I actually started this chapter a long time ago, but apparently never finished it. So, here's to two updates in a day! Whoo! You guys are great. Please, read on!

Our ballroom had always been beautiful; vast and open, the space seemed endless. There were floor to ceiling windows off to one side, letting in natural light and offering a spectacular view of the garden. In the center was a dance floor, shining brightly under the multicolored lights. For today's event there were tables lined up in rows, skirting the edges of the dance center. Those set closest to the lights were randomly washed with color, turning the drab white into muted plumes of yellow or red or blue.

Hundreds of chairs encircled the tables, but judging the amount of food, my parents planned for more people than we could seat. Gigantic numbers swirled in my head. In front of this huge audience of onlookers that had yet to arrive, I would have to decide my fate. I would have to commit myself to a prince that I did not really know. It was too much to take in.

In a panic, I nearly fell over onto Ella. She snuck me a glance, concern drawing her eyebrows together. "Are you okay?"

Normally I would have said yes. I was strong and independent and did not need my sister's sympathy.

Instead I shook my head, letting the truth of Maxine's world wash over me. Independence was for the free. It was for those who could choose to marry and love who they wanted, who could go by whatever title they preferred. Don't get me wrong, I was still strong; maybe even stronger for deciding that my heartbreak was inevitable. But still I let my guard down. I let it roll off of me like a ton of bricks crashing to the ground. Boom, boom, boom, one by one. Demolished.

Ella took my arm, leading me from earshot of our parents. "I'm sorry they're making you choose." She licked her lips nervously, let her eyes rove around the room. "I was rooting for you and your knight."

I could not decide if she was being genuine. On the one hand, she was my sister, not by marriage and certainly not by blood, but rather by loyalty. I trusted and valued her decisions, and so far she had proved to feel the same about mine. Yet I hesitated to believe her. She, too, was running around behind our parent's backs. It was possible that she was waiting for Fang and I to work out as confirmation that she could have Iggy. As if with my happy ending, she could secure her own.

Were I heartless, I would tell her the reality of the situation. Princesses married princes. I always knew this day was unavoidable, and it was the same for Ella. As soon as she came of age, she would be forced to leave Iggy with her heart; she would be forced to give her soul to someone else. When my younger brother Ari came of age, he too would have to pick royalty. I only hoped that of the three of us, he would never know the pain of picking someone from the wrong class.

Maxine played her part. "This is for the best," I said, though the words made my throat burn.

Ella cocked her head. Her body seemed to shudder, and suddenly I could tell that she was close to tears. I was desperate to comfort her, to reach out to her. My chest heaved with the want to take back my words, to sugar coat the reality until it bended to fit her fantasy. Instead I turned and walked away, leaving her swallow the severity of the situation we were both in.

~.~.~.~.~

It was not long before guests began arriving. Princes filed in, their numbers too high to count. Other people of importance appeared, the same dukes and duchesses and wealthy that showed up to everything, invited or otherwise. Even a few family members made appearances, the sight of some that warmed my heart. I had always been particularly fond of my little cousins Angel and Zephyr, who were among the first to arrive.

Angel immediately ran to me, securing her skinny arms around my stomach. She was tall for her age, which seemed to be a recurring theme with us Batchelders. Zephyr (nicknamed Gasman for obvious reasons) was tall as well, a near mirror image of his sister. The two could very well be twins, and were often mistaken as such.

My brother was between their ages, yet he preferred not to speak to them. It was something that I would never understand; the blonde near-twins were just too adorable to pass up. Then again, Ari preferred solitude. He was only content chasing after our father, the man too busy to be anything but king.

Whatever made him happiest, I guess.

The phrase made me cringe, visibly enough that Angel looked up at me with big, beautiful blue eyes. Another Batchelder trait, which had apparently skipped over me.

"We're being watched," she whispered, startling me. That was definitely, in no considerable way, a good thing.

I scanned the room, feeling the hairs on my neck stand up. It was hard to spot the offender; harder still because everyone glanced my way from time to time. I was the guest of honor, after all. It made sense for people to be staring. But I couldn't shake the tone of Angel's voice.

My body was slowly sliding into alert mode as my brain wondered what the disturbance could be. The word erasers popped up the most. That, too, would make sense. They were the rebel group that wanted my father's reign destroyed. What a perfect time for them to show up and raise hell.

Still no one jumped out at me, figuratively or literally, until, finally, I saw him. As a nervous habit, he was running his front teeth over his lower lip, exposing the sharp points of his incisors. His eyes were glued to me, the same liquid brown as usual, a color impossibly close to black.

Immediately I relaxed. I even ventured to smile down at Angel. "That's just Fang, sweetie. He's a friend of mine."

"Fang?" Gasman asked, suddenly interested in our conversation. "What kind of name is that?"

"A nickname, Gas," I laughed a little. It was the first time I had done so since entering the ballroom. "You should know all about that."

He grumbled a bit, unhappy at being teased. I couldn't resist; I reached out and tousled his hair. The annoyed look on his face increased tenfold, but there was a smile on his face, so he couldn't have been too upset. With one last look- a fake grimace, more or less- he disappeared into the crowd of people, probably headed for the buffet tables.

Angel moved to follow him, but stopped short. "He's more than a friend, " she said finally, tilting her head to Fang. Then as if nothing had happened, she skipped away in search of her brother.

I was a little awestruck. How could my six year old cousin observe more about me and Fang in two minutes than my parents had in three years?

I shook my head once quickly, ridding the thought. Ridding all thoughts of Fang, actually. I was supposed to be letting him go today, not obsessing over him. His eyes on me made it all too easy, though. I wanted nothing more than to stare back, to get lost in him. Maybe then we could forget this whole thing; maybe then we could go back to the beginning and start over. Yes, that would be easy enough. I would get to be 15 again, the same age as Ella is now. I would get to be young and naïve.

More than that- I would believe in happy endings then, but not believe fully in love. It's not like I had much to go by growing up. My parents detested each other. It was almost a relief when mom was caught sneaking around with a duke.

They divorced almost immediately, which I was actually kind of happy about. There would be no more arguing, at least. No more hatred lingering in the air. The only request I have is that my mother would have stayed. But instead she packed up her bags, leaving my father with a country to run and two kids to take care of. Worse was that Ari was so young then, not even out of his toddler years. I don't think he remembers much about our mother, though he looks just like her with his auburn hair and even build. He definitely didn't get my father's wiry features, like I did.

Dad and Valencia at least get along, and Ari and I got a sister from the deal. I thought I was happy then, with a castle full of content family members. But then Fang was hired into my life, and I realized just how ignorant I had been.

It seems the ignorance never stopped, though. If I had any brains, I wouldn't have gotten close to Fang. If I had any sense, I would have saved myself and upheld the deal we originally made.

Too little, too late.

The music began fading, and on stage was the man I called Total- he did all of our family's odd jobs with a smile (that would turn to a grimace once alcohol got involved).

As the final notes played, he raised a champagne glass to microphone and tapped the edge with a fork. All but one set of eyes turned to him. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Batchelder Palace. We are pleased to serve you all as Princess Maxine makes her final decision." Cheers erupted, briefly, before Total took over again. "As always, the Princess will have one last chance to get to know the princes before she chooses. Good luck to all of you potentials out there, and Princess Maxine," he turned serious now, "Choose wisely."

By the time I choked back my unexpected tears, Total was at my side. "May I present to you, Prince Samuel of the States."

A hand was thrust into mine as the music swelled. Total allowed us some room, but stayed nearby. My parents clearly had asked him to announce each man I danced with.

Prince Samuel was all right, for what it was worth. He had a pleasant smile and knew his way around the dance floor. His eyes and hair were a few shades too light for my liking, but not everyone could have features as dark as Fang's. Everything about him screamed honesty and innocence, but that would not win him my heart, either. Nothing would.

"It's an honor to dance with you, Princess," he offered after a few beats. When I did not reply, he added, "Everyone talks about how lovely you are, but I never really believed it. No one is that beautiful." There was a pause for effect, then, "You exceed all expectations."

I squeezed my eyes tight for a second. He was sweet, a little too sweet. Where was the bitter? If I chose him, would I have to supply it all? "What is my favorite color?"

He blinked at me, his smile turning crooked. "I'm sorry, did you ask..?" I nodded once, forcing him to recover. "Uh, pink," he guessed. "Like your dress. A color most lovely on you."

I shook my head now, biting back a laugh. "It's brown. But not like mud, or chocolate. A dark brown, so dark that it's almost black." The words conjure up a set of eyes, a tickle of hair as it brushes my skin. I close my eyes again, savoring the image. It's beautiful. It's forbidden.

We don't speak again until the song halts to an end. Our hands cannot separate fast enough, it seems. "Thank you for the dance," I call, as expected. "You are most lovely!" The addition is for my benefit.

Immediately Prince Samuel is replaced by Prince Omega. "Of, um, Germany," Total announces nervously.

As soon as he is gone, the Prince speaks. "I know what you are wondering; what kind of name is Omega?"

I can only manage a soft nod before he continues. "I am the end," he says with a smile. My veins turn to ice; our conversation only gets worse. "The ultimate. And from my calculations, Princess Max-ine, our children would be perfect specimens."

A waiter passed by then, prompting me to drop Omega's hands. I reached for two flutes of champagne, downing one and then the other, fraternity style.

His calculations did not include this; he said as much. "Heavy alcohol intake certainly challenges my formulas…"

Mercifully, the song ended shortly after that. I stuffed the champagne flutes in his hands, immediately reaching for another full glass. "Thank you for the dance, Prince Omega." The bubbles from my previous drinks climbed backwards at the thought. I would have to be completely insane to choose him…

On and on, Princes from every continent take my hands and try, yet again, to win me over. No one comes close to succeeding.

All the while, Fang's eyes remain on me. Every now and then, I sneak a glance his way and he smiles, exposing the sharp incisors that earned him his nickname. Every flash of teeth reminds me of our first meeting, our first kiss. It's painful to look, but more so to avoid him.

The last Prince of the evening is Prince Dylan, "Of Canada," Total sneers. Apparently I haven't been the only one downing champagne.

"It's funny," Prince Dylan begins, "Because he was so pleasant on stage."

There's no hesitance in my response. "It's the alcohol. Turns him bitter." For some reason, this statement causes a fit of giggles to erupt from me.

"And alcohol turns you… bubbly?" He guesses.

I consider this. I've never been drunk before. I've barely touched even champagne before tonight. But of course, I lost track of how many flutes at this point. Another laugh spills over. Yes, I decide. Alcohol turns me 'bubbly'.

"And what about you?" I ask, skipping over an actual reply. "What does alcohol do to you?"

He leans in close, bringing in a scent of vanilla and nutmeg. For a second I catch myself admiring his eyes, which are a rare turquoise. No, there're not as beautiful or deep as Fang's, but I don't mind looking into them. I get so caught up in them, in fact, that I have to ask him to repeat himself.

"Alcohol brings out my sarcastic side,"

Another laugh escapes me. Sarcasm is the perfect offset to bubbly, over-the-top drunkness. "We should get married!" I joke in a rush.

His smile, however, reminds me why he's here. Why I'm here.

Again, I can't untangle myself fast enough. "Sorry!" I call over my shoulder, "Potty break!"

I run from the ballroom and burst through the doors. There's no where I can go, though. There's no place to hide. I end up picking the wall furthest from everyone, the one closest to the bustling kitchen on the other side. Sobbing, I sink down to the ground.

Several minutes later, the soft clinking of metal alerts me to his presence. Without a word he slides down beside me, rests his head in my lap. I run my hands through his hair, a gesture which brings on a new wave of tears.

He stills one of my palms, brings it to his lips. "They're waiting for you." Each word seems forced, like it's the opposite of what he'd rather be saying. It is the opposite. "You still have to choose, Max."

I look at him then, really look at him. The alcohol in my blood had subsided. My tears have mostly been shed. "Why can't I choose you?"

My words bring a look to him that I've never seen before. His impassive face falls, and left is a look of pure torture, pure pain. A single drop of water leaks down his cheek.

He sits up, wraps his arms around me as tightly as he can. "I wish you could," he says, suppressing a sob.

My heart hurts, to the point where I can't stand it. I tilt his chin down to me, look in his eyes. I'm about to tell him the words I've never said, not once. I'm about to let myself shatter, even though I know it's irreversible.

The glass in the other room beats me to it. There are screams as people are pelted with debris, as the intruders rush in. A tiny voice screeches above all the others, a sound that can only belong to little Angel. Without thinking, I rush forward as the attackers rush out.

Erasers.

I'm frozen for only a second, but a second too long. The ugly, masked creature grabs me by the chin, hoists me in the air. There's a loud metal thunk as something collides with him, but I don't see what it is. I don't see anything as my body is ricocheted into the wall, head first, and everything grows black.

Confession time: Max was originally going to choose a guy, then the attack was going to start. But, hey, things change.

So, tell me what you think. Drop me a line. And while we're all reading my work… check out my other stuff, if you feel so compelled.

Regardless, thank you my dear readers! You're all too fantastic for words!

As always, read and write on!

~Faxisthegreatest123~