A/N: More craziness up ahead! Thanks for your support for the last chapter; I'm glad it all came out okay. It's hard to tell when things get that long. I hope you enjoy!

Talk Sh*t Get Hit

It was only midnight when Gen decided she'd had enough partying and wanted to go back home.

No one protested, though Gen figured they were too drunk to care. Illeana, Jacinda, and Victor caught their own rides back to their apartments, leaving Gen to ride home with Henri and Merlin. Merlin was in a great mood. He was humming along to a radio that wasn't even playing, muttering under his breath about how Constance and Lucian weren't going to believe this, whoever they were. The change in his personality was so drastic after he got a few drinks in him that Gen was hard pressed to think that he was a totally different person. And then there was that comment that Illeana made, about what Merlin did and did not possess. It was confusing, and raised a lot of alarms in Gen's mind as though the answer should have been obvious. But that mind was also fuzzy and went off like a siren whenever that damned kiss reared its ugly head.

Gen felt nauseous. She didn't even know if Illeana was trustworthy enough to keep her word. The last thing she wanted was this to get leaked to the press; that was not the kind of attention she needed at the moment. The only silver lining was that the red head could wake up in the morning with a raging headache and a blackout memory. A girl could hope.

Right now though, this girl could puke.

Which Gen did as soon as the car pulled into the driveway. She got out, ran over to the perfectly manicured bushes, and heaved out the contents of her stomach. Immediately, she felt ten times better. Henri gave her a look as if to say, seriously? All Gen did was glare at him, challenging him to say something. If Heather was going to pay him to be her babysitter, then she had the right to act childish sometimes. That's how that worked, right? Probably not, but oh well.

The car door opened and the driver helped Merlin out. He was stumbling a bit, and Gen wondered when he had gotten so drunk because she swore he was the most sober out of the group last time she checked.

"I had a really great time," the model said dopely, his smile so much more relaxed than Gen had ever seen before.

"Me too," she replied, trying to feign the giddiness she had felt earlier in the club before things went to shit. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Bonne nuit!" he sing-songed. Gen let out an amused sigh.

"Henri, do you mind taking Merlin back to his room? I think he's worse off than I am..." she asked, watching as Merlin tried to gain his footing on the steps and failed.

"What about you?" Henri asked, his dark eyes narrowing into even darker slits in his own form of unspoken protest.

"This is not my first rodeo," Gen assured her wavering bodyguard. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"Alright, Votre Altesse. I will be right back," Henri conceded, though he did not look entirely convinced. It must be tiring, Gen thought, to be so skeptical of everyone and everything all the time.

Henri hurried over to Merlin, subtly helping him up the steps so that he could do no further damage to himself or the palace. She stayed a good bit behind them, needing some space if even for a moment.

The lights were out in Versailles save for the ones that lit the garden to keep up the aesthetic to tourists and random passerbys. Inside, it was dark and quiet as a mouse; not even Henri and Merlin had left a lit path in their wake. Gen swore the guards were trained to see in the dark, rigid frames casting eerie shadows on the walls. They were a familiar fixture, though a haunting reminder that she would never really be alone - that it was only a matter of time before someone found her.

That time came as soon as she set foot on the upstairs landing. Her room wasn't too far away, her bed so blessedly close. Yet, the lights overhead flickered to life, signaling the arrival of her house guests.

"Wow! Where's the party?" came a chipper voice, followed by a whistle.

Normally, Beau would be the one to make such ridiculous statements, but this time it was Lucas Travert. There was nothing lewd about the comment that normally would have gotten other creeps punched. Instead he looked genuinely wowed by Gen's appearance - much like Merlin had been - despite the fact she was sure her hair was wild and her makeup was smudged from the impromptu make out session. Lucas was looking nowhere but her eyes. Well, mostly her eyes except during moments in which his curiosity got the better of him. Lucas was a pure soul after all. He was flanked by Hugo, and Dante walked a few paces behind, seemingly apologetic for his companion's outburst.

"The party's right here boys," Gen teased easily, used to doing this dance with other guys. She was still in her sparkly golden dress and heels, comfier clothes forgotten in the back of the car. No wonder she had attracted their attention. A lot of them had yet to see her in anything other than jeans or tee shirts. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Impromptu match," Dante explained, gesturing to the black and white ball he held under the crook of his arm. "We could ask you the same question though."

When he smiled, it warmed Gen from her nose to the tips of her toes. Dante was also a pure one. A little nervous - she could tell by the way he kept fidgeting with the ball, filled with idle energy that had been absent before stumbling upon her - but pure.

"Merlin got a fancy contract, and we had to celebrate," she said, her speech not as succinct as she would have liked it to be, but she wasn't slurring her words, which was a very big plus.

"We'll have to congratulate him when we see him," Hugo replied, looking mildly impressed. Gen realized that she hadn't gotten to see much of him compared to some of the others, though he was also one of the ones, like Merlin, who gave the cold shoulder. She'd have to take a crack at him later...when she wasn't so tipsy.

"I'm wounded that I wasn't invited," Lucas continued with the gag, mock-pouting as he leaned up against the wall.

"It was a spur of the moment thing. Very low-key, very...boring. Nothing personal," Gen rattled through an excuse, hoping his feelings weren't actually hurt. But who knew? Masculinity, she was coming to find out, was very fragile.

While everyone else was content with staring and joking, Dante furrowed his brow and became concerned. "Are you feeling okay, Votre Altesse?"

"I'm fine! Great, actually!" Gen said a bit too enthusiastically. Damn! Were her nerves showing? She could never keep a poker face up after drinking, and after the roller coaster that was the club, she had to appear like a deer in the headlights.

Dante did not look convinced. Instead, he handed the ball over to Hugo and pulled the sweater off of his back, leaving him in just a thin white tee, and handed it over to her. "Here, you have to be freezing."

It was such a sweet gesture, Gen could have cried. She pulled the cream-colored material over her head, and even sizes too big, she swore she had never put on anything so comfy in her life.

"She wouldn't need to cover up if she had more self respect."

The hall went silent as Salvatore walked in. Lucas' face fell, the joke forgotten and replaced with a stunned expression. No one could quite believe the words he had said.

"Excuse me?" Gen squeaked, her voice not nearly menacing enough for her liking. Instead, she sounded like a timid mouse.

"Where do you get off? Dressing like that, parading yourself for other men as if we are not already here to serve you. I thought you were a woman of decency and morality! Have you no self-respect?" Salvatore continued his rant, his tone absolutely venomous. He was always so passionate when he spoke, so emotional, and this time he was not using that passion to spout love ballads. Genuine fury laced every word out of his mouth. Gen would have thought she had ran over his dog with the amount of contempt he was throwing her way. It was unwarranted, unnecessary, and just plain mean.

Normally, any other guy would get a good telling off and a kick in the ass. Gen had fended off her fair share of creeps. But after the night she'd just had, she was drained both mentally and emotionally. She was two steps from crying, her mouth gaping like a fish wondering how things had gone so south so quickly. Life just could not cut her a break and it was so fucking unfair...

"This is the princess. Why don't you try showing her some respect," Dante spoke up, not liking the way Salvatore was talking to Gen. He was the only one big enough to engage in this battle. The others were blatantly uncomfortable, but in no physical condition to pick a fight with a mountain. A vein in Hugo's neck twitched. Lucas' face turned a startling shade of red. Regardless, it made her feel better and less vulnerable knowing that these guys were on her side.

"I will show her respect when she starts acting like a princess and less like a whore."

All the air was suctioned from the room. A collective gasp was heard, ringing in Gen's ears along with the fury she felt clawing up her throat...or was that bile? She didn't know if she was going to be sick with rage or illness. No one, no one spoke to her like that. Yet, all the violent thoughts and images flowing through her mind only equated to silence.

Then Salvatore was laughing, Dante was laughing, everyone was laughing. As if someone had just made a terrible, horrible joke.

And then Dante was lunging forward and punching Salvatore clear across the face.

The crack of bone was unmistakable. It was such an intense punch that Salvatore actually staggered backwards, his nose crooked and bleeding like a waterfall. The other guys whistled low and muttered curses under their breath, trying to decide whether to congratulate Dante or stay out of this mess. Hugo reached out to pull Gen away, but she was rooted in place. Dante didn't look proud of himself. If anything, he looked resigned to the fact that he had to resort to such violent means, shaking out his fist. Gen was sure he'd done damage to his hand.

Most guys would have gotten the hint and backed off. Not Salvatore. He righted himself and looked downright excited. Like he wanted to start a fight. He popped his knuckles, ready for round two. Dante only grimaced.

Thankfully, Henri stepped in, returning from escorting Merlin. It was the only time Gen actually felt blessed to have someone so nosy and invasive in her life. Dante looked just as relieved to be taken out of the line of fire. The bodyguard intercepted Salvatore's war path, halting the man in his tracks.

"Please maintain your distance from the princess," Henri instructed, a firm hand on Salvatore's chest, holding him back.

"Now listen here you overpaid monkey," Salvatore sneered, still trying to push past Henri to little success. He looked a hell of lot scarier now that he had blood running down his face and on his shirt. "I will have words with the princess if I choose to have words. This does not concern you."

Salvatore made the mistake of trying to shove Henri. In the next moment, Henri had Salvatore falling through the air and lying flat on his back, knocked out cold. Gen had no idea what the bodyguard had done to knock him out so quickly, but she didn't care. Salvatore was unconscious and drooling with guards running over to cuff him as quickly as possible.

"Get this man out of here now!" Henri snapped, his usual composure cracked as he gave his commands. In a split second, he had gone from a silent guardian to an attack dog. The guards nodded quickly before heaving Salvatore's body up off the ground and dragging him away, not wanting to end up in his shoes.

Henri took a deep breath, stepped forward, and placed both hands on the tops of Gen's shoulders, grounding her. "Are you alright, Votre Altesse?"

"I want him gone!" Gen demanded, her head spinning. She honestly had no idea what the hell just happened or what to think. All she could see was Salvatore coming after her, a man twice her size with the intent to inflict harm and she stumbled. Henri caught her, but even his friendly grip was too much. "I want him out of my house! Out of my country! Send him on the first boat to Italy, I don't care I want him gone!"

Gen didn't know if she even had the power to exile subjects. She didn't care. She never wanted to see Salvatore or his overly-tanned face ever again.

"He's leaving, Votre Altesse, he's leaving," Henri assured, trying to lead her to the steps. "Perhaps you should sit down and - "

"No," Gen insisted, pushing away from Henri so she was tripping into the middle of the hall. "No...no I need air. I need to get out of here."

"Princess I must insist - "

"Get away from me!"

Her voice was a near-shriek, echoing off the walls with painful clarity. Henri backed up immediately, as did the guards who looked torn between fulfilling their duty of protection and letting Gen go. Gratefully, they chose the latter. No one followed her as she tore down the hall towards nowhere in particular. She kicked off her shoes so she could run faster, losing them somewhere between the sitting room and the conference room. A maid would find them and return them in the morning. Gen wished they would burn them instead, along with the dress she now felt like ripping off of her body and tearing into tiny, glittery pieces.

She wished she could burn this whole night from her memory. It was nothing but a nightmare.

Salvatore's words rang through her ears, blocking out all other sounds.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was a whore. Because what kind of self-respecting young woman invited thirty five strangers to her house only to flirt and toy with their hearts and then leave them in the dust? What kind of person goes out on a very nice date with a wonderful young man only to make out with his best friend in a bathroom stall? Maybe the reason Gen was hurting so much was because the words had hit too close to home, cut far too deep and she wasn't ready to hear the truth.

Gen hated herself. She hated the lies and the games. More than anything she hated that she knew there was no way she was going to stop any time soon. She said from the beginning that she would do whatever it takes to procure the throne - even break thirty five hearts. She just never considered that hers may be damaged, or completely lost, in the process.

Unable to keep going, Gen collapsed in exhaustion. Her body sunk down the nearest wall, leaving her in a heap on the floor. She pulled her knees to her forehead and tried to regulate her breathing that was still wracked with hiccups from sobs. There were no tears; she'd shed them all on the way. She was grateful that her feet hadn't led her to the Hall of Mirrors. She didn't think she could stand seeing a million wrecked versions of herself, mocking her former strength.

Footsteps drew Gen out of her hole of self-pity. She tried to compose her best brave face so she could tell whoever it was to fuck off. But when she looked up, she was greeted by an unexpected yet familiar visage.

"Qu'est-ce que tu veux?"

"I heard screaming..." Sébastien explained, looking down upon Gen with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Gen snapped. Why the hell did everyone keep asking her that? She really didn't mean to be so rude to Seb; he was a nice guy, but he was in her space when all she wanted to be was alone to wallow in her own misery.

"Dumb question..." he mumbled, admonishing himself. Then he straightened up, suddenly emboldened. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"What?"

"Come on," he said, extending a hand. "Let's get out of here."

Gen eyed him curiously, like he had sprouted a second head. Since when did the kid who skirted around the edges of social circles have enough courage to ask her out point blank. "And go where?"

Truth was, she was itching for escape. From this house, from this night, from this Selection, from everything. Seb was dangling an opportunity right in front of her nose, yet she was hesitant.

"I-uh just..." Seb trailed off, looking nervous as he scrambled for an answer. "Look, I don't really want to stick around for what comes next and I see you don't want to be here either, so how about we go and get away from this madness? So just, trust me?"

Trust? Gen wanted to shout. Trust was the last thing she wanted to do. If tonight's string of unfortunate events had taught her anything, it was that she could trust no one, not even herself. But Seb was looking at her with those kind green-brown eyes which were made just a little bigger by the rectangular frames of his glasses, like he could see straight through her, and it was hard not to give in to his request. And then she thought about all that awaited her in the palace, the chaos she left behind and the people that would be coming for her any minute.

Fuck it.

Gen took his hand.