Fallout
Victoria, determined to get better with her dad, runs into him with Lillian and misunderstands the situation. In their lessons, Rowan writes letters to her father as the girls discuss the obvious favouritism towards a few girls. Rowan and Leda briefly met Louis, who may know a tad too much for their taste. Meanwhile, Veira, Nereida, Harriet, Tessa and Sophia head out to a charity event and Veira is touched by it.
Chapter 32
»false, but it looked good«
Library of the Palace, Los Angeles, Angeles
Veira Schreave
Louis Illéa, as usually, was sitting in the library. Given the time, it made sense—he did work at some points of the day, but Veira was fairly sure that she was either sleeping, or in the lessons, sleeping.
"Of course, come in," the prince replied. "What can I do for you?"
"I need your opinion on something," Veira replied. "We just returned from the women's shelter visit, and I met this woman. A Six that married a Five. Her husband died in the Unrest, and now she is unemployed because she's no artist. She can't go back—probably can't afford the legal fees if that's even possible, and people don't accept the mixing among the castes in the case of lower castes. She and her son are doomed. Harriet and I were talking about what you can do against that, and how everything is turned against women. It would never happen to a man marrying—we have to give up everything we stand for."
Louis leaned backwards, and glared into the fire flickering quietly. He had closed the book he had been reading beforehand, but his right hand still rested on the old paper. "That, dear Veira, is another point why the caste system is fundamentally flawed."
"But what can be done? You know the law better than I do—there has to be something we can do.
"It's partwise a historical thing," Louis admitted. "Women take their husband's surname. When Illéa adopted the caste system, it must have been natural for Gregory Illéa to go with that. As I'm sure you can guess, any change but the complete removal of the caste system will help."
"Yes." Veira nodded. "It's not only that, though. There's so much more. I've googled it on the way here—how many governors are female? How many candidates are there?"
"None," Louis replied. It wasn't a guess, he was well aware of that.
"Something must be done—do you not have any idea? You always do."
"Maybe sleep a little less?" he teased.
Veira blushed. "To be fair, I—"
"Binge-watch Netflix?"
"That's not the discussion here, Louis!"
He rose and stepped to the window, directed to the front of the palace. In the close distance, Veira could see the skyline of Los Angeles. It wasn't as beautiful as New York—it could never be—but it was still touching. Veira, having not even sat down, stepped besides him, curious why he had moved there. Louis frowned. "Veira, do you remember our conversation about Project Omega and why it's not succeeding?"
"Yes, I do." She had just thought about it—when they had been talking to Hope.
"You can change the laws, but you can't change society." He paused. "You could make it illegal to speak up against me, arrest anyone who does, but will it make a difference? Will it change their feelings? No, that is impossible. Not at one instant, at least."
"Are you saying it comes down to Project Omega?" Veira frowned. Now that she thought about it, she doubted that the secret government project would do much effect—either in what it was intended for, and in making sure that people were treated fairly.
"I'm saying it's struggling with the same barriers as Project Omega does. Veira, I understand your feelings, but you can't just magically change people's feelings."
"You haven't tried yet!"
"Look at history," Louis gestured to the countless books. "People have, before us."
"And people change. Over time—you said that time is the only thing that changes them. If anything, the Great Unrest was a sign that Project Omega should be taken more seriously."
Who was she to talk? The only reason she even knew what Project Omega was, was her status as a One—as Lady Veira Schreave. She had no idea of what it entailed—she only knew the basic outline. Did that stop her? No.
"The Unrest proves that humans like to get violent," Louis huffed. "Do you know who Andrew Hartman is?"
"No…? I always avoided the Unrest, with dad and Vicky…"
"He was a popular face of the rebellion in the early years. A Six, working as a housekeeper for a family of Threes that had gained wealth through earnest work. He stole from them, in cold blood, but that wasn't what made them take him from the front lines. That Robin Hood style fitted their agenda." Louis paused. "Then, in public just like I did, he commented on how they couldn't trust a fellow rebel—a Seven—with working with the money they gained. Why? Because he was a Seven, and Sevens couldn't think. Because they were Sevens."
Veira frowned, too. Louis had asked why a Six wouldn't just become a Three if they were so unhappy. Of course, there were other factors, but Andrew Hartman probably hadn't been a child, and Louis Illéa hadn't called anyone stupid.
"The Unrest hasn't changed anything—except proving that people are willing to take violent approaches whenever possible."
"So?"
"So. There's little you can do."
Veira frowned. "A little more positivity would help, you know…"
"Says the girl who sleeps through her whole life."
"Sleep is fun, at least. I don't sulk in the library."
Louis laughed. "I don't sulk—I enjoy reading just as much as you enjoy spending your nights on Netflix."
/ / /
The Women's Room in the Palace, Los Angeles, Angeles
Harriet Tailor
Word had travelled, someone managed to remind the Crown Prince of the Italian's visit, and as a result, on the next day, instead of lessons, Sophia began going through the plans. Detailed who was expected to arrive, told a few stories about why the Italian heir apparent was worse than Ernest.
"That would be Carl. The last time I saw them, his English was quite worthy of practise, but I'm sure he'll have improved. That, or he will have a translator, just in case. Then there is His Royal Highness, Prince Luigi, the Duke of Aosta, who is Carl's younger brother. Truth to be told, and please don't talk about that openly, he'll be the one running Italy when their father passes. Luigi may suck at social interactions, but he at least knows how the country works. Think of him as Louis," she begun, but hesitated. She wasn't going to touch the invisible elephant in the room; probably half of the girls weren't fond of Louis Illéa. "Just... he tries to actually socialise, you could say?"
Harriet couldn't help but add an 'unlike Louis' to that. Sophia was a lovely lady, and given the lack of appearances Louis Illéa had made, it was expectable. Harriet wondered why the girls weren't dining with the royal family as they (there was video evidence!) had in the King's Selection, but given recent history, it made sense…
Sophia smiled at the Selected. "There we go. That would be the Savoys. My dear aunt will probably be with us here in the Women's Room—" Except that, again, unlike in past Selections, most girls did not spend all their time here. "—and I imagine that Carlos will be with Xander."
No sing-song, smile or humming could stop a murmur. Of course, the Crown Prince, once again, wouldn't be with the ladies. Even Harriet, whose date with the prince was only half a week ago, felt let down. He was quite the enjoyable company, in her opinion.
"Now, for the groups, I chose to go random. I understand that there are friend groups among you, but that doesn't change the fact that a princess needs to be able to work with everyone."
"Yeah, and she sucks at that," Zarah Baine, not too far from Harriet, muttered. Just loud enough for Harriet to hear, but Harriet nearly let out an indignant, "Excuse you?"
She knew better. In the few times she had joined Veira and Sophia for tea, Sophia had dropped her dislike for certain members in the Selection. Fortunately, Sophia expected Zarah and Alex to be out soon. Leila too, hopefully, although she had said fewer invoking things, unfortunately.
Sophia begun listing the groups, and Harriet patiently listened. Unfortunately, the lady from Sonage had to wait quite a little, as she found herself in the final group, charged with the ball, alongside Veira (yay), Kate (alright), Minnie (acceptable), Rowan, Blair (uuuuh) and Sloth Girl (an issue).
Once Sophia ended her introduction, the girls gathered in one corner of the women's room. Their line-up, in Harriet's opinion, was acceptable. As a lady of society, Veira surely would be able to help. Kate's fantasy surely would be of use, and Minnie, from what Harriet had grasped, was a decent business woman. Sloth Girl was another case. So was Rowan. Blair maybe too. Half of the team was useful!
"We need a dress code," she therefore immediately insisted.
Rowan sighed. "Oh, of course. Would you like it to be a masquerade?"
"That would be awesome!" Kate cheered. "Imagine! Flowing dresses, jewels, mysterious dancers with masks and—"
As much as it was not adequate for a lady such as Harriet to agree with Kate, she did want to recreate that infamous ball from King Adrian's Selection. Then-Lady Lysandre Wilde had been complimented and criticised alike for a dress believed to include real diamonds (false, but it looked good).
"Lady Katheryn," Minnie began, much more matter of fact. "As much as I imagine you would enjoy such a thing, we need to consider the budget." She pointed to the folder they had been given. "The budget, as it clearly states, includes the fashion of the Selected. I'm sure that dresses for a masquerade would be even more expensive."
"That's true," Harriet had to admit. "Unfortunately. Would you mind handing me the folder, Lady Minerva?"
Harriet wasn't given a lot of time though; Sophia, with an awfully happy smile joined them. "Oh, and by the way, as I forgot to add that to the folders, you're free to use any location available to my family."
"Magnificent," Veira smiled. "Thank you."
"No worries. Have fun. Do keep me updated."
"Every location?" she hummed. "I think I know how we can save a lot of budget."
Minnie rose an eyebrow. "Huh?"
"We could go for a beach! It'd be beautiful," Blair suggested. "Think of it. It'd be magical."
"Oooh!" Kate's eyes grew bigger than the moon. "Yeah! Let's do that!"
Veira tilted her head. "It sounds like a great idea, but think of heels. Dresses. The sand would be a nightmare, and so would the heat be. The ball will be an evening event. Nobody would like to get their dresses dirty; many ball dresses can hardly be washed."
Rowan shrugged. "Don't you just wear them once either way?"
"You can donate many of them, to be re-made into clothes for people who are in need for clothes. I just did that very recently. It's a great cause and a win for both. My closet has so much more space for shopping now," Veira replied. "Maybe a penthouse? Imagine the view over the skyline of Los Angeles. It must be beautiful."
"But the beach…" Kate grumbled.
Harriet's grin grew larger than the sun. "Well, guess who has a hotel at the waterfront with a penthouse overlooking the beach side?" She pointed at herself. "This one!"
Minnie frowned. "I think they were referring to the Illéa Palace, maybe Hill Castle and so on, not 'rent a place'. The budget looks to be more for the staff employed additionally."
Harriet waved it off. "With the hotel staff, I can bill it on the hotel for publicity and what not. I'm sure that having the royal family of Italy would look great on the list of previous visitors. Besides, dad will do it for me. We'll save that money for the dresses, and we can do the masquerade!"
"Oooh! Yes! Then I'm team hotel!"
Veira nodded. "It sounds good to me. I've been to the hotel you're talking about. They have a beautiful rooftop terrace. You'd have the ocean too, Lady Blair."
Blair nodded. "Alright, I see the point with the money. We can always go out, I guess?"
"Besides, whoever wins will live in the centre of the golden province. Beach always available," Harriet hummed. "Rowan? Slo—Ladies?" Both, less enthusiastic (but what did you expect from a Seven…) agreed.
"If it's masquerade, then the dress code should be white tie." Veira was right.
"Black tie is less formal though. It'll be more… natural? You know? Like normal people, and we'd save money too."
Silence.
"But I like white tie," Kate deadpanned. "Fancy. Princess. Ooh! Can we do it Disney themed?"
Veira tilted her head. "I'm afraid, that's a little inadequate, Lady Katheryn."
"Too bad…"
"So, the hotel, I can organise that. A masquerade white tie, alright," Harriet noted. "Music and entertainment? Food?"
Harriet watched as the girls looked through the folder, glared into the air and thought. What kind of entertainment could there be on a ball? There'd be a banquet, an official begin to dancing, maybe some speeches—someone had to make them. Preferably someone capable of speaking Italian.
"We cannot watch Disney movies, Katheryn," Rowan muttered when Kate opened her mouth.
Given the fact that she stopped, it probably had been her idea. "Just some music? Maybe classical piano, or maybe even something Opera-like? That comes from Italy, you know."
"You can't have opera during a ball," Minnie replied. "That's a difference. I think having some classical music would be lovely, but there's the issue that the ball is being broadcasted. We need to make it relatable to the average Illéan viewer."
"She's right," Rowan admitted. She didn't look particularly happy. "Don't lie to yourself; this is more a Selection event than politics. Italy and Illéa are close allies. This is just a test for us."
"A learning opportunity," Veira suggested.
"Both," Harriet decided.
"What about a band?" Blair asked. "We could have them rearrange some more 'classic' pieces, but also play modern music? I wouldn't suggest pop, but you know, something better than elevator music."
"Classic music isn't elevator music!" Rowan exclaimed.
The lifeguard shrugged. "I have no idea of music. Ask Nereida, she's the ballerina."
"Ooh, we could have A Thousand Years rearranged!" Kate cheered.
Given the chances that this was something fanfiction-related, Harriet cringed and noted 'make sure Kate doesn't talk to the band' onto her notes. "Sure, sure, love. So, a band it is? You know, an orchestra would fit too. A little one, you know?"
"But think of the band…"
Veira nodded. "It'd be more adequate for the broadcasting-aspect. I agree with you, Harriet, but you go to watch an orchestra. This time, they're not meant to be heard, like Fives."
Rowan huffed. "Oh, yeah, of course."
"I'm team band too," Blair admitted.
"So," Harriet began and noted it down, "it's looking like band, huh?"
"I'd say orchestra too," Rowan added on. "But the majority rules…"
Everyone, apparently, decided that someone dressing as a sloth was not fit to vote. Harriet agreed. She didn't particularly like the idea of having her appear as a sloth either. "There we go. We'll need to look into getting an adequate band. Rowan, you seem to be fond of music. Do you want to look into a selection of songs for the band to consider? They could base their setlist on that, and then play things that are similar? Blair? Do you want to look into adequate bands? I'm sure Nereida can help you."
How unfortunate that they didn't have any Fives to be sent out for this, but oh well. Blair would work.
"We might be rivals of her group though," Minnie frowned.
"I can assure you," Blair replied, "Nereida wouldn't think of that. I'm surprised she even remembers her name sometimes…"
"Alright. So, for the 'research' roles I just decided—I'll organise the venue. Rowan and Blair get the music going. Veira," she looked up, "would you be so kind and look into an adequate buffet? I'm sure you can figure out a buffet combining Illéan and Italian specialities?"
She hesitated. "I'm not sure if I'm the one to ask, Harriet. I don't have a lot of experience with that. Wouldn't you want to talk to the hotel staff?"
"I can do it!" Kate hummed. "I've done research into that before, because I needed Italian food in a fanfiction. If you give me contact details, I'll get it going!" Harriet only wrote Kate's name down hesitant.
"I'm happy to organise dresses for everyone, though. Given our past discussions, maybe we could look into one basic design and let every girl do minor changes? In colour, mask shape and dress shape, you know? To show union too. I'd love to do that. With the fashion week, I might be able to find a designer to help," Veira said.
"Great idea!" Harriet cheered. "Great, that'd be all? Right?"
"Ooh, can we have, like, champagne gummy bears and muffins?"
Harriet shrugged. "I wouldn't see a reason why?" Her response came with a strong sense of 'please Kate don't get everyone drunk on television' hope.
"Would there be any chance that we can use this to promote—" Veira begun, but Harriet already knew what she was going into. Yesterday wasn't exactly a distant memory.
"While I think it's a good idea, I'm not sure if having an agenda is."
"Didn't we just learn that everyone has an agenda?" Rowan pointed out dry.
Having no idea what she was talking about, Harriet ignored her. "If we look like we want to push something certain, it may not look good. Plus, there already is a charity event, Veira. Maybe talk to them?"
Veira nodded, although unhappy. Given her special connection to the prince as childhood friend, Harriet couldn't estimate if she would reach the elite and the Queen's Project; but either way, Veira wouldn't be able to do much now. Besides, knowing how things usually went, that initial enthusiasm would probably not last past tomorrow… She had seen enough projects die down like that.
She rose, excused herself and headed out, to hand her notes to a footman or Sophia if she could catch her. The princess, for some incomprehensible reason, didn't seem that happy about the budget move, but accepted it either way…
/ / /
Xander's Sitting Room in the Palace, Los Angeles, Angeles
Crown Prince Xander of Illéa
One will be your wife.
His previous date had gone well. He enjoyed it quite well. The girls seemed happy too, at least going by what they said to the Report team. This was his second date this week, and both would be on the Report. Two dates were more than enough, in his opinion, and yet he paced up and down his sitting room.
Irina seemed almost amused. Of course, she was with him again. She was lovely company and given the fact that she had been with him when he had begun planning this round, he saw absolutely no issue. Besides, she was Evan's sister and Evan was his best friend.
One will be your wife.
"Lady Leila, Lady Blair and Lady Gabriella, do I see that right?" Irina asked, looking at his notes. "I'm sure Leila will appreciate this. She's always opposing Veira and Harriet when they go all 'upper class lady'."
He had heard these things from Sophia a little too (which was why he hadn't switched her with anyone else). Leila had changed during the war, but so had he, he liked to think. "I do hope that too."
"Blair seems like the type to cook. I dunno. Practical, you know."
"Hmhm."
"Rie—look over her sarcasm. She's a good person at heat, just as cynical as humanly possible. She's—"
"Got a valid reason," both finished.
"Yes, I know," Xander added. "I believe it was her who spoke about melon on pizza during the first meetings."
"Melon pizza?" Irina rose her eyebrow.
"However, I'm not entirely sure, because, you know, I don't even remember what you or Veira said, and I should know that because Veira is a childhood friend, you know. Gosh, I don't know what Leila said either she could have been talking about clowns for all I know I wasn't paying attention at all. I don't even know if I know which province these girls are from? I think that Leila is from Likely because that's where her family lives but it could also be Angeles because you know that makes sense and—"
Irina rose as Xander continued babbling. Irina rose, stepped up to him, and for a moment—Xander didn't realise—looked like she was about to slap him. She looked quite a lot like she was going to. Xander stopped, almost (just almost) frightened by the coldness in her gaze.
"Xander. Stop it. You're embarrassing yourself. They're here for you, not vice-versa. Let them court you. That's how it works."
She couldn't have been clearer by throwing cold water in his face. As much as he'd like to just hide in the palace pool, he needed that. "Right, thank you, Irina."
She sighed. "Are you going to stop worrying now?"
"Yes."
"Promise? You look dreadful when you do. A Fool of a Took you are."
"Promise."
"Deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised, Xander. Just take it one step at a time."
"Deeds won't tell me what to make," Xander pointed out. "I started cooking in the army. I haven't had time since I came back. I always went with what was there. What if they don't like it, or—"
"You had someone tell them earlier today what they'll do. I'm sure they have some ideas. Worst case, throw some potatoes and call it a salad. It's about the experience."
"Can I just take you along for the advice?" he joked.
Irina huffed and dropped back onto the sofa. She tilted her head. There was something about the way she sat, the way she walked. Strength. That was one thing. She stood tall, strong, never that readable—even Xander took a moment to look behind the ever-calm expression. There was something in her aura, if you could say that.
That confidence was amazing.
"I'm not sure if they'd like that," she replied. "The thing yesterday? About preferential treatment on the Report? I'm sure Jaira had more things to talk about."
"Are you alright?" What, why did he ask that? Because he himself preferred—no, he did not.
Irina huffed. "Of course, I am. I don't care about screen time and whatnot, I guess…" She shrugged, but for a mere moment, looked aside. "It's not in my hands. It should be, yes, but I have other things to worry about?"
"Other things?"
She shrugged. "I guess Minnie and Rie aren't the only ones with past scars. What about you? I can't quite believe that the war left you unscarred."
Xander frowned. He too had nightmares, but most nights, he could barely remember them. If they even came, it was. "Not a lot, I think. Sometimes, a few times, of that day when the war ended, but… I doubt it's as noticeable as for others." Not as Vicky.
"Your sister made everyone talk to a psychologist."
"Did she?"
Irina nodded. "I didn't tell them, I must admit. I doubt Rie or Minnie did. Not after Harriet and Veira talked about 'fitting to be a royal'. I guess nobody wants to be eliminated on that basis…"
Xander shrugged. "Louis has social anxiety. That doesn't change his status."
"He isn't in the Selection."
"That's true. He'd die if he was to hold one."
Irina huffed. "Where is he, always? I never come to see him."
"In the library would be my guess, but don't go to see him. He'll react like a cat woken up from its nap."
"You don't sound impressed."
"I'm just tired. I have a Selection and a country to handle. Vic has nightly nightmares."
Irina crossed her arms. "How is that 'shadow someone at work' thing going on?"
Xander laughed. "She slept in today, but otherwise? It sounds like she is taking it seriously. I'm not taking her to the Selection, though. That's out of the boundaries for sure."
"That's good, isn't it?"
Xander smiled. "It is. Thank you." He knew.
"Now, Your Royal Highness, isn't it time for you to head out for your date? I'm sure the girls are waiting for you. Please, do tell me how it goes. I'll be waiting."
He chuckled. "I'm fairly sure that Ernest is planning an interview session for that time."
Irina cringed. "Oh, great. I'll get to talk to a camera, instead of you. You'll need to give me something in return," she demanded.
"Tell me after," Xander replied, turning around and heading through the door.
The date was to be in the palace kitchens. Not the prettiest date place, but given the fact that they'd also go and eat (well, that was his plan…) what they'd make, he hoped that would make it up to them. One will be your wife. Now he just needed to survive this day.
Gabriella "Rie" Jespersen, Leila Sinclair and Blair Willow were already waiting in the kitchen. An odd group, now that Xander could think about them. Blair and Rie were both born Sevens, so maybe they would understand another regarding that—but even from the little Xander had seen? They weren't similar.
"Hello!" Blair was the first to call to him, and the first to notice him. When had their last conversation been? He remembered vaguely that she had been among the Selected to play 'Never Have I Ever', but given the fact that he barely even remembered the questions…
Gosh, how long had that been in the past?
"Your Royal Highness, good morning." Leila's curtsy was much better practised than Blair's.
"You're late," Rie added on, almost laughing. She nodded at the clock outside the kitchen—one minute past the time he was meant to be here. Maybe he had spent a little too much time walking.
"My apologies," he replied. "I did not mean to leave you waiting."
"I think we were able to survive for a whole minute," she replied. "So, I heard, we're cooking something?"
"Not exactly a very 'royal' theme, is it?" Leila added with a smirk. That air of confidence she's always had—even when they had been younger—made her stand out among the three.
"If you have better suggestions, I'm happy to listen," Xander replied. "Although, I faintly remember someone bringing up melon on pizza."
"It's the best thing ever invented by man," Rie insisted. "There's nothing better."
"Not even pineapple?"
Blair cringed. "Please no."
"Aren't you from Clermont?" Leila laughed. "Isn't that where all the crazy people live?"
"I'm glad that we all agree that pineapple does not belong on pizza," Xander huffed. Evan insisted on that—and he had no idea what the rest of his family felt about this controversial topic. He couldn't imagine Sophia or Louis eating pizza in the first place…
"Excuse me?" Rie spoke up. "I insist. It definitely belongs on pizza. You know what? I'm making pizza—with melon and pineapple."
Leila chuckled. "It seems we've decided on what to make?"
"Why don't we all make a pizza each. Then we don't need to fight about the toppings? Besides, I swear, I make the best pizza," Blair insisted.
"It's a deal—battle of the pizzas," Rie declared.
"… Oh gosh," Xander laughed. Here he was, usually just eating the plain old basic pizza. He was never going to win this—but maybe, that was part of the charm. He chuckled, nodded and the four went into the kitchen.
Xander didn't even notice the cameras filming them in the first place.
The staff had been so kind to vacate an area of the kitchen earlier in the morning, so the camera team could do their magic with the lights, sound and whatnot. It did, however, not take long until Blair picked up the flour.
"Rest in peace, camera," Rie commented as the flour covered the first and main camera. "Doesn't pizza dough take twenty-four hours to cool? Is pizza even a possible choice, then?"
Given his schedule for tomorrow, no. "If we're lucky, the kitchen may happen to have some stored."
"There are supermarkets nearby too? We could get pre-made pizza bases?" Leila added on.
"I'm gonna ask the kitchen staff," Blair announced and disappeared away from the main cameras. The camera team shuffled a bit to follow her, and Xander realised that yes, they were around too. Great—what a great image for the palace (and him). They did not have everything prepared.
Blair returned quickly, shaking her head. "Nope. Doesn't seem to be something you can eat here."
"I mean," Xander begun, "I can't really imagine my family eating pizza…? Ernest maybe, but that's it."
Rie chuckled. "They're missing out."
"I mean," Xander repeated, "yes."
"Then, let's go and get pizza bases?" Blair said.
"Is there a Target nearby?" Leila leaned back. How curious that she knew what a Target was… For the daughter of the Sinclair family, this didn't sound too typical… Xander really missed out, huh?
"Target is expensive." Rie curled her lips. "Walmart is cheaper."
"There's a Walmart about…" Xander paused. He should know this. He lived here. When he had been younger—before his father had even ascended the throne—his mother had always taken him and his siblings on walks through 'the neighbourhood'. Which more than once ended in them getting lost somewhere, but these adventures were why they kept going—much to their grandmother's disdain. "Twenty minutes into the city? Don't quote me." Helena was not here, though.
"Then, what's stopping us? I want this pizza contest," Rie declared.
"You'll lose!" Blair declared. "I have no idea what I'm doing, but you'll lose!" she laughed.
"Twenty minutes sounds doable. By car or do we walk?" Leila asked.
"I mean," Xander begun. How often had he said this today? "I'd say car, simply because we'll need to get them back here. We may want to check what else we're missing too."
Rie tilted her head. "I need melons. That's all."
"You're seriously doing a melon pizza?" Leila rose her eyebrows.
"Yes. Now, I definitely am."
"I wonder if there's something like melon sauce…" Blair leaned back. "I know what I'm doing. Do we want to check with the staff for that too?"
"If there is anything like melon sauce, then Walmart has it." Xander turned to Blair. "Yes."
"Not that the poor royal family needs to spend a dime on food, huh…" Leila muttered under her breath—just loud enough for Xander to hear. He could elaborate, but he could also let it slide. Maybe later. In Walmart. He'd have space to evade her afterwards.
Fortunately, Leila and Blair were quickly to check on what the royal kitchen had in store. Even though the kitchen staff was happy to go out and get what they needed, they had, evidently, been set to go to Walmart.
"First a cooking date, now a 'lets-go-to-Walmart' date?" Rie teased when they had arrived at the store. Sure, the royal guard was quite salty (this meant more work, but it was Walmart—what could go wrong?) but that was, to be completely honest, their issue. Xander knew how much the royal kitchen liked to spend.
They'd get the cheapest pizza base.
He left the car before Rie, and before he even was able to offer any form of help, she had made her way out of the car and sat in the wheelchair. When Xander had realised that she would be one of the Selected, he had been glad that the palace was able to adjust to her. One thing Gregory Illéa thought about, at least...
"Can I help you somehow?" Blair said to Rie.
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she shot back—in a much less playful tone. Xander chose not to offer his help.
Blair rose her eyebrows. "Okay…?"
They headed inside, and Walmart being Walmart, nobody paid them much attention, besides the sub-minimum wage greeter that, given his lack of reaction, did not look at them. Even though Xander hadn't been at a Walmart in ages—another one of the things a prince usually didn't do, duh—he noticed that it had changed.
As always, the isles had no markings.
"Where do we find the pizza bases…" Blair muttered.
"With the pizza bases, probably," Rie replied helpfully. "Why don't we split?"
Leila frowned. "That's what people do in horror movies."
"Is this a horror movie?" Xander asked.
"I mean, it is Walmart…"
"True." Xander nodded. "although, Rie has a point. We'd probably be faster, and you can get what you're missing too."
"Wait—" It wasn't one of the Selected that stopped them from the plan, but the members of the Report team that had come along. The two, one of them holding a portable camera, paused. Oh, Sophia was going to kill him. Walmart did not fit into her 'fairy tale romance' theme. "We need footage of each of you three with the Crown Prince."
"… If we all walk together, we'll take forever. I want to get around to eating too," Leila noted.
"He can move between each of us. The camera team can follow him, and we go and grab whatever we need."
"Problem solved." Blair nodded.
"Thanks for considering my opinion too," Xander laughed sarcastic. "Sounds good to me."
The first of the girls he'd go along with was Blair, merely based on the fact that Rie – even in her wheelchair – and Leila were faster in leaving. Blair shrugged that off, and looked around. Xander took a deep breath. Yes, he was absolutely able to talk to women on their own. He had done that before.
"What do you need?"
"Pepperoni, mushrooms, ham, olives, green peppers, onions and shrimp."
"Shrimp?" Xander repeated. "People eat that on pizza?"
"… Yeah?" Clermont. Definitely Clermont. "What do you eat on your pizza?"
"... Cheese? Meat?"
"Wow," Blair laughed. "That's boring!"
"Excuse me? I'm very happy with my pizzas!"
"You're going to lose. Definitely going to lose." She paused. "Well, the palace has everything but shrimp, so we just need to grab that."
"Sure," Xander nodded, forcing a smile. A group? He could do. Apply the 'just friends' logic. He hadn't ever been to a supermarket with one friend alone, though. Then again, the Crown Prince of Illéa hadn't been to that many supermarkets in general. When they had time off during service, Walmart had never been their first place to go.
Blair nodded, and looked around. "Let's see… where do we find shrimp… Ah, there!"
Blair had spotted things much faster than Xander had; by the time Blair was moving, he had barely managed to comprehend the situation. One of the customers (he was pretty sure, at least) was wearing a towel as poncho.
"Strange things happen, huh?"
Blair laughed. "Have you ever even been to a Walmart before?"
"Yes, of course."
"How did that come to be?" Blair asked, still walking.
"Me and a few of my friends, when on duty, were out in town, and ended up wanting to buy something to drink, I believe. Walmart just happened to be closest, so we chose to go there. What about you?"
"Walmart is cheap," Blair replied with a shrug. "It's also the closest, so we always go there for grocery shopping. Have you ever been to a Walmart Black Friday?"
"No, but I've heard the tales."
They laughed. "By the way, Deylin mentioned that who-goes-on-which-date was randomised—is that true?" Blair asked.
"Yes, essentially. Pull a name out of the hat-type, although not literally. Why?"
"I was wondering why I, the lifeguard, was not invited to go swimming. Did you even have a lifeguard?" Blair rose her eyebrow, crossed her arms, but she did not hide the amused grin. "I'm jealous! Nereida seemed to be pretty happy with it."
Xander laughed out. "Again, I did not pay much more attention to it. If I look at one person's hobbies and all, I should look at everyone's, and I don't have the time to work that out."
"You do work a lot," Blair noted.
I know. Cue some awkward silence as Blair picked up the shrimp she wanted. She took a pause to look at them, carefully. She probably noticed things that Xander wouldn't ever notice. He therefore, although awkwardly, waited in silence behind her. Surely, the camera team had enough of footage for now?
"Got them!" Blair declared. "Shall we go and grab the pizza bases for everyone?"
Xander nodded. "Good idea. How did you become a lifeguard?"
"Oh," Blair shrugged as they went, "I've always been active at the beach, and I learned the skills when I was younger. Volunteer work and all, you know? All was cool, until the Unrest meant that less tourists came by and the beach almost became empty. Nobody wanted to be there either way, because most of the central-southern provinces were growing to be danger zones, and people expected Clermont to follow that. I guess it makes sense," Blair shrugged.
"Clermont never became a red province though."
"I know," Blair replied. "Their loss, I guess?"
"That's true."
"Then my brother was shot and my mother was worried, wanted me to stop. Then my dad disappeared and all went down. I was just a teenager, almost in my rebel phase, you know? I refused and kept on going, and when some lifeguards decided to leave the larger cities, some openings opened. I chose to take one, because it would pay, and I was already there all day.."
"I understand. Do you know what happened to your father?"
"Honestly," Blair sighed. She stopped walking and looked at the stained floor. "I don't, really. I'm fairly sure that my mother tried to keep something away from me. She lost her job back then, a lot happened and then there was that budding rebel base that was discovered in the neighbourhood."
"Budding rebel base? Pardon my ignorance, but what happened?"
"A bunch of students from my school thought it'd be fun to build up a system to listen to what they were doing and all. The whole neighbourhood was downgraded."
So, Blair had been a Six before the Unrest? How curious, Xander thought. The downgrade would have been a silver lining for the situation; it made her able to do what she wanted to, but of course, nobody would like it in general.
"I see."
"They were just stupid kids, so they were caught pretty quick. I think they were storing fireworks or something?" She shrugged, again. "I really don't remember. How about you? Any secret rebel facilities in the neighbourhood?" she joked.
It took Xander a moment not to take it harshly. Not to think about Jack, or Tori, or Vicky, or his mother, he then, however, shook his head. "No, not that I know of, and I'd hope I would know."
"Fortunate," Blair hummed. "What do you think of the Selection until now?"
"I… honestly… don't know?" Xander hesitated. It wasn't like he didn't not notice the cameraman suddenly definitely paying attention. He shook his head. "Given the decision it entails, I have excelled in the art of procrastinating thinking about it."
Blair laughed. "Any favourites yet?"
"I wouldn't think so…?" Xander replied. Did he have any favourites? He had only really spoken to a few ladies. Rosy, Harriet and Deylin. Veira, Jaira and Nereida. Irina, of course, but—He stopped when Irina's name fell into his mind. Irina. Evan's sister, he quickly added, but that didn't help that he couldn't help to think.
Back in real life, he shook his head.
"Aww, to bad. Anyone who'll definitely be out?"
Sloth Girl? Yeah, Sloth Girl. Definitely Sloth Girl. He couldn't say though. "I've not made any final decisions," he therefore chose to say.
"Aaah!" Blair laughed out. "There's a difference. You know someone who you want to eliminate? You definitely do."
"I—"
"Is it Zare? I'm fairly sure if you asked her, she'd happily go home," Blair noted. "I guess…" she shrugged.
"Zare?"
"Zarah Baine, from Paloma."
"I'll… if she wants to go home, she is free to, I guess?" Why would she want to head home?
Blair noticed the thoughts going through his mind. She shrugged. "She might just be trying it as an image or so, I don't know. Now, don't you wanna catch up with the others, or we get another debate on screen time?"
Xander forced a laugh. "Of course. We'll meet at the register, I assume?"
"Sure!" He missed that Blair changed the topic to avoid talking about the secret relationships going on. Blair sighed relieved.
Meanwhile, Xander headed down the aisles, followed by the suit-wearing guards that gained more attention than the country's prince regent in a casual work outfit. He didn't have the space of mind to worry about anything relating; he was far more concerned about even finding the Selected for now. The public, they could wait.
"Lady Leila," he called out a little too relieved when he found her. The tall brunette was standing in front of one of the shelves, with a bottle of red-brown sauce in her hand. She was reading the ingredients list before looking up.
"Oh, hey, my turn?" she joked. "Did you already get pizza bases?"
They had intended to, but didn't. "Not yet, no."
"Cool. I don't need anything besides this," she pointed to the sauce in her hand. "Shall we?"
"Of course, of course. What kind of sauce is that?"
"It's just normal barbeque sauce, but this brand is far, far better than any others. I'll die before I will ever be involved into any barbeque without this."
"Have you been to barbeques?"
"I've been to a lot of things since the Unrest begun."
"Such as?"
"I'm not a little rich girl anymore, for example," she begun. "After what happened to my brother, I became a firefighter."
"Your brother?"
"Hasn't Sophia told you?"
"I'm afraid, we don't tend to gossip about what the Illéan upper class is doing on a daily basis…?"
"Nor do I," Leila replied, "but I'm surprised you haven't heard of the story."
"Which story?"
"If I can avoid it, Your Royal Highness, I would prefer not to discuss it."
Xander frowned. Of course, he could inquire upon it. Maybe there was enough discussion about these serious things for today? He decided that it was, and that instead, he'd go back to, well, anything else.
"So, how exactly does it come that the Crown Prince of Illéa knows where the closest Walmart is? What's next—an IKEA date?"
"It's on the main road, you pass it," Xander replied, "but if you'd like that, I'm sure it can be arranged."
"Have you ever even been to IKEA?"
"No, have you?"
"Yes," Leila grinned. "I've got to get the furniture from somewhere, right?"
"So, you don't live at home anymore?" Xander concluded.
Leila Sinclair nodded. "I live in a small apartment with my co-workers." They stopped, having reached the coolers where the pizza bases were waiting. Leila opened them and picked up two packages—four, meaning one for each. Maybe, Xander thought, at some point they could do this together. All Selected, each one.
Alright, maybe not now with twenty-five girls, but once he had eliminated a few more. The idea itself sounded good though (and so much better than an IKEA date).
"By the way, do you mind if I ask something?"
"Depends?"
"What do you know about Zarah Baine?"
Leila turned to Xander, holding both the pizza bases and the sauce. He took the bases, and watched Leila scan his expression. He hoped that she understood. He hoped. "What's with her? Something fishy about her?"
"Why would you suggest such a thing?" Xander worried.
Leila shrugged. "She just feels like the type of person who would support the rebels. The comments she's made in class, her lack of any interest in the Selection… There's something about her that makes you think 'oh, she's definitely one of them'. That being said, I doubt she actually is a rebel. Just a supporter—like-minded person. I don't think she likes their violence, though."
"I see…" He'd need to look at her extra closely once that date happened…
"Why'd you ask?"
"Blair remarked something into that direction."
"Ah, I see," Leila nodded. "Nah, it's more that most of us are pretty sure that she's just in it for the money. She's pretty open about that. It's actually a bit sad, given the fact that she lives with her aunt and uncle, and they're well-off Twos."
"Go on…?"
"You know, I find the Selection in itself ridiculous, but it's sad to see that she, who doesn't need the aid as much as others do, take it. She holds no interest in politics or anything either. Most of us feel like she was hoping to be eliminated by the first cut."
"You are participating in this 'ridiculous' Selection," Xander noted.
"I have a different reason to why I came and why I need to stay."
"Which is?"
"Another thing I don't want to discuss."
Xander remained quiet. So many secrets about Leila—she was in no way one of the many ladies of high society as he remembered them in the pre-Unrest times. Back then, Leila had been a constant company to Veira and Sophia, chattering about clothes and gossip alike. It was almost as if Harriet had replaced her. "You've changed a lot."
"For the better." Leila paused. "What about you, Xander? Have you changed?"
Had he? Probably. He had grown up, went from 'accompanying the King' to 'ruling the country' without any warning and lost his sister, regained his sister and lost his mother forever. There was no way he would have gone through that without changing.
That didn't mean he knew how he changed.
"I'm sure I have," he replied.
"How?"
"That part, I'm not so sure about."
"How is that possible?" Leila leaned back against the fridge.
Xander hesitated. He glanced into the brunette's eyes. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, then it was the power and confidence in her eyes indeed. Leila Sinclair was still Leila Sinclair, the daughter to a Vanderbilt descendant and to a respected general that even Jonathan acknowledged. Even if Leila had changed, these eyes hadn't.
"I've not had time to think about what changed. My whole life did, but I can't place what I did."
"Touché."
"You could say that, yes."
"Well, I got my pizza stuff. I'd say we'll try to find Rie. She can't be gone far, can she?" Leila looked around. Blair was chatting with someone at the registry, accompanied by the royal guard just as Leila and Xander were.
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Xander implied with a chuckle.
"No, it's more that I've seen these girls turn into hyenas when it comes to screen time, and Rie is one of the people I would not want to face if it comes to that." Leila started walking towards Blair, and waved. Of course, Xander thought, there was more to it. Maybe he asked too much, maybe this was a little too deep for the 'first date'.
With a sigh, he headed on to search for Gabriella Jespersen.
She wasn't around the pizza bases, and as it soon turned out, she wasn't with the fruits either. She probably had gotten her watermelons by now. Xander checked aisle for aisle, knowing that the guards could very well radio Rie's shadow.
It felt off to do that though.
He ended up standing in one of the aisles, looking around when Rie began laughing amused. He turned around to her, although not understanding why she was laughing. It was at him for sure—she was laughing at him. Just why?
"Excuse me?"
"What are you doing here, out of all places?"
"Pardon me?"
"This is the women's hygiene department," Rie deadpans. "Not so sure what you're doing here, your highness." The way she spoke; obviously a tease and Xander blushed. She had a valid point; unlike the lost prince, Rie leaned onto the armrest of her wheelchair, with a large watermelon in her left arm. She looked like she belonged here.
Xander did not. "Looking for you," he caught himself—only thanks to years of press training. It did not erase that painfully embarrassing blush.
"My turn, then? Come on, you can hold this melon—I need another one."
"… My pleasure?"
Rie pushed the large watermelon into his arm; if Xander had to guess, she probably was stronger then him, and wheeled off. Gosh, she's fast with that thing, he found himself thinking as she moved back to the fruits and vegetables section. How she had found him, he did not know. The Report, surely, would enjoy such a segment—he made a mental note to prevent Ernest from putting it in.
Xander had to hurry to catch up with Rie, already in the fruits section. She inspected one of the melons quietly, with a scrutinizing expression.
"You are seriously doing a melon pizza?" he asked her, chuckling.
"Of course, I am!" Rie declared. "Obviously, it will win. Melon pizza is the best."
"Have you ever tasted one?" Xander cringed.
"Have you?" He took that as an answer to the question. "Either way, this melon will do. You can carry that too."
At first, per habit, Xander wanted to push back with a 'I'm sure you can do that too', but then he remembered—yes, of course, Rie may need her hands with the wheelchair, and not wanting to embarrass her, he just took the melon, as if he was a gentleman.
"So, I'm sure Leila and Blair have asked that, but Walmart?"
"Yes, Walmart." Xander's response was a little more lacklustre than he wanted it to be; he had been through this conversation.
Rie wanted no explanation. "Cooking?"
"Yes, cooking."
"Why cooking?" Rie leaned back. "I'm sure there's something more royal than cooking."
"I assume there is," Xander admitted, "but at the same time—I enjoy it. Why put something false up, when I can do something, I know I will enjoy?"
"To ward off the ones that won't work?" Rie teased. "Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but in that case, you'll continue to have the pleasure of my breathtaking personality; I'm a master cook."
Xander smiled. "You're doing a melon pizza. I'm not sure if you can win with that."
"What masterpiece is His Royal Highness doing then?"
"…" Caught. "Cheese pizza."
Rie laughed. "Far too basic to win, sorry. Even Blair with her shrimp plan is going to do better."
"Have we even decided on a jury yet?" Xander asked, genuinely confused. They had not. He was pretty sure of that.
Rie shrugged. "Us? I mean, who else? The Report staff? I don't want to do that to them." She paused. "I mean, we are having a cheese pizza, something with shrimp, my melon pizza and whatever Leila is doing… What is she doing?"
"I have no idea," Xander admitted. "I do feel like she has the best shot."
"Never. I'll win. Melon pizza will rule the world."
Xander laughed. With both melons in his hands, he wasn't exactly in the position to just go "I doubt that", or anything—and besides that, he liked melon. The question was the combination with pizza.
"What's the two different melons for?"
"Well, I can't just put melon on the pizza base. I need some sort of sauce. I'm making a melon sauce."
"Melon sauce?"
"Boil sweet fine, some sugar, butter, flour, lemon and melon, and mix it. You get a melon sauce, I say. That's the plan, at least. We'll see how it actually goes."
"That's better than what I can do."
"Which is?" Rie paused. "Ramen in hot water?"
"Actually, I think I'm able to do frozen pizza too."
"Ooh, an ambitious one, I see!"
"I aim to please," Xander replied. "What about you? What's your best?"
Rie hesitated, pretending to think hard. "Of course," she begun, "I can warm up pasta. Yes, I think that is absolutely my best. If I feel ambitious, mac and cheese." She paused. "For real, what's your favourite food?"
"The palace kitchen does magnificent caviar appetizers. I need to say, these."
"That's fancy, there."
"I'm afraid, growing up in a palace does that to you, Lady Gabriella."
She paused. "It's just Beef bolognese for me, though. I'm sorry to disappoint."
"That is no disappointment, Lady Gabriella. It's your genuine opinion. Besides, it's good." He hoped that it was, at least. "How has your stay in Angeles been?"
"Great, if it wasn't for the fact that every second person asks 'Can I help you', when I'm perfectly fine on my own," Rie spat. "Other than that? The food's good."
"I am sure that the chefs will be glad to hear that."
"I didn't expect the palace to have elevators, though. That was quite the surprise, to be honest."
"They are rarely used," Xander admitted. "Although I believe that when transporting heavy things, the staff likes to sneak in."
"I mean, who wouldn't?"
It wasn't protocol (they were meant to use the staff tunnels) but Xander agreed. "Exactly."
The cash registry came to view, and with that, Blair and Leila who were quietly chatting with one another. Although Xander briefly wondered what they were speaking about, he chose not to ask, and the payment process went past quite easily.
Not too much later, the four plus staff found themselves back in the kitchen. Each went to their own pizza, although the growing 'tension', displayed through jokes and threats along the lines of 'my pizza will burn yours to death' filled the kitchen, and the pizzas soon disappeared to the oven.
"The head chef would probably hate us for this," Leila admitted. Ten minutes later, the bases had cooked—definitely not the fine Italian recipes that the palace preferred. They had Italians visiting later on for that.
"They're done!" Blair cheered. "We're going to taste them?"
"Maybe cut them first," Rie suggested. "Then each one can taste them, and we decide which wins."
"By the way, Lady Leila, what did you end up doing?"
"Oh," Leila waved it off. "Just your average meat lovers pizza. Nothing special."
Blair had already taken the pizza cutter and was working on her pizza (only characterised by the shrimp). Looking at them, by far, Rie's pizza looked the strangest, but Xander was proud to say that his cheese pizza didn't look too bad. It was average and nothing he wanted on TV, but hey, he wasn't a chef, but a prince. No cooking skills needed.
When the lady of Clermont finished, she handed out the plates. They could have gone for a fancy meal as planned, but the kitchen already was a mess and nobody was in the mood to move (read—they forgot), so each of the four found themselves with a high value porcelain plate standing at a kitchen bench and four questionable pizza slices on their plate.
"Who goes first?" Leila dared.
"The one who asks," Rie shot back.
"Happy to," Leila replied, though choosing her own pizza. She took a bite, chewed and grinned. "I say I win."
"Never!" Blair declared, picking up hers. Her reaction was similar, although her "Mine's better" came through a full mouth.
"Two left," Leila declared, looking at Rie and Xander.
Unlike Rie, Xander had nothing to fear about his simple cheese pizza, and he was happy to follow the motion, but in Rie's motion, he could see hesitation. To emphasise his position, he took another bite (hey, he was good at making pizza… or putting stuff on a base).
"Afraid?" Leila chuckled.
"No." Rie deadpanned. In the next second, she was eating the whole slice. "I win, it's absolutely the best."
"I need to try this," Blair then announced, but didn't get much past the first bite. "This is worse than pineapple on pizza."
"Pineapple on pizza is perfectly fine!" Leila curled her lips, and took a bite of Rie's melon pizza as well. "I mean, the sauce probably wasn't the best idea, and dry watermelon is also a little questionable but…"
"The base is alright?" Blair finished.
"So, what's your opinion?" Rie challenged Xander. "Everyone has tried but you."
Xander hid a cringe. "Of course," he slowly spoke, and took a bite of the slice. And chewed. And chewed. The dryness of the watermelon was, probably, just as bad as its clash with the sweetness of the sauce.
Clearly, Rie had done this out of 'I can do it', not because of her taste.
"I think… I'll stay with cheese for now."
They laughed. Xander did too, because it was amusing. They had a little more pizza to eat, and a winner to crown (which, all, eventually agreed to be Leila). Xander, in his opinion, did well.
One will be your wife. Xander knew that. Yes, yes, friends first, he told himself. The last time you fell for someone head over heels, she turned out to be a rebel leader.
At least Tori didn't make melon pizza.
/ / /
Author's Note
Full disclaimer: I've never even seen a Walmart. This was merely based on a Discord conversation. Half of this chapters was inspired by the Discord, thanks, love you guys. Merry Christmas, when I next update, Fallout will be a year old! :D
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