Author's Note: I'll just forever be here apologizing for how long it takes me to update. I hope everyone is staying safe/healthy/HOME! I also hope you all enjoy this chapter despite some ~things~. Thanks for reading!


Chapter 18: 83 Days Before

Lea hated wearing black.

To begin with, it did little for her appearance. It washed out her olive complexion, failed to highlight any of the golden specks in her eyes. She felt pale, boring, and utterly unremarkable in black.

More notably, it always dampened her mood. Lea didn't like the absence of color and vibrance in any area of her life. Her bedroom was a testament to that, with plentiful splashes of gold, greenery, and of course, her favorite blush everywhere.

She'd worn black so little in her life that she could distinctly remember each time. The first had been her great-grandmother America's funeral when she was five. She'd cried throughout the entire service, desperately clawing at the black bow in her hair that her mother had tried to appease her with. Her parents may have thought that she was showing immense emotional maturity as a five-year-old to be so distressed over the loss of a great-grandparent, but truthfully, Lea had wanted out of the heinous, grim color that she thought was making everyone else equally as sad.

No, Lea could never love a color that she associated with loss. As she finished dressing, she hardly gave her reflection a cursory look. Her black tweed sheath dress and coordinating jacket were stylish, of course, but she still was itching for the day to be over so that she could get out of it.

Alex knew better than to compliment her when she stepped into her sitting room, though he did smile upon seeing her as always. "I hate this," Lea sighed.

He took her hand. "I'm sorry. I know how difficult this has been on your family."

Lea leaned against the edge of the couch. "Xander was one of Dad's best friends since he was our age," she frowned. "Calli's taking it hard, too. He's the one who basically inspired her to go into engineering and was so supportive about her working for the company."

"He was always kind to me," Alex noted, "Even when your dad was… less than enthusiastic."

A sad smile tugged at Lea's mouth. She gave a weak nod. "He encouraged everyone."

It was the most accurate way she could think to remember Xander Seymour – ever encouraging. He was willing to listen to your hopes and dreams, and he would cheer for you until they became realities.

It was a good way to be remembered, Lea decided. She picked up a pair of dark sunglasses. "I hate that we have to do this," she frowned.

Xander was having a state funeral. He had earned it as a member of Oliver's cabinet. Even if he hadn't served the crown, his long friendship with the royal family and his contributions to Pacifica and national defense would have warranted such an event anyway.

But Lea hated that it was being televised. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised – so much of their lives were – but it felt so invasive. Xander's wife would be there, his sisters, his mother. Lea suspected it was also a way to relate to the Illéan people as well. To say, see? We've lost too. We know the sacrifice you'll be making soon.

She hated everything about it. And increasingly, she was beginning to realize, she hated the Russians for putting them in such a position.

She had never considered herself the most patriotic. Ironic, really, since her family was the embodiment of Illéa. But now, she wanted to burn Russia to the ground. To take from them what they had already taken from her.

Alex took her hand, and silently, the two of them emerged into the bustling palace. It was always hectic nowadays. Pacifica had been doused, but there was no possibility of rebuilding while they were trying to mobilize. Soldiers drilled in the palace grounds. The injured ones had taken over the hospital wing and spilled into an unused ball room. Leaders from all of the provinces had descended on the capital for their orders, and Lea had to rack her brain to remember names that she should've known as they bowed to her when she ran into them in the hallways.

Her parents waited for them in the entrance hall, most of their large party already assembled. Lea noticed with interest that Aunt Kaitlyn stood hand in hand with Alaric Illéa. The Illéa children were both staying at the palace now as well, despite Nolan's release of his Selected. Raina stood off to the side with Ryder and Calli, though her gaze frequently wandered to Nolan.

Lea approached her brother. "Is that her?" she whispered to him, nodding in the direction of an elegantly dressed woman.

"Yes," Nolan whispered back.

Lea had heard of Margaery Seymour, of course. Everyone had. She supposed that Margaery was what people had used to call "accomplished." She was beautiful, smart, talented. Her time in the Selection had brought her notoriety outside of her family, but she had managed to craft the rest of her story herself after Oliver had sent her home. These days, the heiress was more famous throughout the country for her philanthropy work than her family's military associations. She'd started numerous charities to benefit at-risk children, people struggling with mental health, and those that the world had generally been unkind to. She'd also become a popular writer whose young adult stories focused on female heroines.

But Lea's interest in Margaery was related more to her participation in Oliver's Selection. And from what Lea had gathered, she had come close to winning.

She must have, Lea had realized long ago, because for all their closeness with Xander, Lea could count on one hand the times she had seen Margaery Seymour. The last time had been at Xander and Penny's wedding. Lea had been young enough to participate as the flower girl, so her recollection of Margaery wasn't vast.

"It's weird, right?" she muttered to Nolan. He shot her a quizzical look. "Well, she could've been our mom."

Her brother looked exasperated. "We wouldn't have been us then, Lea."

"Well, it's still weird," she countered. "Who's that?" She nodded at a girl at Margaery's side.

She felt silly for asking, as it was clear that she was related to Margaery in some degree. They had the same light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and an almost smirk-like aspect to their mouths. "Her daughter," Nolan supplied. "Natalie."

"Should we introduce ourselves?" Lea wondered.

"Her uncle just died, Lea," Nolan countered softly, "Maybe we just hang back today."

She supposed Nolan was right and tore her attention away from the Seymours to take stock of the rest of their group. General Gauge was there, looking exhausted. He was deep in conversation with Oliver, and Lea supposed that even in death war didn't stop. Presley stood with Margaery and Mae, and she held a supportive arm to the back of the former. Bayer and Orlando were bickering about something inconsequential close by.

They were all there. Everyone, of course, except Xander.

A prick of sadness burned at Lea's eyes. She turned towards Alex, and wordlessly, he pulled her into his chest. "No one else," she mumbled.

He smoothed a hand over her hair. "No one," he agreed.

Soon, they were all bundled into the cars that would take them to St. Sebastian's. She had always envisioned having her wedding at the historic cathedral. It was, after all, where her parents had been married. But as they approached the structure—modeled after Notre Dame and thus unfailingly beautiful—her stomach turned. Could she still get married there after it hosted Xander's funeral?

Alex must have known what she was thinking, because he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I heard Xander is being buried here," he noted, "Not too far from the Schreave mausoleum."

Lea nodded. "Angeles really became Xander's home." Tears stung at her eyes. "Dad offered his family a spot for him in the mausoleum, but I think Penny wanted something quieter."

"I like that," Alex said simply.

"Why?" asked Lea. "Why does it matter where anyone is buried? It doesn't make them any less gone."

"Woah there, tiger," Alex chuckled. He put both arms around her and pulled her close. "We need to work on your outlook. Are you saying you won't come visit me when I'm gone?"

"Don't talk like that," Lea ordered. "I just… I don't know, how can we do all these happy things at St. Sebastian's knowing that so many people we love are lying in the ground out back?"

Alex answered without missing a beat. "Because then it's almost like they're still there with us."

She was silent. She supposed it was a valid point for someone with as strong of religious convictions as Alex, but she wasn't sure that she agreed.

He brought his lips close to her ear. "I for one am thrilled that I will be buried here with you," he declared. "And after we're gone, we'll still be here for our family's baptisms and weddings and coronations."

Despite the terrible mood that had plagued her all day, a warm feeling spread from where his lips grazed her ear, all the way through her body. She wrapped her arms back around him. "As long as I'm with you," she smiled.

He kissed her cheek as the car slowed. "Ready?" he asked.

She wasn't. But it was okay, because she had Alex to get her through the awful day. She nodded, and together, they emerged from the car to the hundreds of faces gathered around the cathedral for the funeral of Xander Seymour.


While less than a week had passed since the bombing, it felt like it had been much longer. As Calli sat in the second row of St. Sebastian's, interestingly between Ryder and her father, she felt like she had aged an eternity since this time last week. She was exhausted, and she would blame the tears that she couldn't bite back on that exhaustion.

She had never been much of a crier. And here she was, publicly crying twice in the span of a week. It had to be a new record for her.

Oliver took to the podium. He was the last speaker, and the finality was beginning to settle on her, causing the tears to well and blur her vision.

The king, too, looked like he had aged far more than five days. "To start, I want to offer my deepest condolences to the entire Seymour family, and I want to thank them for bringing the gift that Xander Seymour was into all of our lives. Xander touched a lot of people, and I know that personally I will never forget the impact that he had on me." Oliver paused and scrunched his nose like he was trying to keep himself together. "Sometimes, I think that Xander was the first person that took my thoughts and plans for this country seriously. And he gave so much of himself to those plans. I will make sure that his dedication and hopes for our country are never forgotten."

"He wasn't family," Oliver acknowledged, "but he was about as close as you get. I'm going to miss him more than I probably know right now. And I'm going to keep him with me in these difficult times to come."

He turned away from the podium to face the coffin behind him, and Calli's dad stood. He approached the coffin along with Tristan, Elijah, Penny's brother, and Margaery Seymour's husband. Together with Oliver, the six men lifted the coffin onto their shoulders.

Calli's tears started to race down her cheeks.

Xander had been much more than a boss to her, and she had never been very good at saying goodbye.

Ryder put a hand on her arm, gently reminding her that she needed to stand. She did so and emptied into the aisle but paused so that Ryder could sneak by her and lead the way out to the cemetery. She didn't want to go, but she would if he led.

He did so without comment, and she appreciated him immensely in that moment. Truthfully, they hadn't talked a lot in the last couple of days. Everything had been hectic, and when they did find time together, they mostly sat together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Calli, for one, was still lost in her thoughts, and it seemed like the shiny black casket had disappeared into the earth before she had even realized it. Only a small group had gone to the churchyard, and after Xander's family had stepped forward to send him off with their fistfuls of earth, others did so as well until only the stragglers remained.

"Calli?"

She met Ryder's impossibly blue eyes. They were understanding but also encouraging. She nodded and squeezed the dirt in her hand. Releasing Ryder, she stepped forward. "Thank you," she whispered as she added her handful.

When she turned around, she was surprised to see Margaery Seymour. Her face was partially concealed by the black birdcage veil that flowed from her hat, but she looked exactly as she had at the last Seymour Enterprises event Calli had seen her at. "Calliope?"

"Uh, Calli," she amended. "I'm sorry for your loss, Lady Margaery."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Calli felt stupid as she realized that Margaery had likely been offered condolences left and right in the last few days. "I appreciate that," was the response. Then, Margaery held out an envelope. "I'm executor of Xander's will," she explained, "and this is for you. I think my brother hoped that you wouldn't get it this early in life, but…"

A shaky hand took the envelope from Margaery. "Thank you." With a final, forced smile, she retreated back to Ryder's side.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding at the envelope.

"It's from Xander, apparently," she explained.

"Are you going to read it?" It was a gentle question, without a touch of personal curiosity.

Calli glanced around the cemetery. "No," she decided, "Not here. I'll read it later."

Their cars had been brought around to the back of the church, so they wouldn't have to leave to as many faces as they had arrived to. Calli and Ryder had been driven to the funeral with Raina and Finn, who was sporting a cast on his left arm these days due to his heroics at Pacifica. Calli had been so relieved the first time she'd seen him that she'd hugged him without thought, making him cringe as the arm got squished between them.

Raina, who seemed a little lost these days with the Selection officially having been suspended and all of the other girls departing the palace, held tightly to Finn's healthy arm. She wore a small, black pillbox hat and a stylish black dress that Lea certainly would have approved of.

While Calli hadn't spent much time with Raina in the last week, Raina had adopted a fervent devotion to her brother's girlfriend, as though Calli was already a member of the family. She checked on Calli at meal times, had helped Calli's maids scrounge together her outfit for the funeral, and generally seemed to be constantly taking Calli's emotional temperature. Now, as she examined her, Raina decided, "I think Finn and I are going to ride back to the palace with Dad and Kaitlyn, if that's okay."

Calli nodded numbly, and Ryder filed her into their car. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Calli stared at the window and watched as the headstones flew by as they exited the cemetery.

A strange thought struck her. "I just realized something."

"What's up?" Ryder asked, taking her hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

"Saturday is my birthday."

It wasn't a happy realization. In fact, it was terribly inconvenient. She didn't want a birthday at a time like this. She had never thought much about what turning twenty-three meant for her, but she had never envisioned it being like this.

Ryder knew better than to respond cheerfully. Instead, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "I'm sorry, Cal."

Me too, she thought as the tears welled in her eyes again. She didn't even try to fight them. There would be enough fighting to come.


77 Days Before

Lately, Nolan felt like he was living in a dream.

He had gone from the surrealness of the Selection to a new kind of bizarre reality. While he had thought that the palace seemed busy with his suitresses, that was nothing compared to it now that it had become a makeshift military base. And he was surprised to find that he was missing his former guests.

He tried to slink through the hallways quietly, but it was difficult when people stopped to bow to him at every corner. He would nod back, give quick "hello"s, but he couldn't stop and talk to each, or it would take him an eternity to move from one side of the palace to the other.

And these days, he found he didn't have much time to waste. He was scheduling his days into a planner—because he loved schedules, especially in uncertain times—and it was rare that he had empty blocks of free time.

Not that he minded, of course. Though he hated the circumstances under which it was occurring, he was glad that Oliver was finally starting to bring him into more meetings. His father had a tendency to treat him with kid gloves, like a fragile, easily breakable object. But since Pacifica, Nolan felt like he was proving to Oliver that he could handle far more than the king thought.

He found himself in one of those rare moments of freedom, and locked in the safety of his room, he pulled a letter from his pocket. As he read it, he felt the constant tightness in his shoulders start to loosen and a smile formed on his face.

Dear Nolan,

I watched the funeral today. I'm so sorry for your family's loss. I hope you're all holding up under the circumstances. I wanted to come with my parents, but they didn't think it was a good idea.

Being home is strange. Nothing has changed, yet everything has. I used to think the war would be good for my family. And it is, I suppose. Business is booming. My father has probably spent as much time at the palace now as I have, haha.

But everything that used to make me happy—new dresses, my old "friends"—doesn't anymore. I miss our boardgames and reading together. I miss sitting in the Women's Room with the other girls. Silly in a time like this, but it's true. It makes me wonder if I was ever really happy before the Selection.

I hope you're well,

Izzy

He read the letter a couple of times before he settled in at his desk to pen his reply. He and Izzy had always communicated in writing, so he hadn't been entirely surprised when he had received her first letter after sending the girls home. It had been light and airy—asking him how he was, telling him of all of gossip she'd heard at her first event back in Dakota.

But slowly, her letters were beginning to change, and Nolan was glad to see it. He had thought about the Selected a lot in the week and a half that had passed since he had sent them home. He knew he couldn't have the same Selection that they intended, but there were some girls that he was starting to feel he needed to return to the palace. War or not, perhaps they all owed it to themselves to investigate the relationships that the Selection had forced them into.

Izzy Alistair had jumped to the top of the list. He liked that she had reached out to him. He liked that she was honest—almost frightfully so at times, like when she admitted that she thought the war would be good for her family's already booming oil business. But he liked the subtle dynamism that she was beginning to show even more.

He wasn't as careful with his penmanship as he normally was, but in ten minutes, he had finished his reply. He thanked her for her kind words but dropped the formality and admitted that it was difficult to watch his family grieve the loss of someone they had loved so much. He encouraged her to try to find new things to like—his suggestion was volunteering with any efforts to help families affected by the war already—and asked that she write again soon.

He had just handed his letter to his butler to post when the door to his bedroom swung open. "There you are," Bayer declared. He wobbled a little, like he was already intoxicated at one o'clock in the afternoon. "I've been demoted to a go-for. Your father's looking for you."

"And I," Bayer grinned as he grabbed at a decanter on Nolan's desk, "am looking for this."

Nolan raised his eyebrows at his cousin. "You know it's water and not vodka, right?"

Bayer gave a disgusted sigh and carelessly dropped the decanter back on the desk. "You okay, man?" Nolan asked. He gently guided his cousin towards a seat.

"Oh, you know," Bayer shrugged as he flopped onto Nolan's couch. "The usual. Bad press."

Nolan furrowed his forehead. "I didn't see anything about you in the papers."

"Not your papers," countered Bayer.

"Ah."

The French press.

Bayer fished his phone from his pocket and read aloud, "His Royal Hide-ness: Prince Bayer Has Now Dodged Military Service in Two Countries."

Nolan frowned sympathetically at his cousin. "I'm sorry, Bayer."

"It's like, what do they want from me?" huffed Bayer. "I'm barely a prince there. I rank so low that Aunt Annalise doesn't even have to approve whoever I decide to shack up with."

Nolan tried to respond, but Bayer snapped, "Do you know people ask me where I learned French when I'm there?! Like I have the world's most incomprehensible accent, it's ridiculous."

Nolan knew that his cousin's dual citizenship and what that meant for his place in each country had always been a source of conflict for him. His parents' divorce had made it more difficult for Bayer, as he struggled to be Illéan in Illéa and French in France as he was shipped back and forth between them. When he had gotten old enough to decide where he wanted to live and had chosen Illéa—mostly for his cousins and the friend group he had, as Elijah wasn't the most hands-on father—it had caused a lot of talk in the French press. Combined with his free-spiritedness, Bayer had never been the most popular of the new generation of French royalty.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not in the military either," Nolan pointed out.

"No, it doesn't, Nolan," Bayer sighed. "Because your country understands that and knows that you're still doing shit for them anyway. Also, your dad is like head of the army by default for some reason, and that's gonna be you one day, so you come away smelling like roses again. I, on the other hand, am apparently just an un-patriotic free-loader times two."

Nolan was used to Bayer's dramatics, but when his cousin was upset over things that actually mattered, he never knew how to respond, because it happened so incredibly rarely. "I'm sorry, Bayer," he frowned. "I really am."

And he was. For so much more than a bad headline.

Bayer shrugged. "You know what could make this better?"

"Hmm?"

"Bring back the Selected, man," urged Bayer. "There are too many men around with half the military camped out here. Honestly, were there any women at Pacifica?"

Nolan rolled his eyes. "You know, this isn't really the right time for a full-on Selection."

Bayer shrugged. "So, bring some of them back. Then at least you can take them on all of those boring appearances you've been doing. Give us something to look at other than you."

It wasn't a bad idea, but Nolan still found the delivery from his inebriated cousin amusing. "I'll see what I can do."

After making sure Bayer was going to be okay—Nolan gathered he would, as Bayer was already snoring on the couch by the time Nolan was out the door—he set his course for the conference room that Oliver had occupied along with General Gauge almost nonstop for the last week. As he was entering, a large group of people was filing out. Nolan stood out of the way, smiling and nodding as people bowed and "Your Royal Highness"ed him. His smile faltered though when he caught a snippet of conversation that was definitely not in English.

He turned to his father when the room was clear. "Was that Russian?"

"Yes. Some of our intelligence unit," Oliver explained. "Most were stationed on Pacifica, so we're setting up equipment here instead. I believe there were some Russian linguists in the group."

"Interesting." Nolan wasn't quite sure what constituted intelligence, but it made him feel like spies were going to be living in his basement. "Is that the best idea, for them to be here?"

"I'd like to keep them close," Oliver shrugged, "Those are some of the brightest minds in the country."

"Just some?" Nolan chuckled.

"Well, the rest are in counterintelligence, and we've stationed them at the winter castle in Carolina."

Nolan almost laughed, but he got the feeling that his dad wasn't joking. He decided to change the subject, to be safe. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," confirmed Oliver. "I think it would be a good idea for you to go to Clermont for a couple of days. There are a lot of members of the navy from Dominica being treated at the hospitals in the south. We can also set up a time for you to review the new recruits at Fort Reno."

"Of course," Nolan agreed. After another second of thought, he smiled, a little nervously. "Can I take someone with me? At least to the hospitals? She already lives in Clermont, and I think she'd be really good at cheering people up."

Oliver looked interested but didn't pry. "Of course. Just clear it with Jonathan for security."

"Is that all?" Nolan asked, excited at the prospect of the phone call he was about to make.

"There's one more thing, about the wedding tonight," Oliver explained casually as he took a seat at the conference table.

"I'm sorry." Nolan took a step closer, unsure he had heard his father right. "Did you say wedding?"


Oliver knew there was going to be an uptick in marriages after Illéa declared war on Russia. Truthfully, he had expected Lea to come to him the day after Pacifica and announce that she wanted to move the wedding up. He had been shocked and impressed by her restraint, though he had a feeling that it was more due to the fact that a small, wartime wedding didn't align with Lea's vision for her day.

He had only been mildly surprised when Kaitlyn and Alaric had come to tell him and Mae that they wanted to be married immediately. He understood their reasoning. They had been apart for so long.

Even more, due to Kaitlyn's new position as the head physician at the palace, she would be in charge with recruitment and oversight of the medics that would be a part of the war effort. It was a position that she wasn't shying away from, but one that would certainly land her at head command with Oliver and Gauge, and therefore, in danger.

But he had been entirely surprised when Kaitlyn asked him to be a part of the day. He thought that he was the last person on earth that should be involved with Kaitlyn and Alaric's wedding given his role in keeping them apart, but he had assured her that it would be an honor.

Which was how he found himself in a small powder room with Kaitlyn, Mae, and Raina Illéa. Mae and Raina were serving as matron of honor and bridesmaid respectively, each dressed in a burgundy dress. Mae had wanted to bring the seamstresses in to produce bespoke designs for all of the bridal party, but Oliver had had to remind his wife that it was unwise given the new state of affairs. While Illéa's finances hadn't yet changed, Oliver knew it was only a matter of time, especially once deployments began.

So Kaitlyn borrowed a white dress that Mae had once worn to a winter wonderland party, Mae and Raina wore slightly mismatched bridesmaids gowns, and Alaric donned the one black tux that he owned. Oliver offered the use of any room in the palace and a small buffet style reception for their small guest list, which they eagerly accepted. While some might not have been thrilled by the understated setup, Kaitlyn and Alaric seemed delighted.

"Are you ready?" Mae asked Kaitlyn excitedly.

"I've been ready for so long," Kaitlyn sighed. Oliver wasn't sure the last time he had seen her seem so effervescently happy.

A guilty, nagging feeling hinted that it might've been during his Selection—before he had made Alaric leave.

The music started, and Raina gave an excited squeak. "That's my cue!" Before she slipped out of the room, she gave Kaitlyn a hug. "I'm so happy for you to be part of the family." Then, the tiny girl spun out of the room before Kaitlyn could even wipe away the tear provoked by the sentiment.

Mae followed shortly, and then, it was only Kaitlyn and Oliver. He offered her an arm, which she accepted. "Uh, thanks for asking me to do this, by the way," Oliver smiled over at her.

"Thanks for agreeing," she beamed in return. "You know, my dad passed away so long ago, and you've kind of become the closest thing to a brother I've ever had."

"Well, I'm honored," Oliver assured her.

They stepped out of the room and through a set of doors. Kaitlyn and Alaric had chosen the gardens at sunset, and the sky was a beautiful canvas of swirled pinks, purples, and oranges. Instead of flower petals, little candles illuminated the aisle to where Alaric awaited them, Ryder and Finn at his side.

Though they hadn't had an official rehearsal, Oliver knew he was supposed to say something when he put Kaitlyn's hand into Alaric's. But his mind was blank, and surprisingly, his throat felt thick with emotion anyway. So, he simply linked them together, gave Alaric's arm a squeeze, and planted a quick kiss on the top of Kaitlyn's head before he took his seat in the front row next to Tristan and Isolde.

He had never been much of a wedding crier, but as he watched the ceremony, he couldn't help the hot feeling that was rising in his chest, threatening to produce tears. It took him a minute to realize what it was, but when the officiant pronounced Kaitlyn and Alaric man and wife, he met Mae's delighted gaze, and he finally settled on it.

Absolution.

He had always felt like he owed Kaitlyn and Alaric some kind of debt that could never be paid. But now, it almost felt like it had.

It would be, in full, when he brought Kaitlyn back with him, safe.

There was only a small group of people present, thirty in total, but no one would have guessed from the thunderous applause that erupted when the officiant introduced them to Mr. and Mrs. Illéa. Kaitlyn and Alaric looked almost delirious with happiness as they stole away to get a few pictures and a moment to themselves.

The remainder of the guests transitioned to another area of the gardens where the reception was to be held. While people started mingling and socializing, Oliver took a moment to sit down alone.

It would be one of the last happy events they were going to have for a while, and he wanted to enjoy it. But he supposed he needed a moment to remember how to be the happy, carefree prince he had once been.

"You okay?"

He smiled up at Mae. "I don't know," he confessed with a shrug. "Crazy week between Xander and this."

"I think that's what made them want to do it now," Mae remarked as she took a seat next to her husband, taking his hand into hers. "Xander was so young, and it was so unexpected…"

"I keep getting this feeling that it shouldn't have been," Oliver confessed, "that I should've been more prepared somehow."

"You couldn't have been," Mae retorted. "Oliver, you tried your best. You went there, offered peace, and the Russians refused it."

"And now thousands are going to die," he sighed bitterly.

Mae put her other hand on his. "Because of Marid and Nikolai," she added forcefully.

He tried to smile, but it died before it reached his eyes. "It seems I'm going to need a drink," he sighed.

"I'll get it," she offered. Before she left, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "If you're going to smile one last time before this is all over, tonight would be a good night."

He knew she was right, and he resolved to try. Before he could think about it much longer, a nervous throat clearing noise caught his attention. "Uh, can I have a word, sir?"

Oliver shot his soon-to-be son-in-law an amused smile. "Alexander." He gestured to Mae's empty seat.

Alex looked almost as nervous as he had when he had asked Oliver for permission to propose to Lea. It piqued the king's interest. "Cat got your tongue, Alexander?"

"I just wanted… well, I've been helping Dr. Davis—uh, Illéa?—well, Dr. Davis- Illéa a lot since Pacifica," Alex explained stumblingly.

"Yes, she's mentioned that," Oliver noted. Though he didn't like to encourage Alex too much, he added, "She speaks highly of you."

"Well, I know she's going to be deploying with your unit," Alex continued.

Mae started to approach with his drink but paused when she saw the look on Oliver's face. While she usually did her best to save Alex from Oliver's teasing, Oliver had never regarded Alex with such a look before, one that looked almost impressed.

Because Oliver knew what Alex was asking before he even asked it. And he was incredibly impressed.

"I'd like to go if she still needs an assistant," Alex explained, "and if I can't go with your unit, then I'd like to go with any unit. I graduated in the top of my class, and I know that I'm going to be able to help people. I just know that it takes longer to enlist and get assigned, and I heard you might be deploying next week, so I wanted to just see—"

"Are you trying to take advantage of your connections, Alexander?" Oliver asked, the teasing hint in his voice so subtle that Alex was sure to miss it.

And he did, paling. "Sir, I promise I didn't mean—"

"Oh, calm down," Oliver countered, finally laughing. "I'm very impressed by the offer, Alexander. A little curious at the motivation though, I'll admit. You could have a pretty cushy job here in Angeles. There'll likely be a shortage of medics due to the war effort."

Alex's face was serious again, his usually playful brown eyes hard. "Look, I'm no soldier," he conceded. "I can't walk and take notes on a file, let alone run and fire a gun. But I can help. I can keep those soldiers healthy. And I need to. Because…"

His eyes wandered over Oliver's shoulder, and Oliver turned to see what he was focusing on.

Lea.

"I'm not an idiot either," Alex continued, his voice low. "I know that this is more than Russia versus Illéa. It's Illéas versus Schreaves. And that means Lea, too. Marid's not just going to stop at you."

A shiver shot down Oliver's spine. It was a fact that he was painfully aware of as well.

"I'm going to do whatever I can to keep her safe," Alex promised.

A genuine smile tugged at Oliver's tired face. He was pleasantly surprised to realize that he had underestimated Alex. He held a hand out.

Alex looked surprised, like he expected Oliver to retract his hand as soon as he started to extend his as well. But Oliver didn't, and Alex gave it an enthusiastic shake.

"I'll talk to Gauge and Kaitlyn and get things rolling," Oliver told him. "One thing though."

"Of course!" Alex nodded excitedly.

"You're dealing with Lea," declared the king. Judging from the way Alex's smile faltered, they both knew that was going to be the real challenge.

But Alex still replied, "Thanks, sir," and Oliver gave him a solid pat on the back before he stood to join Mae.

"What was that?" the queen asked, looking amused.

Oliver put an arm around her waist. "Long story," he admitted, "and I'm in the mood for a dance right now."

She looked surprised at his sudden change in mood but set his drink down and happily pulled him onto the dance floor. Kaitlyn shot them a smile as they walked by the doctor and her new husband.

Mae settled her cheek against Oliver's shoulder, and Oliver took in the group as he swayed there with his wife. Alex had rejoined Nolan, Lea, and their friends, looking excited if not a little nervous. But Lea didn't notice. She was dressed in a fancy gold dress, delighted as she clung to Alex's side and talked with Bayer. She had always loved weddings.

Tristan sat with Isolde, who was recovering well from her injuries at Dominica, joined by Eadlyn and Kile. Kingsley seemed to have overcome whatever problems he was having with Imani, and they danced nearby. Calli and Ryder, Gauge's latest headache, ate at a table on the edge of the dancefloor with Nolan, Raina, and Finn.

It would be a good night to enjoy. His whole family was there, many of his closest friends. He hugged Mae a little tighter and resolved to commit the final perfect night to memory the best he could.