Fallout
In the last chapter, Xander had a date with Ami, Sawyer, Alex and Zarah, playing laser tag. Ami maybe was terrible at the game and Sawyer a little too emotional in regards of the rebellion, but the date led to the elimination of both Zarah and Alex, on the grounds as to why they had come to the Selection. Xander also learns of a politically motivated terrorist attack in Italy, targeting his cousin.
Chapter 38
» And I get to deal with the fallout«
Outside the Women's Room in the Palace, Los Angeles, Angeles
Princess Sophia of Illéa
Zarah Baine and Alessandra Valentino were standing in front of the other girls, in the women's room and if Sophia didn't know better, she would expect them to be about to announce something important. Of course, she knew better because any important Selection announcement would inevitably be going to run through her, so—
"Zarah and I are eliminated; we're leaving tomorrow."
"Awesome, right?" Zarah beamed.
They were—what?! They surely were joking! Maybe they were about to ask Xander to let them go, but most certainly, they were not actually eliminated. Xander would discuss that with her, Jonathan and the others before he would make such an important decision. There was no way that was true, and there was no way that she did not know. She was the Selection coordinator, after all!
"Your Highness, hello!" Kate, inside the room, noticed her stopping in a very unfortunate angle to the half open doors.
Sophia put on her best smile, and stepped into the room with the elegance of an angel. She folded her hands over her chiffon skirt and did not show the frantic search for what to say that was going on in her mind. "I did not mean to interrupt," she said, "and although it is unfortunate that you two are leaving, I am sure that our country will continue to benefit of your work."
"Sure." Zarah rolled her eyes. It was a blessing to know her out, if Sophia had to be frank. She leaned against the table in a manner of a punk, not the lady she was right now.
"A palace aide will help you in adjusting, of course. I understand that it may be difficult to readjust to your life, after spending so much time here in the Palace."
"Yes, of course you know," Zarah huffed. Where did this rudeness come from? She barely remembered interacting with the Selected from Paloma… Especially because Zarah didn't actually have any valid point in saying these things, because Sophia Illéa knew how difficult adjusting was. Certainly, adjusting to luxurious penthouse apartments in New York wasn't the same as going back to a dirty one-room apartment, but Zarah had connections to people of status…
Sophia did not lose her smile. "I won't bother you any longer, then," she replied, curtly turned around and made a mental note of the girls who had remembered to curtesy to her, a princess by blood.
Walking up the stairs to Xander's office where she expected to find her brother working was an easy task, and she soon found him there, with Victoria hanging over his work too. Her dear little sister, though, was of no concern at the moment.
"Sophy?" Victoria looked up to her, confused. "Do you want to join us?"
"No, Vicky, unfortunately I do not have the time for that, although I would love to. You must invite me for tea at some point."
Victoria was still reserved. "Of course."
"Sophia," Xander now acknowledge her too. "What can I do for you?"
Without being asked to, Sophia curtly took a seat. She crossed her legs at the ankle, with her best poker face. She did not want another such moment of Louis—or Xander, or dad—being able to read her like an open book. "I would like to inquire as to what it is about the apparent elimination of Alessandra Valentino and Zarah Baine."
"I eliminated them, yes."
"When?" Sophia inquired. She kept her face up. She kept it up. She could do that.
"At the end of the date. Lady Zarah showed no desire to be here anymore, and Lady Alessandra's reason for being here is not valid enough for me to keep her here. The girls cost us a lot of money, so I chose to eliminate them now."
"What about the Italian's visit? Do you want the second group to be down by two members?" Sophia alleged.
Hesitation filled Xander. Good—he saw no reason to act towards her. He still trusted her. He frowned, "I did not think about that."
"You should have!" Sophia blamed. "It is up to me to figure this out now, you know. Lady Euphrosyne, Lady Ami and Lady Leda should not have been treated like that. Losing two group members—even worse."
"What are they doing?" Victoria, carefully, asked. "Depending on what they're planning, it may just be doable?"
"I don't know." Sophia was forced to admit that she hadn't gotten back to them yet; she knew about the other three groups by now, but this one, she was missing. Their deadline hadn't approached yet, so she hadn't even considered asking.
"To be quite frank," Xander admitted, "with the recent events in Italy, I'm not entirely sure if we would want Carl to be out in unsecured places. I'm quite sure the Italians' security would have something to say, at least. I would like you to speak to these three about that either way."
Oh, now that came in? Was he kidding her? How was she meant to make the Selection run smoothly if these new bits of information randomly came out?
"I shall do my best," Sophia replied with a smile. "Although, I must remind you that I believe it would be of value to discuss the eliminations before they happen. There are various variables to be considered and—"
"And in the end, it is still my Selection," Xander kindly reminded her. "I am confident that I made the right decision."
Sophia could argue now—she was well aware of that—or she could leave them over their numbers and taxes that she couldn't be bothered with. She chose the latter, and instead asked a footman on her way out, to inform Ami, Leda and Rosy that their presence was expected in her office.
The three Selected, probably from the other two's impromptu farewell meeting, arrived together, led by Leda's stern entrance. Even Sophia, a princess, needed a moment to gather herself as she invited them to sit down and opened her notes for the Italian's visit.
"I apologise for calling you here on such a short notice," she begun. "This is about the Savoys' visit, given that two members of your group are leaving tomorrow. I understand that this may be an issue, but I'm afraid, there's another one."
Leda's disdain was clear. "Another one?"
"Yes." Sophia nodded. "Have you heard about what happened in Italy?"
"No," Ami, genuine and uninformed as a princess should not be, replied. "What happened?"
"There are activists who do not want my older cousin on the throne. They planted a bomb at a place he was rumoured to be. Fortunately, he was not, but that does not mean that people did not die or were injured as a result. There are concerns on both sides that this may happen here again, even if we are doing our best to prevent it."
"How does that affect our plans?"
"Would you mind elaborating them first?"
"We want to go and visit the battlefield of Angeles again," Ami announced. "To show that…" she glanced to her other group members.
"We would like to show that we acknowledge our history," Rosy replied. "Following that, we would like to head to a reconstructed part of Los Angeles, to show the future King of Italy that we have recovered."
"It would also do very well to be filmed and released on the Report," Leda added.
Sophia nodded. "That is a lovely idea, but I'm concerned that there will be too many security risks."
"And you're telling us that we need to redo everything in about one week?" Leda deadpanned. She had all right to; Sophia would have thrown a fit if that was her.
"I am not, Xander is, actually. It's not the other two's elimination, it's what happened in Italy that is an issue." Sophia paused. "Such is life, to be honest. This can happen anytime. This is the life Ones lead, so I suppose consider this a warm welcome." Maybe that would get the blame off her.
"Are we even doing anything?" Ami slumped.
"As of now, I unfortunately am not sure. If you have an idea for something that is done in a space easier to be supervised and protected by the guards, then do tell, but other than that, I'm afraid not. Of course, nobody will ill judge you for it."
Leda inhaled sharply; her hidden by a tight, cold smile. "We will figure something out."
"I…" Rosy took a moment. "I may have an idea."
"Go ahead," Sophia nodded to her.
"My parents have tried to talk me into inviting His Royal Highness to a theatre piece happening during the time, the Savoys are here. It's not entirely fitting with the days, but we could do that?"
"Theatre?" Sophia repeated.
"They know the theatre's owner; they are putting on the play of a young, Illéan playwright from Bonita. Oscar Wilde."
A smile appeared on Sophia's lips. "Do go on—this sounds like a good idea."
They would only need to call into the theatre, but who would deny two royal families entrance? Only a fool would, and by the evening, Sophia had all organised. The guard knew and would cooperate with the venue to supply adequate security, and both royal families and the Selected would attend. Maybe the three didn't do as much as others, but Sophia found herself noting down Rosy's quick thinking. A reason to let her stay, she had. Now she had one to want her out. For now.
When the three girls left her, Sophia's own mountain of work hadn't exactly decreased, and she knew that she would still need to discuss the presentation and announcement of the sudden, unplanned elimination for the report with her brother. Fortunately, she had one more guest the same evening—Tessa who was coming by for tea.
"Do come in," Sophia hummed when Tessa arrived. She was a shy as always, probably hesitating whenever she should actually dare to knock on the door to the princess' office, but once she came in, her face lit up. "How are you?" Sophia asked.
"Quite well, although that elimination scared me," Tessa admitted. "I haven't even gone on a date yet, and they are gone…"
"To be frank, they weren't meant to leave until after the Italians came. Xander thought otherwise, apparently. Quite a headache in planning. How is your group doing?"
"Quite well. I think Isla updated you on what we're planning?"
"She did indeed," Sophia nodded. "I'm quite fond of it. It'll be lovely. How kind of you to consider the jetlag."
"It was Cilla's idea," Tessa excused. "She did a lot of the work as to how to deal with the press too. I wasn't very much of a help…"
"That's alright," Sophia assured her. "You are still learning."
Sophia was glad to take a seat and close her eyes for a brief moment while a servant poured them tea and brought biscuits. Today, Sophia had already chosen for them to drink rose tea and eat strawberry tarts.
"If I may ask," Tessa begun, "did you know he was planning to eliminate girls after dates? Most of us expected regular rounds…"
Sophia hesitated. "I'm not sure what he planned. Yes—he wasn't going to let anyone go until after the Italians came, but evidently, something changed." She huffed. "And I get to deal with the fallout."
"That is unfair," Tessa stated. Gosh, Sophia hoped, Tessa would never ever fall for Xander. She'd miss being able to bitch about him to her.
"It's a nightmare. The second group for the visit planning—Ami, Euphrosyne and Leda—they are three when others are five to seven people strong. Then there's the Italian's political drama and I wish I could just say 'let's ignore it', but we can't…" She sighed. "And then, of course, there's Ernest who puts all that Selected screen time into the Report, squeezing me, Helena and the world we do into five minutes. Dreadful."
Tessa nodded. And she listened, nodded, smiled, quietly sipping her tea as Sophia went on and on about the incredibly difficult and large problems of the life of a princess like her. Such tragic days.
/ / /
The Palace Stables, Los Angeles, Angeles
Crown Prince Xander of Illéa
The Palace Stables and the workers there already prepared the horses when Xander, Rowan, Cilla and Tessa arrived. Out of the four, Cilla was chatting freely, carefreely talking about the horses she had at home. Xander didn't mind that at all, because it kept Rowan, also talking about the animals on the farm she worked, and Tessa engaged and meant less talking for him.
"I—It's really weird that I never learned how to ride horses, right?" Cilla asked.
"You've learned a lot. You'll be fine today, as long as we don't do anything dangerous," Tessa assured her.
"I mean, I haven't done this in a year, so I support the notion of doing this slowly," Xander added on.
"Me and Tessa can race another while you two wait in the back." Rowan laughed amused. "Any particular place we are heading?"
"There's a forest behind the palace. Princess Sophia and I once went there," Tessa suggested. "It's beautiful. Maybe we can find a place for the picnic?" She gestured to the odd spot of green in the landscape of Los Angeles. The forest, part of the palace's boundaries, was young and had been made by Xander's great-grandmother. It was, nonetheless, a soft, green spot, and he did not mind.
"That sounds good to me," Rowan nodded.
"As long as the path isn't too complicated…" Cilla nodded.
"It shouldn't be," Xander assured her. "It's made for walking, but I at least remember that Louis used to ride there a lot, even when he was young and clumsy."
"I can't imagine him to be 'young and clumsy'," Rowan commented, and Xander did not miss the spite in her words. Given Rowan's origin as Seven, a farmer, it was inevitable that she held a dislike for the younger prince.
He joined the other three girls with the horses that, to Tessa's visible dismay, had already been saddled for them. That didn't stop her from checking each and every single part, and while Cilla, Xander (clumsily) and Rowan soon found themselves on the horses, Tessa took a moment to pet it.
"Hello, Snowball," she hummed at the white horse. "Are you ready to go out today?"
She must have been riding this one for a while, Xander thought as they watched Tessa almost chatting with the horse. She looked like she had forgotten their presence entirely; like a fairy of his mother's beloved fairy tales, Tessa spoke to the horse—If Xander didn't know better, he would have expected them to genuinely understand another.
"Tessa, we're also here," Cilla teased her friend. "Don't ignore us."
"What? Oh! Sorry!" Tessa turned around swiftly, and red colour shot into her cheeks. She muttered something, and quickly climbed the horse. She gestured in what Xander recognised to be the path they would take. "That way, I think…" she added, quieter.
"Then let's go!" Cilla cheered.
They began slow, telling their horses to walk, and Cilla's stories from the ranch she grew up on continued. They reached the forest when Tessa dared to pipe up about her favourite horse at home, called Ginger. Another good reason for Xander to quietly stay back and just listen, letting the girls talk.
One will be your wife.
Most certainly, such wasn't the best choice, but having all these girls around—even if he didn't interact with them on some days—was exhausting. He enjoyed their company, but it was exhausting. Hence him not chatting outright, but instead enjoying passing by the green leaves and listening to the sounds of the forest.
That was, until Cilla Chamberlain spoke up. "What about you, your highness?" she asked.
Xander glanced up. They had been speaking about their favourite music—again this topic—and apparently, now it was his turn to respond on the matter. He hesitated just like he had with the girls in the car. "I suppose, I prefer classical music most. That is definitely related to my grandmother's influence though."
"Oh, do you have a favourite piece?" Rowan asked, curious.
"I suppose, some basic piano pieces I learned when I was younger. I don't recall any names, though." He paused. When no fight about music erupted, he dared to go on. "I do like to listen to some country music, sometimes, which probably comes from my best friend refusing to listen to anything else."
"Country is great!" Cilla laughed out. "I will fight anyone who says otherwise."
"It's sad to see so many country singers going so far into pop music. I used to listen to a bunch of indie singers, but they branched into pop to gain more exposure," Rowan reminiscence. "That got me into folk music—when country always turned into pop."
Cilla sighed. "Oh, I know what you mean. The industry is always so harsh as to what you can sell…"
Of course, Cilla was a singer-songwriter focusing on country music. He should have remembered that. During that whole month he had had to prepare, he could have used the time to make sure he had listened to her music at least once… Then again, wouldn't it be odd to listen to her voice like that?
"I like country too," Tessa spoke, "although I only listen to it because Cilla made me."
"That's better than nothing!" Cilla smiled. Her smile radiated with energy. Beautiful, Xander thought. "I can teach you a bit how to play some easier pieces later on."
"Do you play an instrument?" Rowan asked. "Sorry for my ignorance, but I didn't notice."
"That's because Tessa makes me spend all my free time outside horse-riding."
"I love horses!" Tessa called out, in a futile attempt to defend herself.
"I play the guitar professionally. It's my main instrument," Cilla replied. "I love it. It can be—going by the maids, at least—terrible for your fingers but I won't give it up just for that. It's just too fun! … Is that weird? It's probably weird. Whatever."
"It's not weird," Rowan hummed. "I love playing the piano, and I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world—expect maybe Owen and Annie."
Xander nodded. "It does appear to be normal to enjoy your hobbies," he joked, and they laughed. That was, Xander liked to think, good. He was talking to them after all. "I am quite fond of my own, so…"
The conversation carried on, and Xander made a conscious effort to throw in more of his own input than just listening. Nonetheless, sooner than later, Cilla and Rowan were engaged into a conversation about music that he couldn't entirely understand—too many complicated words that made no sense to him who hadn't touched a piano in years.
"Are you alright?" Tessa, falling back to let Rowan and Cilla head first, asked. Xander himself wouldn't dare to slow down a horse already walking, but Tessa looked confident enough for that.
"Yes, I am," Xander replied with a smile. "How are you doing, Lady Tessera?"
"I am well," she replied, but glanced at the horse's mane. "You looked a tad lonely here. You weren't saying much."
"I interact with people all the time for my work," Xander admitted. "It sometimes just reaches the 'this is enough' point."
Tessa chuckled to herself. She looked forward, and Xander mimicked that. "I know how that feeling. You just get tired, don't you?"
Xander nodded. "It's not the tired where you want to sleep, and it's not where you are physically tired." He knew that feeling from his time in the army. "You just want to go and be alone for a bit, but if you do that, everyone will call you rude."
"That's why I love horses," Tessa hummed. "They're just there for you, listen to you, but they don't force you to talk and just let you be quiet if you need to. It's almost therapeutic."
Maybe that was what swimming was to Xander; he just enjoyed taking the break, away from everyone else who needed him to do work and hang around him. He hadn't managed to do that in ages, unfortunately, and it did pain him.
"I see what you mean," he acknowledged nonetheless, "that is what swimming does for me."
Tessa nodded and fell to silence. Not that awkward silence that Xander had experienced more than often in the past weeks, but a comfortable one that he didn't mind; one that could continue on. They had Rowan and Cilla chat in the background, and the birds tweeting around them. The winds gently rustled through the leaves, and the horses' calm steps.
"Have you ever done swimming competitively? In any way?"
"No. Have you done that with horse-riding?"
"No. I suppose if you add competition, then it takes away the aspect of relaxing. You always want to put in effort, be the best and all. I help out at a horse ranch and I see how much focus the riders take. I feel like they barely have the time to bond with their horses on a free walk like this; they're too exhausted in the evening."
"True words," Xander agreed. He couldn't imagine swimming being more than his quiet hobby. Playing in the water—water ball, like he had done with Jaira, Nereida and Veira—was different. It wasn't that quiet moment he took for himself.
Xander leaned her head back, towards the sunrays that reached him through the leaves. Soft and warm, unlike the shadow of the leaves. He took a deep breath, and let go. Next to him, Tessa had gone silent again. That comfortable silence was lovely—something he needed, and something that comforted him from stress he hadn't even realised.
"Your family is quite stressed," Tessa pointed out.
"I suppose that comes with the life of royalty," Xander admitted back, "doesn't it?"
"Sophia—I'm a bit concerned about her sometimes," Tessa replied. "I don't think she feels like she is getting any reward out of her work anymore, and it's affecting her."
"Reward?" Xander repeated. Most certainly, he had seen Sophia's attitude change drastically, but a reward? They were royalty; this was their duty. They had been born with a right, and with that right, duties came.
"You can't do things for too long without getting something out of it. It exhausts you, and makes you bitter. It burns you out, so to say," Tessa replied. "I think that's why she's so fixed on the idea of marrying the German Crown Prince."
"You are aware of that…?" Xander asked surprised. The matter, only known to the king, his closest advisors, Sophia and the Schreave brothers, was meant to stay quiet—until it was official and both sides announced it to their court. "How come?"
"Sophia gave me titbits here and there. I often come by for tea."
"I'm glad she has made a friend."
Tessa hesitated. "I am too. She's a lovely woman, but that bitterness… It's not good for her."
"Do you have any suggestions on how to help her?" Xander asked, fully knowing that he did not have the capacity to deal with much more.
"I suppose," Tessa replied, "it's the Unrest that has taken a toll on her. She loves the idea of being a fairy tale princess, does she not? A civil war waging against her family doesn't stand with that image. I suppose that is why she yearns to move to the German Federation. They are much more stable than we are at the moment."
"We are healing," Xander replied—per force of habit. "That is a good insight though, Lady Tessera." It didn't tell him as to how he could help his sister though. The marriage between her and Frederick was nearly fully determined, but Xander had hoped Sophia to stay past the Selection—let alone because she had been so eager… "She loves the Selection, because she hoped it would bring her something, I presume."
"I don't think it does, though," Tessa replied. "It's just a source of stress."
"That is unfortunate." But it was one to Xander too, and he was the one holding it. "I'm glad to hear that she has you to rely on."
"She's someone I would admire. Strong, ready to help and defend her family. Beautiful."
Xander smiled. That was what he liked to hear about his sister. That she was the lovely, strong woman that Sophia had always aimed to be. The brave princess that Illéa needed. "She is, indeed," he agreed.
"It'll be difficult to live up to her," Tessa wondered, "Whoever wins, I mean. Large footsteps to fill."
Xander knew that. There had never been a Queen truly beloved by all people, but princesses that came close to it. Not only Sophia, but his aunt too—the people had loved her. Maybe it was a curse for the commoner girls that married into his family to always be a step behind of the princesses by blood, but Xander didn't like think that it wasn't a step impossible to fill.
"I wonder what the others think about that," Xander admitted.
"We could ask them," Tessa suggested. "Hey, Cilla? Rowan?"
The two girls, still indulged into their own conversation, turned to them, in surprise of the sudden call. Xander worried they'd fall from the horses, but thankfully, they didn't act too quick. Cilla's blonde hair, the hair that fell down beneath her riding helmet.
"What's up?" she called with crystal clear voice.
"We were discussing that one of us would fill the footsteps of Princess Sophia," Tessa explained. "What do you think of that?"
Cilla pursed her lips, her hands and eyes stern on the horse tack. At least Xander wasn't alone in his inexperience with horses. "I never thought of that that way. We are all our own people, I doubt anyone would fill her position the way she does, you know?"
Rowan agreed. "Besides that, she isn't going anywhere, isn't she?"
That, at least, was what people were meant to assume right now. Xander was all too well aware, though, the people of Illéa were aware of the recent practises of marriage to the royals. His aunt and uncle had married foreign royalty, and so had his grandfather's sister, and they all knew of that failed attempt of Jackson Illéa and the ever-doomed Illéa-Windsor marriages…
"Is she going to marry a foreign prince?" Rowan asked after a moment of silence. "That is the tradition, isn't it?"
"What about Prince Ernest and Prince Louis?" Cilla added on, with genuine curiosity and none of Rowan's scrutiny. "What about Princess Victoria?"
"I don't know what the future holds," Xander replied diplomatically. He did not; who knew what Ernest would do with the Selection—and if the sparks that the siblings believed to have seen in the past made a fire.
"That's a very vague answer," Rowan deadpanned. "You must be more detailed, Your Highness."
"Surely, there is something you know."
"I insist," Rowan added on.
He couldn't lie to them here and risk to ruin any chances on an honest relationship he would have to either of them, but at the same point—if he eliminated them before anything was decided, and they talked, then it could ruin the trust another nation had in Illéa.
"You must understand," Xander chose to say, "that there may be things—be it on this topic or others—that I cannot talk openly about; not without risking Illéa's prosperity."
Rowan, a stubborn one, would not take that easily. She bit on her lip, evidently looking for something to counter with, but she didn't. They continued their ride, and Xander was glad that she wasn't going to inquire about anything further.
As they headed on, she made sure to end up next to Xander, and he did not miss that. Maybe that provocation wasn't bad, though, he thought—especially with his avoidance of confronting the girls on their own.
"I really cannot say much more," Xander apologised.
"Hmhm." Rowan nodded. "We'll see about that."
"There are some things that are saver when secret."
"Are there? Shouldn't the people of Illéa know what's going on in their life? Is it fair to manipulate it without even telling them?" Rowan stabbed.
There was more to that. Rowan, with no knowledge of the court, revealed that. Too specific—nobody had said anything about manipulating people's life. If even, it only related to one girl that would end up marrying his brothers, and Sophia's marriage.
"What are you referring to?" Xander asked her; this wasn't the backstabbing court politics, he reminded himself, this was the Selection and he was meant to marry one of them. He needed to be fair, at least, he told himself. This was why. He totally wasn't concerned about Project Omega. Totally not. "Nobody mentioned manipulation of the people."
Red colour shot into Rowan's face. "I—"
"What are you referring to?" he asked. Rowan was too close to the last one, he told himself, to let this go unnoticed. Not when it meant a possible help. Plus, talking about Sophia reminded him of helping his people.
"Where I live," Rowan begun, "people talk about that a neighbouring town was a result of government actions. Secretive ones. I assume if that was true, then it were tests. The people wouldn't have known—we didn't—and it affected all kinds of places as a result. Leda said that her boss' car broke down and…" she trailed off. Clearly, she had heard too many rumours to put everything into one working idea.
Project Omega tests. He had been right. To be fair, though, the people testing it had been told.
"Those are conspiracies." If he couldn't risk the other girls' trust just a minute ago, then now he couldn't risk Project Omega going wrong. He couldn't undo the work of generations of Illéas for a flirt. He was a hypocrite, but details.
"I've seen the effects, though. Suddenly, the farms of people around that town emptied, and the food prices rose because it was harvest time, and they had nobody to farm. Something must have happened."
Xander bit on his lip; he knew he couldn't just wave it off to be Project Omega, and Rowan probably had more points than just this to point out the effects of that failed experiment. If Rowan was just a Seven working on a farm, then her ability to connect the dots was certainly impressing, he noted though. Not knowing how much of that had been Leda Conner, her friend, meant Xander had to wait to judge her fully.
That being said, her courage to bring this up was admirable. Not even advisors had dared to talk to his father about this at times, Xander remembered Adrian saying.
He had to end this topic, because this was nothing the royal family wanted out there until they had completed the project. "Project Omega has always been more of a bane then boon," Xander muttered to himself. There were enough reasons to discontinue it, even if Xander wanted it to work… Meant to stop the Unrest from happening, it had fuelled it. That alone was a point against it.
"Project what?" Rowan repeated. "So, there was something?"
"It was an economic concept developed by grandfather near the end of his reign, and it could be that it had been implemented there," Xander replied, repeating the white lie that they had told many advisors.
"So, there had been a secret test."
"Not secret, everyone knew."
"Testing what?"
"It's really nothing you should be concerned about." In summary, Xander sucked at keeping to an idea. Maybe he was a tad too tired too, he reasoned. Not good, but he'd be able to sleep tonight, so it would work out. He just needed to get past Rowan's scepticism.
"I'm a concerned citizen," Rowan pointed out.
"And I'm a concerned politician. There are things better not discussed fully, because of the consequences it may have."
"But your experiment ended up affecting the economy of the whole country!"
"That is a misconception," Xander replied. "One small town cannot drag down a country as vast as Illéa. It may have affected the province a little bit, but at the grand scale, it's unlikely."
"Then how about the whole economic depression going on?"
"The downwards spiral of the economy is the past."
Rowan hesitated. She had picked up that from Leda, Xander concluded. "A thing that affected countless people's live."
"There were more reasons that just that single project that led to that economic depression."
"Such as?"
"Do you really want to go into that now? I'm quite sure you'll end up studying that in your classes." Xander hoped, that that at least would convince Rowan to stop.
In the brunette's face, he could indeed see the gear wheels turning. She glanced to the other two girls, and nodded. "Maybe Leda can explain it to me." He did not miss the bitterness in her voice, though.
With that conversation ended, Xander made sure to join the other two girls too, and they finally reached the small glade in the forest where they planned the picnic to be. The glade used to be a place Lysandre Illéa took the siblings and their father for family lunches, when the King's work consumed all of his time again, and she needed a reason to get him out of the palace. Xander smiled at that memory.
"It's beautiful here!" Cilla sing-sung. Tessa, kind as always, had moved to putting out the picnic blanket already, and Rowan had moved to helping her. Maybe she was used to that, given her younger siblings.
"It is indeed."
"You can even hear the birds, now, without the city sounds. It's just like at home!" she added on, overjoyed.
Xander paused; he hadn't considered that but indeed, the omnipresent city sounds were gone. Merely the wind in the leaves and the birds were left. "Is it?" Xander asked Cilla.
"The earth has music for those who listen," Cilla spoke. "That's a Shakespeare quote. It's true, isn't it?"
His mother would quite like that. "It is," Xander agreed. "Do you like Shakespeare?"
"I don't know a lot about him; I just know this quote. I agree with it. Sitting in the garden, the fields or forest is a great way to find inspiration for music." She sighed, and looked down. "If I can use that, it is…"
"If you can use what?"
"The music I write then. Unfortunately, in the Unrest, the producers were very wary as to what would be allowed to be published." She dropped on a patch of grass, ignorant of the dirt below. Cilla crossed her legs, and picked up a flower. A daisy, to be exact. "They were always concerned about whenever it would sell well. If the reception wouldn't be the 'wrong kind'," she quoted.
"The wrong kind?"
"Do you know how some music written during the Unrest became anthems to the rioters?" Cilla asked. She didn't call the rebels 'rebels', but rioters, Xander noticed. She spoke with words of the government propaganda; they had sent against them. "That was their greatest fear. No matter what you say, that my creations would be turned against what I stand for."
"I see," Xander nodded.
"What I could release was so limited…" She glanced to the flower patch wistfully. "I suppose it's good; they aren't turning my work against me, but I cannot help but…" she broke off.
"But?"
"I would love to be known for the music I want to make, not the music I make because it's my duty. My last album didn't do well either—and I'm fairly sure it's because the songs I wrote weren't what I wanted to sing about."
"Which was?"
"How terrible the rioters and terrorist were. How I wanted Illéa to be peaceful again. I agree with it but… music is an escape, isn't it?"
Xander agreed. While he sat down on a blanket, he joined her there. "It is indeed."
"You mentioned that you play the piano," Cilla remembered.
The prince tilted his head. "It's not entirely true, I should add. I learned it when I was younger, because my grandmother insisted on it, and for once, my mother agreed with her, but by no means does that mean I even remember where the middle C is."
Cilla chuckled. "Usually in the middle," she teased.
"Victoria though—I see that music is an escape for her."
"Princess Victoria…?" Cilla's eyes grew big.
"For a while, it was the only that we heard from her; other than her violin, she hid in her room. I didn't—I still don't—have a lot time to go and see her, but hearing her play again reminded us all that she was back."
"She's gotten better though, hasn't she?" Cilla asked—much less confident than both liked her to be.
"She has," Xander agreed. "She's been coming to work meetings with me all the time."
Cilla leaned back, looking at the cloudless sky between the leaves and twigs above them. "I suppose, knowing about the people hurt by the Unrest was the reason I ended up going through with the album in the first place. I thought a lot about waiting for it to be over, because I just couldn't stand the constant reminder, but then, here I am, knowing that there are people hurt much more than me…"
Was there much Xander could say to that, as Crown Prince of Illéa, the literal embodiment of what the rebels wanted to get rid off? No, he did not believe so. "I do admire you for going through with it. It takes effort."
Cilla smiled. "Thank you, your highness."
"You're welcome."
"Did you know that it was your mother's idea that prompted the industry's opinion?" Cilla asked. "After The Red Herring was released, many people turned it into a 'look at how terrible the royal family and its rules are', when it was meant to be LGBT representation. It was meant to stand for other things! She didn't want to see the hard work to be given wrong reputation."
"I do," Xander nodded. "I remember her being concerned that it would happen to Abby. She felt guilty for it. Blamed herself."
Cilla nodded. A Two, just like his mother, she probably understood her better than any other Selected. "It must have been hard for her. She didn't deserve all that hatred."
"I agree," Xander admitted, joining her on his back. The sky, blue as the sea, peaked through the twigs like children hiding in the bushes. Xander understood why she was looking at it. It was good to know that Cilla understood him and his family. Very good to know.
"Is Angeles very different from your home?" Xander asked. He knew Carolina to be different, he had been there, but he wanted to hear it from Cilla herself.
"Definitely. Each province has their unique charm, I like to think. Have you been to the Sioux Falls in Dakota? They are beautiful."
Their conversation kept on going for a while, and if Xander had to rate this date, then he knew that each of the girls would most certainly stay for a while. Tessa was too kind to be left out, Cilla too understanding and Rowan's critical thinking was something, Illéa needed. Even with Irina, Xander felt confident that this would work out—even if soon, girls would need to leave.
/ / /
Sophia's Office in the Palace, Los Angeles, Angeles
Princess Sophia of Illéa
At young age, Sophia Illéa despised fairy tales. It wasn't the fairies, knights and dragons that threatened her, or her mother's grand enthusiasm to read them to her when Xander and Ernest had long gone to falling asleep in boredom, or the suggestion that she was to be saved by a knight in shining armour. She didn't mind her mother, coming in after tiring days as princess, then queen, of a country and spending time with her little darling, or her father checking in on her when she had fallen asleep.
It was the idea of fairy tales. Sophia didn't believe it from the very first wait. Once Upon A Time, in a palace filled with magic and wonderful things, in an endless forest on a meadow of flowers, they'd say. Sophia lived in a palace, and she was quite confident into the matter—none of the castles and palaces she had been to had been anyhow similar to these mystical places.
If Sophia listened, she didn't hear the birds tweet, but the cars honk on the roads of Los Angeles. She wasn't surrounded by endless forests and flower meadows, no matter how fond her father was of his rose gardens. There was a city, with skyscrapers, smoke and air pollution.
Los Angeles was the dream of many, but it was never her fairy tale. It was far from it.
So, when Sophia overheard her dear father and mother talking one night, almost fighting over a subject whose consequences she then did not understand, she was glad to hear her mother to be on her side.
"We are not sending our daughter to marry a stranger. She is four; there is no reason to discuss this now," mother had said, indignant. They never fought, and back then, it scared little Sophy—why would mother and father fight over her?
Father had replied, "Lys, this is how things work. Amelie is happy in Italy, I'm sure—"
"She is four!"
The conversation had gone on and on, encompassing words that the four years old princess did not yet understood, but she heard what her father said, that they were in need of a strong alliance with economic powers, and what mother said, that she was merely four years old.
Not too soon after that day, with mother and father again happy, she would accompany them to Europe, for a trip for work, as father said, and some sightseeing, as mother said. She had come along not because she liked their idea of marrying a stranger, but because she was a good-behaved daughter.
In the German Federation, Sophia found her fairy tale. Reaching out of a hill, like a flower towards the sun, Neuschwanstein Castle was the picture-perfect idealisation of these fairy tales. White stone, towers coming straight from Disney, a palace made for a princess of fairy tales. Symmetrical to the smallest inch, with limestone courts and a roof cornice surrounded by pinnacles. Little Sophia could, then, not describe the touching palace, but she knew that this was where she belonged.
The German Crown Prince, mere two years older than her, then, became her Prince Charming, of course. She was Cinderella, waiting to meet her prince. Waiting to dance and live her happily ever after. Sophia continued to visit the German court, discovering all these countless fairy tale castles the country hid away from her, one by one.
However, Sophia Illéa was also very well aware of the fact that for this happily ever after to become reality, she needed to work. And so, at age four, Sophia became determinant for her fairy tale to happen, and she was willing to work for it. She would be the picture-perfect princess that you would die to see, beloved by her own people and foreigners alike. She smiled, waved and knew that her happily ever after would come to be.
Sophia believed in love. She had seen her grandparents, and her dear mother and father. She had seen the love of friends, and the way little Veira sometimes looked at her brother. Sophia knew that there were many forms of love, from what Ernest did before the war got too bad and she left for Waverly, to the loving smile of her mother. That was why, when reading the early letters of her Prince Charming, Sophia knew that she was in love.
A love built over so many years, by trusting secrets and dreams, experiences and desires to a stranger across the pond. The fluttering of her heart when the maids informed her that a letter had arrived—always letters, never calls because such was courtship. The desire for the rare days when she would be allowed to travel to Europe, to see him and continue the conversations of their letters in person… Sophia knew love from a very young age.
Maybe it was that effort that she put in, every single day of her life, that made the war so terrible. All that she had worked for crumbled apart, because of reasons she couldn't control. Had she not done enough; she would wonder.
In these dark years, her Prince Charming became a knight in shining armour. A knight who would save her sooner than later. They wrote to another, just like they had come over these countless years, and despite that closeness they had, she learned that these wars meant that just maybe, Sophia wasn't the picture-perfect princess his court would want. Because of a stain in the landscape behind her.
Maybe that was why now, she couldn't help but be bitter, when she looked at the photos of her in front of these fairy tale castles, walking through roads with a history that she would someday belong to—one that reached so much further than her own country's did.
She was old now, she often thought, old enough to start her happily ever after. Sure, there was a point in letting her brother find his first, but unlike all of them—even Victoria—she had worked her whole life for it. Now that even her own little mistakes came under the scrutiny of that court she wanted to belong to so badly—Sophia sighed. She didn't like this.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered to herself, glaring at the yet unanswered letter. "I can only hope that things will go alright."
/ / /
Author's Note
'Project Omega' was referenced again; for those curious, look back at chapter 13.
I hope you're all doing well! We're back with Fallout, after a few Ground Zero updates. I'm working on Fallout for Camp NaNo, and I'm proud to say that I've finished another arc! You can find a poll referencing to that on my profile; I'm curious about who you'd think would/should be the people's favourite in Fallout; who knows, it might affect some things... I'm also curious-who's still reading? Please let me know; I wanna know who's kept on going until now!
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think; I look forward to reading reviews!
