A/N: Hello everyone, and hope you're having a lovely day. Unlike Gail, hahah, who had a rather explosive end to her hockey career last chapter. The truth is out, and Roy and company are very unhappy. What are the consequences to Gail's antics? Read on and find out...

Last chapter also saw the elimination of Yamato Watanabe, ice skating extraordinaire, so a big thanks to sevenzeroseven for sending him in! He was such a joy to write, for his attitude towards ice hockey especially. I'd like to think he warmed up to the sport... just a little... :o)

We also hit 500 reviews on tratr, which is amazing! Thanks so much everyone! So cool to reach a milestone so close to the end.

I have a rather... interludey... chapter for you all today, featuring a highly-requested scene, so I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

Morning, Day Five.

There's no real point to counting the days anymore. They all end up the same: I wake up, do some menial task, suffer the intrusion of my shadows – of which there are now three, stationed outside my quarters that peer into my room on the hour every hour – make tepid conversation with the Selected, and then go back to bed, in between eating and washing. It is routine, litany, forever burnt into my back like a scar.

I've seen Zelda only a handful of times since the truth came out. She texted me, only once, to let me know she was grounded until Rudy was deceased and would have her phone taken away for a month. Now I see her in the hallways between her tutoring sessions, which last from sunrise to sundown, under watchful eyes of her own guards, and I ache for her presence, her comfort, in this desolate, empty hole my life has become.

No Zelda. No Aderyn, replaced by a faceless maid of Roy's choosing. No Naomi, giving me that self-satisfied smirk every time I talk to one of the Elite. No one left to guide me. I'm on my own.

That leaves my bedroom as my only sacred place. I've torn down the hockey posters, removed the pucks, trashed the souvenirs. They only remind me of what I no longer have. The only thing I can't bring myself to dispose of is my hockey contacts on my phone. In his angry tirade, Roy didn't think to wipe it, so texts come trickling, then flooding into my phone when I miss practice after practice with the All-Stars.

Yo, Baby Su, you good? sends Janet on Day One. The email you sent dropping out was really sudden and formal…

Please let someone know what's going on… we care about you, Su, says Bev on Day Three.

Why? Felice's lone text came through yesterday. We lost both you and Rose at once?

Rose. I can only assume she left the team because of Mariam. I haven't heard from Rose or about Mariam since the truth came out, so Roy must have the eldest locked up right now, squeezing her of intel on the Resurgence, on the Second. And Rose must hate me.

The match against the Sacramento Scorpions is this week. A few days away. Glendale Ice Rink. Whoever Bellona had to beseech to get that to happen must have been very generous all things considering, but maybe my support there last week helped. Because of us, there will even be some press. The All-Stars haven't done so well in years, second team or not.

It fills my chest with ice cold water. A victory I helped them to achieve, and I can't even be there to celebrate, let alone play. The thought always spirals into more tears, so I shut my eyes and focus instead on the movie I'm watching. It's about five kids stuck in a detention, where their differences bring them together. My insides hurt as it plays.

After a few moments, I hear the tell-tale pitter-patter of footsteps outside my door. Lots of them. Too many for my shadows, switching guard or anything. Curiously I pad to the door, clutching my dressing gown around me. The knock shortly follows.

"Your Highness!" comes the baritone of Kingsley. "I politely request you open your door!"

Suddenly self-conscious of my silken pyjamas, I crack open the door.

Seven pairs of eyes stare back. Then Kingsley has shoved open the door, and all seven of the Elite pile inside, armed to the teeth with bowls of candy, video games, magazines, pillows, stacks of DVDs, throw blankets and a twenty-four-pack of soda. They're all dressed in pyjamas themselves: plaid, silk, cotton, though some of them don't even have tops.

My cheeks burn at the same time as I squeak an undignified, "W-What do you think you're doing?"

"We have come straight from our horse-riding lessons to cheer you up," says Kingsley. He must've changed somewhere in-between because he's only wearing a pair of boxer shorts beneath a gossamer bathrobe, boasting his bronze washboard abs and making me way more flustered than I should be. "We're here to stage an intervention!"

"If you want, that is," Ben chimes.

I do want, very much, but I'm too shocked and distressed to say it. All seven of them, in my bedroom. Soren tosses his tower of cushions and plonks down on the ground. Silas takes my teddy bear Blossom to use as a cushion on the sofa with Kajika, who curiously watches the movie play noisily in the background. Sheng takes the armchair (and he is also not wearing a shirt, and by gosh, I pretend I do not see it). Max and Ben hover by the doorway with question in their eyes.

"If you want? No, no, no," Silas scoffs, reclining, then kicking Kajika along so he can rest his feet. "No ifs, no buts, no coconuts. I study the important relationship between humanity and symbiosis; I know when someone needs a support session."

"You study germs."

"Same difference."

"We'll go," Max presses, "if you want, Your Highness."

He's the last one that's shirtless. By golly. Does he. Have a chest. My face boils.

"Well, seeing as you've already made yourself comfortable," I sigh, "yes, you can stay."

Ben takes the end of my bed. Max lingers a moment longer before shutting the door behind him. Then he takes the other armchair. I sit at the foot of the sofa.

"The Breakfast Club?" asks Kingsley. Then he touts, "I love the Breakfast Club," to all the boys like some sort of medal.

I shrug. "I've rewatched it so many times it's boring now."

Kingsley pales, but then he quickly says, "Yes, yes, of course I'm the same. We should watch something else."

"I have something." Ben lifts the boxset in his arms then promptly lowers it to the ground – gently, like he's cradling a baby. "This bad boy."

I peer over with the rest of the Elite. Ah. The MCU.

"That's a huge boxset," remarks Silas.

"It is," says Ben proudly. "All twenty-three films of the Infinity Saga of the Marvel Cinematic Universe."

"Only twenty-three?"

Ben glares at him. "Didn't really want to fork out another four hundred dollars for the Phase 4 and 5 collection, no." He teases out the first film – I recognise it from our date: Iron Man 1. "This would easily kill a few hours. A few days, if you want."

Everyone glances at me for approval. I did promise I'd try to watch them when I felt better, but ironically I don't think I'm in a better headspace now. At the time Ben and I watched the first Iron Man, I thought Roy had betrayed me; this time the betrayal runs deep both ways. The thought hits me differently. But I nod, giving Ben permission to stop the Breakfast Club rerun and slide his old discs into the TV reader.

Kingsley sits at the foot of the bed, a gap between him and Ben, and pats the space next to him. "Come sit next to me, Your Highness."

"No." Sheng stands suddenly. "Have this chair."

"Oooooor, you could sit here," Silas says as he moves his legs. "With me."

Soren shakes his head. "There's plenty of room on the floor."

"I'll move," Max offers.

I rub my temples. "Let's not do this, please. I'll switch it up so everyone gets to share me, okay?"

But the boys start laughing. Even Kingsley. Even Sheng. The quiet smile on his face is something else.

"Very well, Your Highness," says Kingsley. He winks. "But since I asked first…"

For the first movie, Kingsley loops his arm around me as I lean into him. After a few minutes, I begin to forget about everything that has crashed down in my life. First of all, Kingsley has very nice arms. So muscular. So fit. So comfortable around me. He smells good too – the total opposite of Sweaty Teen Boy and more a pleasant, salty musk.

Second of all, it's just nice to feel wanted, to feel like I can be me, that I can giggle and snort at the humour or tear up at the tragic parts, and no one will judge me for it.

Halfway through, my chest suddenly feels hot; I glance Sheng's way, and his gaze meets mine. I think I might see jealousy, glinting indignation, but all he seems is… melancholic. Defeated. With me snuggled in his worst enemy's arms, I suppose it makes sense, but it doesn't seem like it's directed at Kingsley. It seems directed at himself.

He quickly looks away and raises his head to watch the film again, and I wonder if I misread the moment.

By Iron Man 2, I've leant into Ben instead. He absently plays with a lock of my hair – which I secretly love; it calms me for some reason – but snuggles with him are different. Cosy. The total opposite of a risk. Kingsley is hot, but Ben is cute.

"Good choices," I whisper to him, as Captain America's plot hits the climax.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." He grins. "I know."

"I'm glad you made me watch them."

"Told you you'd enjoy it."

I pick up one of the films. "Hey," I whisper. "We skipped one. The… Incredible Hulk?"

Ben snorts. "Trust me, you'll be thankful we did."

I decide not to ask.

We take a quick break. Ben starts Thor after that, but by now we've devolved into playing Truth or Dare as it plays in the background. I'm next to Soren on the floor, our thighs brushing against each other and making me dizzy from my scalp to my toes.

"Hmm." Kajika ponders a moment. "Truth."

"If you could choose any job to do in your life, what would you pick and why?" asks Silas.

As Kajika answers, Soren leans over to me. His scent washes over me, familiar and nostalgic.

"This… isn't what I had in mind for a date, but I'm enjoying it."

I don't know what to say to that, but I know Soren doesn't have bad intentions, so I rest my head on his shoulder. "I've not really been feeling it recently."

He leans into the touch. "No pressure, Gail."

And it's nice, not to have to feel any pressure at all.

By the time Kajika has finished a long, profound story about why he enjoys carpentry, I've moved to sit next to him and Silas, wedged between a very squished Blossom. I don't lean into Silas like I did Soren, and though part of me wants to – our bodies are pressed together – any time I tilt closer, he tilts away.

Did I do something wrong? Was the Prime Minister's Banquet that bad for him?

"Truth," Kingsley announces, baring his chest with inflated pride. "Any question, hit me."

Kajika thinks a moment. "What is the most embarrassing music you listen to?"

"Embarrassing?" Kingsley barks a laugh. "I don't listen to any embarrassing music."

"Yeah you do." Soren barely bats an eye. "All I can hear in the morning is that grandpa rapper on repeat."

"Kanye West was an icon of his time," Kingsley huffs. "Just because you can't appreciate fine musicality when you hear it, Soren. Truth or dare?"

Soren shrugs. "Truth."

"Are you secretly in love with Adler?"

I gasp. "Kingsley!"

"Just curious," says Kingsley nonchalantly. "Since they seemed so cosy at the banquet."

"No," Soren says through grounded teeth, glaring at him behind me. "No, I've never liked her in that way. Her Highness knows this." Then his eyes focus on me, and I find myself blushing.

"Hn," is all Kingsley contributes.

"Your turn, Max," says Soren.

"Dare," says Max.

Soren's mouth twists – he was obviously expecting Truth. "I have a good one." Ben offers, as he snatches Blossom from the sofa and tosses it at Max. "Pretend this is Gail."

The boys and I erupt into giggles as Max's face falls. Blossom… as me. It's so ridiculous it's funny. He sinks into the chair and holds Blossom at arm's length.

"Erm… hello, Gail." He glances at me, clearly uncomfortable, then says, "You look very… pink today."

"Sheesh, you're not even going to cuddle her?" Kingsley shakes his head.

So Max pulls Blossom closer to him in a tight embrace. A sudden shot of jealousy shoots through me. Look how close she is to his chest! Why can't I be that close?

Then I realise how ridiculous I sound. Me, wishing I was a teddy bear.

"Sheng," I say quickly, if only to dispel these weird thoughts. "Truth or Dare?"

Sheng almost chokes on his Coke. "Oh, no, I can't play."

"Why not?" asks Silas.

"It's fun," says Kajika, smiling genially.

"Come on, Sheng. Don't be a coward," Kingsley challenges.

Sheng sighs. "Fine. Truth."

Max uses his phone to scroll through some options. "Reveal the details of your first kiss."

That's me. I go so rigid Silas glances at me. Sheng, however, manages to maintain his cool.

"My first kiss was with the princess."

Which is… not a lie, but in another life, I wouldn't have done the Selection to spite him for it. In another life, he would've said that with pride, his arm around me in public, not with hidden meaning in a party game. It almost… hurts.

"Oh really?" says Kingsley. It might just be me, but the edge to his voice somewhat… nefarious. "Tell us more, Sheng."

"There's nothing more to tell," Sheng says quietly.

"You chose Truth."

"Then I change my mind." Sheng's shoulders rise. "I'll do a dare."

"Cop out," mutters Kingsley.

"Lay off, Kingsley," warns Silas, and his voice rumbles through his body.

To Kingsley's credit, he stays silent, so I think that he and Silas must have formed a grudging respect for one another through their shared philanthropy project. It's more than I can say I've seen from Kingsley so far, and it flecks away the grey the conversation brought to my chest.

Sheng's dare ends up being that he has to pretend he has a heavy southern Midston drawl until the end of the Avengers, but his attempt is so appalling it leaves everyone in stitches, and Kingsley decides he can't suffer until the credits. So we take a break from the MCU to play some video games. I mostly sit and watch Mario Kart as Ben and Kingsley fight for track dominance.

"You don't want to play?" I ask Max as I sit on the arm of the chair. Blossom takes up most of his lap. "Since, you know…"

He shakes his head. "I don't think I'd be anywhere near as good in video games as I would in real life." His lips twist. "Besides, the power-ups are cheap. Especially Blue Shells."

"What's a Blue Shell?"

"They hit people in first place."

"Oh. We really would've needed that for Shady Sam, huh?"

His mouth quirks in a smile. I know it's not really a laughing matter, but I guess if I want to find something to laugh at, it has to be my past.

"I WILL WIN, BENEDICT!" Kingsley suddenly yells. "I WILL— NO— DON'T YOU DARE THROW THAT RED SHELL!"

"I WON'T HESITATE, BITCH!" Ben yells back, throwing the Red Shell into Kingsley and causing his rider to topple. "AND STOP WATCHING MY SCREEN!"

Silas and Soren are in third and fourth place. Both smack their heads against their hands.

Suddenly Max's hands slip into mine, and he squeezes. I look down at him.

"Are you… okay?" he whispers. "Really?

I squeeze back. "I've been better."

"If you want to talk…"

"No." I bring out my best smile. "No, thank you. This…" I nudge my head to the other boys, laughing, taunting, playing together. "This is enough for now."

He nods his head, smiles and rests his eyes.

"Yeah. This is nice."

It is nice. But it's fleeting. A tiny distraction for my pain.

When Kingsley wins the next four races, to Ben's dismay, we decide to go for a group walk (mostly to cool Kingsley's ego). I change in the bathroom as the boys disperse for their own rooms, and we reconvene in the gardens, followed by triple the guards. We head down to fountain, the Elite mostly talking about silly things or life at home, and I listen distractedly. My eyes go to my bedroom window, the curtains within still of life.

"Your Highness."

Kajika lingers away from the group, who head towards the greenhouses. I catch up to him and we both follow behind.

"Yes?"

"I know I shouldn't pry… but I can't help but worry… are you angry at Zelda again?"

"Oh! No, no, no." I shake my hands. "No, I'm not angry with Zelda at all."

He frowns. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"I know. It's because… well, we got into some trouble together. She's being punished by her dads. You miss her, huh?"

"Yes," he says. "Though I do appreciate your company, of course."

"Mmm." The others are far enough ahead. "Kajika, do you think there's a future between us?"

He startles. It's the first time I see his composure just lose itself, but it comes back in seconds along with a wince.

"Honestly," he murmurs thoughtfully, "I'm surprised I'm still here."

"I kept you for Zelda." His eyes widen a fraction, but I don't allow him to speak. "Whatever you feelings are, she likes you a lot, and she enjoys your company. Zelda doesn't really trust easily, so it's nice that she has someone else she can call friend, aside from me." I grin sympathetically. "But I agree that I don't really feel anything for you."

"Then this is goodbye?"

I shake my head. "In my head, you're eliminated already, but out here… stay. For her. Please?"

He nods. "You don't have to ask, Your Highness."

And with that, Kajika is ticked off my mental list. He seems to walk with less stringency now, leaning into his new role with surprising ease. He slides one hand into his cardigan pockets and opens the greenhouse door for me. Inside, the rest of the Elite are admiring the flora or prodding the signage. Ben, Kingsley, Max, Sheng, Silas, and Soren. The final six.

"Hey, Kingsley!" Silas calls. "This one looks like you!"

The boys start laughing. Kajika and I join them just as Kingsley looks where Silas is pointing.

"A Venus flytrap. Hilarious."

"This one looks like the princess," Max says suddenly.

I pivot. He's facing a vibrant cluster of pink begonias, their petals like the ruffles of a dress.

"They're pretty," I say.

"As pretty as you, Your Highness," Kingsley says, winking. Sheng, Soren, Silas and Max all roll their eyes.

I wave him away. "Gosh." I give looks to the other four – they may not like it, but I enjoy all the cheese.

The group of us trundle through the exhibits. It's humid in here, and quickly a veil of sweat beads on my forehead. Palace gardeners give us room to explore, and say not a word when Kingsley flicks the dew-drooping petals at the other boys' faces.

"This is nice, you know," Ben says suddenly.

Everyone turns to look at him. "You like being hit with water?" Silas offers dryly, glaring at Kingsley.

"No, I mean, as the Elite, and you, Gail." He grins at me, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Things have been… difficult for you lately, we know. We can tell."

"And of course we won't pry!" Kingsley thunders, glancing at Ben with a hard expression. "I would never pry—"

"I wasn't prying," Ben snaps, raising an eyebrow before facing me again. "I was just saying. Give us some credit, Gail. You've had a hard week. We know."

I shake my head. "I-I would never think of any of you as anything less than smart and capable, I promise. It's just… I guess I wanted some alone time." Before I know it, a lump forms in my throat. I forcibly swallow it down. "Thank you for taking me out today. For having fun with me."

Soren steps forward, offers a rare smile only for me. "We won't be here forever… at least, five of us won't… but I want to see you… happy."

The boys make a circle with me. Silas nods along enthusiastically; Kajika nods much slower and gentler. Sheng also steps forwards.

"We're here for you, Gail. Whenever you need us. We will do whatever we can. For you."

And Max takes my hand. He doesn't have to give me words. I can feel the sentiment, burning from the touch of his skin. The lump swells and tears emerge on my eyelashes, but I'm laughing and blinking them away almost as quickly as they form.

"Thank you." I squeeze Max's hand and slip free to palm my wet cheeks. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

We head back outside once Silas starts to sneeze uncontrollably ("It's the plant germs, I tell you!"), and the cool air is a reprieve against my skin. It was a tender moment inside, in our little bubble, but it pops almost immediately when the palace washes over my vision. Such a stark reminder that it still stands, testament to who I am and what I represent. Again my eyes drift to my balcony, to the empty ground beneath it, and I trace the route I used so many times to escape to the rink. My guard creeps along in the shadows of our steps, and I finally look away once we're back inside.

We almost run into Rudy.

The sight of him, sweaty and dishevelled, sends panic fluttering through my chest, along with an unwelcome shot of anger. It's not Mr Rudy I'm angry at. It's Roy, and I know it's Roy. But Rudy is Roy's right hand man, and represents him as much as the king's official wax seal would.

"Your Highness," he pants, ragged. "I've been looking all over for you."

"We were in the greenhouse," I say primly. "And if Roy has a problem with that—"

"It's not that. I need to speak with you. Urgently." He glances at the others. "Alone."

I don't like it one bit, but I smile in thanks to the boys. "I'll meet you back at my room. We can finish the Avengers." If Rudy doesn't like that, he doesn't say it, but I don't give him the chance to argue nonetheless, putting bounce in my strides in an effort to lengthen the hallway between me and the Elite.

Around the corner, Rudy catches up to me. "Your Highness… it's pretty bad."

"It can't be that bad if they're sending you after me."

His face recoils. That stung. "The captain, Roy, Cami and Lilly are occupied… dealing with the issue."

"Which is?"

"JJ came to the office just now. He… He confessed." Rudy grimaces. "He confessed to being an agent for the Rebel Resurgence."

NTT: "Wouldn't you do anything to save a loved one?"