Content warning: Hi all! Just a quick note to say this chapter contains a scene at the end regarding (male) infertility that may be distressing. Please take care of yourselves; if you don't want to read it skip everything after Gail returns to the palace.

Enjoy!


"Thanks for inviting me, Your Highness." Ben makes a small bow of his head as I let him into my bedroom. "I promise you're about to watch the best movies in your entire life."

I smile and nod and shut the door, but inside I'm crumbling.

Even sleep can't dissipate the image of Roy and Lilly, together. I cried myself into a distorted slumber, and I woke unprepared for another day where them being an item is a thing. I still can't believe it. It's a betrayal that gashes deeply.

I looked up to him. I looked up to them both.

I sent a note for Ben to come as soon as breakfast was finished, of which I took in my room. I don't want to see either of them. Eventually I will have to leave my room. Eventually I will have to face it, and worse, I will have to talk to Cami. When I told Naomi this morning to turn away both Roy and Lilly if they came to visit, she shared privately that Cami left early this morning for some unplanned trip somewhere in the country, with no mention of when she would return.

Cami already knows, her heart already broken, and I will only inadvertently feed into it.

It's too much to bear for me at the moment, so for now, I will forget. Unfortunately, Ben is too perceptive to be used as a distraction alone.

"Hey, is everything okay? You… don't look like you slept very well."

"I'm fine. I had bad dreams." I pat my bed and click on the remote for the TV to rise from the footboard. "I woke up not feeling so great mood-wise, so, well… I was hoping watching some movies would help."

"It will." He comes to my side slowly, as if not to trip a landmine, before he braves forwards to wrap his arms around me. "If you don't want to watch, we can just talk, if you like?"

Immediately I fall into his shoulder. He's so… comfortable, and all this feels so natural, like I'm meant to be here with him.

"No. I want to see what all the fuss is about."

"Fuss? Oh, no, no, Your Highness. Be prepared to have your mind blown." He sits up and fiddles with the remote, diverting the screen to the streaming software. "The MCU is a huge universe of movies, and I considered at first watching chronologically, by which I mean whichever movie's events happen first in canon, but I think watching them in release order might be more fun."

"Okay," I say, as if any of that means anything.

He laughs. "So we're going to watch Iron Man 1 first."

"I take it his superpower isn't that he's very good with household appliances?"

"Not that kind of iron." He winks, selecting the movie. The front cover has a white man with a sculpted beard in some sort of battle exoskeleton. "Main character is a guy called Tony Stark. Hilarious, witty. Reminds me of His Majesty when he's not scaring the shit out of me."

My smile drops. The last thing I need is a reminder of Roy. But I force a smile, and we start the movie. He's right. This Tony Stark guy is like a more suave and way more intelligent version of my brother, but they share a similar sense of humour, a sense of style and taste. I hate it immediately – my mind jumps back and forth to last night, to seeing Roy and Lilly locked in a tight embrace, to the tears on Roy's face…

I can't puzzle it. He should feel terrible, guilty, that I caught him. But he was only sad, and that was before he realised I was there. Did he feel awful about cheating on Cami? Was it already catching up to him, his lies and deceit?

Focus, Gail. I snuggle closer to Ben to keep my mind on the film, but it's impossible, even tucked in Ben's arms. When he laughs, it vibrates through his chest, through the taut flesh I feel beneath, but not even his hotness can distract me.

About two thirds in, Ben pauses the film.

I raise my head. "What's wrong?"

"I could ask you that," he says. "You're not even watching."

My cheeks burn. I think for a moment he'll be mad.

But all he says is, with empathy, "I can come back another time, if you want?"

"No," I snatch his arm. "No, please. I… truthfully I had a rough day yesterday. I can't tell you what happened. Just family stuff. But… I don't want to be alone right now." I shake my head. "I'm sorry. I'll watch. I'll pay attention."

But he closes Iron Man 1. "How about we watch something else, then? Something feel good?"

"Have you got any suggestions?"

"Princess Diaries?"

I laugh, because he knows me too well. He goes to select the first one, and I rest against him, content and at least able to drift off when I want, because I know the script of this movie like I know the back of my own hand. Credit to Ben, who doesn't complain once at the MCU date cut short – one day, I'll give them a go. But today is not that day.

I must fall asleep tucked next to Ben because the next thing I remember, Mia Thermopolis has long since had her makeover, and Ben is gently shaking me awake.

"Hey, there's someone at your door?"

"Hmm?" I say, at the exact moment the knock rings out. My blood rises – I won't talk to Roy. I refuse.

"Who is it?" I call.

"Sheng," says a muffled Sheng.

I wipe the crud from my eyes and pause the film. Oh. Sheng. I haven't spoken to him since the trip to San Francisco, so I suspect suspicion about my mood had got the better of him. I stand on shaky legs and creep to the door, Ben behind me, so he is very visible when the door opens.

Though Sheng is dressed in a suit, he's also black pea coat, a dark cap and a pair of sunglasses. Kind of like he's about to go on a secret mission.

Ben rests a hand on my waist – I don't fail to notice the protectiveness of the gesture. "Hey, Sheng. What's up?"

He blinks a second too long as he stares at Ben, before his focus lands on me. "Er, sorry for… interrupting. Can I talk to you, Your Highness? Alone?"

"What about?"

"My… my grandmother."

At this I pause, and turn to Ben, feeling terribly guilty for kicking him out so soon. "Ben, would you mind?"

He quickly gathers his jacket and exits the door. He goes to leave but pauses, then leans down to press a kiss on my cheek. I'm pleasantly surprised by the gesture, eliciting a small gasp as he stands back up.

"Another time, Your Highness?"

I nod, and my heart sinks when he disappears around the corner. The cuddles and warmth fizzles with shaded memories as I round my attention back to Sheng.

"What about your grandmother?" I ask quietly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine…" He trails off. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You've been so down recently."

And now to add this Roy-Lilly debacle onto it, I don't see myself being happy any time soon. "I'm fine," I repeat. "Did you really insist you cut my date short to ask me that?"

"No. My grandmother…" He rubs the back of his head. "I don't really know how to ask this, but… I would like to ask if you would accompany me to visit her."

Of all the things I thought he'd say, it wasn't that. Sheng's only mentioned his grandmother in passing – he doesn't like to talk about her much – but Senior Mah doesn't have the same reservations. I know she's ill and in hospital for long-term treatment that doesn't seem to be working, and I could gather from the sombre mood Sheng develops whenever she comes up that she might not have long left.

"Erm." I'm so nonplussed by the offer I don't know what to say. "Would… would that be appropriate?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to impose or disturb her or anything…"

"Ever since I was chosen for the Selection, she's been wanting to meet you, actually." He straightens. "She thinks you're a great influence on me. Especially since now all I wear are suits."

That gets a laugh out of me, and the corner of his mouth tips up.

"You, er, don't have to, if you don't want to." He glances down the corridor to where Naomi and his own bodyguard, decked out in full outdoor wear, waits. "I was going now. I can always say you were too busy."

"No." I open my door and head for my dresser as Sheng waits outside. "No, I'll come. It'll be nice to get out of the palace for a few hours."

And it'll be a good way to guarantee Roy won't seek me out.

Not that he's done that. At all.

I have Naomi prepare as well, and after about twenty minutes, myself, the guards and the limos are all set up to take us. Senior Mah joins us as well, dapper in a suit of his own rather than his shabby overalls, but he doesn't try to make more than menial conversation, aware of the heaviness of the occasion. I try to make it a quiet affair – this isn't an official palace visit to Los Angeles Hospital, so I want to make this as covert as possible. No drawing attention. Naturally when we reach the hospital, some personnel recognise us at the front door, but Naomi steps in with her no photos expression and people back off.

I remove my brown knit hat and sunnies inside the hospital lobby. It's clean, the floors smooth and polished, the ceiling arching in a dome to house the multiple desks, lounge spaces, and exits to the different wards. Sheng and Senior Mah automatically pivot to lead us towards the oncology ward. Already my haunches rise. Hospitals have always freaked me out because they're nothing like the quiet, quaint infirmary I'm used to. It's too busy, too overwhelming.

There's a promise of failure here. The palace has the highest trained doctors and nurses we could find, but here with so many moving parts, anything could go wrong. And people have to live with that. People like Senior Mah. People like Sheng.

I frown, realising the stark contrast between us. Sheng's always known we come from two different worlds, but in my palace it didn't seem like it. Now here it couldn't be more obvious.

We pause at the ward reception, hustling with activity. Papers flicking and keys typing. It smells clinical and tangy – soap and water and plastic and blood. The nurses take a moment to brief the guards, leaving Senior Mah, Sheng and I to wait.

"Thank you for coming today, Your Highness," says Senior Mah, beaming as he takes my hands. "We really do appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule for us."

"It's nothing," I say, but his grip only tightens.

"Nonsense, nonsense. It does mean the world to us, doesn't it, Sheng?"

Sheng nods. "Yes." As his dad glares at him, hastily he adds, "Your Highness. Thank you."

"Then you're welcome," I say, smiling, knowing any other attempt to wave away his kindness will be met with more resistance. "Is there anything I should know?"

Senior Mah lets go. "Ah, my mother… she's a feisty character. Her health might be declining but her mouth runs, often too fast for us to keep up. She, ahem, doesn't have much filter, so I apologise in advance for anything she might say that may be offensive or rude."

"But she'll be pleased to meet you," Sheng adds. I try to read his face, but it's all that stoic poise again, like he's mentally braced.

The nurse allows us into the ward finally, after Naomi relents to just her and Sheng's bodyguard to shadow. I creep in slowly. The other curtains are drawn except for one occupied bed, ensconcing an elderly Chinese lady with no hair and little meat on her bones. I have to withhold a gasp – I knew the cancer on Sheng's grandmother was bad, but not this bad. Liver spots mottle her deep beige skin like a Picasso impressionist painting.

But like Senior Mah said, her eyes are sharp. They latch onto first her son, then her grandson, then me in quick succession, even though I'm standing far behind, hoping to let her greet them first. The sallow bags on her face lift into a grin.

"The princess!" she croaks, reaching up a hand. Her accent is so distinctly from Hong Kong. "She agreed to come!"

"Hello to you too, Mah Ma," says Senior Mah, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He offers me a seat first before grabbing one for Sheng and himself. First he says something in Chinese – I hear my name. Then, in English, "This is Her Highness, Princess Gail. Your Highness, this is my mother, but you can call her Grand Mah."

I take the reached hand. "It's lovely to meet you."

Grand Mah's wary eyes settle on Sheng. "Has my grandson been behaving?"

Sheng's back straightens. "I don't misbehave, Por Por."

"He's been exemplary," I confirm.

"Good! Then I'll let you give me a kiss, Syun Jai!"

Sheng reaches down and kisses her forehead. It's a quick, fragile gesture, one borne out of little affection and more tradition. Respect for his grandmother than anything else.

"Have you done that to the princess, yet? On the lips?" she asks.

Sheng goes red. "Por Por—"

She gasps, looking at me. "You mean to tell me Syun Jai hasn't even kissed you yet! What kind of gentleman is he?"

Senior Mah says something in Chinese – by his tone I can tell he's telling her to be polite. Grand Mah clucks her tongue.

"She may be royalty, but she is just a girl. A very pretty one, at that! One that my grandson is in love with!" She winks at me, and I giggle because I don't really know what else to feel. "Jai, get her something to eat. A snack. She looks so thin and pale!"

Both Sheng and Senior Mah go to protest, but she silences them both with a look. Senior Mah sighs, looks sympathetically at me, and says, "I'll get a bag of chips. Won't be long."

He hops off to what I suppose will be the hospital vending machines. I know I don't look my best – minimal make-up, a sickly pallor from my fluctuating emotions. But she's gutsy to point it out, to me of all people. It's funny to think someone like her and Sheng are related when they don't act alike whatsoever. I don't even really know what to make off the fact that she thinks Sheng is head over heels in love with me when he's so hard-faced most of the time.

But maybe she knows what I don't, I think.

"You should be romancing the princess," Grand Mah says to Sheng, hands tracing patterns in the air. "Not taking her to hospitals. It is the opposite of romantic here!"

"Por Por, you said wanted to meet her."

"Does that mean you invite her here? No! You ignore me and you take her out to dinner and you spoil her." She shakes her head. "I am sorry on behalf of my grandson, Princess. He is very much like his father. No brains for love."

Sheng chastens with that uncharacteristically red, sheepish expression. Barely three minutes here and she's already ripped into his Selection strategy, and I can't help but feel a little bad for him. If this is what it's like when I'm here, what's it like when I'm not? I straighten, deciding to come to his defence.

"Oh, er, well, he took me on a date recently."

Sheng goes dead still as Grand Mah's eyes blaze.

"He did? When?" Then she says something in Chinese to Sheng, and whatever is it, he goes deeper red in the cheeks.

"Two days ago." It's a lie, but I'll pull from the truth to make it. "After we got back from San Francisco, Sheng asked me to a picnic in the gardens, and it was very lovely and sweet."

"A picnic, huh? I suppose that's nice. A grand dinner would've been better."

"Gail has been to many fancy dinners," he says straight-laced. "The picnic was unique."

She slaps his arm – it's not hard enough to hurt, but the sentiment behind it is. "I raised you better than to speak back to me. And you call her Her Highness!"

"No, it's okay," I chime, before Sheng can correct himself. "I said he can call me Gail."

"Aw, well that's very sweet of you." She pats my hands with her thin, bony ones. "You really must eat more though. All those fancy dinners and you still too thin. Have Syun Jai take you on another picnic and you eat, even if it's those fattening Illéan burgers and fries."

That actually sounds kind of tasty, and Sheng and I exchange a glance. Before I can help it, I've cracked a smile and started helplessly giggling, and even Sheng has slipped his unfeeling façade to show a smile of his own. Though it quickly diminishes to nothing.

Senior Mah returns with a bag of chips – Cheetos, the grimiest of kinds – and I chew on a few to satisfy Grand Mah as she painstakingly describes her day of lying idly in bed, nurses occasionally making polite conversation, and even one moment where they had to fiddle with her catheter (brain bleach, please). I don't miss how the entire time, she tries to plug Sheng, reminding me numerous times of his handsome good looks, his strength, even his moral compass, and though I can definitely agree on all those things, it starts to feel like she's selling a product more than person. Sheng is even more on edge than normal, ramrod straight in his chair and never once speaking unless spoken to, less he incur another gentle slap on his arm.

And gentle as they are, it seems to have an effect on him. As the conversation goes on, and Grand Mah interrupts him to scold him, a sudden understanding washes over me. Sheng's always been trying to find his place in the world. He's always worried he's unworthy. That's why he broke up with me in the first place.

This is the reason why. This is how he was raised. Perfect, or nothing.

And it makes me sad. So sad Grand Mah catches onto my dampening mood and tries to ply me with more Cheetos.

When visiting hour ends, we are asked politely to leave by the nurses, and I stand.

"It was really nice to meet you, Grand Mah."

"You call me Por Por now, okay?" When she opens her hand, I give mine, and she takes them in a weak grip. "You are very sweet to visit me. Thank you, Your Highness. It is much nicer to have you here than it is to watch you on TV. Please come again with Syun Jai soon. It is funny to see him get so flustered by you! Hahah!"

I smile and thank her again, stand back to let Senior Mah say his goodbyes.

"She's a character," I say to Sheng.

He sighs. "Yeah. An exhausting one."

His honesty is a breath of fresh air. I nudge his side. "So that's where you get it from, huh?"

"Very funny."

But I watch the little movements of his facial muscles. How his brow dips. How his lips crush together to form a wan line. How there's a shadowed cast over his eyes, like the thick clouds before a stormy rain. It seems like the comparison is a reminder that he'll never be good enough. And it's anything but funny.


The limo pulls up to the palace. Senior Mah, as always, forgoes protocol and hops out first to open the door for me in the palace courtyard.

I'd nearly forgotten about the drama of last night in those blissful hours away, but it thrusts into the forefront of my mind when I notice Roy, standing dead still on the grand palace steps, hands clasped together in front of him in wait.

"Gail," he says, in a voice that wavers up and down. "I… I've been waiting for you."

Sheng exits the car and bows. "Your Majesty."

"I don't want to see you right now." I loop my arm forcefully with Sheng and march passed, Sheng dragged along. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait." Roy catches my other arm at the top of the steps. "Wait. Please. We need to talk."

"No we don't."

"We do. I… Please don't make this difficult."

"Me? I'm being the difficult one? Okay, Roy."

"Please. I… I know what happened. But I need to explain something very important to you."

I spin around so violently Sheng nearly trips. "Why don't you explain it to me here and now, then?"

Roy bristles. I can tell he feels awkward with just the guards, let alone both Sheng and Senior Mah.

"That's not going to happen."

"Then I don't care—"

"Damn it, Gail!" he yells, causing me to flinch. "Just follow me. Alone. Now."

My heart palpitates for all the wrong reasons. I shouldn't feel scared to follow my brother – shouldn't feel angry or smug, but all these emotions battle for dominance, and the result is a litany of sensations so overwhelming I have to stop and take a moment to breathe.

Does he want to grovel? The thought enters my head as I reluctantly peel my arm from Sheng and follow Roy into the palace, up stairs and through hallways until we're well and truly secluded. Is he furious I interrupted his cheating session? Is he going to force me to pretend nothing happened?

"Why are we here?" I ask sharply, all defences on.

He's taken us to the third floor, to one of my favourite wings to visit when I'm sad or scared. The Schreave wing isn't much used. Dark green wallpaper to complement grey carpets and burnished gold chandeliers and window frames. When dignitaries stay, they're put here, because one particular hallway houses our most beautiful portraits of every royal that's ever walked these halls. From the very first that was Gregory Illéa and his brood, hanging nearer the entrance, to the controversial figures of Clarkson and Diantha Schreave, hidden in the middle, and finally to us, currently hanging on the back wall in a large, gilded frame. The masterpiece.

Roy moves towards it, not looking at me when he waves at the guards to stay at the hallway's front. I swallow my worries and tiptoe behind him, passed doors to bedrooms. Passed my ancestors, who watch down with intense, judgmental gazes.

As we come to the family portrait, my haunches rise. I remember the day we had it painted, years and years ago when Appa was still alive. He towers over us in a strapping three piece suit and the royal cloak, one of his hands on Omma's waist in her hanbok and the other on Roy's shoulder. A much younger Roy. He was eighteen when they painted this, to commemorate his birthday, and I was only seven or eight. You can tell by the gap-toothed grin on my face and the height difference between me and Omma, with her hand hanging loosely on my shoulder.

No Tay. No Cami.

Roy pauses at the portrait. I come to stand by his side, though I don't want to. I don't want to give him any reason to believe that just because we're standing at this particular painting gives him any right to do what he did. If anything it should make him feel even more shame that he's tainted our legacy. That this could cause ruin for the Schreave line.

What would Appa say? I don't dare to think it, let alone say it out loud.

First Roy looks down the hallway before looking at me. His emotions are a wreck, I realise, startled by the deep bags under his eyes and the sallow quality to his cheeks. Like all the life has been sucked out of him. Even his hair is uncharacteristically loose, a long, dishevelled nest with tangles and knots.

"Sit. Please." He offers the nearby settee and perches himself on one end. "I don't want to stand."

I think of being defiant. I'd prefer to stand, would be the words, but somehow his tiredness catches me off-guard. So I sit, hands placidly on my lap.

"I-I'm not cheating on Cami."

He blurts it so fast I get whiplash.

"You say that," I say, raising my head, "but I literally saw you all cosy with Auntie Lilly."

"No, that… she was hugging me, Gail. Comforting me. God above, I…" He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a forced breath of a chuckle. "I couldn't do that to Cami. I love her far too much."

"You expect me to just believe that?" I snort.

"No, but it's the truth. I was…" he swallows. "I-I was having a hard day."

"Okay? If it was so hard why didn't you spend it with the wife you apparently love so much?"

He laughs again, this time higher-pitched, more hysterical.

"I couldn't go to her. Lilly and I… we share something in that sometimes I don't have to use words or signs to convey how I feel. Lilly just knows. She just understands. She doesn't make things difficult."

My heart leaps into my throat. "Implying that… Cami does?"

"No." He buries his head in his hands. "God, I am doing a shit job at this. I couldn't go to Cami because… because she was part of the reason I was having a hard day."

Now tears are welling in my eyes.

"Oh, no, Roy… I-I know you have ups and downs but please don't divorce her. She's the best sister I could ever ask for."

"I'm not divorcing her. I… well… she might want to divorce me."

"What did you do? I don't understand. If you're saying you didn't cheat on her…"

"Gail." He looks up. Tears have already fallen, blotched his cheeks a sickly red. "Gail, I… I don't think I can have children."


A/N: Hello everyone! Whomp, there it is. The problem haunting our poor stressed boyo for many, many chapters. I feel I should note that this will be expanded upon immediately in the next chapter, so I won't leave you entirely in the dark regarding this part of Roy's arc. If you do have questions re: Roy (that aren't about the line of succession), please message me. I'll be happy to give you more details. Otherwise, as said, more information will come in next chapter.

I've been reading about infertility for a while, and though I am personally lucky to say it hasn't affected me directly (nor indirectly to my knowledge), it is actually a rather prevalent problem around the world. According to the NHS, the UK's health service, unexplained infertility accounts for 1 in 4 cases. Furthermore it seems to me, at least anecdotally, that male infertility isn't discussed openly enough. It's not a topic I would tackle lightly, though I always knew it would be something that would affect Roy, and affect him deeply. I want my characters to reflect reality even in exceptional circumstances, and hopefully this shines a light on it in a way that is authentic and sensitive. I'll continue to do my research as I write Roy, Cami and their situation, so thank you for your patience and kindness.

Let me know what you think! Ben and Gail's date? Sheng's grandmother? Roy's revelation? As always, reviews and feedback appreciated. Thanks for reading.

~ GWA

NTT: "I can hear her when she thinks I'm asleep. Sobbing into her pillow."

EDIT 29th March 2020: added a content warning at the beginning and elaborated in the A/N. Apologies for lack of clarity when I posted.