A/N: And thus begins the four-part arc of the story that I like to call the Illéa chapters. All I'm going to say is that, by the end, nothing will be the same. Enjoy!
An Illéan Holiday Part One
Only two months later, and Gen was amazed at how much warmer it was in Angeles compared to Paris.
Things were already starting to bloom and it was not yet March, grass unnaturally green for a winter month, the sun warm and shining down on the royal gardens.
Gen was surprised that her mother had sanctioned such a high-volume, high-risk outing, but ever since their fight, things between them had been less than great, and Gen supposed that Maman wanted to be just as far away from Gen as Gen wanted to be away from her. How much further could she get than Illéa?
The boys seemed to feel a bit out of place; for most of them, this was their first trip out of the country. Blessedly, most of the guests and her oncle's family knew how to speak French, and many of the Selected knew English. Gen supposed that this wasn't as big of a train wreck as it could have been. She definitely wasn't thinking about the culture shock when she jumped on the royal jet. She wasn't thinking of anything other than her immense need to get away, really.
At least it wasn't a random trip; no, she had a valid reason to be there. Her favorite and only male cousin was turning fifteen, and Gen wouldn't miss this for the world.
"How do people stand it over here?" Arlo grumbled, pulling at his tie. "It's so damn hot."
"I'm not the one who decided to wear all black," Gen chided, sneaking a cake pop off of one of the circulating trays.
Arlo glared and stalked off, probably to find some shade. That was fine. Gen didn't mind basking in the sun a bit, because unlike her morbid Selected, she had opted to go for a golden lace dress that cut off at her knees, and while there were sleeves, they were sheer and breathable. A lot of the boys had gone for lighter outfits - button downs and slacks for the most part. While there would be a huge ball to celebrate later, the garden party was a more casual affair. Not saying that Anatole was allowed to wear his scrubs, or Ulysse his paint-stained jeans, but there were no black ties nor waist coats in sight.
Gen leaned back, taking in the guests. A lot of the faces were vaguely familiar, but none familiar enough to strike up meaningful conversation with. Josie Reinhardt stood beside her husband Mathis, the current Governor of Allens, as they conversed with a short bubbly woman who Gen knew through her years of working for the crown on some nonprofit foundation. The Reinhardts had a son around Elodie's age, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was a New Asian delegation conversing with Prime Minister Brice near the rose trellis, but Empress Han Eunmi nor her daughter were anywhere to be seen. And then there was the matter of the Russians -
"Gen!"
Lucas Travert came running up to her table, his blond hair tousled and forehead slightly shiny with sweat. And in his hand was a bouquet of mix-matched flowers, clearly picked right out of the ground and the bushes.
"These are for you," he said, extending his slightly dirty hands so that she could take the makeshift arrangement.
"Thank you," Gen said obligingly, though she felt badly for whatever gardener was going to find the pockets of missing blooms in the landscape. "Always with the flowers Lucas. You're making a habit of this."
He smiled widely and gestured to the person who had quietly come up behind him. "It was Seb's idea."
Gen turned to the boy in question. "Is that true?"
Seb looked down at his shoes speckled with soil and blushed. He nodded.
"That's very sweet of you both. Why don't you go find something for me to put these in."
The two were more than happy to comply, leaving Gen just as quickly as they came, rushing off with childlike enthusiasm. It was endearing, and a little bit disheartening. After all this time, these boys still wanted to give her flowers. She had not been doing a good job of sending off platonic vibes. Except for Seb, but he was more than likely just being nice. He was too nice sometimes, like excruciatingly nice, and Gen didn't have the heart to tell him to stop.
"Flowers," Anatole commented as he took the seat adjacent to Gen, pushing his sunglasses atop of his unruly mess of brunet curls. "Who do I have to beat?"
Gen huffed out a laugh as she fingered the petals, admiring how soft they were. "I should have expected that from someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"Broody, defiant, someone who has competition running through their veins."
"Lucas and Seb? They're not competition," Anatole said definitively, leaning as far back in his chair as it would allow.
"What makes you think that?" Gen asked a little hotly, feeling defensive of her sweet boys. "They've got plenty of things going for them."
"Sure they do, that's why I like them," Anatole agreed, shrugging his shoulders. "But those boys are so deep in the friendzone, it's painful to see them try. Honestly, sometimes I think it would be easier to watch you kick a puppy."
Gen frowned, trying not to let that get to her. She didn't want to dwell on any kind of negatives while she was here. She had come to Illéa specifically so she could escape the bullshit. Besides, Anatole was probably only saying those things to get under her skin; it was what he did best, nothing more.
Finally, the guest of honor showed his awkwardly pubescent face, flanked by all his little sisters and prim older one. The little ones broke free from the ranks as soon as their bare fit hit the green grass, erupting in a flurry of giggles and shrieks. Gen wished she got that excited being outdoors; all she usually got was annoyed at how easily she burned and all the mosquitos.
As soon as Kase spotted Gen, he made a bee-line her way, Elodie and their parents hot on his heels. Gen rose to meet them half way across the green.
"No way!" Kase exclaimed in disbelief, crashing into Gen's chest. "You actually made it!"
"Of course I did," Gen laughed, glad to deliver such a surprise. "I wouldn't have missed it."
"Yeah, you've only missed the other fourteen," he scoffed, but there was no heat. Distance and time made it hard for them to connect, often resorting to annual visits if they were lucky. This was probably the first birthday Gen had managed to make it to in the past decade. She was unsure if any of her cousins had even attended one of hers...that they could remember. Most of her birthdays, especially recently, were covered in a blissful alcoholic daze. Or full of surprise Selections.
"I can jump back on the plane if you want, presents and all."
"Oh, hey now, let's not be hasty," Kase was quick to amend, and everyone laughed.
"It's wonderful to see you Gen," Tante Finnley reached down and pulled her into a warm hug. Gen almost teared up. How was it that, ten seconds in, this woman felt more like her mother than Maman?
"Thank you for letting me crash the party."
"Crashing? Nothing of the sort," Oncle Kaden waved it off, pulling Gen into a hug of his own. "You're always welcome here and you know it."
Over Gen's shoulder, his eyes darted to where Heather stood a few feet behind, wrapped up in a casual outfit: a long sleeved anarkali suit with breezy white cotton embroidered with blue flowers, a navy scarf draped over her shoulder. Beside her, Neelam looked far more formal than the event called for, wearing a one-shouldered peach gown with bronze floral detail across the bust, and an elaborate pearl hairpiece fastened in the back of her bun. Gen would have been busy analyzing why her oncle was once again fascinated with her Selection coordinator, but she was too busy focusing on Neelam, who was sweeping forward to steal the stage.
"Happy Birthday, Your Highness."
Neelam dipped into a perfect curtsy, a little deeper than expected, but gracefully executed. Strange enough, Kase seemed...enchanted, which was just weird because Neelam had just been there for New Years and they had barely spoken two words to one another. But now, it was like he was captivated by her. Gen wanted to wave her hand in front of his face just to see if he would still stare.
"H-hi," Kase stammered, just as confused as Gen was. "Do you like the party?"
"I don't know. I just got here," Neelam shrugged, looking around lazily. She tugged at the saddle bag she had on her shoulder, bursting at the seams full of god knows what. Probably her headphones, polaroid camera, and a thousand books - all things that had no place at a formal event.
"Neelam, don't be rude," Heather chided, slapping her daughter lightly on the arm.
Neelam frowned and rubbed the spot, but turned back to Kase with new purpose.
"You know, these gardens have amazing aesthetics. Last time I was here, it was too cold to look around. Take me on a tour?" Neelam told more than asked, extending her elbow for Kase to take. He did without hesitation, the two darting off inside, as if forgetting that this was his party, and that the birthday boy abandoning his guests was more than a little rude.
Gen noticed that Heather and Kaden were giving each other strange, amused glances. Whatever was going on, they seemed to approve. Gen, on the other hand, was annoyed and she didn't know why it bothered her so much that the daughter of the biggest thorn in her side and her cousin were running off together.
Elodie let out a sigh, gently rolling her eyes at the spectacle. "Boys."
"That's okay. You, Tante Finnley, and I can have our own party," Gen said, trying to pep herself back up. However, one look at her tante, navy blue gown hiked up to chase after her unruly daughters, made Gen pause and reconsider. "Or...maybe just us."
Elodie laughed into her hand, shaking her head. "I don't know why she tries. They're impossible to rein in once they're cut loose."
Gen was about to suggest they go back to her table, maybe Elodie could even meet the boys, when her party of two became a party of one. The Reinhardt boy had snuck up on Elodie, and she was far too caught up in him to remember Gen was standing nearby. But that was fine. There would be plenty of time to catch up later.
Gen walked around for a bit before settling on a table where her oncle and Heather had established themselves. Just like before, Gen felt like she was intruding on something intimate and private. Heather's chair was angled towards Oncle Kaden's, and her oncle in return was leaning forward so that he was completely engrossed in whatever story Heather was telling. There were smiles and soft laughs, and Gen felt something angry flicker in her stomach when she thought about Tante Finnley chasing after an overly-excited Delia in the grass not twenty feet away. They had even been wearing matching outfits for Christ's sake!
"Mind if I join?" Gen asked abruptly, placing her drink down against the glass table top with a loud clink. She knew that she made it seem like there was no invitation, that she was going to sit no matter what they said. Neither one seemed to mind though, and they leaned away from each other in order to include Gen.
"Pas de problème," Oncle Kaden acquiesced, smiling fondly at Gen. "So, how is my oldest niece? Ça va?"
"Ça va," Gen shrugged, much more interested in whatever was going down between the two of them. "What were you all talking about?"
"Just reminiscing," Heather replied, a spark in those blue eyes that was normally absent in the halls of Versailles. "Do you remember when these types of things used to scare you? I think you had at least two breakdowns about the guest list for the Halloween Ball."
"They still do. What can I say, I'm a perfectionist?"
"At least you don't take it out on your cufflinks anymore," Heather mused, gaze sliding over to Gen. "His poor suits - he used to wear holes in them from all his fidgeting."
"Hey now," Oncle Kaden warned with little heat to his gaze. It was like he was unable to look at Heather with anything other than affection.
"Like you deal with stress any better, mother," Neelam called Heather out as she slipped into the conversation, Kase nowhere to be seen. She did, however, look a little ruffled, her hairpiece knocked askew, and Gen had a very good guess about what they were doing on that short-lived 'tour' of the gardens. Still, she kept her composure cool, not drawing any sort of attention to her appearance, instead giving Heather some impressive side eye. "A few weeks ago I heard you threaten to stab someone in the neck."
"I'm pretty sure that was me," Oncle Kaden replied as he thought back on the event with a face far more serene than expected considering his life was in jeopardy.
"It was," Heather confirmed, stabbing at her fruit bowl as if this were a natural occurrence. In fact, everyone was acting like this wasn't a big deal, and Gen was slightly scared.
As if on cue, Neelam pulled out a psychology textbook - where the hell did she even manage to keep a psychology textbook! - rifling through the pages until she found the passage she wanted. "Psychopathic tendencies include: violent threats."
"That's nice dear," Heather sighed, not really paying attention.
"You should get checked out, Mom, since it runs in your family."
Gen choked on her water, a little bit dribbling out of the corner of her mouth as she tried to pull herself together. Her reaction wasn't as bad as her oncle who was using his hands to cover where tea had leaked out of his nose, his face bright red.
Heather looked a mix between shocked and murderous. Neelam slammed her book shut, quickly running from the table before Heather could reach over and beat the living daylight out of her. The older woman stood and paced after her daughter. Gen could only imagine the kind of hell Neelam was about to receive, and she hoped the quip was worth it.
"I'll uh, be right back," Oncle Kaden excused himself as well. Gen saw the blooming tea stain on his crisp white button down, and figured he was going to change his shirt before Tante Finnley saw and had a fit.
That just left Gen, all alone at a table meant for six. That was just fine with her. Alone time was scarce to stumble upon, and it was only a matter of moments before she was whisked into some new drama.
Barely a sigh and a sip of tea before that new drama came waltzing on by.
"What oh what is going on over here?"
Gen turned around to see Queen Allegra sauntering towards the table, or more precisely, saw her large black and white hat. The thing was enormous, engulfing the monarch's entire head, but Gen supposed that was the fashion in the British Empire, and had been since the beginning of time. Queen Allegra smoothed out her pink dress before settling in the chair next to Gen, looking at her curiously.
"I saw Kaden leave. Everything alright?"
"Yeah, fine. He just - uh - snorted some tea onto his shirt."
"Snorted? How awkward! Some things never change," Queen Allegra sighed, sipping from her own glass with grace. "So, how are you? I hear you're in the market for a man these days."
"You heard right," Gen replied, trying to sound enthusiastic about it but failing. "I brought some of them with me, the ones that matter."
Very recently, Gen had come to the realization that, while she still had about twenty-ish suitors, she had only really been hanging around the same ten. She couldn't tell what any of the others even looked like, but she knew that Lucas Aubry only played piano at night because he was too shy to play otherwise, and that Hugo was the most talkative guy in the world once he stopped trying to be defensive with those one-word replies, and that Ulysse preferred to sit facing the sun when he worked and had even rearranged all the furniture in his room so he could optimize the daylight. When Gen got back to Paris, she would have to do a mass elimination. It wasn't fair to keep those other guys around when even they knew they were being ignored.
"So I see," Queen Allegra mused, looking out into the small crowd, picking out the boys that clearly were not used to these kinds of events. "Quite a good looking bunch, especially that one over there."
Gen followed Queen Allegra's gaze to Dante. Of course it would be Dante. He was the one everyone seemed to lust over. They branded him as some kind of sex symbol, and it made Gen laugh. If only they knew how hard he would blush and stammer if he were to read what they wrote about him in the tabloids.
"Dante's a good one," Gen agreed with a smile. "He's really good with Grandmère. I think she likes him."
"Cougar alert!"
"Gross! It's not like that," Gen laughed, knowing Queen Allegra was teasing. "Please don't tell me you're into him too."
"Of course not darling! I only look; I don't buy," the older royal tutted as she waved her glass of tea with pinky out and everything. "I tried the marriage thing once. It didn't work out."
"What happened?"
"He cheated on me with my maid."
The queen's reply was so honestly abrupt and out of the blue, that the only thing Gen could think to reply with was, "oh."
"All three of them," Allegra amended, and Gen choked on her tea, spluttering as the older woman looked at her expectantly. "Would you like to know how I found out?"
Gen was scared as she nodded.
"I overheard them bickering at each other when I was in the loo. They thought the water was running, and while I was supposedly drawing the bath, they were arguing over which one gave the best head," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as if the whole thing was some kind of juvenile drama. "When I came out I told them that if they didn't leave my country immediately then I'd have theirs. I'd never seen the lazy cows move so fast. And that, my dear, is the reason why you should always employ an ugly staff. Boys…they'll stick their dicks in anything. Can't trust any of them, not a single one."
"Not even me?" Oncle Kaden asked, coming in on the tail end of the conversation, fresh white dress shirt under his navy jacket.
"You're the only exception darling," Queen Allegra cooed, her spirits brightened immediately at the sight of her oldest and dearest friend. That was, until she got a good look at him. "What the bloody hell died and landed on your face?"
"Not you too," Oncle Kaden grumbled, stroking his beard conscientiously. He grew one out every winter, and it made him look more like a lumberjack than a king. "Finn has already threatened divorce three times in the past month because of it. I think it's a new record."
"I don't blame the poor girl. I wouldn't want to look at it either."
"I think you look quite handsome," Gen soothed her fretting oncle, placing a comforting hand on top of his.
"At least I can count on France to be a true, supportive ally," Oncle Kaden said with a playful smile pointed Queen Allegra's way. The woman merely snorted and rolled her eyes.
"We are not starting a war over your facial hair, Kaden," she huffed before turning to Gen and muttering, "traitor."
"Aunt Allegra!"
Elodie came over and wrapped the queen in a tight hug that the monarch eagerly reciprocated.
"Hello hello!" the older woman cooed, pushing back some of Elodie's curls. "Look at you, such a gorgeous young woman. I would envy you if I were younger."
Elodie blushed and sat down next to Allegra, across from Gen. She seemed to have brought the cavalry with her, because all of the Schreave children were now headed towards the table, Tante Finnley taking up the rear with Gabbi propped up in her arms. Oncle Kaden looked fondly up at his wife, giving her a kiss when she approached the table (though he was right - she did cringe as his scruff touched her pink cheek). They were so soft, so cute together, that Gen almost found herself believing in love.
"Oh! That reminds me! Now that you're all here..."
Allegra trailed off, clapping her hands for her valet. A minute later, a man brought armfuls of presents to the British monarch, who started doling them out.
"Elodie, dear, this one is for you," Allegra said, passing over a small black box wrapped with pearly while ribbon. "And this one is for Cordelia."
Little hands reached up to grab a polkadot bag stuffed with tissue, and Hayden and Auden were next to grab their gifts, pulling at the binds despite their mother's instructions to wait. Kase was nowhere to be seen, still lost in the gardens probably, but the large yellow box topped with neon streamers had to be his present.
"What about me?" Gabbi asked, pouting her lips and blinking up those wide doe eyes. Allegra was rendered powerless to them as she knelt down to the girl's level.
"For you, my precious little tart, I think you should go to the stables."
Gabbi's eyes immediately went wide, her body buzzing with excitement as she pulled at Tante Finnley's gown, encouraging her to start moving in that direction.
"Allegra..." Tante Finnley trailed off, looking overwhelmed. "This is too much."
"You can thank me later darling," Allegra said with a wink, standing up and pushing the mother-daughter duo towards the stables.
"Al, you did not get my daughter a pony," Oncle Kaden deadpanned, looking sternly at Queen Allegra.
"Of course not," she said in a blasé manner. "I got her two!"
"Oh my god…" Kaden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gen wondered if he was thinking about the pony Gabbi had just gotten for Christmas. They were going to need a bigger stable.
"What's the point of being a godmother if I can't spoil my godchildren?"
"You do know this is Kase's birthday, right?"
"I got him something too, not to worry. I just didn't think he'd be as interested in ponies."
"Whatever it is, it better not be living."
Allegra merely rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her godchildren as they opened their presents. And while everyone was oohing and ahhing over the extravagant display of gifts, Gen nearly missed the entrance of someone very important.
There, at the top of the stairs, was Samara Abdul.
The Saudi Princess looked like she had stepped out of a storybook. That, or she had stepped right out of Gen's darkest dreams strictly to torture her.
"Oncle Kaden..." Gen trailed off, her heart jackhammering in her chest as the princess descended the stone steps. She was so close, and getting even closer. "Did you invite Samara?"
"Oui."
"Pourquoi?" she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. That must have been the wrong thing to say, because Oncle Kaden arched an eyebrow, looking confused. Before he could ask what was wrong, Gen jumped in with, "I just mean, I didn't think that she and Kase were that close."
"They're not, but when you told me you were coming, I thought it would be nice if I invited one of your friends."
Gen could not even muster a response. Her gaze was focused ahead on the beauty draped in lilac and rose colored fabrics, blending into the floral setting as if she belonged there. After the shit show that was New Years, Gen thought that she was over Samara, that those brown eyes and bronze skin no longer affected her, that that laugh no longer sent a flurry of butterflies off in her stomach.
She was wrong. She wasn't over Samara.
Fuck.