A/N: Trigger warning later in the chapter for domestic violence starting at the line , "What else do we have to talk about?" Also, lyrics to Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy belong to Freddie Mercury and Queen, may he rest in peace.

The Thing About Breaking Down

The thing about breaking down was that is was fucking inconvenient.

"Siobhan?" Elodie called her assistant to her desk, frowning at her computer screen. Ever since she had bothered to learn the woman's name, she abused it with frequency. "What happened to my meetings?"

On cue, Siobhan strutted to Elodie's side, her red curls bouncing as she walked on her high heels.

As loathe as Elodie was to admit it, Siobhan was sharp and hard working. The woman hadn't cracked yet, nor had she given up on four-inch heels. It was kind of infuriating, but Elodie was sure she would have reduced herself to a puddle on the ground if not for her assistant.

"What do you mean?"

"I scheduled seven meetings on today's calendar. Only four are showing up."

"His Majesty the King has decided to handle the Board of Treasury and the farmer's union personally. Given your recent departure and the amount of stress you've been under as of late, he saw it as the best course of action."

"Of course he did."

Elodie ground her teeth and tried not to scream.

On the news, Paris was burning. Not the whole city, but from the cries of the citizens, it might as well have. Notre Dame was gone, and every news station was blasting Gen's face and viral speech. There would be year's worth of rebuilding and financing going into the decision of what to do next.

And Elodie thought she had it bad chaperoning her little sister's date.

"Have we sent condolences?"

"A fruit basket along with official condolences was sent from the royal office to the French delegation earlier this morning. Time stamps indicate delivery forty-seven minutes ago."

Good. That was good. Something was going right around here.

It was then Elodie realized that she'd been typing the same letter on the keyboard for the past two minutes, and was now faced with an email that now read 'aaaaaaaaaaaaa'. Since when had she become so absent-minded?

When she slept with her best friend, betrayed her wedding vows, and ruined her longest-standing relationship all in one blow. That's when.

Jordan was gone. He'd left some time yesterday evening, his whole family in tow. No more Reinhardts running around the palace, only an empty void where their comforting presence used to be. Elodie felt guilty about seeing them go, for not spending as much time as she should have with Miss Josie or Mathis. She'd been so preoccupied with Jordan, with the familiarity of him, the comfort, the security.

The thrill. Not that she'd ever admit that aloud.

"His Royal Highness the Prince Consort arrives in Angeles today," Siobhan said, jotting something down on her tablet. "The royal jet is scheduled to touch down some time after five. Would you like me to arrange a car for you to meet him at the airport?"

"No. I very much doubt he'd want to see me, and I very much do not want to see him."

"Noted."

There was no judgement in Siobahn's tone, just efficiency. She jotted something down with her stylus, red curls obscuring her face. Elodie wondered whose idea it was to get her a new assistant (or keep the same one? Elodie really was terrible.) Elodie wondered if something had slipped, if some kind of crack had been exposed that caused someone to think she needed help.

Help had always been grating. Annoying. Invasive. Too many questions and not enough things done her way.

Siobhan was different. Siobhan was almost...welcome.

Forming attachments was difficult. As soon as Elodie started to trust this woman, Siobhan could stab her in the back. The last thing Elodie wanted was her husband fucking her secretary where every councilor and governor could see. The United States of America went through that once. They didn't make it as a nation.

"Is that all, Siobhan?"

"That's all, ma'am," she replied, tucking her tablet under her arm. "The date is scheduled to start in the kitchen in twenty minutes. I will leave you to it."

"Thank you."

A quick curtsey and Siobhan was clicking away in those ridiculous heels. It was honestly impressive how fast the woman could move in those things. The clicking stopped as she reached the door.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Siobhan asked, holding onto the doorknob. As if she were afraid to leave Elodie alone. Any other day and Elodie would have taken that as patronizing. Today, she saw it for what it was: concern.

"Do I have a choice?"

It wasn't a question that needed an answer.

Another curtsey and Siobhan left this time, taking her impossible shoes along with her.

Twenty minutes. Elodie could do this.

.o.O.o.

In the kitchen, a flurry of maids and other staff were busy turning the industrial area into something that could pass for a date. Stainless steel counters were covered with bowls full of various ingredients, the ovens preheated for maximum efficiency. Delia couldn't be trusted to do anything outside palace grounds - not after breaking ten different protocols to go to the fair. Elodie would have vetoed that if she knew about it.

"Oh my God," Delia gasped as she spied Elodie. "It's a ghost!"

"You're hilarious."

"Where have you been? The whole palace thought you were dead."

"Unimportant." Elodie didn't have time to focus on her own problems when she could solve someone else's. "When's the Selected scheduled to arrive?"

"Ummmm I dunno, that's your wheelhouse."

Elodie pinched the bridge of her nose.

Today's date was scheduled with Ezra Sigurdsson-Esser. Elodie only vaguely remembered him as the kid with the hint of an accent and puppy dog eyes. Not really Delia's type, but at least she was sticking to the rules and giving everyone a chance instead of actively pursuing sabotage.

He arrived with his own entourage of make up and camera crew, a bit overwhelmed with his eyes wide and shining. He'd opted for a casual look of jeans and a tea, his white sneakers scuffed and his hair charmingly floppy and slightly wet.

Catching sight of Delia and Elodie, he waved and started walking over. It was cute, but cringey. Even worse was that Delia didn't wave back. Elodie subtly nudged her in the ribs with her elbow. That got her moving.

"Good evening Your Highness," Ezra said with a nod Elodie's way, then a smile. "Delia."

"So, what are we doing down here - raiding the pantry?" Delia asked.

"I love to bake, and I thought it would be a good idea to share something I'm passionate about with you," Ezra explained, his eyes shining with enthusiastic light. The whole thing was supposed to be a show of domestic bliss. The people liked a down to earth candidate they could bond with, and when Ezra said he could bake in his last interview, well, the deal was sealed.

"Of course, I'd rather be biking, but it's raining. I mean, I love the rain, but you probably don't. I mean, if you do, that's great, but - "

"I'd rather not get my hair wet, thanks."

"Understandable. Your hair is very pretty today."

Delia's hair was currently was thrown up in a messy ponytail, but it was nice of him to try.

"I tend to burn anything I touch," Delia said with a wince. It was true. She'd ruined boiled eggs by ignoring them long enough.

"Good thing I'm doing the baking, then," he said with a grin. "All you have to do is sit back and watch. And lick the spoon."

"I can do that," Delia said, her confidence returning. "What if I want to crack an egg?"

"Only if you promise not to get any of the shell in the mix."

"Ooof, no can do buddy boy. I like a good crunch."

They laughed, and a knot in Elodie's chest eased.

This was good. They were laughing and Delia was smiling. Perhaps this would be easier than the other dates. Maybe her sister really had learned something while she was gone.

The lovebirds were escorted to their marks in front of a large stainless steel island. There were so many tools and bowls Elodie could hardly tell what they were making, but Ezra seemed in his element. The cameras started their countdown and Elodie made her way off stage so that she wouldn't be caught in the footage. This wasn't her show; it was Delia's.

Live dates had long since been abandoned. This whole set up would be recorded over and over until the proper footage was collected. Hopefully Delia would behave and only one take would be needed. But there was no telling what would happen when the camera started rolling.

Someone turned on a speaker, low enough not to overpower talking voices but loud enough to hear the lyrics.

We can do the tango, just for two, I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings, Be your Valentino, just for you...

"What are we making?" Delia asked, leaning her elbow on the table.

"I figured, since it's your first time baking, we'd do something easy," Ezra said with a smile. He wore a yellow striped apron with a comical amount of frills and cursive along the chest that read, 'Kiss the cook.' "How do oatmeal raisin creme pies sound?"

"Not easy," Delia replied with a laugh, to which Ezra laughed as well.

"You'll be a natural, you'll see." His good mood was so infectious it was hard not to play along. He even Elodie believing Delia could do this. "We will make them just like my Mama."

"Just what every girl wants to be: their significant other's mother."

Elodie smothered the urge to reach out and pinch her sister's lips closed. Of course Delia would reply with something so snarky and rude and completely out of context. Thankfully, Ezra either did not hear or chose to let the insult roll off his back.

"My Mama, Sonja, learned this recipe from her grandmother," Ezra explained, the smile never leaving his face. "The thing I remember most fondly about Mama when Riva and I first came to live with her and my Mom, Johanna, is that she was always baking and she would always ask us to join her. She would never force it; she would simply offer. It took a long time, but she never stopped and eventually I began to say yes. We still bake together, but it happens less often now that I have my own place and spend so much time at the hospital."

"I don't think I've seen my Mom in the kitchen. Ever."

"That is a shame. This kitchen is so beautiful!"

The kitchen really was beautiful: state of the art like so much of the palace. They took that for granted sometimes.

"Tell me more about your Moms," Delia said, pinching salt into her bowl.

"Mom is a physicist and Mama teaches English at the local university. They are beloved by all the neighbors and their community, and gained quite the reputation for adopting four children from different corners of the earth. They made sure all of us know we are loved, my brother Haru, my sister Lisel, Riva and I. All of us were accepted as is. And they made sure Riva and I were still able to practice Judaism, which was very important."

"They sound like saints."

"In a way, they are. In my eyes. Everything I do is for them," Ezra said, looking over to Delia's bowl. "Are you ready to combine the dry ingredients?"

"Yeah I think that's mixed enough. What do you think?"

"Perfect."

Teo switched out her bowl for another. Sneaky sneaky, he'd actually gotten her to participate and from the looks of it, Delia was actually enjoying herself.

Maybe that was why everything had to start going wrong.

"So, Teo said something strange to me during the carnival. Something about knives and his personal life that's not involved with slumming it in the woods," Delia said, rushing through her words like she was actually excited. "He wouldn't have happened to say anything else about that, would he?"

Ezra was dumbfounded by the change in topics. He looked like someone had smacked him.

"You invited me on a date to ask me about Teo?"

Delia put her whisk down, fixing Ezra with a frown. "What's the big deal? I thought you guys were friends."

"It's just, I thought that maybe you asked me on this date because you wanted to know more about me. Maybe you...felt a connection between us?"

"Whoa dude. Don't get ahead of yourself. You're just the next on the list of one-on-one's. It's wayyyyy too early to be deciding anything like a connection."

"Oh." A single syllable that soured the mood instantly. Ezra's face flashed through a slideshow of emotions: shock, annoyance, anger, sadness. He settled on a tense neutral, but Elodie could tell he was pissed. It didn't suit someone so jolly. "But clearly you're interested in Teo."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. But maybe you should've asked him out instead of getting my hopes up."

"He already got his turn, and he wasn't such a jackass on his date either."

Things were escalating way too quickly. What the hell was going on? Elodie stepped forward to intervene.

"I'm sorry," Ezra replied, sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't mean to be so tense. It's just, I got this letter from home, and - "

"I really, really don't care," Delia said, cutting a very wounded Ezra off at the neck. She grabbed the nearest bowl and started aggressively mixing. "Let's just start over."

"Okay."

It wasn't like the poor boy had a choice. Delia had bullied him into burying something that clearly bothered him. While it was odd that a Selected cared so much about what the other boys were doing so early on in the competition, Elodie couldn't fault him for his insecurity. Delia really did have some nerve to ask so blatantly about someone else. Was she trying to drive all her suitors away?

Stupid question. Of course Delia was trying to drive them away. It wasn't like she took this seriously. That would require her to have maturity and a sense of duty.

Lord, this was painful. Just watching them standing side by side, not talking, was enough to make her cringe. How much more of this would they have to endure before the coordinator called it quits?

Just then, Delia dumped her bowl into the giant mixer full of flour. She reached out to turn it on.

Ezra looked up, lurched forward, and shouted, "No, wait! Don't touch that - "

It was too late. Delia pushed the mixer to high and flour went flying. A tornado of white exploded right before their eyes. It was snowing flour, coating everything in a fine layer of white: the counter, the utensils, the floors, their bodies.

"CUT!"

The cameras shut off and the date coordinator started cursing up a storm. Elodie stepped out of the way as makeup artists and custodial crew came to reset the stage and its actors. Funny how much of this reminded Elodie of watching her favorite on demand movies. Funny how much of it was a mockery of her own memories. Somehow, these dates felt so much less stilted in sepia.

"Everyone take ten and clean this mess up!" the coordinator commanded, storming out of the kitchen to get some air.

Elodie could have used some too.

She looked at her watch. It flashed her 6:45pm. Was it past five already? Dread sunk into her stomach. Suddenly, the painful baking date didn't seem so bad.

Swallowing her fear, Elodie stood up straight and marched over to her sister.

"Something has come up," Elodie said to her sister who was busy getting her cheeks wiped down and sanitized. She'd need a change of clothes, hopefully not sweats, but Elodie didn't have time to choose. "I'm sure you can finish this without me?"

And without causing a scandal, went unsaid. It was in the glare Elodie fixed Delia with. Elodie may have been gone a few days, but Delia had clearly taken that as free reign to act however she wanted.

"Yes Mom," Delia replied in a sing-song voice, high and mocking. Her smile could not have been more malicious if she tried.

You're being watched, Elodie reminded herself as she took three deep breaths. When she no longer felt the urge to throttle her little sister, Elodie left the kitchen.

In the hall, she bent over and caught her breath. Alone, she felt like she could breathe for the first time all day. What was wrong with her? She'd done longer work days than this and never once felt this exhausted.

This day isn't over yet, she reminded herself.

Steeling her spine, she made a move for the foyer. It was a long shot Felix would still be waiting for a formal greeting nearly two hours after he touched down, but it was worth a shot. Some of his luggage was still in the hall, but he wasn't. She tried not to be disappointed.

It was unlikely he had gone right to Essie's room. He was a bit of a germaphobe in some ways, and he liked to wash after a long travel day. The shower was the next likely place he'd be, though Elodie felt her stomach turn at seeing him in any state of undress. Just the thought of touching him was enough to make her skin crawl.

Thankfully she was spared that scene.

As she opened the doors to her suite, she saw a tall figure leaned against the mahogany bedside table. She shut them behind her and faced Felix munching on a charcuterie board, a glass of wine in his hand. Likely he'd ordered the servants to bring it to him. It wasn't a normal dining hour, and formal dinner was an hour away.

"You didn't think to tell anyone you were home?"

"Well, it wasn't like anyone came to greet me," he replied in a bored, dragging tone. He didn't even bother to face her, preoccupied with spreading brie on a cracker. "I thought I was being shamed into the corner like a bad little boy. Your family is so petty."

Elodie felt her blood pressure rise to all new heights.

"They have the right. You made our family look like fools on an international level."

"Maybe if you put a leash on that feral brother of yours, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Or maybe if you would learn not to stick your dick where it doesn't belong - "

Felix turned and raised his hand. Elodie shut up.

"Don't finish that thought."

Elodie took a breath, let it out. Her eyes never left his hand.

"It doesn't matter if I say it or not. The whole world is saying it. Hell, our own families are saying it. I have two missed calls from your abuela and even more from your mother. They want to know what's gotten into their precious little boy."

"And what did you tell them?"

"I didn't say anything. I'm waiting to see what stories you'll make up this time."

"Typical Elodie, flipping the story to be all my fault. Never hers." His smile was twisted, cruel. "Do you ever stop to ask yourself why I do the things I do? Why I feel the need to leave this palace and this family? It's because it suffocates me. You suffocate me."

"That never stops you from spending my money."

"Oh, so now it's your money now?"

It was never his. None of this was him, not by blood and certainly not by the name he took from her. Their pre-nup made sure of that, so silly at the time and a godsend now. How could she have been so stupid, so blind?

"Do you even love me?"

"Love you?" Felix sneered, looking down at Elodie with disdain. "How can I love you when all you do is nag and nag and nag? Everything I do, it's never good enough. I'm never home enough. I never say the right things in interviews or bring you flowers or hold your hand like we are fucking eighteen years old. I don't even know this monster you've become. You used to be fun, kind, thoughtful. Used to have a sense of humor. Now all we have to talk about is our daughter, and even that leads to fighting."

"What else do we have to talk about, Felix?" Elodie countered, spitting mad. "You won't talk to me! You're never here! Too busy fucking around Paris with that whore!"

Elodie knew it was coming, but she was ready.

When his hand raised to hit her, she didn't even flinch. The sting came as it always did, the red-hot flash of pain that lanced through her cheek down her neck to the base of her spine.

This time, she hit him back.

She wasn't sure who was more surprised: she for having the balls to actually stand up for herself or Felix for finally feeling the pain he had wrought. Unlike her, Felix fell sideways clutching at his cheek. Her engagement ring had caught him, tearing open the skin on his cheekbone. When he righted himself, his eyes wide with shock and anger, his cheek was bleeding red.

"You'll regret that."

Felix reached for his belt. He was about to unclip the buckle when the doors burst open and Siobhan came striding though, a pile of papers in her arms.

"So sorry to disturb you, ma'am. I have those documents you asked me to gather on the - ."

"Get out!" Felix snapped.

Siobhan leveled him a cool look.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't work for you. I work for the Princess. Only she can tell me to leave, and I will not be going anywhere until she tells me to." Her eyes locked on Elodie, ignoring the monster to her left. "Do you wish for me to leave, ma'am?"

The tension in the room was so thick Elodie could cut it with a knife. It would be selfish and irresponsible to let Siobhan stay. No one else needed to be dragged into this mess, damaged by it. One word from Elodie and Siobhan would leave her alone. The woman wouldn't like it, she wouldn't want it, but she'd do it.

And Elodie would be worser for it.

"No, Siobhan. I'd like you stay." Elodie turned to Felix. Her heart thrummed at a million beats per second. "Get out of my room."

There was a moment when Elodie thought Felix would not comply. He remained frozen, like a statue - the portrait of Lucifer as he fell from Heaven, his eyes full of hatred and fire. His hands stayed on his belt, just as still.

Then, he straightened up and fixed his tie.

"We will discuss this later."

He stormed out, slamming the doors shut behind him.

The silence Felix left behind was loud. Elodie could hear her heartbeat in her ears, her blood rushing in double time. Her hands trembled. It took everything she had to stay upright, to guide herself to the nearest chair, collapse into it, and let herself shake apart.

"Would you like me to call for some tea, ma'am?" Siobhan asked, so very gentle.

"No, I'm fine." Tea this late would only make her jittery and she was unstable enough. "That was a bold choice, to lie like that. What even are these?"

Siobhan shrugged, tossing aside the stack of papers. "Yesterday's news. Some public health pamphlets I found lying near the recycling."

Elodie laughed. She laughed so hard, so hysterical that her eyes started to run and she wasn't sure if the tears were from sadness, fear, or relief. She had never stood up for herself, not like that. It was liberating and terrifying all at once. She didn't even care about the consequences that came later, because this was the first step. It felt like the shackles had come loose, and it was only a matter of time before she was free of them.

"May I speak freely, ma'am?" Siobhan asked, inching a bit closer to the couch.

"Might as well," Elodie said, patting the cushion next to her so that her assistant could sit. If they were going to have this conversation it was only fair that they be on equal levels.

"How do you stand it, being treated like that?" Siobhan asked. Her concern was so genuine, the furrow between her brow deep as she frowned at the door. Like if Felix were any other man she would go after him and stab him to death with her five inch stiletto. "You deserve so much better."

"Do I?" Elodie laughed under her breath. This time there was no humor in it. "I'm just as bad as he is. We're perfect for each other."

"With all due respect, ma'am, you're wrong."

"You're kind to think so, and maybe before tonight I would have agreed with you, but I hit him. I stooped to his level. He made me hurt and I hurt him back. The mark won't scar, just like none of mine have, but it will always be there just under the skin."

Siobhan didn't seem convinced. She just kept staring, kept holding on.

"That was self defense. Nothing more."

If only Elodie could believe that.