It would be very easy for me to give this fic (you know, the fic, the multi-chapter fic I've been hyping up [actually, I scrapped this one, this is a new one that I outlined last summer and I've just been waiting for the right time] since forever) a 2,000 word introduction, but I'm really going to try not to do that. I'm just excited! It's reasonable to be excited! Although personally I don't think this is that good…yet. Wait for Chapter 3, my friends.

Anyway, this fic is heavily inspired by Taylor Swift's 'tis the damn season, so I recommend you listen to that at some point. Normally I don't post fics until I've finished them, but I'm very much still writing this one, so, um….I'm going to try posting around once a week. Please read and review; I really hope you like it!

Eadlyn threatening to throw people in the dungeon count: 4

Five years ago…

"That's a big decision." Gavril Fadaye's voice was low and serious. "You're really ending the Selection, just like that?"

"This is something I've spent a lot of time thinking about," I said shortly. Just like that wasn't even close. "It wasn't an easy decision to make, but this is what's best for everyone. My remaining Elite will be dismissed with no hard feelings."

"I have to ask, Your Highness—does this have anything to do with Marid Illéa? The rumors going around about you two…"

I shook my head vehemently. "Absolutely not. Marid is family! I could never be interested in him that way." I should have addressed the Marid problem a long time ago, but I hoped this would be enough. "Ending the Selection is entirely unrelated. I've given it my best, but I haven't found the right match."

When I laid out my terms three months ago, I hadn't expected calling off the Selection would feel like anything but relief, my freedom returned to me. Completely by accident, I'd gotten attached. The three men onstage with me had each claimed a piece of my heart, and snatching those pieces back wasn't quite as satisfying as I'd imagined it. Actually, something like regret was pounding in my chest, but I ignored it. "The Selection has been an incredible, eye-opening experience for me. These men have had a huge impact on my life, and I'll be a better queen because of it, but I'm not in love or ready to get married."

Playing to the camera, Gavril looked deeply saddened. "So the luck of the draw has let us down?"

"I don't feel let down at all. I might not be marrying any of them, but the Selection still brought me exactly who I needed." This was the part I'd been waiting for. If I could justify my choice to the crowd, maybe I could justify it to myself, too. I gestured to my three remaining suitors, all quiet and on their best behavior. "I learned to count in Finnish because of Henri. When he gets back to Sota, he's going to open his own bakery."

The studio audience clapped politely for Henri. I moved on. "Hale was my first friend in the Selection, and when he gets home, he's starting a tailoring shop. Someday, I'll probably ask him to make my wedding dress. And Kile…"

I'd done everything I could to prepare for this moment, but my voice still caught in my throat. "—Kile taught me not everything is what it seems at first glance. After the Selection, he's going to pursue architecture. How could I possibly keep any of them cooped up in the castle?"

Our host nodded sagely. "I understand completely, Your Highness. I assume, based on the affection with which they're all looking at you, this was not an easy decision."

Understatement of the year. Any of the suitors would have married me if I'd just asked, and for a moment there, I had really wanted to ask. "No, it wasn't, but we all just want what's best for each other. The gentlemen had a nice vacation in the capitol before going out to pursue their dreams, and I've made friends for life. What more could we possibly ask for?

Unbidden, a list began to form in my head. What more, indeed?

/

Present day…

Christmas was my favorite time of year—no, not because of presents. I'd outgrown that type of greed years ago; becoming queen had all but beaten it out of me. No, the reason I loved Christmas was much purer: it was the only time I got to spend an entire week with my twin brother. The French got him most of the time (which was reasonable, because he'd married their queen) but once a year, he got to come home for a proper break.

Even more special, this Christmas would be the first for Ahren and Camille's daughter. I'd met Marie twice—once shortly after her birth in February, then again at Josie and Kaden's wedding in June.

I flinched. Aside from Marie in her oh-so-cute rosebud dress, that wasn't really a memory I liked revisiting.

It was deemed a safety hazard for the whole royal family to pick up our visitors from the airport, so we all waited for them at the palace. Our family felt larger than our usual gatherings, because Mom's mother and siblings had joined us, but I was still growing impatient. Wine and discussing Uncle Gerad's latest scientific discovery (something about praying mantises?) were poor substitutes for actually spending time with my twin. I still wasn't used to living on different continents, even though Camille and Ahren had been married for close to six years now.

An unwelcome thought rang in my head. It's been six years, and you're still alone.

That simply wasn't sure. Sure, I didn't have a husband or fiancé or any prospects on the horizon, but I was still surrounded by people who cared about me. Josie and I had only gotten closer since she married my brother—again, I winced. My parents, now retired from ruling, were always there for me if when needed them. I had my aunt and uncles too—now that Uncle Kota had his son, three-year-old Shalom, he had mellowed out and actually gave good advice sometimes. I wasn't alone. I had plenty of people in my corner.

The massive double doors creaked open to reveal the most important of those people: my twin brother, holding his wife's hand, the baby on his hip. I ignored everything I knew about manners and protocol to engulf him in a hug. "You're here! I really missed you, Ahren!"

He laughed, passing the baby off to Camille so he could hug me properly. "I missed you too, Eady. Six months was way too long."

I didn't really want to think about what happened six months ago. I changed the subject. "How was your flight?"

He gestured towards Marie, now grabbing at her grandmother's hair as Camille made the rounds. "The little one had a hard time with the pressure changes. It helped to have that stop in Bonita, so she at least got a little bit of sleep."

"Bonita? Why would you stop in Bonita?"

I realized, a little too late, that it wasn't just Ahren's family walking through that door. A couple steps behind them, lugging a suitcase, the last person I wanted to see grinned at me.

Kile Woodwork.

Every alarm within me blared; it felt like something had shattered. Utterly oblivious, Kile gave me a little wave as I stepped back from Ahren. "Surprise."

I hated surprises—all of them, I liked to know exactly what was going to happen and plan for it accordingly—but this had to be the absolute worst of them.

I hadn't seen Kile in six months, and I didn't want to. I still couldn't think of Kaden and Josie's wedding without cringing; Kile was a tangible reminder of everything I'd gotten wrong. Six months later, I could still taste the wine on his lips, feel the icy burst of shame that followed, and finally, the desperate urge to never see him again.

My breathing shallow, but in one small way, luck was on my side: I wasn't the only one surprised by Kile's return. Miss Marlee practically bowled me over to throw her arms around her son. "Kile! You told me you were too busy to come home for Christmas!"

It sounded like he tried to explain, but his dad and sister were just behind Marlee, squeezing in for a group hug. Good. I didn't want to hear his voice any more than it already pounded in my head on a daily basis. I pulled Ahren aside. "Why didn't you tell me Kile was coming back?"

My brother did not realize the gravity of the situation. He just shrugged. "I didn't find out until we got on the plane. Why? Is something wrong?"

"No! Everything's fine!" I insisted, although it was unlikely he'd believe me. Even though we lived nine time zones apart, Ahren knew me well enough to tell when I was lying, and everything was not fine. Ahren just didn't know why, and I didn't want to tell him.

"You're sure? You and Kile are friends, right? Last time I saw you…"

No, no, no. "Kile and I are fines," I replied shortly, which was either more or less true depending on how you looked at it. "I should let the others talk to you too. Go hug Dad; he looks like he's about to burst."

Ahren still didn't seem to believe everything's fine, nor had I really given him any reason to, but he took my suggestion. Everyone else was still making a fuss over Kile—even my aunts and uncles, which was weird—but they were excited to see Ahren too. Even more so, the baby was making quite a splash. Somewhere along the time, Mom had acquired Marie and was now cooing at her.

Suddenly feeling out of place (things a queen should never feel, but this was something like the worst of circumstances) I sidled up to my youngest brother, Osten. He was the only other person in the room without a partner, unless you counted the miniature strawberry tarts he was stacking to eat three at a time. I didn't. "You're getting crumbs everywhere. Will you ever grow up?"

"Wasn't planning on it." Osten wiped his mouth on his sleeve. At fifteen, he was already substantially taller than me, but being both the queen and his older sister gave me authority to scold him. "I've been thinking, though. Do you think I could host the Report once Gavril retires?"

Osten and thinking didn't usually go together unless the sentences ended with of new ways to make life more chaotic. "I'd need a much better lawyer before I went on live TV with you. I think you should ask about it tonight. Maybe that's the incentive Gavril needs to actually retire. And then flee the country, probably."

"Thanks, Eady. Oh, Kile's looking at you."

Kile was absolutely not looking at me, but I accidentally caught his eye when I whipped his head around. He gave me this warm smile, like everything was fine and I wasn't still so embarrassed even six months later that being in the same room as him made me want to throw up or kill myself. I couldn't begin to imagine what was going on in his head, and I wasn't going to try. That had gotten me in a lot of trouble last time.

Osten cracked up laughing. I gave him as stern of a glare as I could manage while I felt like a pot of soup being stirred. "I should have you thrown in the dungeons."

"You'd miss me too much. So can I count on a glowing letter of recommendation for my media aspirations?"

"Under no circumstances."

Luck was no longer with me. Miss Marlee grabbed me by the wrist (could I also have her thrown in the dungeons?) and pulled me in. "I can't believe you arranged this all behind my back! Oh, Eadlyn, you're the best!"

I was face-to-face with Kile now. That was almost enough to prevent words from leaving my mouth, but I forced something out. "You've got it wrong. This was not my idea."

My voice came out harsher than I meant it to. Kile flinched away from it; I noticed even though I was really trying not to look. "She's just as surprised as you are, Mom. It was all Queen America's idea."

Technically, my mom wasn't queen anymore, but I didn't correct Kile on use of her title. It was hard enough just to be near him; I felt crazy for being wound so tightly when he was so nonchalant. Like nothing happened last time we were together. Was it possible he'd forgotten?

No. We'd both been drinking, but not enough to leave the entire night behind. Kile remembered—he had to. It just wasn't eating him up like it was me, because one of us had put substantially more on the line than the other.

Marlee pulled Mom (who had returned Marie to Camille, currently being fawned over by Grandma Magda. Ahren stood at her shoulder protectively. Grandma could be a lot) into the conversation. Mom was also in danger of being sent to the dungeons (how could she not tell me?) but I felt frozen, locked in a staring contest with Kile. He'd let his hair grow out since the wedding. Other than that, he looked exactly the same, an easy smile on his face and hands shoved in his pockets. There was something behind that smile, maybe, a catch in the way he looked me up and down, but if he wanted to talk this out, he wasn't going to have any luck with me.

I was the first female sovereign of an unruly nation. I could make polite small talk in four languages. Surely I could handle spending Christmas with Kile. It would only be a few days. Even if everything felt upside down and backwards, he had, at one point, been one of my closest friends.

His eyes were so blue.

I tore my gaze away. What was the point? Mom and Miss Marlee were still talking—well, mainly it was Marlee, practically jumping up and down with glee. "Mer, this is the best Christmas present ever! A whole week with my son!"

A whole week?

Oh no.

Oh no.

/

Someone let it slip to Gavril that Kile was back in town. I blamed Osten. He always seemed to know exactly what would inconvenience me the most and go out of his way to do it. As I watched the staff pull an extra chair onstage, inconvenience didn't feel like a strong enough word. I liked everything planned out in advance and tightly under my control—winging it on live TV was the opposite of that, grating on my ever nerve.

"Shouldn't we really be talking business?" I asked in a tight voice. "We've been working on a new apprenticeship program for young adults. And they're opening that new animal shelter in Calgary..."

"Your Majesty, it's Christmas Eve! No one wants to talk business!" Gavril said dismissively. He was rearranging the chairs himself. It was odd. Although our host was clearly still spry, he was well past retirement age, and he'd been talking about stepping down for years without anything ever coming of it. I wondered what he could possibly be waiting for. "We should be catching up with your guests!"

He could've been talking about Ahren and Camille, but I was pretty sure he just meant Kile. My polar opposite, Gavril loved surprises, and he'd been buddy-buddy with Kile since my Selection.

I winced at that even though I'd come to terms with it long ago. The Selection was what it was. It hadn't been easy, heaven forbid perfect, but I'd made the best of a bad situation and moved on. All according to plan.

This, the surprise visit and the fine-but-not-fine simmering between us, had never been in the plan at all. Actually, since the wedding, I'd been hoping to never see Kile again.

Unfortunately, it seemed I was going to have to endure. Gavril was right; an update on Ahren, Camille, and Kile (unofficially known as "Illéa's Sweetheart") would be well-received compared to my suggestion of talking business. I very rarely let anyone else have their way, but I tried to be optimistic about it now. Maybe Gavril would be so enamored with my brother and my ex that I could just exist in the background for the hour. As the queen, that was something of a novelty. For the most part, my career and my desire to be the center of attention worked very well together.

Not tonight, though, not for this. Since the Selection, I'd worked so hard to improve both myself and the country's perception of me and I didn't want Kile to dredge up anything about the girl I used to be, intentionally or not. The people respected me now, but I hadn't forgotten how they turned on me over one little kiss five years ago.

I shuddered to imagine what would happen if anyone found out about last summer's incident.

Gavril had entirely the wrong idea about what I wanted from the evening, and he made me part of the interviews. I'd already said my piece about putting Osten on live TV, but I would've happily traded places with him now.

"How exciting! The whole royal family, back together again!" Gavril exclaimed. "Of course, the family has grown since I last had all of you in the studio." He nodded to Josie, now legally my sister-in-law, and then Ahren. "Prince Ahren, where is your little one? I was promised the chance to meet her."

"She's sleeping, Gavril. Trust me, you don't want a jet-lagged baby on your show." He was right. Marie had turned screamy about halfway through dinner. "Camille and I are barely keeping our eyes open."

"Of course. I'll let you rest, then." Gavril turned to Kile. "You don't have nearly as much of a time change to get sued to. Let's talk. Why didn't anyone tell me I was going to see my favorite Elite this week?"

"Because I didn't tell anyone; it was a surprise," Kile replied easily. Out of his traveling clothes and into a suit, he looked annoyingly good. I didn't understand it. How could Kile work a normal job and live a normal life most of the time, then slide back into the demands of palace life so effortlessly? It wasn't fair for him to be so good at everything he tried.

It wasn't fair for him to keep glancing at me like that, reminding me. I dug my fingernails into the armrest of my chair.

"What a lovely surprise! Tell us everything, Kile! Last time you were here, your sister took up most of the spotlight."

"Well, she did marry the prince," Kile reasoned. "I was just a groomsman."

I'd been a bridesmaid. Osten was the best man—he actually took the role pretty seriously.

Gavril sighed deeply. As he got older (and presumably closer to retirement, but I still couldn't be sure) he spent more and more of the Reports reminiscing and telling Kaden and I how cute we'd been as kids. "That was a beautiful wedding. Prince Kaden, Princess Josie, on behalf of Illéa, we are so happy for you. But Kile, I want to hear what you've been up to."

Kile brushed it off. "There's not much to talk about, Gavril. My life isn't nearly as exciting as you think it is. I probably peaked in the Selection."

Sometimes I thought I did too.

"You must be excited to see your family, at least!"

Kile nodded. "Absolutely. Living so far away from them hasn't been easy. I love Bonita, though. I've been working on my tan."

Annoyingly, you could tell. Kile looked great.

If it had just been Kile talking about his family or even his stupid tan, everything would have been fine, but Gavril had questions for me too. "This must be exciting for you too, Your Majesty! You two are still close, I presume?"

Screw it. Osten could host the Report. I was throwing Gavril in the dungeons. "Of course," I managed. "Kile's like family. We'll always be close."

I wished, more than anything, that any of those words were true.