A/N: In this installment, we return to the housing crisis! Spoiler: some people are not happy about it! I'm still slowly but steadily introducing all the characters, which is why we haven't seen Avery in 2 chapters. But rest assured, our whiny, love-to-hate-him/hate-to-love-him prince will be back soon! This chapter we meet Olivia, Geneva, Nesryn, Noah, and a few others! Hope everyone enjoys!

Quarantine: Day 1 Part 4

Olivia Edison stood outside of Room 016, watching with abject horror as her five fellow roommates took turns clearing out their bunks.

All the maids had the same standard white linens and uniforms folded neatly in their hands. Olivia would have a lot more to clear out. She had fairy lights to gather, photos to untack from underneath her bunk, and a whole suitcase's worth of clothes (hey, it wasn't her fault that she wanted to make a good impression on king and council and so refused to wear the tragically plain maid's uniform every day, resulting in her hogging most of the closet space). Thankfully all those extra clothes means she wasn't stuck in her ballgown. Not that that would be a tragedy; she looked killer in her ballgown. Not that she didn't look killer in her more sensible day dress and flats.

Still, waiting on the maids to finish packing was taking forever. Olivia started tapping her foot on the floor, hoping that they would get the hint and hurry up. There were so many things she still had to do, and waiting on slow pokes was not one of them.

"Alright, it's safe for you to go in the bedroom, Liv. Everyone else is done!" Halley, the maid Olivia befriended out of necessity and now was actually starting to like, chirruped. She was pretty decent company, laughed at all of Olivia's jokes, and looked out for her. However, Olivia thought that was more because Halley was trying to suck up for the payoff that one day, when Olivia was running the council singlehandedly, Olivia would remember the little people. That was fine. It was better than having no one.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That is not a bedroom. It's a prison cell."

"Well, be that as it may, it's a lot better than wherever we are going next," Halley said with a wince. "I heard that they're going to make us sleep on the floors in the hall behind the kitchen."

Oh no. No no no no NO! That was unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. They could not put someone like her someplace as common and dirty as a hallway outside the kitchen.

Just as Olivia thought she would be lost in a sea of her own self-pity, a familiar head of floppy brown hair came sauntering up the stairs, square jaw set in a smile as he saw her. Olivia's mood instantly lifted as she saw him, rushing over and jumping into his arms. He didn't question the display, simply wrapping her in his embrace.

"Hey, they told me you might be up here." Victor rubbed a hand soothingly across her back. "What's wrong?"

"It's terrible! They're going to make everyone sleep in the hall!" Olivia whined, burrowing her face into Victor's chest. "What am I going to do?"

"It's alright love, cheer up. You can always room with me. I was going to room with my cousin, Nikolas, but it looks like he's gotten himself roped into staying with Avery. Poor lad."

That settled Olivia's nerves. As the Duke of York, Victor would be staying in one of the guest suites. That meant a king sized bed, silk sheets, room service, and no communal bathroom. Just the thought of no longer having to share a bathroom with the entire floor's worth of maids made Olivia's heart soar.

"Have I ever told you that you are the best boyfriend in the whole world?" Victor only smiled in response, bright and effervescent. He really was a goofball. "But you know what would make you even better? Helping me fold my clothes."

Victor complied with minimal grumbling. He wasn't used to doing chores just as Olivia wasn't used to doing them, but he would do anything for her and Olivia would be damned if she packed up her entire room by herself. Not that there was really much to 'pack'. The room was depressingly empty from where the other maids had cleared out, three bunks left bare, not even a hair tie left on a nightstand to let anyone know the space was occupied. All that was left was Olivia's brightly colored comforter and decorations to remove, and then the grey prison-cell aesthetic would be complete. God have mercy on whatever poor soul inherited this room upon their departure.

"You live here?" he asked, incredulous. "Does this place even get heating?"

Olivia tried not to think about how cold it had been getting at night now that autumn was setting in. There were some serious downsides to living on the topmost floor of a palace built hundreds of years ago.

"Do you need any extra help?" Halley asked. Between Victor arriving and the news of suitable living arrangements, Olivia had completely forgotten Halley was there. But there she was, standing in the doorway like a puppy awaiting command.

"You can strip my bed and fold the sheets."

Halley did as she was asked without question, folding creases into the sheets so sharp they probably wouldn't even need to be ironed.

Soon enough, everything Olivia owned was packed (somewhat) neatly in her suitcase. Strange to think that she could pack her entire life here in a suitcase when it would take whole storage units to contain all she had waiting for her back at home. Oh, the sacrifices one makes in pursuit of greatness.

Victor and Halley stayed behind to do a final sweep of the room while Olivia shouted 'make sure to take the curtains!' over her shoulder and rolled full steam ahead to the wing of guest suites where she could fill a bubble bath full of epsom salt and essential oils and soak for hours. Just the thought of it made her shiver with pleasure.

As Olivia approached the stairs, she heard voices. Curious, she left her suitcase and peeked her head around the bannister. Three people gathered near the foot of the stairs, talking quietly, but not quietly enough that Olivia's expertly-trained ears could not eavesdrop. One of them - the older guy with the camera - was talking while the other two - a woman and a man both with dark hair with serious expressions - listened.

"If you're going, you gotta go now," the camera guy said, gesturing over his shoulder. "There's more press here than I thought. The set's filling up quick."

"You know, I work for The Angeles Beacon Journal. Is there any way I can get one of those passes?" the guy said, gesturing to the lanyard around the cameraman's neck.

"Angeles Beacon Journal, huh?" the woman asked, sounding both amused and impressed. Olivia didn't recognize the publisher, but this woman did. "No worries. I'll tell them you're with me."

"Whoa, thanks, that's...wow." The guy seemed genuinely floored, staring at the woman with wide eyes. "Not every day you get to go to a quarantine press release with the big leagues."

The other two laughed, more at him than with him, but he didn't know that.

All Olivia knew was that she was going to this press release too.

"Hey!" Olivia called, rushing down the stairs by twos so she didn't miss her chance. "Did I hear you talking about a press release?"

"The meeting is for professionals, not for interns," the woman said bluntly, not appreciated being intruded upon. Her gaze was dark and scathing, as if Olivia was dirt on her purple converse. Normally Olivia had a comeback at the ready, used to having to stick up for herself on a council of middle-aged men who thought her ideas were 'cute'. However, it was something entirely new to be so thoroughly shut down by someone close to her own age. "I know who you are, Olivia Edison: just another other socialite flittering through the palace looking to broaden their horizons beyond what mommy and daddy's money can provide. I doubt you can contribute anything that can't be covered by a council page."

"Excuse me?" Oliva's cheeks flushed red with anger. How dare she! This woman knew nothing about her, though Olivia was pretty certain they had crossed paths in the halls of the palace before. Her face was annoyingly pretty to forget. Pretty and smug and Olivia wanted to wipe the floor with it. "I have been busting my ass for the king for months now. I have every right to be at that meeting."

"Why don't you focus on hanging your curtains instead?" the woman suggested instead, indicative that she had been listening in on Olivia's conversation with Halley. The simpering smile on her face was a clear dismissal.

None of the other people in the group did anything to stand up for her. One guy awkwardly ducked his head and scrubbed at the back of his neck. Another pretended to be busy fixing his camera. Olivia's blood boiled.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Geneva Hollander, Palace Media Correspondent." Geneva pulled a card out of the pocket of her trench coat and handed it to Olivia. Olivia ran her fingers over the heavy cream-colored card stock embossed with golden block letters spelling out this woman's importance. "Now, as fun as this has been, I have to stop an overeager event coordinator from stealing my job."

"Funny. It says here that you just do the gossip rags."

The guy holding the camera let out a snort. Geneva cut Olivia a glare sharp enough to draw blood.

"At least I'm not a glorified coffee runner."

All Olivia could do was seethe after Geneva Hollander as her stupid trench-coat-wearing ass walked away, the rest of the media group following after her, leaving Olivia in the dust.

"You alright love?" Victor asked as he approached the scene, concerned. He was always worrying over her, a bit of a mother hen in that way. "That looked tense."

Tense was too little a word to describe the anger that grew toxic in Olivia's chest. She would show Geneva Hollander. Olivia would shove Geneva's nose in how wrong she was.

And just like that, two enemies were born.

Nesryn el Sayed was nervous.

She ran her fingers over the crystals in her bracelets: amazonite, black jasper, lepidolite. All used to calm and soothe the soul, yet, Nesryn still felt nervous. Even more nervous than when she was six years old and thrust into a foreign country. This palace, it was so full and yet so empty at the same time, tall dark ceilings feeling more like caverns. And there was no telling what lied around the corners, in the shadows...

She didn't like being alone in places she didn't know. The last time that happened -

"Nes! Hey! Wait up!"

She turned at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Noah!" Immediately upon seeing him, all of Nesryn's nerves dissipated. When it came to calming her, Noah worked better than any crystal. He ran to catch up with her, only slightly out of breath. "I was so worried about you."

"Worried? Why?"

"You disappeared after the King's speech. I couldn't find you."

While that was true, Nesryn was always worried about Noah. When his one-track mind wasn't making him forget to eat or shower or call, it was coming up with all these chaotic ideas, and not all of them turned out well. Usually Noah's ideas were a bit of harmless fun, but this time had landed them in a pickle.

Noah cast a look down the hall, energy buzzing from every pore on his body.

"I ran into this group of journalists, and we got to talking and wow...just wow. Like, I have never been so star struck. One of them - her name is Geneva and she is terrifying - she started talking about this press conference and actually invited me to it. Me, Nes. To an actual, official press conference. I mean, this could be my big break."

"That's great." Nesryn couldn't help but light up at the huge smile on Noah's face. He looked like Christmas had come early, like all his dreams were coming true. Nesryn thought he looked beautiful when he smiled like that. Then again, she thought he always looked beautiful, smiling or not. "Maybe...I could come with you?"

Usually she and Noah were a duo. She took the pictures and he wrote the stories. That was the way it had always been, even if photography was more of her hobby and journalism was his actual career. Nesryn had her camera on her now, the strap slung low so that the camera bounced against her hip. It had gotten a lot of action at the ball last night; she took about five dozen photos of people in fancy suits and dresses, but none of them were front-page worthy.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'll ask Geneva. She was the one who got me in, so I'm sure she can pull more strings and get you in too."

That was the second time Noah had mentioned Geneva in as many minutes. She must have really made an impression on him. Nesryn tried not to let that get to her.

"That's alright. I don't want Geneva to go to any trouble." As much as she wanted to go with Noah, she didn't want him to go out of his way for her. This was clearly something he was looking forward to; she didn't want to get in the way of whatever he was chasing. She pulled on her best and brightest smile to reassure him. "Just, have fun for me? You only get your big break once, and you're far too talented to spend your life writing obituaries."

"This quarantine might be the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I wouldn't go that far." Nesryn tried not to think about all the people they both had waiting for them outside the palace walls. "Have you called your mom yet?"

"No." Noah actually looked a little ashamed at that, as he should. "Have you called your dad?"

"I've been working up the courage."

Truth be told, Nesryn had no idea how she was going to explain this one to her father. Last night, she told him she was going over to hang out at Noah's, and instead she ended up following him into the palace. Despite the fact that she was going to be put under permanent house arrest as soon as the quarantine was over (it didn't matter she was twenty-six, her parents were just like that), that wasn't the worst part. Being the Saudi Ambassador's daughter meant that if anything went sideways, if she was hurt, then there was no telling what would happen to international relations. The very last thing Nesryn wanted was to start another world war.

"How about we switch? I don't think Mom is capable of being mad at you."

Nesryn's lips quirked up. She and Noah did this all the time, taking over talking to one another's family. They were practically members by association.

"Only if you tell Nanaya and Shireen not to bust down the palace doors."

"Deal." Noah cast a glance over his shoulder, shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels. "But later, yeah? I promised Geneva I would meet up with her in the foyer."

"Yeah, later."

Noah kissed her on the cheek and dashed off down the hall. Nesryn tried her best not to stand there like a love-struck fool with her hand over her cheek, blushing furiously. Her only saving grace was that no one was around to witness it.

It was only then she realized that she had forgotten to ask about Noah's room assignment. That was okay, though. He said he would see her later, and he was a man of his word. She doubted that they were assigned the same place, being opposite sexes and all, but they would make something work. There was no way she was going to be under quarantine in a palace full of strangers and not stick to the only person she knew like glue.

Her room assignment was located somewhere on the fourth floor. It only took a minimal amount of peeping through cracks in doors to find the right place.

Room 016.

Nesryn reached for the knob at the same time as another girl. She was pale and wore far too much dark makeup around the eyes, backing away quickly when she realized they were going to touch. She wore all black and there were too many piercings on her ears to count. Her hands were full, as she carried two large silver makeup boxes. A third sat on the carpet near her feet.

"Hi, I'm Nesryn. I think we're roommates."

Nesryn tried her best to be friendly, but this girl wasn't having it. She came off as cool and standoffish, looking at Nesryn like she would rather be rooming with anyone else. In fact, she looked downright pained as she forced herself to reply.

"Carrie."

That, Nesryn supposed, was all she was going to get.

The failed introduction did nothing to prepare Nesryn for what was waiting inside. Nesryn couldn't even process how grey and dingy the place looked and how there weren't enough crystals in the world to return the positive energy. Because there, in the center of the room, stood a young woman no older than Nesryn. Bent over at the waist. And buck naked.

She turned around at the sound of the door opening, a manic grin on her face.

"Hello beautiful creations of God's grace! It is so good to meet you! My Christian name is Medea, but everyone calls me Venus!"

"Venus...?" Carrie asked, unable to stop the crazy naked woman from giving her a hug. Carrie flushed a bright red, the color stark against her pale skin.

Nesryn was honestly afraid to know what kind of drugs she was taking. And afraid of being hugged next. But Medea - sorry, Venus - was already onto the next topic.

"I'm a goddess, duh!" Venus replied like the answer was obvious. She shook her wet hair, drops of hibiscus-scented oil landing everywhere, and grasped at her glistening chest. "Just look at my tits!"

All Carrie and Nesryn could do was stare.