Hi everyone! This chapter is crap and it's supposed to have a whole second part but I'm posting it now BECAUSE IT'S THE BIRTHDAY OF MY LOVE UltimateMaxmericaShipper/Sora Kalopsia WHO HAS BEEN WITH ME SINCE JUST AFTER THE BEGINNING OF SELECTED TWINS AND INSPIRES SO MUCH MOTIVATION FOR ME TO WRITE!

Also these people for reviewing! Nameless, RunawayGirl8125, bibliopile609, mnbvcxz-xx, Anastasia the Goddess of Drama, canifindtheone, and delovlies!

So as I said, this chapter is like only halfway done, there's supposed to be a whole lot more (that I already have started) but I'm posting it as is.

Check out my Pinterest (links on my profile) for lots of extras and fun things! I've mentionted the upcoming Victory Ball and I have a whole board for that, if you want to browse gowns for characters (or find your own!). Right now I'm estimating it to be chapter 13 but knowing me that may change!

-Shades

…

Blind.

He was blind.

Only this wasn't how he ever thought being blind would be. He'd always thought it would be blackness, but everywhere he looked was white.

The ground. The sky. Everything around him.

Snow.

Fog.

(Or it was smoke.)

He had no idea where he was.

There was snow on the ground, and he couldn't feel his feet by then and he wasn't sure about anything anymore.

A shout.

They were behind him, somewhere.

The heaviness of the fog and smoke made it impossible to see but he heard every sound like it was right there.

He wasn't sure about anything anymore. The fear clogged his throat and sprinted through his bloodstream. He was shivering so hard his teeth clanked together but he didn't know if it was from cold or something else .

Gunshots. Closer this time.

He didn't even have time to think, instinct just kicked in and he threw himself down on the snow. His hands were numb, so it took him a second to realize he was on the ground.

There was fresh snow all over his clothes from his falling, sticking to the half-frozen blood.

Drake. Oh God, Drake.

His friend was dead.

No.

No. he wasn't. This wasn't real. This was just a dream.

"You're really the best, you know that?" she whispered as he grabbed her hand and tiptoed up to the third floor, creeping up the stairs like a ninja even though it was just a game of sardines.

"Yeah, I know," he said as they came to the landing. Empty.

"Shoot, they're not hiding up here." Panicking, he turned and ran down the stairs.

"It's not a matter of life or death!" she called after him, laughing.

That stupid memory. It wouldn't go away.

For a moment, he wanted to stay there forever, hiding in the snowbank. But then he realized he was still wearing his uniform, and when you were white-blind, the dark blue stuck out like nothing else.

So did they.

He saw them coming, shadowy figures blurred in the mist. He could see they were carrying guns, and there were a lot of them, but they were still too far away to distinguish anything else.

Running.

He was up and moving again before he even realized it. In the back of his mind he remembered something called the Fight or Flight response, and because he was running that must make him a coward.

But he kept running.

The shouts were getting louder, and suddenly he realized how much of an idiot he was, of course, they could see him.

Blind. He was blind.

White-hot pain lurched through his body, and it was almost overtaking the fear.

There wasn't cold anymore. His leg was on fire.

He kept running, but collapsed, unable to keep going.

Shot. Shot in the leg.

Drake's blood, all over his coat. Blood all over the snow. His blood.

He remembered blood all over her dress. It had been pink, the perfect gown for their birthday party. His blood.

It wasn't his leg, he decided. It belonged to someone else. It had to. This was just a dream.

Except it was so cold and he was so scared, and his leg was fire and he didn't think that dreams should to be this real.

He tried to get up, tried to keep running because they were coming, he was shot. His leg refused to do anything other than bleed. It was good at that now that there was a bullet embedded in it.

In a moment of brilliance, he reached for the radio that should have been clipped on his belt, but it was gone, replaced with frozen blood. He didn't know if it was his or Drake's anymore.

No one was coming. No one except for them. But they weren't going to save him.

They were going to kill him.

And they were going to make it hurt—

"Hey, you okay?"

Wesley turned around and blinked, finding himself confronted with a pair of icy blue eyes.

"Your Majesty…or whatever?" she hastily added when he didn't reply. A long piece of golden-blonde hair slipped over one eye.

One of the girls in the Selection. He shook his head, trying to clear away everything. One minute he had been walking down the Main Hall, heading upstairs, and the next he was back up north.

"Um, yeah. I'm fine."

Her blonde hair was rather a mess, having suffered the causality of being pulled into a messy ponytail. She was holding the skirt of her dress in the most un-princess-like wad around her knees with one hand and the straps of her shoes dangling off the other. Wes finally remembered her from the reception.

"Lady Vera," he blurted out, his remembrance of her name not staying politely in his head.

She wrinkled her nose in a manner that was kinda cute. "Just Vera's fine. What are you doing here?"

Wesley looked around and realized he had stopped in the middle of the stairs and was holding the banister so tight his knuckles were white. He forced his hand to unclench and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Woah, deja-vu.

"Hello? Did you hear me?" Vera asked, looking genuinely confused. "Is it one of those things where you only reply if I use the right title or something?"

In spite of himself, Wesley broke into a smile.

"You're funny."

Vera widened her eyes jokingly. "And you're blocking the way. Seriously, I'm going to be late for breakfast and maybe they won't let me eat and I'll starve to death and I don't think I'll be so funny after that."

He couldn't help but laugh at her, probably because he couldn't decide if she was joking or if she was actually serious. It sounded like something he would say, and it struck him as funny.

"Well we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Wesley said. "But I'm a prince so I think I can commune your starvation sentence."

"You'd be surprised," she muttered, flipping her hair out of her eyes with a toss of her head, sending the strands into a frenzy. "So what brings you to blocking poor defenseless girl's paths down the fanciest stairs I've ever seen in my frickin' life?"

Wesley shrugged before he even realized it. "Just hanging out, enjoying my Saturday morning, I guess."

Vera cocked her head, and one side of her mouth crinkled down as she studied him. "Where were you? In your head I mean, obviously you weren't here."

He shrugged again. "I told you, hanging out and thinking about some…budget reports…and hanging out… you know how we princes do."

She waited a moment to respond, and Wesley broke out into an unexplainable sweat. He couldn't explain why, but talking to Vera made him feel like she had caught him in the biggest lie of his life. Maybe she had.

"Okay, but you were standing there the whole time I was coming down them and you didn't even notice me until I said something. I'm not sure I would call that hanging out and thinking about budgets, no matter how princely."

"Were you spying on me?" Wesley asked casually, leaning against the banister, "because if you were that's cool but I might have to alert security, so you don't get arrested."

Vera snorted. "Yeah, me spying, real funny. Maybe Miss-Spy-Herself-Georgia Sorrell is, but I'm not."

"Huh?"

"Oh, you know. Lady Georgia claims to have spied for you guys but has her face slathered all over rebel propaganda and was right in the heart of Yukon where the secession happened?" Vera raised her eyebrows, "little bit sketchy if you ask me."

"Aren't you from St. George? Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's where most of the fighting was."

Vera's eyes sharpened, and Wesley noticed she held herself a little taller. "And I was right there in it all."

"Me too."

Neither of them said anything else, leaving everything unsaid and at the same time knowing exactly what the other meant.

Wesley shuffled his feet. "Well, I guess I should let you go to breakfast."

"Probably," Vera nodded, and walked down the stairs past him, before stopping and turning around.

"You never actually told me how I'm supposed to address you," she said.

Wesley smiled. "To be honest, I don't really feel like a prince most days. Plain ol' Wesley is fine by me."

"Plain and Old Wesley it is, then. See you around!" she called over her shoulder as she descended the rest of the stairs, barefoot and still holding up her skirts.

He chuckled and shook his head as he watched the blonde dash across the Main Hall to the dining room the Selected ate in when they weren't dining with the rest of his family, undoubtedly late. His stomach tightened, thinking of all the girls in there he had yet to talk to again. Other than their brief conversations at the reception, he had only gone out on dates with a few of them.

That was about to remedied. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had the alcohol-blurred memory of setting up this date with Lady Iris. To be sure, he had had Joseph confirm it for him with her just in case he had dreamt it. She was beautiful and genuine and kind of adorable and it made him nervous and being somewhat intoxicated at the reception hadn't helped.

Wesley had gotten special permission from Nicole and Christine to let Iris eat breakfast early so they could be ready to leave early. In hindsight, exploring downtown Angeles probably wasn't the best date idea because Iris lived there, but all the same, he was excited.

Despite all the ladies being downstairs, the second floor was bustling with the staff, reminding him of a hotel. As they went about their duties, pausing to acknowledge him with a bow or curtsey, something that had started to weird him out since he had gotten back from the north.

He shook it off and caught sight of Elvira waiting in one of the window nooks (if nook was a word one could use to describe a palace that is) right by Iris's room. The multi-titled former contender in Ethan's Selection and member of the counter-revolution, as well as Wesley's commanding officer and the new Secretary of the Illean Military, looked rather frightening in her black jeans, top and heeled boots, not to mention her dark hair and even darker eye makeup, but Wesley knew her better than that.

"Hey, Elvs, what's crack-a-lackin'?" he shot her some finger guns as he swaggered up to the small sitting area.

Elvira rolled her eyes. "I know technically you are a prince, but technically I'm also the boss of you when you're also in my command, so 'Elvs' is a bit unprofessional."

Wesley grinned, knowing that she was just joking. "Is everyone going to lecture me on my use of titles today? Should I do push-ups now?"

Elvira ruffled his hair, towering over him in her heels. "Only if you let me accompany you and Lady Iris on your excursion."

Wesley ducked away from her, and fixed his hair, or at least tried to. "Aw, come on, do you have to? I'm twenty-one!" he protested. "And besides, Andrew gave you a cushy government job so aren't you busy with the Council?"

"I would be, except our Prime Minister is out of town and one of our prince members is busy with his Selection, and just happens to be going into a city and that might be dangerous," she turned serious, "and I don't always trust the guards to do a good job in protecting you. They get away from the palace and they start having too much fun, especially if they're not going to be wearing uniforms."

"But it's Lady Iris's hometown. I can always bring Finn along. That dog never leaves my room, it seems like. He leaves his fur everywhere too."

The older girl patted his shoulder and spoke in her usual deadpan voice. "Not this time, Shreave. I'm your watchdog now."

Wesley sighed his most dramatic sigh. "Okaaayy, fine. But I'm not buying you food."

Elvira leveled him with what he liked to call her Captain Entrinken stare. "Oh really?"

Wesley tried to act annoyed but had to smile. "Your tax dollars at work!"

Elvira laughed, and Wesley realized it was one of the first times he had seen her happy in a long time. She had saved his ass more times than he could count, and even though he resented not being able to have a private date, he was glad she was coming along. Who knew, she might even scare off the paparazzi.

"I'll be at the car, don't worry, I don't need to protect you while you pick her up," Elvira said.

"Just don't scare off my guards too much!" he called after her, receiving a not so nice hand gesture in response.

He took a moment in the relative privacy of the nook to try to fix his hair and calm himself before knocking on Iris's door. He wasn't wearing a tie with his short-sleeved blue button-down and khaki shorts (he had ditched Joseph's 'salmon' option), so he hoped Fallon wasn't lurking nearby. His phone buzzed and he found a text from Elvira.

Hurry up and ask the girl, Private Loser.

Wesley laughed, attracting stares from some of the not-so-subtle maids going out their business. Elvira had taken to calling him that up north when he had been serving up there, especially during his flight training and the name had stuck. Even Drake had started calling him that.

There was a bit of a twinge there. He shook it off, and went to Iris's door and knocked.

Almost immediately, it opened up, revealing Iris, smiling brightly.

"Hi!" she chirped, brushing her short black hair off her face. Today she wore is lightly tousled, and clipped back on one side. As she had been at the reception, her outfit was structured, even if it was just a bright yellow sundress with neutral flats.

There was just something about her that made Wesley turn into a total goofball. Well, more of one.

"Hey, Iris!" he burst out loudly, no doubt getting more glances from the staff around the area. "You look great!"

Iris was starting to blush slightly as she looked down at her feet. "Thanks," she said. "It's not every day I get to show a prince around where I grew up."

"It's going to be awesome. I haven't been downtown since I left for the north. You ready to go?"

She smoothed back her hair again, something Wesley was starting to realize she did when she was nervous. "Um, yeah. Let me just grab my bag."

Iris ducked back into her room, leaving the door open just enough for him to see her room was just as artistic and structured as her fashion taste. She reappeared, looping a small purse over her shoulder that matched her shoes, of course.

"Okay, all set!"

Someone else apparently wanted to join the date as well, as a small brown blur charged out the door and into the hallway before stopping short, realizing it was unfamiliar territory.

Wesley halted in his tracks as his body decided it had to sneeze violently, which meant that the small brown blur was most likely a cat.

"Hime!" Iris cried, rushing out to scoop up the creature. It was indeed a cat, now purring almost as violently as Wesley's sneezing as it perched in its mistress's arms, peering at him with big green eyes.

"How did you smuggle a cat in here?" he asked, laughing around his allergies.

Iris nibbled her lip. "Technically, there wasn't any rule about no pets. Fallon brought her dog, I think. Besides, I couldn't leave Hime alone in my dorm," she scratched behind the cat's ears, "he would hate me for all eternity."

"That would be terrible. I vote Hime can stay." Wesley said.

"Do you want to pet him?" Iris asked. She got a thousand times more adorable when she was cuddling her cat, Wesley decided. Even if it made him sneeze his nose off, it was worth it.

He gave the cat a couple of pats, and it purred even louder than he had thought possible. He sneezed again.

"Ugh," he sniffled. "I better stop. This could get ugly."

Iris laughed softly and then kissed the top of Hime's head. "He likes to get out, but he's too much of a coward to run off," she added. "Don't worry, he's not coming with us." She set him down in the safety of her room and closed the door behind her. "Shall we go?"

"Onward!" Wesley exclaimed. "Actually, I probably should go find some tissues first."

"Oh, here you go," Iris pulled a small pack out of her purse, and handed them to him.

"Thanks," he took a few and gave the rest back, and then blew his nose loudly, making Iris laugh more as they made their way downstairs to the front doors. "So I should probably apologize for…whatever I said."

Iris made an awkward laugh sound and gave Wes a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the reception the other night, when I was…mildly intoxicated? I, um, I have no idea what I said to you, but it probably was embarrassing, and I should probably apologize."

He looked over at Iris and saw her blushing again. "To be honest, 'mildly' isn't the word I would use, but you were fine. You just laughed a lot really loudly."

"Oh good, I was only slightly drunk then. I do that normally."

Iris did the cute laugh sound again and cleared her throat. "No, not slightly. Go the other way."

Wesley wrinkled his nose. "Oh. That bad, huh?"

"Not bad, just several times louder and you almost tripped over your shoelaces every five minutes."

She didn't say it like she was judging him, which was nice. She glanced sideways at him and nervously smoothed back her hair with a giggle that probably could create chocolate ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles out of thin air.

He didn't have to impress her. Something unkinked inside him and he relaxed his shoulders.

"Oh, that's okay. That happens to me all the time," he said, getting another laugh out of Iris as they left the front doors of the palace.

In front of the doors on the driveway, the black SUV was idling, with one of his guards driving and the other two in the next car behind the SUV.

Elvira met them before they got in the car, now wearing sunglasses.

"Lady Iris, I'm Captain Entrinken, and I'll be heading your protection detail this afternoon," she said, offering her hand to shake Iris's.

Iris's mouth dropped open and flushed a lot deeper than she ever had with Wesley. "Oh my goodness, are you-are you Elvira Entrinken?" her voice squeaked as she shook Elvira's hand.

Elvira broke her cold exterior and smiled. "Guilty as charged."

"I remember watching you during Prince Ethan's Selection!" she blurted out. "I loved your fashion taste and how you shut down Lady Mackenzie and—I'm so sorry, I'm rambling."

Elvira shook her head. "It's okay. I was pretty excited to meet all of you too. I hope you don't mind me crashing your date. I promise I'm going to stay out of the way unless something happens."

Iris nodded, seemingly too excited to form words. Wesley opened the door for the second row in the car for her, and she climbed in, even scooting all the way over so he didn't have to go around.

"You have to go everywhere with them?" she asked softly, motioning to the guards in the front.

Wesley flashed her an enthusiastic thumbs-up and a cheesy grin. "Perks of being a prince!"

They made small-talk about Iris's time at the palace so far as the car pulled around the massive driveway and headed downtown.

"So where are we going when we get there?" Iris piped up.

Wesley shrugged. "It's your town. Wherever you want!"

Iris did that laugh thing again that Wesley swore made flowers grow. "Prepare yourself now, then. I am going to show you ever architecturally cool building in this city!"

…