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "I won't let anyone lay a finger on you."

No, seeing a glimpse of the Ice Prince in all his cold fury doesn't frighten Paige at all. Funnily enough, it actually leaves her feeling warm inside.

***

"So this is how you've been spending your time away from court, huh?" Donna wonders, eyes shining. "Princess Paige, you're so cool!"

Paige laughs softly, ducking her head with embarrassment. "Don't go telling everyone," she requests. "I don't want a lot of attention on everyone here, and I really don't want a media storm about a foreign princess trying to curry favour by being philanthropic or something. They don't need that kind of negative attention. I'm just here because I want to help, and it's something to do with my hands."

"Of course!" Donna nods seriously, though she can't stop smiling. "You can count on me, Princess Paige!" Paige blushes, a little self-conscious—she'd forgotten, in their time apart, just how much Donna openly looks up to her, and it's a little stressful because she doesn't want to let her down—and then leads the way into the orphanage.

"By the way," she adds, glancing over her shoulder at Donna. "Feel free to just call me Paige. I think we've been friends long enough, and I like to leave titles at the door when I come here."

"Oh!" Donna positively beams. "Sure thing, Pri—I mean, Paige. Paige," she repeats as if the word sounds foreign without a title attached. "Paige, Paige, Paige."

Paige laughs, tempted to reach out and ruffle Donna's hair like Madison always does to her. Donna, as a little piece of home here in Ruritania, is near and dear to Paige's heart, like the little sister she never had. "Donna," she says fondly, "you're adorable."

Donna flushes bright red and then giggles. "Thanks, Paige!"

They spend the next three hours at the orphanage, and Donna's heart warms at the sight of Paige playing with children or helping them with lessons. She spends more time in the kitchen, helping the other volunteers and employees make lunch for the kids, but Paige is a natural with children.

"Thank you so much for taking the time to come help us," says Angelique, the woman who manages the orphanage, when she pulls Paige aside after lunch. She says this every time she comes, full of deep, profuse gratitude that she can feel rolling off of her in waves. The first time she showed up and quietly asked if she could help, she was moved almost to tears.

"I'm glad to," Paige answers honestly, her voice soft as she glances at Donna carrying a little girl on her shoulders. "It makes me feel better, too. Thank you for keeping my involvement here quiet; I would hate to bring the media into this."

Ange looks surprised before the gratitude takes over again. "Of course, Your Highness, I would never reveal your involvement here if you didn't want it done—"

"No, no," Paige shakes her head politely. "Please, I'm just Paige here. Just a woman from Pandora who wants to help. That's all."

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness," Ange says stubbornly, just like she has every time she's asked her to just call her Paige, "but knowing that you're not just some girl makes the kids happy. They feel more hopeful, knowing the princess herself comes here for them. And they won't tell a soul. They love you, and the loyalty of a child is something to be admired, Your Highness."

Paige couldn't hide her smile if she tried, looking out over the orphanage and the few kids still sitting at the lunch table, finishing up their food. "Well," she says, catching the eye of a little boy and waving, "when you put it that way, I guess the title is a good thing."

"It is. Thank you, again," Ange says, and Paige smiles.

When they finally leave the orphanage, Donna invites Paige back to her apartment for tea. They settle down in the living room with two steaming cups of jasmine green, and Paige can't help but smile at the traditional Pandorian decorations that Donna has hung all around the walls. It's... really nice, seeing such familiar patterns again.

"So," Donna says, blowing on her tea. "How've you been, Princess—I mean, Paige? Is court treating you well?"

Paige chuckles wryly. "As well as court treats anyone, I guess," she says. It's kind of odd seeing Donna like this—the last time they sat down to talk for an extended amount of time was years ago, and Donna was younger, more naïve, and inexperienced. But now she's been an emissary to Ruritania's court for over a year, and she's not just Paige's sweet younger friend. They're standing on the same playing field here. It's not a bad thing—it's just different.

"Mm," Donna hums. "I'm guessing you've put together a pretty good picture of who likes who by now. You were always good at that."

"I guess I have," Paige shrugs. Then she pauses. "What do you think about Lord Ivanovich?"

Donna sits back with a sigh. "He's... a dick," she admits a little sheepishly. "I think he's very nationalistic but misguided. And kind of ruthless. Why?"

Paige blows out her breath, takes a careful sip of her tea, and says, "He told me he's going to work as hard as he can to break off the alliance whether I'll work with him or not, and also mentioned he might have me killed if he has to. Charming fellow."

Donna sighs again, running a hand through her hair fretfully, and Paige is again struck by how much she's matured. "That... does sound like him," she says. "I don't know how much of that was a bluff, to be honest. It's totally possible he was bluffing, but I feel like we shouldn't downplay it, just to be on the safe side. Have you told anyone about it?"

Paige shakes her head, looking down into her tea. "I told Duchess Mills, Prince Campbell, and Sam that Ivanovich told me that he wants me gone. I didn't explicitly mention the assassination threat, but I figure they've thought of it, too. It's not like it'd be a surprising move to try and have me killed to sabotage the alliance."

It's a little odd talking about herself so impersonally, like she's just collateral damage in the grander scheme of diplomatic things. A pawn, to be struck down and removed from the chessboard. But that's what she is, isn't it? A pawn in foreign territory, surrounded with no way to go, save forward.

"Yeah, they're probably aware," Donna agrees thoughtfully. "I think you should talk to them more about this, though, Paige."

Paige raises an eyebrow. "You do?"

Donna nods enthusiastically. "As an ambassador, I have ties to the Winchesters because I'm the envoy who talks to the Ruritanian government. But by that same token, I have to maintain a certain level of neutrality in court—I side with the Winchesters and their allies, but I'm not one of them. But you, on the other hand, you're going to marry into their family, so you have no reason to not be close to them, you see?"

This... sounds uncomfortably like the conversation about trust that Paige keeps putting off with Sam. "Where are you going with this?" she asks sceptically.

Donna laughs. "Paige, don't you see? They'd probably be willing to share a lot more of their intel with you than they are with me! You should ask them and see what you can find out. It's not like you're uninvolved, I mean. You're in the middle of this! And you kind of have a lot at stake..."

"You mean my life," Paige sighs. "Yeah. I know. I... guess I should look into that. Operating blind on this kind of stuff is probably a bad idea, isn't it?"

Donna gives her a wry smile and sips her tea. "I don't think you actually need me to answer that."

"No," Paige says glumly because conversations about trust are hard and she's not looking forward to this at all. Perhaps she can do it... in a few days. Three days, to be precise—she'll give herself three days to figure out what to say. "No, I don't."