I'll Protect You (Re-Edit #2, 2016)

You actually make a pretty decent bodyguard

[a/n]: if there's any chunks missing, let me know! 

dedicated to blueangelskryptonite for the adorable and fluffy banner she made!!

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"Princess Park, do you believe that Vincent Blackewell was a part of--"

"Your Highness, what do you have to say about the betrayal of the Blackewell cla--"

"Are you pressing charges?"

"Can you name those involved in the Easkey confrontation?"

"Can you confirm the recent news of Alec Darkwood also being a traitor?"

"Are you and Logan Cross official?"

The last question I wanted to confirm--give them something to blow up about and race back to their buildings to see who could print the news first so they would leave me alone during my visit with Vincent. Alas, my cover back at Paradise had yet to be revealed, and if Logan and Princess Park were confirmed to be dating, then that meant Alex Finch was Princess Park, and honestly, I was starting to miss my secret identity. I didn't need the press to know about her. 

So I could only make a face at the reporter who asked me the question, point to Logan, and mouth the word 'ew' before continuing on. 

The flashes of cameras spasmed through my vision, the shouts and questions of reporters and news anchors thundering in my ears. They were shoving against the bodyguards, thrusting mics and smart phones and video cameras towards me. There was a part of me that wanted to knock the devices out of their hands and stomp all over the gadgets, but my zen lessons from Zen told me I needed to repress my aggressive urges. 

After all, I already had enough attention from the press. The last thing my family needed was more tabloids, all of them reading: "Princess Park Embarking On Yet Another Violent Rampage."

Plus, I had a sprained ankle, which was forcing me to use Logan as support (which, unfortunately enough, was fueling the dating rumors). I don't think my bones could handle a vicious stomping. 

My name was called over and over again, intrusive questions relentlessly thrown my way as I continued further down the Blackewell grounds, passing by the empty fountain stationed in front of the steps of the black stone mansion. Logan himself was growing agitated with the questions. He was filling in as my personal bodyguard for the day and he took the job so seriously that I'm sure that all of my aggression was being soaked up by him. He eyed the reporters with a frightful gleam to his eyes and when one managed to stumble in my way, Logan uttered a command that had the man removed from my path within seconds. 

A feeling of claustrophobia began to press against me and it soon became hard to breathe under the pale sunlight. My fingers dug themselves into Logan's shoulder while I prayed that the panic would ease off. When my gaze trained itself on the lonesome figure at the top of the steps, I swallowed the anxiety and pushed myself to stand straight and tall, holding my head high. 

It was only Vincent braving the onslaught of the press since his father, Lord Henry Blackewell, was required to attend the Court meeting today. Even from where I stood, I could see the fatigue plaguing the boy. He was sickeningly pale, with shadows lingering under his eyes. His cheeks were hollow, his smile strained. Vincent had lost the shine to his eyes, and my heartstrings twinged at the sight of him. 

I balled my hands into fists and headed up the stairs. Logan held out his arm to me, and the corner of his lips twitched. He wanted to smile at me. I knew he did, but he was dating a girl named Alex Finch and the paparazzi would surely twist something devilish out of a smile.