Author's Note: Hello, lovelies! This is a companion to Holding Our Own in a Great Big Storm, so I highly suggest reading that first for this to make any sense. This one-shot series is completely based on requests, so if you're interested in sending in a request, just PM me with: 1. A character that you'd like to see 2. A pre-existing plot point within Holding. This chapter should clarify things if that's at all confusing, but feel free to send me a PM if you have any questions. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy, and thank you to wolfofstark for this first request! :)
Presley fidgeted again. While the palace had no shortage of comfortable places for her to study, she couldn't focus.
She was too irritated.
Against her better judgement, she discreetly pulled the morning newspaper out from the notebook that she'd hidden it in. As she scanned it for what might've been at least the twentieth time that day, her irritation flared once more.
Oliver was a royal pain in the ass.
The worst part is, it wasn't that she didn't like him. She did. He was definitely as cute as she'd expected him to be (the heavy media coverage surrounding him hadn't left much doubt about that), and he oozed charm and charisma. Even though her first date with him had been a bit tense before they'd figured each other out a bit, she'd had a good time. She sort of thought it might be impossible not to like Oliver Woodwork-Schreave once you met him.
But that didn't mean that he wasn't an idiot. God, the boy could be so stupid.
Briefly, her eyes jumped to the girl in the picture with him. She was torn between equal parts irritation that his privacy had been invaded in such a way—it was obvious that the grainy picture had been taken by some slime ball on his cell phone, trying to make a buck by exploiting the prince—and anger at Oliver for even putting himself in the situation. If she was a little more insecure, she was sure that she'd be wondering why she wasn't good enough, as she'd already heard from several of the girls that morning.
Of course, there was some cock and bull story that the girl had actually been Irina, which they were apparently going to announce on The Report tonight, but Presley didn't buy that for a second. She was a little insulted that Oliver thought they would, until she heard some of the girls sighing in relief, and there was a rumor going around that the newspaper that had tried to shame him had issued an apology.
If nothing else, at least Oliver was lucky.
She supposed if she was being honest with herself one of the other things that really bothered her was that Oliver had asked her to hang out with him that night before he decided to go stick his tongue down some random girl's throat. "I'm comfortable around you," he'd claimed, "I don't have to wonder or worry. Those are the kinds of people I want to be around right now."
Clearly, she thought derisively as she snorted at the newspaper again. She tossed it over her shoulder and tried to return to her psychology book. She had an essay due in a few days that she refused to do poorly on because Oliver was driving her nuts.
Before she could really immerse herself in the textbook, the door to the library banged open. She glanced up to see Mae standing in the doorway, already dressed for The Report in a red skirt with roses on it and a black, long sleeve shirt. She looked perfect, but she held a carton of ice cream in her hands, which perplexed Presley a bit.
"Oh." She stopped short when her eyes landed on Presley. "Sorry, Presley, I didn't know you were studying here." She grabbed a handful of her skirt and turned to leave.
"Wait." Presley set her book aside and smiled at the brunette. "Are you willing to share that spoon?"
Mae smiled brightly and settled herself in the armchair next to Presley's, holding out the ice cream carton. Presley wasn't sure why she'd encouraged Mae to stay, but she was glad she had. They hadn't spent too much time together, but she liked Mae well enough. Whenever the Selected had deep conversations (not too much of a regular occurrence, if she was being honest) Mae always sounded intelligent and thoughtful. Besides, she had a fiery side that Presley had seen on more than one occasion.
Besides, the ice cream that she'd chosen was mint chocolate chip, Presley's favorite, so she couldn't be all that bad at all.
"How's the studying going?" Mae asked as Presley handed the spoon to her.
Presley cringed. "Uh… I think the problem is it hasn't really been going." She glanced at the newspaper that she'd thrown to the ground, and Mae nodded knowingly.
"Ah." She shoveled a bit of ice cream into her mouth before she asked in a rush, "So did you buy the hasty Irina cover up story?"
"No!" exclaimed Presley, glad that she wasn't the only one. "Oh my god, you don't know how happy I am to hear that someone else doesn't believe it."
"Of course not," scoffed Mae. "It's infuriating. Did you hear Irina going on and on about it after lunch?"
Presley nodded solemnly. "I had to get out of the Women's Room, or else I was going to have to stab myself in the ears just so I couldn't hear her anymore."
Mae stabbed the ice cream emphatically. "Take out her voice box and spare us all," she suggested.
Presley snorted. "I like that suggestion," she decided as she accepted the ice cream that Mae offered to her again.
"So what do you want to do with your degree anyway?" Mae asked as she nodded at Presley's textbook.
The dreaded question. "I'm not positive," Presley began, the usual preface to whatever answer she gave, "but mainly my goal is to help people in some way. I think it would be awesome to work with girls who are struggling in some way, in particular. You know, things like bullying or problems with family or poverty or eating disorders." She stared down at the ice cream as she thought about the last suggestion. "You know, a few years ago, and there's no way I'd be sitting here eating this ice cream with you. Or if I did, I'd be crying and feeling like a failure afterwards."
Mae's eyebrows knit together. "What?" she frowned. "That's crazy. You're beautiful."
It was so funny to hear someone with model-esque looks like Mae call her beautiful, but when Presley inspected the other girl's face, she couldn't spy a hint of insincerity. A smile relaxed Presley's face. "Thank you. I don't really struggle with it now, but I guess being a girl is just hard sometimes," she sighed, "especially when you're growing up."
To her surprise, Mae nodded her agreement. "I get that."
"Yeah?" Presley laughed.
Mae blushed a little. "Growing up wasn't exactly easy," she explained carefully, "I lost both of my parents when I was younger, and it just sort of…" She shrugged.
"Yeah," nodded Presley. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't help, but I am. I can't imagine what it's like to lose your family."
"I got by," shrugged Mae.
"And became pretty awesome," complimented Presley, causing the dark haired girl to laugh.
They both paused when the door to the library opened once more. Isolde and Kaitlyn swept into the room, their chatter dying when they noticed the other two girls. Isolde's abrupt halt caused Kaitlyn to stumble over her feet as she stopped as well. "Hi guys!" she greeted them brightly. Of all the girls, Kaitlyn was one of the warmest and most openly friendly. "Isolde was just trying to find me this book."
"Go for it," Presley invited her, feeling more generous about sharing her sacred study space after Mae's company.
"Anything good?" Mae asked as the girls started scanning the bookshelves.
Kaitlyn pondered over the name for a minute before Isolde gave her an affectionate shake of her head and answered, "The Alchemist. It's one of my favorites, but Kaitlyn's never read it, so I thought it would be a good distraction given the…" She trailed off, as though she'd said too much.
"Oliver situation?" Mae supplied.
Isolde rolled her eyes and nodded. "He's ridiculous."
Presley looked amused. "You guys don't buy it either?"
Kaitlyn bit her lip for a moment before she shook her head. "Not really," she admitted, "And I think it was sort of a… well, a dick move."
There was silence for a minute before the remaining three girls burst into laughter, which caused Kaitlyn's face to ease into a smile as well. "Well, it was!" she insisted, which only made the remaining girls laugh even harder.
Somehow, the hunt for the book was abandoned, and Isolde and Kaitlyn soon were seated in two more armchairs, the ice cream being passed in a circle now. "He's just so dumb sometimes," Isolde huffed, "It actually makes me nervous that our national security is in his hands. He can be so rash and impulsive. Nothing like Trist—"
She cut herself off and grabbed the ice cream from Mae, shoving a large spoonful into her mouth. Presley studied her and saw that she looked a little panicked. "Isolde," she began slowly, "Do you… like Tristan?"
Her response was swift. "No," she countered with a shake of her head and a forced chuckle, "Of course not. How silly would that be? I just think that he's sweet and funny and clearly has more foresight than Oliver, and—"
She fell silent, and her face took on a noticeably green tinge. Presley held out the ice cream again, but she looked too stunned to take it. "Oh my god," she realized. "I… like Tristan."
Although it was a dangerous admission, one that could've gotten her into an enormous amount of trouble, the three girls surrounding her all grinned enormously and excitedly. "You guys are so cute together!" Mae exclaimed excitedly. "I always see you hanging out, but I thought you were just friends!"
"We are!" Isolde insisted, "I mean he's never… I don't think…"
Presley rolled her eyes. "Please," she countered, "He practically falls over himself to be around you whenever Oliver lets him hang out with us."
"I'm gonna call you Trisolde!" declared Kaitlyn excitedly.
But Isolde still looked nauseous. "Oh my god," she repeated. "What am I gonna do?" She jumped to her feet, the ice cream forgotten. "I have to tell Oliver! I have to leave! I can't stay here when—when I like his brother! And I can't be friends with Tristan when I feel like this!"
There was a flurry of movement as Kaitlyn and Mae grabbed her arms to stop her from rushing out the door. "Calm down," Mae urged her reassuringly.
"It'll be okay, Is," Kaitlyn beamed encouragingly. "Everything will work out."
Isolde bit her lip as she looked at the three girls. "How do you know?" she finally asked, the fear and uncertainty evident in her voice.
Presley stood and joined the girls. "Because we'll be here with you the whole way," she declared as she looked at the three girls in turn. "We're here for you."
After a long minute, Isolde's tense shoulders relaxed, and she no longer seemed to be a flight risk. "Thank you," she smiled at them.
It was a strange group of friends to be sure. They were girls that Presley wasn't sure she would have naturally gravitated towards in her regular life. Mae was beautiful, Isolde so proper and refined, and Kaitlyn so laid back and welcoming. They were an odd group, and while Presley wasn't sure how they fit together, they just did.
The door to the library opened again, and the girls all jumped apart, loudly launching into conversation about four entirely different topics in an attempt to seem casual. Margaery looked a little confused at the scene but shrugged it off. "Hey," she greeted them, "Everly sent me to find you. The Report is about to start soon, so we have to go await Oliver's grand excuse—" The bitterness seeped into her voice, causing the four in the library to beam at her and Margaery to blush in embarrassment.
"Sorry," she muttered, "If you guys didn't mention that to Oliver…"
"You think he's a phony too?" Kaitlyn demanded excitedly. "Guys, we should start a club!"
The girls laughed again, and Mae dropped an arm around Margaery's shoulders, unofficially bringing her into the fold. "Come on," she declared, "Let's go watch the great pretender squirm."
They linked arms and made their way to the stage, a united front and more importantly, a group of girls who had just found something special.
Studying wasn't something that gradually became easier for Presley throughout her stay at the palace, particularly once she developed her group of friends. It was a rare occurrence that she found herself alone, as she was usually in one of their rooms or would occasionally find Mae or Kaitlyn lounging on her couch awaiting her when she returned to her room.
The night of the Harvest Festival she had thought that she might be able to find some solitude as the long but exciting day had left everyone thoroughly exhausted. This theory was quickly shot down when she walked into her room to find Mae already lounging on her bed while Isolde sat at her desk scribbling a letter.
"You guys do know that you have rooms of your own right?" Presley demanded teasingly as she walked into the room and kicked her shoes off. She had no idea where her maids were but figured one of her friends had already dismissed them for the night. They listened to the other girls almost as well as they did Presley.
They both ignored her. "Where are Kaitlyn and Margaery?" Presley asked as she glanced around. She wouldn't have been surprised if they were in her closet or bathroom.
"Kaitlyn is feeding Pawnds, and Margaery was on the phone with her brother," Isolde explained. Somehow, Isolde usually knew what the girls were up to. Presley wasn't sure how, but she didn't question it. It came in handy to have the all-seeing Isolde as one of her friends.
Presley nodded and eased out of her sweater. "So," she began, trying to sound casual, "I noticed you avoiding Tristan today, Is."
Isolde's cheeks burned red, and she kept her eyes focused on the paper before her. "I don't know what you mean," she answered coolly, utilizing the tone that usually caused the girls to abandon any badgering.
Mae and Presley exchanged an eye roll, but they didn't have the chance to say much more, for the door to Presley's room banged open to reveal a harried Kaitlyn. One arm excitedly dragged Margaery along and the other clasped Pawnds to her chest. "Guys!"
They all rose from their spots and approached Kaitlyn. "What's going on?" Mae asked, her face a mixture of concern and amusement. She took Pawnds from Kaitlyn and held him more delicately, which the cat seemed to appreciate.
"Look what I found!" Kaitlyn excitedly ordered. She dropped to the floor in front of Presley's coffee table and delicately composed a small circle with six small, colorful triangles. When Presley examined them more closely, she saw that each triangle had a letter carved into the top: P, K, M, I, M, P.
"What are these?" Isolde asked. Her brow furrowed as she picked up the I—which was a light blue, almost the same color as Isolde's icy eyes—and inspected it.
Kaitlyn was practically bouncing with excitement. "I found them at the Harvest Festival," she explained, "There's one for each of us."
"I see that, Kait," snorted Mae, "But uh, what exactly are they?"
"It's a pizza of friendship!" Kaitlyn declared. "They're like friendship necklaces except pizza slices."
There was a long silence. "A pizza of friendship," Presley repeated slowly.
Mae was the first to crack a smile. "I love it." And then, slowly, they all realized that they agreed and happily picked up their triangles. "Where did you find them?"
Kaitlyn excitedly slipped her own triangle onto a necklace and fastened it around her neck. Presley followed suit. "They were at a display at the Harvest Festival," she elaborated, "There was a box, and I just dug through it until I found all of our letters!"
Margaery frowned at the single piece that remained on the table once all of the girls had accepted their charms. "Did you grab two P's for Pres?" she chuckled.
"No," countered Kaitlyn, as though it should be obvious who the other P was for. She dropped to the ground again and coaxed Pawnds out from beneath Presley's couch.
As soon as she realized Kaitlyn's intention, all Presley could do was laugh, "No."
They watched Kaitlyn secure the second P to Pawnd's collar in silence. "We share a friendship charm with a cat," Isolde declared as they all stared at Kaitlyn and Pawnds.
Finally, Mae laughed and tossed her arms around Kaitlyn's skinny shoulders. "I don't know what I'd do without you weirdos."
Slowly, Presley's face slid into a smile. "Me neither," she admitted. And she hoped she would never have to find out.