Disclaimer: not proofread. I've been working on this FOREVER (okay like 5 days) and am too sick of it to reread it again.

Other Disclaimer: does NOT include Ean making a PowerPoint on Why Eadlyn And Erik Should Absolutely Not Get Married. Maybe I'll write the silly version of this someday and include that bit.

Other Other Disclaimer: tragically also does NOT include Hale and Kile pretending to date to get him into the wedding. But you should know that I VERY SERIOUSLY considered it.

Crazy that this is the 30th chapter and even crazier to have nearly 700 hits! I'm running a bit low on ideas right now but I have no intention of actually stopping. What I'd really like to do is get another miniseries going (like chap6 and chap14) so if anyone had ideas for THAT I would very much like to hear them.

I turned the invitation over in my hand, gold script on cream-colored paper, urging Kile Woodwork plus one to attend the royal wedding. I'd gone back and forth on it a dozen times, if I stay go or not. I didn't want to miss Eadlyn's wedding. I didn't know if I could handle Eadlyn's wedding. I had to go. I couldn't go.

Ultimately, I decided not to attend. Kile Woodwork plus one send their utmost regrets. But of course, I changed my mind at the last minute, and here I was, getting out of a cab and hoping for the best.

There was no "plus one"; it was just me. I wasn't seeing anyone, of course, and it didn't seem right to bring a friend to a wedding I was intending to sabotage. This was something I had to do on my own.

It wasn't a decision I took lightly. Believe it or not, I was not the kind of person who wrecked weddings on a regular basis, and I actually did not relish it at all. I had just come to the conclusion, after months of staring at the invitation and imagining the queen of Illéa walking down the aisle, that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't take the risk and say my piece.

It was just unfortunate I hadn't come to that conclusion until the night before the wedding. Travelling halfway across the country was one of those things that was a lot easier if you planned it more than a day in advance. Instead, I'd paid a ridiculous amount for a plane ticket, changed into my best suit at the airport, and paid an equally ridiculous amount for a taxi to drop me off at the palace.

All because I couldn't let her go.

If she didn't want me, that'd be the end of it. If I put it all on the line and she shook her head, I'd find a place in the crowd and clap when she and Erik said "I do". It wasn't about what she said back, if anything: it was me needing to get this off my chest, needing to know if there was any chance she felt the same way. I could live without her. I'd just done it for a year, and while that had admittedly driven me to crash what critics were hailing as "the wedding of the century", that still meant something, didn't it?

I sensed that I was being crazy. Eadlyn and I had ended on good terms; I meant it when I told her I wanted to stay friends. How had that mutual breakup turned into me objecting at her wedding? Something had shifted in the year I was gone and she was with Erik. After the Selection, I'd finally had everything I spent my whole life wanting: freedom, a job, the chance to make something of my life. Instead of feeling fulfilled after years after bursting at the seams, I felt…empty.

I realized I had made a mistake, jumping at the opportunity to have what I thought I wanted without taking into consideration everything that had changed. I missed home. I missed Eadlyn. Against my knowledge, against my very will, had grown to care about her, love her, even. I'd just been too stupid to see it until it was, more than likely, too late. If I'd just paid a little more attention, paged through my sketchbook and seen her reflected back in every line I drew, maybe I would have fought harder at the end of the Selection. Maybe it could have been my name on the invitation, me at the end of the aisle.

That was why I had to try, no matter how badly it might end for me. I couldn't get her out of my head. If I didn't say anything, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

I wanted to get there early. Even though I hadn't seen Eadlyn in a year, I could say with full confidence that she'd hate me if I made a big scene and ruined her perfect day. She liked being perfect, liked having control. If I wanted this to work out for me—and I knew it probably wouldn't, no matter how I stacked the deck—I had to speak with her in private and beg.

Another thing that would have been easier if I'd planned ahead. As much as I hurried, I knew I was running out of time.

I didn't even cross the property line before it all went wrong. Since I'd told everyone I wouldn't be attending this wedding, I was counting on my familiarity with the castle staff to get me into this high-security event. Unfortunately, in the year I'd been gone, they had hired a new gatekeeper, and he did not believe me when I insisted the royal family would be happy to see me.

"I have my invitation right here!" I insisted, waving it in his face. "See? Kile Woodwork plus one."

The gatekeeper grunted. "Kile Woodwork declined to attend. Nice try."

"I'm Kile Woodwork! I changed my mind!"

"I can't let you in."

"Do you seriously not recognize me?" I pleaded. "I was in the Selection last year! It was all over the news! Queen America is my godmother!"

He scoffed. "Listen, you're not the first one to try that on me, and it didn't work for any of the others, either. I recommend you leave before-"

"Let him in. He's with me."

I had never been so relieved to see Eadlyn's brother Osten, dressed to the nines and commanding an awful lot of authority for a sixth grader. At his request, the gatekeeper apologized profusely and let me through. I exhaled, relieved to have solved one problem, even if it was immediately followed by another: that had used up time I did not have. "Thank you, Osten. But…shouldn't you be attending a wedding right now?"

The youngest prince shrugged. "In theory, but "someone" may have hidden the rings and delayed the production. I was hoping you'd show up. I've never liked Erik."

I was taken aback. "Seriously?"

"Obviously. I would have helped if you'd called ahead."

Honestly, the thought had occurred to me. Osten had a gift for making things happen. "I was worried you'd think I was crazy."

"Let me be perfectly clear: you are crazy. Now, go get your girl."

It was easier said than done. Osten's diversion helped, but it wasn't enough. My heart sped up, not just from running across the courtyard. I could hear the church bells already, tolling that I was too late, too late.

Despite my best efforts, I was too late.

I stood frozen under the arch, watching my impossible dream walk down the aisle on her father's arm, the train of her ivory dress trailing half the length of the church. A sinkhole opened within me. This was exactly why I hadn't wanted to come here. I couldn't watch this with a straight face. I couldn't lose her a second time; I'd just realized what exactly I was missing out on.

Osten was only a few steps behind me. "I'm really sorry," he said. I'd never heard him sound that sincere before. "I should've lit something on fire."

"It's okay. You did everything you could," I replied, voice hollow. My eyes were fixed on Eadlyn, embracing her father before taking Erik's hand. She looked…well, of course she looked beautiful, made up to perfection and dripping with diamonds. The crown atop her head caught the light. She looked perfect and regal and bridal.

But did she look happy?

I didn't think so. Not quite. She was pale beneath the makeup, stiff and nervous when this should've been the best day of her life. She wasn't happy, or at least not happy enough.

I was running down the aisle before I could think better of it, running to her. It was exactly what I said I wouldn't do, the big scene and public speech, but something came over me, a manic tightness in my chest I couldn't ignore. I felt crazy—I was crazy, as Osten had helpfully informed me—but something told me I'd regret it forever if I just stood by and watched.

I hadn't been listening. Was this even the right part of the wedding to object to? It didn't matter. Sprinting to the altar, everyone's eyes were on me. I felt like a bug under a microscope as I struggled to form a sentence.

Two simple words. That was a good start. "I…object!"

Everyone in the room went silent. For a moment, there was only the clanging of the bell. It didn't sound like it was saying too late anymore.

"Kile," Eadlyn breathed, like she wasn't sure what she was looking at. The rest of the world stood frozen time. Only we were real. "You said you weren't coming."

I swallowed hard. Told the truth. "I couldn't stand to watch you marry someone else."

She was even more beautiful up close, radiant despite the tight frown across her face. There were thousands of tiny pearls stitched into her dress. A teardrop-shaped diamond hung on an almost-invisible chain around her neck. "I thought you didn't care," she said. From Eadlyn, it sounded like a confession.

"Believe me; I care. Eadlyn…" My voice cracked. I hadn't prepared for this, not really. "I love you. Don't marry him. Please."

The whispered started, but there was only one reaction that mattered: the queen's. Beside her, the officiant was visibly freaking out, and the groom had gone paler than her dress; I paid them no mind. The whole world, but especially me, was waiting on Eadlyn, currently digging her fingers into her bouquet of white roses like strangulation was the goal.

I braced myself for her to call the guards on me, but Eadlyn surprised me. She shoved the flowers into her maid of honor's hand and latched onto my arm. "Run."

"What?" I exclaimed. "But—the wedding! All these people-"

"The wedding's ruined, Kile. Run."

We ignored a variety of gasps and exclamations as we fled the church. Someone—Erik's mother, I believe—fainted, but Eadlyn's death grip on my arm maintained that someone else would have to pick up the pieces. Maybe it would be Osten—he winked as I passed him, and it wouldn't surprise me at all if he had some trick up his sleeve.

I was gasping for air when we finally slowed down, far from the church and the wedding and everyone who knew us. My breaths came out shaky, almost giddy. I felt like the luckiest man in the world, but I was also not far from breaking out in hysterical laughter. "So, uh…what's next?"

On the contrary, Eadlyn burst into tears. "O-oh my god, I can't believe I just did that!"

Panic seized me, but I automatically went to comfort her. It was like no time had passed: we were back in the Selection; we were close. "Hey. If you want to go back, you still can."

"I don't want to go back," she choked out, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I don't know what I was thinking, marrying Erik."

"You thought you loved him," I said gently. Erik was a nice guy. I'd really, really tried to be happy for him. Obviously that had not worked out.

She shook her head. "Not even that. I just thought it'd be easier. Safer."

"Safer than what?"

For the first time, she really looked at me. Her hazel eyes were watery, and her perfect makeup had smeared across her cheeks, but I didn't think she'd ever been more beautiful. "At the end of the Selection, Kile, I was scared. You have to understand: I had never felt that way before. When I gave you a way out, and you took it, I was relieved. I thought that'd be the end of it. Then there was Erik, so sweet and kind and falling all over me," Eadlyn went on. My chest tightened. "Erik never scared me. I knew from the beginning; he wasn't capable of breaking my heart."

Suddenly, I understood what she was getting at. Erik wasn't capable of breaking her heart but I was. That was the danger of really loving someone: you gave them the power to hurt you. Of course proud, independent Eadlyn would run from that feeling.

"But you. I never should have let you go," she concluded in a whisper.

"And I never should have left," I confessed. My heartbeat was finally slowing down, but it got louder with every beat, thudding in my ears. "Whatever you want, Eadlyn. I'm yours."

Her breathing had steadied, the flow of tears slowed to nothing. She held the eye contact easily, and suggested, as if it was no big deal at all, that we jet off to Italy and deal with the fallout of running away from her wedding in a few weeks.

Obviously, the answer was yes.