"Delivery," Jesse mutters, and Alouette sends him a dark look. If she ends up with a bullet hole on her forehead because of him, she'll haunt him until the end of the world.

"Speak up or we'll shoot!" the soldier on the other side of the glass shouts. The safety of his weapon comes off with a click, and now Alouette is gripping her thigh so hard she'll leave marks in her wake.

Jesse clears his throat but doesn't dare to lower the window. "We're coming through," he says, loudly enough to be heard. The skin between his knuckles tenses when he grips the steering wheel tighter.

Alouette is terrified. She likes to think she's used to playing games, but this isn't a game. It's a matter of seconds. They might not get out of here alive. She hasn't even properly said goodbye to Amina. She hasn't even fixed things with Elijah.

She feels so alone, a single girl in front of an approaching hurricane.

"With whose permission?" the soldier barks.

Alouette hasn't heard Harry get out of the car, but suddenly his door slams.

"Mine."

His voice descends on everyone like a wall of ice. Everyone freezes. They have the attention of all the soldiers in the square, now. Alouette watches him through the darkened window as he takes one single step away from the car, and immediately starts worrying.

He isn't dressed well enough. He doesn't look rehearsed enough. He doesn't look like he did when she took him away from the Palace—his features are sharper, his hair is a little longer. There's no makeup, no fancy suits, none of the things that have made up his persona for years. This isn't going to work.

As if on cue, the soldier in front of them points his firearm at him. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out of it. Alouette can nearly see the myriads of thoughts that are running through his mind. The resemblance must be uncanny to him too, but there's something that isn't quite right about the figure in front of him. That something is in Harry's messy hair, in the black circles under his eyes, in the tense angles of his mouth and the folds of his clothing. The man in front of him looks completely, undeniably human. And that's something Harry has never allowed himself to be.

"Put that down," Harry says. Alouette can't see him well now, but he's completely still—but, somehow, his stillness doesn't seem to come from fear, but from something very different. She has never heard his voice this cool, this calm. It's as if, deep down, he knows the other man won't shoot.

There's a slight tremble of the soldier's hands, and for a terrible moment she fears a shot might ring out. Everyone else is closing in, now. Guards are abandoning their posts in large groups, firearms in hand, curious to see what's causing such an interruption.

"I'm asking you kindly," Harry continues, ignoring everyone but the man in front of him, with his rifle still pointed at him. "But I won't do it again."

The man breaks. "Call the upper floors right now! We have a situation," he snaps at his closest companion, without lowering his weapon. "This building belongs to the government," he repeats, his eyes wide and shocked. "Its security is of the utmost importance."

Alouette finally understands, and something inside her fractures. He isn't holding Harry at gunpoint because he's Harry. He's doing it because he can't believe he's truly Harry. Just because he doesn't look put together like he usually does. Just because he's wearing different clothes, because there's a roughness in his behaviour that wasn't there before. Harry has inadvertently trained them all to be part of his show so well that the smallest change is enough to make them suspicious. Alouette doesn't know if it makes it even more terrifying, or simply sad. Despite everything he told her, Harry too is just a performer—he only gets to play director when he's dressed for the role.

The guard closest to the gates is speaking furiously into their intercom, but they're too far away for Alouette to hear. She can barely hear what is being said outside of the vehicle, but doesn't dare to open the door—not when she still has rifles pointed at her head. The soldiers are studying them curiously, as if they can't figure out what to do with them. Alouette knows they're only hesitating because of Harry. If he wasn't there with them, they'd already be dead. And nothing proves it won't happen before the end of the night.

What follows is the longest five minutes of Alouette's life.

The Palace looks even darker now, a tall tombstone against a deep, navy-blue clouded sky. The lights of the surrounding buildings shine intermittently on the ground, bathing the soldiers closest to the sides in the advertisements' hues. Blue, pink, yellow, green, blue... Alouette can't make herself look away.

All of a sudden there's a loud clang and a burst of light as the illumination of the wall comes to life, and the gates slide open just enough to let a figure through. It stops in front of them heaving loudly. Alouette can barely recognise Jackson before he lets out a gasp.

"Lower your weapons right now!" he shouts and runs towards Harry. "Sir?!"

The soldier points his rifle to the ground. There's a word from Jackson, and the spell is broken. All the soldiers stand at attention aside from the one in front of the car, that's still pointing a rifle at the windshield. Jackson is shouting, the guard next to the gates is shouting into their intercom, the gates are opening wider, people are running out. Alouette can't understand a thing.

A multitude of guards step out, and with them, three figures in black uniforms. Alouette remembers seeing them briefly in the past. They're part of the President's personal guard. Jackson is talking to Harry now, but she can't hear them over the chaos. She doesn't know what they're saying. The three guards dressed in black reach them, and more words are exchanged. Alouette forces herself to let go of her thigh before risking to draw blood.

At last, Jackson turns away from his President, and Harry raises a hand. Silence falls instantly.

"Let the Palace know the President is back," Jackson tells the guard next to the gates. "Check that everything is working correctly. There will be nothing but perfection awaiting him, and we will not accept delays."

The guard relays the message hurriedly, a nervous tremble in their hands. It's almost comical, considering they're the armed ones, and Harry is nearly weaponless.

The gates open in full. Harry makes his way towards them, flanked by his four guards.

He stops when he's on the edge of his universe and turns back. "What's your name?" he asks the soldier that held him at gunpoint.

The man stands at attention. "Bernard White, sir."

Harry considers him for a long moment. "Very well, Bernard White," he says at last. The square is so quiet Alouette can hear him clearly, even though he isn't raising his voice. "You're fired." He glances at Jackson. "Put it in the records." He walks inside.

Just as he disappears from view, there's a glint in the sky. Alouette knows what it is even before looking.

The lights of Harry's residence have been turned on.

She exchanges a tense glance with Jesse. What now?

Alouette wonders what Harry has told them. Are they about to be executed, or left outside? Has he told them anything at all, or has he simply decided to let the Palace deal with them?

She digs her nails into her palm not to harm her thigh any further. Jesse's knee is moving so furiously that the entire car is shaking.

One of the soldiers in front of the car lowers her rifle and walks to Jesse's side, motioning for the window to be rolled down. "We'll be letting you in now," she says when he does. "Drive slowly and follow our directions."

She goes back to the front of the car, and all the other soldiers lower their weapons and move aside. Three of the guards that have just stepped out of the Palace take their place. One waves them forward, and, slowly, Jesse drives through the gates. Alouette can't read the look on the soldiers' faces as they go past them. She wishes she knew what was happening. She wishes Harry hadn't left her alone.

The Palace guards follow them inside, and then the gates are shut loudly. Everything is over within twenty minutes, if not less. The citizens of Northfair still don't know, but everything has changed once again.

They're made to stop in the middle of the inner square, away from other vehicles. Two guards open their doors, and Alouette and Jesse step out.

"Leave your keycard in the car," one of them instructs when Jesse tries to put it in his pocket, and he leaves it on his seat with a sigh. "We'll check it and get your eventual belongings back to you."

Jesse sends Alouette a glance as they're being taken into the parking lot of the Palace and up the familiar set of stairs she was greeted by when she first arrived at the Palace in May. He doesn't say a word, but she understands.

When they step on the first floor of the Palace, everything is even more chaotic than she remembers. Soldiers and Palace guards mix together on the corridors, recognisable by the colour and decoration of their uniforms. The lights are so bright Alouette's eyes hurt.

They're checked for weapons, and then they're brought up to a staircase that brings to the second floor. There, they take all their belongings but the clothes they're wearing. Alouette feels so out of it that she can't focus on anything that's happening. She lets the stream of guards take them in a room, then in another. She barely notices they're going through more rounds of security than she did in May.

They're passed on like that, as if they were toys, for nearly twenty minutes. When they're finally abandoned in a locked, white room, Alouette covers her eyes with her hands and tries to slowly bring herself back to the present. The arrival at the Palace has scared her so much that she doesn't even feel like she's inside her own body.

For a moment, she thought they'd shoot Harry and them. For a moment.

"They took my phone." Jesse's voice rings out in the fictitious silence. "How am I supposed to—"

Alouette stands up from her chair and looks at him. He goes silent instantly. She realises she must've glared at him without meaning to. She steps closer to him. "Be quiet," she whispers to him, "I'm half-certain they can hear us." Then, after a moment, "Didn't Harry tell you not to bring your phone?"

Jesse clenches his jaw. "He didn't."

Of course. Maybe she'd be laughing at this, if the situation was less terrifying.

"Do you think... do you think he's betrayed us?" she asks in a whisper, squinting against the brightness of the lights. She didn't remember them to be so blinding. She didn't remember it all to be so overwhelming. She thought the Revolution was a lot after having been on the run for weeks, but it has nothing on the Palace.

Jesse shakes his head. "He needs us," he replies. He seems to be just as confused as Alouette, if not more. At least she knew what to expect.

He stands up and walks around the room. It's small and white. It looks like a holding cell for people that still haven't been deemed guilty. Briefly, Alouette wonders if this is the prison Harry referred to once, or if there's something harsher somewhere in the depths of the Palace.

"He'll give us another way to contact... you know," Alouette tells him, not daring to say names out loud while she still doesn't know what Harry has told them exactly.

"I hope so." Jesse finishes his round and sits back on the chair with a sigh. He closes his eyes and massages the bridge of his nose. "These lights are annoying," he mutters, "they're going to give me a headache."

Alouette hums. "You get used to it." She glances at the door, wondering how long they've been in that room. She'd check outside but doesn't want to give them any reason to suspect them, so she sits on the second chair and brings her knees to her chest. Her thigh hurts. She might've inadvertently scratched it. She leans her forehead on her knees and takes long, deep breaths. It's a good thing they're being held in a room. It means they aren't planning on killing them just yet, and that's something.

Still, though, that feeling of wrongness hasn't left. In fact, it has been multiplying ever since Harry left them. Now she understands the weight of Harry's question. It's a considerable exercise of faith to trust him now, when he's many floors above them, surrounded by people whose only desire is to protect and serve him. While she wants to believe he wouldn't put them in danger, there's a little voice at the back of her mind that tells her what if, what if...

She's never thought about the way entering the jewel of the night sky that is Northfair makes her lose true north every time.

Thirty minutes have to have passed when the door is suddenly opened.

"Sorry for the delay, we had to get everything ready," the woman says. Her uniform suggests she might be from the middle level of the Palace. "You certainly understand, we were not expecting..." She takes two folders out of the folder she's holding.

Alouette and Jesse stand up.

"Now... Jesse Haldings?" she reads out loud, before handing one of the folders to Jesse. "It's a printed copy of your ID. It's a little old style, but it'll allow you to activate the lift and the like."

He takes it and opens it. A plastic card falls on his hand, similar to the one Alouette used once. With the only difference being that this one is real.

The woman moves on to the second folder. "And Alouette Ivenhart, isn't that right? Your ID information was wiped from our website, but thankfully Mr. Styles was able to certify your identity, so we had another one made promptly. There you go!"

Alouette takes her folder and takes out the plastic card, studying the name and picture on it. At last, Harry has brought her under his control again.

"With everything that's happening it will take up to twenty-four hours for it to be uploaded online, but it'll still work for the lifts and so on. Now, if you'll follow me..." She walks out of the door, and Alouette and Jesse follow her without a word.

The corridor is still a hectic mess. Nearly an hour has gone by, but not much has changed. It makes Alouette feel even more overwhelmed. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you," the woman says, glancing at them over her shoulder, "your IDs can no longer be used to travel out of the country! It's just a matter of safety, of course. It'll be reversed at the end of your stay."

Alouette raises an eyebrow, but doesn't let out a word. Of course Harry wouldn't miss an opportunity to complicate things a little more for them. She isn't too bothered, though—also having no ID makes it complicated to leave the country.

From the way Jesse tenses up, though, she realises that she's the only one thinking that.

They turn into new corridors a few times and go up a set of stairs, and they stop in front of a closed door.

"The President has explicitly requested for you to reside upstairs," their guide says, before opening the door. "Go in and wait for directions."

Alouette is the first person inside. She finds herself in a long corridor. A door is on the other end, and a square desk is on the side, halfway through. Behind the desk, there's a man she recognises from the last time she was there.

"Your IDs, please," he says as soon as the door closes. They hand them to him and he nods before picking up the phone. "I have Ivenhart and Haldings here." He nods a couple more times, and then closes the call. "They'll be here shortly."

Alouette and Jesse exchange yet another glance, but, again, they don't say a word.

This time, they only wait for about five minutes.

Suddenly the lift's doors open, and two guards dressed in black step out. Jesse doesn't know the difference, but Alouette does. They're part of Harry's personal guard. And she knows one of them.

"Come with us," Jayden says. Alouette tries to meet his eyes as she enters the lift with Jesse, but he keeps looking at everything but her. He punches in a number and the doors close again.

There's an eerie silence in the lift for all the seconds of the ride.

The next time the doors open, it's to a world of clean glass and sharp white. People are roaming the corridors as if it were nine in the morning, instead of half past nine in the evening—and they're all dressed elegantly. Alouette knows, then, that by upstairs Harry meant the upper floors. The very heart of the Palace, of Northfair, of the country. Harry has brought her back to his home.

Jesse seems surprised by his surroundings, but the two guards accompanying them don't allow a second to go to waste, and take them down the corridor. People give them surprised glances as they walk past, but there's no way for them to already know who they are. All they know is that, after two months, their President has come back suddenly—and Alouette can see their surprise beneath the masks of politeness they're wearing.

They stop in front of a door. The other guard takes Jesse's ID and swipes it on the door before inserting a code. "This is your room," he tells Jesse.

Jesse steps inside.

"You're not allowed to leave until tomorrow. We'll provide you with anything you need later tonight. Be ready tomorrow at eight." The guard closes the door without letting him and Alouette say goodbye to each other and moves to stand in front to it.

Alouette's eyes widen. Are they going to be treated like prisoners? She shakes her head. She refuses to believe Harry would do this to her after insisting on asking her if she trusts him more than once. This can't be it.

"You come with me," Jayden tells her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

There are a thousand things she wants to ask but she can't get herself to open her mouth, so she lets herself be taken away.

They stop in front of another door on the same floor.

"ID." Jayden holds out his hand, and Alouette gives her plastic card to him. He swipes it and types in another code, slowly enough for Alouette to memorise it.

The door opens.

"You heard Brooks," Jayden mutters, waving towards the room.

"Jay—"

"No," Jayden interrupts her. "Just get in before I tell Jackson you're refusing to cooperate."

Alouette's breath catches, but she walks inside. Jayden closes the door on her right after.

She turns around and lets out a surprised gasp. She doesn't need to turn on the lights—the lights of the city coming through the large floor-to-ceiling window are enough. She stands transfixed as the green light on the bed's white duvet turns cobalt blue.

It's her old room. Harry has given her old room back to her.

She lets out a surprised laugh. She runs to the wardrobe and opens it, but to her surprise, it's completely empty. Her eyes widen and she checks her first hiding place, only to discover it's empty as well.

"Fuck," she hisses, running to the couch. She flips it over and finds the zipper of its cover. She opens it and feels around for the tear in the cushion. "Please let it be still there," she mutters as she finds it and feels around the stuffing of the cushion until her fingers find a hard spine. She's so relieved she would fall on the ground if she wasn't already kneeling down. She tugs on it, and pulls out her father's book. "Looks like I win this round," she whispers, smiling to herself and putting it back in its place.

She moves the couch back in its position and lets out an exhausted sigh, letting herself fall on the bed. She still hasn't been able to understand whether she's screwed or not, and the worst part is that a little part has missed feeling like that. She's missed the constant insecurity of the Palace, because those were also some of her favourite moments with Harry. Alouette is starting to think there might be something of incredibly wrong with her.

There's a knock on the door.

She opens it, and Jayden hands her a tray before closing the door in her face again.

She forces herself to eat even though the stress of the night has closed her stomach and has dinner sitting on the couch, facing the bright landscape of Northfair that keeps enlightening her bedroom with games of lights and shadows. Being there again brings an odd peacefulness to her. It's a place full of emotions, full of memories—

Her cheeks grow hotter. Full of memories indeed.

There's a new knock on the door.

Alouette gives the tray back, and Jayden hands her a bag.

"It's from the President," he explains when he catches the confusion on her face. "He thought you'd have nothing to wear for the night, since you've just arrived." He closes the door again, leaving her alone with the new bag.

She pulls out its contents and lets out a loud gasp. She was expecting many things, but not this.

She holds up the piece of fabric. It's a dress shirt—immaculately white, perfectly ironed. Straight from Harry's wardrobe, as his initials embroidered on the cuff certify.

Now Alouette's cheeks are even hotter.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! x
Miki