Quarantine Day Five Part One

Seth Moore was in Hell.

"I don't know..." Avery sighed, turning around in the mirror. "Does this hazmat suit make my butt look big?"

Seth was going to have a stroke. Any second now, his body would collapse on itself and he the lord above would take mercy on his poor tortured soul. Because this could not be reality. The Prince of Illéa could not seriously be asking Seth to ogle his ass.

But, of course, because this was Avery Schreave, he meant every word.

"No, Your Highness. The royal posterior is appropriately garbed for any kind of biohazard."

"I get that, but like...does it make my butt look big? Like in a bad way?"

"I wouldn't know, sir. That is out of my realm of expertise." Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shall I call the tailor back in?"

"Could you? It's just, I kinda have this situationship going on and I need to look good for him at all times." Avery spun around and bent over. If he flexed hard enough, the plastic bent just a bit that he could make out the slight definition of his ass. Not that there was much to define. The prince had never really grown into his bones, all gangly limbs and sharp edges. "If he sees me in this monstrosity he'll dump me for Rori or some other D-list celebrity with a trust fund."

"Truly, a harrowing situation." As soon as this crisis was over, Seth was asking for a raise. "Does this happen to be the same individual you had me up late burning mixtapes for?"

"Seth! That's our secret," Avery shushed. "So far as anyone knows I mixed that tape with love and my own two hands."

"Did you even know what a mixtape was before I told you?"

"Duh! It's that thing the cooks use to whip up brownie batter."

"Not even close, sir."

"I HATE YOU!" Princess Addison shrieked on the top of her lungs, tromping out of her dressing room with her helmet brandished like a weapon. "I HATE THIS!"

"Darling, be reasonable - "

Talis Colberg trailed behind the princess with the aura of a stressed out pageant queen mom. One hand was working a giant feather fan and the other held out a bottle of expensive water that, last Seth checked, was under strict lockdown. No rules for the royals and their friends, though. The pair tromped through the tailor's space with the force of a tornado, Princess Addison tearing up anything she could get her yellow rubber-clad hands on.

"YOU SAID YOU WOULD FIX THIS!"

"I tried, I really did," Talis started to explain, but barely got the chance to breathe before Addison was steamrolling forward. She snatched the water and threw it, scattering droplets of the precious resource over the carpet.

"LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT ME! I'M A GREAT BIG BANANA!"

"There's only so much one can do with plastic and still make it safe!"

Seth sighed and stepped out into the hall.

He didn't get paid enough to sit through this melodrama. He'd give them five minutes to hash things out (or kill each other and save him the trouble) before walking back in an escorting them back to their chambers. He could do this. After this fitting he had the rest of the day to relax. It was what he'd been looking forward to all week. Ever since the quarantine started he hadn't had a single moment to himself. It was a taxing five days and he'd grown at least ten new grey hairs because of it. Hair he mercilessly plucked out in the mirror each morning to avoid looking any more haggard than he had to.

"Wow, you look like shit."

A young woman pushing a cart walked his way. He recognized her from the kitchens: a young cook named Saori. While she wasn't directly under his supervision, he crossed paths with her often enough to know that this wasn't her usual stomping ground.

"What are you doing out of the kitchen? Don't you have several hundred mouths to feed?"

"Haha, a sexist joke. You're hilarious," Saori deadpanned, cutting him a glare as sharp as her knives. "If you must know, you massive prick, we ran out of flour half way through the second batch of rolls. My only hope is that the butler's pantry has enough to get us through the weekend."

"That's rather grim."

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "Turns out feeding several hundred unwanted guests depletes even the most royal of food stores."

The conversation came to a natural end. Seth was more than willing to leave things there: he to his miserable wait and Saori to her cart of flour. However, she lingered a bit longer. Too long for Seth's liking. It wasn't like they had much in common to continue conversing about. He had no idea what she wanted.

"Hey, you haven't happened to see Rhaena today, have you?"

"I've been preoccupied with the royal fitting this morning," Seth replied, curious. "Why? Is she well?"

"I'm not sure. She didn't show up for breakfast with the other servants."

Now, that was concerning. While Rhaena was often soft and a bit spacey for Seth's liking, she was a hard worker and driven to do well. Not showing up for a shift was unlike the Rhaena Salisbury he knew.

"I do hope she knows what she's doing. This is hardly the time to be short staffed."

Saori scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Wow, there's not an ounce of sympathy in you, is there?"

"We're all suffering." Another crash from behind Seth - this one sounded expensive. He let out a withering breath. "Some of us more than others."

Isabel Willow Green heard a knock at her door.

It wasn't the most convenient time. She'd hardly had the energy to put away her sad excuse of a bed. Plus, Sanjay was there. She didn't know why the cameraman stuck to her like a wayward baby chick stuck to its momma, but here they were. He was tweezing stray hairs out of his beard in the reflection of her office window and stopped when he heard the knock, just as surprised as she was.

They exchanged a look. He nodded.

Isabel opened the door.

"Hi," the girl on the other side said in a small voice. She looked like absolute shit: runny nose, red eyes, greasy hair and unkempt clothes. So, just like everyone else. "I was told this was the Palace Event Coordinator's office."

"That's me. Come in."

Isabel ushered the girl inside, making sure she didn't keel over on the way to a chair. Isabel sat her down across from the desk, taking her chair behind it. She felt rather official, like she was back to her old self. Taking meetings and solving problems were her bread and butter.

"How can I help you?"

"I was wondering…" the girl sniveled. "If you would help me organize a memorial for Victor? Who only knows when they'll get around to the funeral. He deserves to be remembered."

Putting together context clues, this made the mystery knocker Olivia Edison, the heiress who took a crack at playing palace intern these past few months and generally made everyone else's job harder by cleaning up her fuck ups. Not that anyone had the balls to tell her that. Not a single staff member wanted to anger any personal friends of the King. Better to let little miss hot shot think she was hot shit than stir the pot.

Olivia hadn't made Isabel's job any harder, not directly anyway. Not like she had made the wait staff's harder by making them pull extra duties off hours. Hailey, one of the maids Isabel knew to be a kiss-up to anyone with dollars in their pocket, was particularlly vocal about Miss Edison's requests. Something about steamed goat milk in her bath and lemon slices in her sparkling water. The typical shit.

It could have been worse. For them.

At least Isabel didn't get her boyfriend killed. Of course, that would require her having a boyfriend. She would have gladly sacrificed her ex-husband, but that was a different story.

"Oh, of course I will," Isabel said, gently nudging a box of tissues across her desk. She wasn't totally insensitive. "It's a very kind thing to do to honor those who have died such tragic deaths."

"The other victims," Olivia blinked up at Isabel owlishly once, twice, then, "Oh right. Them."

Honestly, the entitlement of rich people never ceased to amaze Isabel. It was like they couldn't get out of their own way, even in death.

"We might have some plastic flowers stashed in the attic. Sanjay, could you help me look?"

She didn't bother looking at him for confirmation. It wasn't like the cameraman had anything better to do with his time.

"I already have someone working on the eulogy," Olivia supplied tearily, finally breaking down and taking a tissue.

Olivia blew her nose so loudly Sanjay flinched. He'd been strangely silent throughout this whole thing, but Isabel had come to realize that all this death made him anxious for his daughter. He was likely about to lose his cool if she didn't wrap this up soon.

"Good. Mind telling me who so I can coordinate with them?"

"I dunno, some reporter who looks like a Superman knockoff," Olivia said, shrugging her shoulders. "His girlfriend was almost charged with Victor's murder, but the guards let her go."

"Well, there's not many people around the palace. I'm sure someone knows his name," Isabel placated with a smile. "In the meantime, I'll whip up some ideas and get back in touch when we have a clear vision."

"Thank you."

"It's a pleasure. Really. Despite the darkness, I've been losing my mind without something to do."

"It's true," Sanjay chimed in. "She was about to rip the books off her shelves and reorganize them. Again."

Isabel shot Sanjay a nasty look. Just because she'd done it twice didn't make her crazy, okay? She just didn't like how they turned out by spine size, and rotating them pages out was giving her a headache. What was she thinking?

"Glad to help?" Olivia said, not quite sure of herself.

Isabel's phone dinged, but she ignored it. Likely it was a subscription alert of a bill she needed to pay. No one important would be contacting her.

She stood from her desk and encouraged Olivia to do the same. This meeting was over, and it was time to walk the girl out. They stopped at the door, Isabel's hands gentle weights on Olivia's shoulders. At least, she hoped the touch was a comfort. Human emotion was sometimes a messy mystery.

"Go get some rest, Miss Edison. You look like you were the one who had a brush with death."

"I can't sleep in that room," she mumbled, tears welling up again. "It was Victor's room. It's got all his stuff...and it smells like him..."

"I'm sure you have friends who can let you crash. I seem to remember you are close with the prince."

"Maybe..." Olivia trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt.

"Wonderful. He'd be happy to let you stay with him. Because you can't stay here. No, I'm quite at my limit with one unwanted guest."

"Hey!" Sanjay snapped.

"You snore. Loudly," Isabel retorted.

"And you talk. Like, whole sentences."

Oh, so he wanted to go there? She could go there. But only when her guest was out of earshot...

When Isabel turned around, Olivia was gone. Hopefully to get some sleep in a bed that was not her dead boyfriend's. Christ, that was a morbid sentence. Since when did her life start sounding like a bad horror flick?

Isabel's phone dinged again.

"Who could possibly be messaging - "

The first alert was an invitation to an emergency meeting in the King's office ASAP. The second wasn't a message at all. It was an airdrop. Isabel clicked on the link and up popped a thousand-page document, the pages scrolling on forever. When the first page finally loaded, she could hardly believe her eyes.

Someone had airdropped a massive file onto her phone and every other phone in the palace.

The file in question? A fanfic titled, Love and Armor: A Pepperony Slowburn