A/N: I have no affiliation with the cars by Mercedes Benz, or the goods by Louis Vuitton; and as far as I know, there is no such thing as an F60 rifle. If there is, I completely apologise; that name just popped out of my head somewhere, and I had no intention of making it sound like something familiar. It was all of my own imagination, and once again, I truly apologise if it bears any similarity to something else; or if I've forgotten to credit any corporations or brands, or anything. However, there is such a thing as a Glock (I read it in the Princess Diaries, or in Ice Station or somewhere), and I have no affiliation with the company who make the arms, or whoever made it or who named it. Also, with the permanent markers Sharpies. I cannot live without my Sharpie. If I don't have my sharpie with me to draw and doodle on my exercise books, I would not probably survive.

Once again, I just used the names to make the story just that little bit more creditable.

Oh, and one last thing: whoever can tell which song the lyrics that Ryan likes to scribble on his books will have the next chapter for Save Me dedicated to them! Just wanted to creative-ise my whole concept And now …


- TWO -

Of Breakfast Duty and Biology Homework

Armed Guards Academy
Bentley, Australia

"Oh my God, Harriet, did you see Prince Matthew last night? Isn't he dreamy?"

"Oooh, yeah, but I'm more of a Prince Nicholas fan," answered Harriet, sitting opposite Lee, who was spreading butter and pineapple jam on her toast. She placed the sticky toast next to her bowl of cereal, and scooped some of the soggy cereal into her mouth which was bordered with plump, pinkish-red lips.

"Yeah, he's cute too, I guess," crooned Cadet Emily Wilson. "But Matthew's got this … air of …"

"Stupidity?" offered Lee, snorting the reply, and taking a huge bite out of her golden brown bread.

"Yeah … I mean, no!" squealed the girl, realising what she'd just said. She clapped her had to her mouth. "Ohmigosh! I can't believe I just said that!"

"It's okay, Em. Cadet Jacobs here has no idea what true love is," comforted Harriet, who shot a menacing glance at Lee.

"Ugh. I know what it is. It's absolutely disgusting," Lee answered, her face looking horrified.

"Whatever, Lee."

"Yeah, whatever," sighed Emily Wilson, who brought out her picture of Prince Matthew ("Were they all in some royals magazine?" thought Lee, who looked around the table to see a lot of the Cadets holding pictures of their favourite royal. Some of the guys even had pictures of the two elder princesses).

Lee shrugged and shovelled some cereal into her mouth. She folded the square of toast, and ate the whole thing in four sequential bites; eventually drowning the whole thing down with a full glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Ugh, Lee, can't you be a bit more … I don't know … dainty with your eating habits?" Harriet said, her nose wrinkling with utter disdain. "Your table etiquette is absolutely vulgar. Finishing school would do you good, as my grandmother would say," she finished delicately, receiving a nod from three or four of the other girls on the table.

Lee grabbed the serviette off the table and prettily wiped the corners of her mouth ("That's better," said Harriet, who received an ominous look from Lee), and gave a small belch. "Oops—but we're not here at finishing school, dick. We're here to learn how to fight."

"And you're fitting in well, here, with a school that's sixty percent male populated."

Lee rolled her eyes. "Finish your breakfast, quickly," she said, throwing the serviette on her plate, and pushing her chair back. "We have to see Major Kingston." Lee stood up, picked up her sap green satchel which matched uniform, and slung it over her right shoulder; and waited patiently for her dorm-mate.

Harriet froze whilst drinking her coffee. "Do we have to?" she whined, dropping her shoulders and frowning. "I don't want to get in trouble again."

"It's your bloody fault," Lee said, with eyes wide open. "If you hadn't even suggested we watch that absolutely ridiculous ceremony, we wouldn't have been here in the first place!"

Harriet frowned again, the lines on her forehead crinkling up even more. "Well, I'm sorry—isn't that enough?"

Lee rolled her eyes again. "NO."

Harriet sighed, popping the last piece of her toast in her mouth. "Fine, fine, I'm going," she said in a huff, standing up leisurely and sighing loudly again. She too grabbed her satchel, hers a more eccentric lime green.

Lee, who was already standing, pulled Harriet up further, making Harriet grunt in pain, and her satchel jump, rattling the pencil tin.

"Ow! That totally hurts!"

"How you got accepted into an academy that teaches fighting when you can't even stand that pain is absolutely beyond me."

Harriet rolled her eyes again and sighed. "I got accepted because I can dismantle an F60 rifle in twelve seconds."

"Oh, and who can't?" snorted Lee, grabbing Harriet's arm and pulling her towards the door, which was opened by two cadets on breakfast duty.

Harriet mumbled, "Yeah, of course you can. But you suck at aiming," which Lee ignored. Instead, she nodded her head towards one of the Cadets, whom she knew from her Physics lessons ("Hey, Drew," she said, nodding her head and acknowledging the stiff Cadet); and avoided the other.

Cadet Drew Callaghan nodded in return, and resumed his stiff stance, holding the door open for the two girls. "Thanks," said Lee, who looked at both the Cadets holding the doors; and received another nod from Drew; and surprisingly, Cadet Jake Hartford.

Cadet Jake Hartford.

Lee froze, along with Harriet, who stood up straight next to Lee. Harriet then literally melted, her eyes growing softer, her stance much more inviting.

"Hi, Jake," she crooned, bringing her forefinger to her lips, and biting it, giving Jake an absolutely intoxicating smile. Cadet Hartford smiled back, making Lee's knees turn to jelly.

"Cadet Jacobs," he said, flashing that smile again. To Harriet, he smiled even wider and acknowledged her with her name. "Harriet," he said, with that alluring grin. Harriet beamed with delight. The two Cadets holding the door open resumed their taut positions when a voice from the Main Corridor loomed nearer.

Jennifer Harris's voice could be heard from about ten metres away. "… So did you get those numbers, Adams?"

Another, unknown voice replied: "Yes, ma'am. We have. And they're willing to cooperate."

"Good," Jennifer Harris replied. She cleared her throat, and suddenly, her impressive figure was shadowed the doorway. Lee and Harriet backed to the nearest wall.

The two Cadets on breakfast duty saluted with pride, puffing out their chests and bringing their stiff palms to their eyebrows.

Jennifer Harris nodded her head, acknowledging the two salutes. She then looked to the right, where Lee and Harriet just happened to be. She started to walk towards the pair; but Harriet quickly scuttled behind Lee, who rolled her eyes. "Baby," she hissed to Harriet, but Harriet ignored her.

"Good morning, ma'am," Lee said with a salute, in a voice level that wasn't as high as the one she used last night; to the Level Captain.

"Cadet Jacobs," she said, with another nod of her head. She bent to the right, looking at Harriet square in the face. "Cadet Spencer," she said, making Harriet flinch slightly with cowardice.

"Ma'am," she said, standing up slowly, bringing her right hand to a salute once more with hesitance.

"As you were, Cadets," she said, making both the Cadet's stiff bodies limp back to place. "I see you've both finished your breakfasts—I supposed you're about to attend to Major Kingston's requests."

"Yes ma'am," answered Lee, with utmost respect. "We were just about to go to his office when you entered the hall."

"Good. I won't keep him waiting then," she said, stepping aside to let the two girls pass.

"Thankyou, ma'am," Lee said with another salute, making Jennifer nod her head. Harriet squealed and ran away with her tail in-between her legs, exiting the room from the two doors opened by the two Cadets on duty ("Bye Jake," she crooned when the handsome Cadet opened the door.).

Jennifer Harris's eyebrows were raised when Lee looked back at her Level Captain.

"I'll see you at Physics, ma'am," Lee said out aloud to Jennifer Harris.

Jennifer Harris nodded. "Off you go, Cadet."

Corpus Christi College

The bell rang, which sounded the start for the day's schooling. Prince Nicholas Ryan Fredrik the Third ducked out of his chauffeur-driven Mercedes Benz, and walked into the school from the back door; avoiding the paparazzi at the front; awaiting his response on the subject of his mother's wedding the day before. As the only sibling out of five elder siblings, Ryan was the only one who still attended high school. In fact, this was his last year; next year, he planned to go to Uni and study Forensic Science. Somehow, the feeling of being in a laboratory and analysing time frame sequences; and the smell of that Bromothymol blue was exhilarating. For Ryan, the feeling of being in a lab and actually doing stuff with his hands was slightly orgasmic.

Ryan walked silently in the even more silent halls of Corpus Christi College, with the shadow of his bodyguard looming behind him. The Princely Prince was allowed to appear a couple of minutes after the morning bell, because of the trail of photo-snapping morons that the Prince usually left behind. Plus, it gave the Prince a chance to walk the empty halls, and to get to his morning class without the group of adoring fans. He didn't mean to sound like a narcissist, but a public status as high as his did accompany the typical horde of worshipping devotees; most of which were girls. He didn't want to be late for school, and even though at times he was usually early, the school secretary always called him into the office to "talk to him" until the second bell for school rang. It was at this second bell that everyone filed into their classes; and as usually, Ryan was always late because of the on-purpose "chats" to the secretary about this year's National Budget. So, he had gotten used to just accepting the fact that he was never supposed to be early. Ryan would just come late, in his usual stupor.

Prince Nicholas Ryan Fredrik the Third held his first lesson's (Biology) books in his arms; his expensive looking Louis Vuitton satchel slung across his shoulders and behind his back. His uniform was not out of the ordinary, and yet with every exquisite stitching and every square of the finest fabric, the word wealth shone through. The boys' uniform at Corpus Christi was grey slacks and a white shirt with a burgundy and gold diagonally striped tie. It was topped off with a navy woollen pullover, whose ribbing was striped navy and burgundy and gold as well, and a burgundy blazer with a navy piping; the school's crest and motto resting above Ryan's heart. The girls' uniform was pretty much the same; except they had the chance of wearing grey skirts or tunics of they wanted to. If truth be told, the Prince didn't really socialize with many of the girls in his class, or indeed his year level or school. He had his own close group of friends, but the Prince and his four friends were separated into different classes at the start of the year. Of course, Ryan could always ask to be placed into the same class as one of his friends, and the teachers would probably have readily agreed; but his mother told him at a very young age not to exploit the situation.

The prince rested his smooth and uncalloused hand on the shiny silver knob of the entrance of his homeroom: S14. But he then stepped back, and made way for his miserable bodyguard. Mike turned the knob and entered the room with his down head up and proud; whilst Ryan entered the room behind Mike, with his proud head down.

Thankfully, his class was used to the usual sweep of the room by Ryan's bodyguard. Mike stepped into the room and looked around, everyone aware of the Glock in his holster. He scanned the room with his Calvin Klein sunglasses (the Queen insisted that if bodyguards were to follow her children, they at least had to look good), and turned around to nod at the Prince.

"Thanks Mike," Ryan mumbled, and he ambled towards the desk he sat on, at the very front of the room, right next to the door. Just in case of an emergency, they had told him. There was a spare seat right next to Ryan, where Mike sat. The room was always configured like this when Ryan was concerned. His desk was at the front, and there was a seat there for Mike right next to Ryan's desk—always.

"Rrrryan, so neyce to seeeeee youuuu," the teacher chirped from the front desk in highly accented English. "'Ow are youuuu todeeeeey?"

"Um, good thanks," he mumbled once more, looking down at his Biology textbook, and taking out his Sharpie and uncapping it; bringing the pointed, black tip onto his pencil case and starting to draw inane little pictures. His own personal favourite was the smiley face and lyrics from his favourite songs. "I'm surrounded by liars" was a personal favourite.

"Bon," Mademoiselle Piera said from the table, flashing Ryan her best sickly saccharine smile. He smiled in return; soft dimples appearing in his cheeks. A few girls audibly sighed.

Mike beside Ryan sniggered.

The bell rang once again to sound the end of another tediously fake period. Ryan had had Biology, and for once in his life, he had forgotten to do his Review Questions (on page 224). When he had rifled through his Biology folder to look for the damned questions and the prac report, and to no avail, he looked apologetically up at his teacher and pleaded with her to be able to ask one of his "friends", a.k.a. Max, his chauffeur, to drive back up to his "friend's house", a.k.a. Château Devereux up in Devereux Pré, to retrieve his homework. However, the professor smiled at the Prince, who really didn't want biological warfare or whatever to break loose, and said that it was okay; he could hand it in tomorrow. Ryan was happy to accept, until the teacher added, "Or you can hand it in whenever! Next year's okay with me!"

The teacher's voice wasn't dripping with sarcasm or spite; in fact, the teacher had the best intentions at heart when he had said that aloud. But to Ryan, whose thankful smile disappeared when he had heard the words tumble out of the teacher's mouth, it meant that because of the 'Prince' in front of his name, and of the sudden disappearance of surname at the end of the string of names he owned, the teacher did not see him as an equal among his peers. It didn't help Ryan's viewing, either, that when Oliver Preston, who sat next to the Prince because of a corneal problem, refused to brandish his piece of work, the teacher snarled at Oliver and told him to be at the detention hall after school.

Because of his title, Ryan wasn't treated equally.

Because of his title, Ryan wasn't seen as a normal kid.

Okay, he thought to himself, so there isn't anything normal about, well, being a Royal; but he at least wanted to be treated like normal. He, in truth, was still a kid, no matter what the drinking age was in Montagé, and whether he, according to Montegian law, was allowed to smoke, drink and have wild partying nights; or whether his mother gave him a weekly allowance that was redundant on so many levels.

Ryan was, in essence, a normal kid.

But the stupid 'Prince' in front of his name impeded him from being seen as a kid like any other; insecure, careless, and at times lonely.

Château Devereux du Montagé
Devereux Pré, Montagé
The Table Small Room, North Wing

"Hey Matthew, what's a mitochondria?" asked Ryan in passing, reaching over Table Small (knighted rightly so, since it was much smaller than the dinner table the Queen used for her monthly dinner parties—that one was about 15 metres long) to get the pitcher of water.

The second eldest (or second youngest, depending on which way you looked at it) son continued to chew his food, and looked thoughtfully onto his plate. "Mitochondria: the site of cellular respiration."

Ryan nodded his head in thanks, and bent down to get his Biology notebook from beneath the table. He resurfaced on the table, amidst all his siblings but one — Jasper was late from Parliament again. "Sorry, say it again—"

Matthew sighed. "Mitochondria: the site of cellular respiration. You should know that by now. You're doing Year Twelve Biology. Even I knew that even before I started Biology in Year Ten."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Well, not everyone can be twenty four year old geniuses you know, Matthew."

Matthew in turn rolled his eyes, and started tossing a bread roll in his hands, catching it and then taking aim at Ryan's head. He was about to throw it, when Jasper came into the Table Small room and huffed angrily, loosening his lavender tie and pulling a chair to sit on. Everyone turned around to watch his dramatic entrance, including Ryan and Matthew, who dropped the bread roll and watched their twenty five year old brother walk into the room with a huge frown on his genetically blessed face.

"How were the old geysers?" asked Jasmine moodily, still not happy about the fact that even though she was older than Jasper (by about ten minutes, but older nonetheless), Jasper was the one asked to oversee Parliament proceedings, because he was the oldest in the family, next to the Queen, who was a male. "Try and get any free parking spaces for the commoners?"

Jasper rolled his eyes and took the plate of Caesar salad passed to him by Catherine. "God, how long does it take fifty old men to talk about free parking spaces? That was the only agenda that we thoroughly went through today. I don't know how mother does it every single day."

Everyone turned from watching Jasper to back onto their own plates, mulling about the story of their own day. Ryan was the first to say something.

"My day wasn't as boring as yours, Jazzy, but it sure was as pointless."

"What happened now?" asked Jasmine, cutting up the chicken schnitzel for the seven year old Sophia.

"Well, firstly, I was late for class again—"

"—but you're allowed to do that."

Ryan ignored her. "—and then I forgot my piece of homework for Biology. I offered to get for the teacher, but the teacher said that I could hand it in tomorrow."

"That's good, isn't it?" mused Matthew, continuing to stare onto his plate.

"Yeah, but when he went over to the next kid, and they didn't have their homework, he gave them detention."

"Oh," said the four older siblings in unison, full understanding Ryan's predicament. They'd all hated the way that, when they were in high school themselves, they were treated unequally amongst the students in their year level. They were always given extensions for projects when they didn't need it, or extra hall passes when they didn't need it, and even days off when they truly hadn't needed it. Of course, only once or twice would they utilize the situation, but no more. They still hated it.

"That sucks," ruminated Catherine, the twenty two year old ballet genius and the musical virtuoso.

"Bummer," input Matthew.

"Don't take any notice of them, Ryzie," said Jasmine, evoking feelings of hatred from her junior years. "They're just a bunch of weirdos."

Everyone except Ryan looked at Jasper, awaiting his own words of solace. Ryan looked down at his plate and rolled a kernel of corn around with his fork. Jasper looked up, and glanced at each of his siblings, each of them nudging their heads to Ryan's direction and mouthing "Hello?" to Jasper.

He cleared his throat, and coughed. Everyone waited for his inspirational speech, including little Sophia, who was slightly amused by the whole ordeal about his seventeen year old brother.

"Yeah, what Jasmine said," replied Jasper.

Matthew rolled his eyes along with Catherine and Jasmine, and groaned at Jasper.

"What?" he retorted, giving everyone the 'don't blame me' look. Everyone shook their heads in disappointment.

"What?" Jasper repeated angrily. "Look, if you asked for words of sympathy, you're not going to get them." he sighed. "I'm not saying that Ryan shouldn't be offended, because he should. I even agreed to that. All I'm saying is that he should be used to it by now, since he's going to get that every single day of his life until he dies. Everyone's going to treat him differently, because he's different."

Ryan looked up at Jasper, along with everyone else. Catherine, Matthew and Jasmine looked at Jasper with mouths slightly open.

"What kind of an answer is that?" asked Jasmine incredulously, lightly banging her fist on the table.

"A good answer," said Ryan. Everyone looked at Ryan.

"Huh?" asked Sophia, understanding why everyone looked at Ryan weirdly.

"Look," Ryan started, "I understand that people'll treat me differently because of the 'prince'—" he used air quotes, "—and this," he gestured to the lavish castle they occupied, "but all I want is to be seen as any other kid. But I know I won't be able to get that. And I'll accept it. It just sucks, that's all."

"Oh, so what do you want to do? Move to some other country for a year to be treated differently? God, which movie have we seen that in before?" said Jasper sarcastically, chewing the head of a piece of broccoli.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Never mind," he said, and he stood up, taking his books from underneath the table with him and stalking off to his room on the third floor.

Armed Guards Academy
Bentley, Australia
The Major's Office

"Cadets, you both know very well what time your curfew is."

"Sir, yes, sir," said both Lee and Harriet in unison.

"And yet, you both disobeyed orders and stayed up until past that."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"And I understand that it was your Level Captain that found you both in your rooms skiving off curfew."

"Yes sir, it was," said Lee, still in her stiff stance, with her hand still in a salute. "And sir, can I just say—"

"You haven't been given your time to explain yet, Cadet. Keep yourself in line."

"Yes, sir," apologised Lee.

"Now, when is your next meal duty, Cadet Jacobs?"

"It's all of next week's lunches, sir."

"And you, Cadet Spencer?"

"I'm doing my duty with Cadet Jacobs, sir."

"I see …" trailed the Major, turning in his chair to stare out the window. Whilst he had his back towards the two Cadets, both of them stole a glance at each other. Harriet's face was one of pure terror, whilst Lee's was one of forced calm.

Major Barney Kingston turned around in his chair, and stood up to inspect two of his best Armed Guard Cadets.

"Cadets Jacob and Spencer, you are two of my best Cadets. You both work diligently, and more importantly, you work as a team. But just because I favour you as students, this does not mean that your transgression and your disobedience will not go unpunished.

Tomorrow, you will be helping the Cadets on breakfast duty. Furthermore, you will have to attend two hours of afternoon detention with your Level Captain for a week. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Major Kingston, sir," said the two Cadets. Somehow, they always seemed to know the right response for every situation.

"This is to remind you that just because you can dismantle an F60 rifle in twelve seconds, this does not give you the right to go around willy nilly and commit offences. Make sure that one more act of insubordination will cost your spot on the ACT team. You're excused, Cadets."

Lee and Harriet took their hands out of their salutes, and turned around to walk out the door. Harriet was already out of the office, and Lee was about to follow her, when Major Kingston stopped her from escaping.

"Hold on, Cadet Jacobs."

"Yes sir?"

"I understand that you're planning to try out for the Advanced Combat Training Team. Is this correct?"

"Yes sir. It is. Actually, it wasn't my idea. My Level Captain encouraged a lot of us to try out. Even Hattie."


"Harriet, sir."

The Major still looked blank.

"Cadet Spencer, sir."

"Oh, yes. I see."

There was silence between the two, when Lee spoke up. "Sir, can I … go now?"

"Oh yes, of course. You're excused, Cadet. Oh, and one last thing."

"Yes sir?"

"Your aiming wouldn't, er, how do you say it, suck as much as it should if you'd keep at least one of your eyes open when you shoot and aim. You'll, er, see—if you'll pardon the pun."

Lee snuffed a laugh, and walked out of the room.

A/N: OH MY GOD! I CAN'T BELIEVE I HAD THE TIME TO WRITE THIS! Which would then mean that I'm BLUDGING studying for my exams. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! 'o' LOL. Well, this'll probably be the last of my updates until the end of Exams, which means that even "Rebound Ace" won't be updated until about June 30th. And will you look at that, I just sat on my computer today, and my fingers did all the tlaking. I'd barely even started this chapter (as stated on my bio) - in fact, the next instalment of "Rebound Ace" was longer than what I'd written for SMOBP. He he, isn't that funny? Try saying that acronym ten times in a row ...

LOL. Anyways, I apologise for the delay, and for all of you that have read "ReboundAce", I'm sorry for updating this earlier than I've updated that one. Blame stupid exams shakes fist at exams DAMN YOU! Anyways, here is the next part of this stupendously tremendously abolutely fantasmagorical story. Hope y'all like!

Okay, so here's the other thing: the characters' ages. A couple of people were a little curious about the characters' ages. They were littered and scattered around about the story, so here's the dealie-oh, in case you DIDN'T READ THE CHAPTER PROPERLY, in which case, IT'S YOUR OWN FAULT. Nah, it's A-OK. I forget A LOT of things too.

Sophia Lorelai – 7

Nicholas Ryan Fredrik III – 17

Catherine Anne – 22

Matthew James – 24

Jasper Kinsley – 25

Jasmine Sara – 25

Queen Marguerite - 45

Hope you guys found them alright. And hope that you liked the story.

Yay! Another chapter done, another bunch of people who rock my jocks which came with free socks.

Thanks a whole fantasmagorical bunch of red red red red tulips (you thought I was gonna say roses, didn'tcha!) to:

Bananalogic: Jeez, Hannah. You know how much you rock? You rock so much that the Earth TILTS because you rock so much. Does that even make sense? LOL. You and Danna were the first people who reviewed this story, and or that fact, I truly, truly, truly appreciate it. Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing! Hope you like this chapter!

Danna: Hey hey hey! Read that bit that I wrote about you up there with Hannah's response ... waits until Danna reads it ... Done? Okay! See! You rock as much too! And Montage is said as Mon-TAH-jay ... it's like, you know in Queer Eye? And they say Tsjuz a lot? I don't even know how to spell it. Well, in case you actually KNOW what I mean, the sound at the start of the word tsjuz or however you spell it, ths "tsj" bit, is how you pronounce the "g" in Montage. So it'll be Mon-TAH-tsjay. LOL. How funny does that look? Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Sleeping Angel: Mr. Anderson ... LOL. Hello, Marian! It's okay that you like this one better than Reboudn Ace. To be honest, I think the reason why I updated this one much faster than Rebound Ace was because I, at the moment, have more ideas for this than Rebound Ace. I have the ideas for that one written down somewhere ... Anyways, I don't kick anyone unless they kick me first. Like my sister. LOL. Well, thanks for reading and reviewing! And get your butt moving! Just because you're in, GASP SHOCK VCE, doesn't give you an excuse NOT TO UPDATE. Though, it's a much more plausible excuse for me Thanks again, Maz!

xxSilverMoonxx: Hello there, Kate! You an Ozzie, too? That's great, then, mate! Let's put another shrimp on the barbie! LOL. And you're from the First State? I'm from the Garden State. You like toe socks and Rove too? YOU ROCK! Dude, you are my new friend hugs Kate Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.

Thanks everybody.