"I'm just gonna take a wild guess and say that that wasn't supposed to happen?" Sam whispers in his brother's ear, getting a stunned nod in response.

The entire room is silent, everyone still reeling in the aftermath of the prince's departure.

Bex is stood at the altar talking to the priest, who looks considerably more upset than she does even though she's the one had been jilted.

Sam looks over at his brother's friends, Elina and Grace, who sport matching expressions of disbelief on their pretty faces. He doesn't know much about them, aside from a couple of brief meetings, but he can safely assume that they were the cause of all of this upset.

He leans past his brother, raising a hand to tap the darker skinned girl on the wrist.

She looks across to him with a dazed look and then says quietly, "Oh. Hi, Sam."

"Don't you think you should go after him?" Sam says, head gesturing to the side door a few feet from them which opened to the outside world.

"My thoughts exactly." The four friends all turn their heads towards the central aisle and are met with the stunning form of Rebecca.

The blond is looking down at Grace, with a soft, expectant smile, "He's probably freaking out."

"He's freaking out?" Grace exclaims in a low, exasperated voice, "You've just been jilted!"

"Does it count as jilting if I told him to go?"

"You told him to go?" Will says incredulously, his Welsh accent thick with confusion.

"Well... not in so many words." Bex frowns, "I knew he'd change his mind about the wedding."

"Not like that I presume." Sam guesses, and when Bex nods, he concludes, "Definitely jilted."

"I'm going after him." Grace blurts to the group. Then she stands quickly, earning a couple of looks from those of the guests who hadn't yet left the building.

"How do you even know where he'll be?" Elina says, face scrunched up in confusion, her lipstick painted mouth drawing closed in a pout.

"I just do." Grace responds, self-assured, then scurries out from the pew and through of the nearest door to the outside.

~~~

The reception, if a gathering of perplexed wedding guests in Westminster Abbey's large celebration hall can be called a as such, has a strange atmosphere.

Bex is still there, flitting around, taking condolences from people that she barely knows, nearly looking as though she had just been publicly heartbroken... and well, to an unwitting spectator, it must look like she had.

Sam clings to the walls of the hall, as well as he can when there are eager waiters at every nook and cranny.

Among his friends and family, he has developed quite the reputation as a people-watcher. His uncanny ability to look at people and read them perfectly is eerie, and almost Sherlock Holmes-like, without the social ineptitude.

Well, maybe a little ineptitude, he is clung to a wall after all.

"Is there a reason you're stuck to the wall like mold, mini-Will?"

Sam jumps, and snaps his head toward the source of the noise. Stood beside him, classic smirk on his face, is Richard, still in his black suit from the wedding.

"Just... observing." Sam replies, "It's much more enjoyable than whatever my brother is trying to do."

He gestures before him, where Will is being flanked by a gaggle of rich older women, all entranced by his soft good looks and charming accent.

"I dunno," Rich jerks his head, noting the way the women rub his arms, "He might end up with a sugar mama by the end of the night."

"I highly doubt he would want that." Sam scoffs, reveling in his brother's discomfort.

"Oh yeah," Rich raises an eyebrow, then squints accusingly "and what would he want?"

"You." Sam says without hesitation. He had never been one for subtlety, preferring to say it how it is. The worst thing that could happen is a rejection.

Rich laughs bitterly, raising his glass to take a swig, "Yeah right. With the way he ran from me the other night, I find that hard to believe."

Sam frowns and furrows his brows, turning to the taller man, "Ran from you? What happened?"

Rich looks slightly awkward, as though he is concerned about sharing something so personal and intimate with Will's younger brother, but at Sam's expectant look, he explains.

"We kissed the other night, a lot, but the moment I tried to do more than that, it was like he'd been stung. He just...walked away from me."

"'More', like...?" Sam prompts.

As a response, Rich just awkwardly gestures downwards.

"Aha." Is all Sam says, sipping from his champagne flute.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam frowns again. It's clear that this is not a Rich problem, but a Will one. Though he likes to say it how it is, Sam is very aware of the delicacy of sexual identity. This is matter which is private to Will. And if he wants Rich to know about it, he should be the one to tell him.

"It's not about you. He wants you, I promise."

"Then why did he run?" Rich presses.

"You need to talk to him about that." Sam looks at him pointedly.

"Why can't you?" Richard whines desperately.

"Because it's not my place!" Sam tells him, looking at the taller man in eye, trying to convey some sense of importance, "Look, please just speak to him. I promise you it's not what you think. But you have to speak to him to understand."

Rich looks skeptical, but he stares in Will's direction despite himself. Will, as though feeling eyes on him, glances at the pair, giving them both a small, beautiful smile before turning his attention back to his admirers.

"Okay." Rich nods, slightly breath-taken, "I'll ask him myself."

Then he marches off on a mission, leaving Sam to himself.

The dark haired boy resumes his earlier task of scanning the well lit room, noting the extravagant golden decorations littered on every surface. Glittering vases filled with plants are placed on every table which surrounds the dance floor, with the finest china meticulously placed upon them.

Sam's eyes land on a tall, caramel skinned woman, who is looking around the room with desperation in her eyes, though her movements are subtle.

It's Elina. Sam remembers having met her once while visiting his brother at university. She seems nice, both confident in herself and outspoken, a combination of traits that Will seemed to like in his friends.

Out of curiosity, more than anything, he walks up to her.

"Looking for someone?" He asks, following her eyes to the door at the far end of the hall.

"Oh. Um. No." Elina shakes her head once, snapping out of her thoughts.

"O-kay." Sam says slowly, voice giving away how little he believes her.

"How are you, Sam?" The tall girl smiles softly at him, giving off extremely sisterly energy, "Having a good day?"

"This is the first wedding I've attended, and I've already witnessed someone being left at the alter. This is a fantastic start."

Elina laughs breezily, shaking her head fondly at the younger man.

Sam laughs with her for a second, then stares up at her, analysing.

"Are you looking for Rebecca?" He asks, squinting slightly.

Elina's head snaps towards him, then she studies his face for a second, contemplating whether she should reveal the thoughts swimming around in her head.

"Yes." She responds, "I want to speak to her."

"About your feelings for her?" Sam presses, with an eyebrow tilted upwards.

Elina has the decency to look shocked, and slightly sheepish. She looks around the room briefly, looking for an escape route, or perhaps looking for eavesdroppers.

"I-" She frowns and huffs, "Yes."

Sam smiles, small and knowing, before gesturing with his head towards a door at the end of the hall which leads to a stairwell to the bridal quarters. He had seen Bex head up there not long ago, and unless she had jumped out of the third story window, she is yet to exit that area.

"She's up there?" Elina asks for clarification, waving a noncommittal hand in that general direction.

"Yeah. I saw her go up few minutes ago." Sam confirms, "I suggest you go up there and tell her exactly how you feel."

"What makes you think she'll feel the same way?"

"I never said I did." He responds with a furrowed brow, "Doesn't mean you shouldn't try anyway."

Elina regards her friend's little brother in surprise. Until now, she hadn't known many 18 year old boys to show such maturity. Sam seems to understand people in a way that most adults are still trying to grasp. Will was right about him being a special kid.

"Thanks, Sam." She smiles at him genuinely, placing a grateful hand on his shoulder then removing it to straighten her dress.

"No problem, Elina." He returns her smile with a small one his own, and watches as she bounds across the room toward the stairwell.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Sam takes a few steps toward a row of chairs in front of him. He takes a seat on the end one, which is the only free space.

As he sits, and gets himself comfortable, a soft, well-spoken voice caresses his senses.

"Best. Wedding. Ever." The voice is coming from his right side, but Sam almost doesn't want to look over, just to preserve the mystery of such a melodic tone. Sam, being Sam, can't help himself, and is even more awestruck by what he sees.

A young man, who can't be older than he is, if that, sat in an expensive black suit, accessorised with a grey bowtie around his neck and white rose in his lapel.

"Hi." The boy says, with a shy, yet blinding smile directed at his companion, "I'm Henry."

"Arthur's brother." Sam wants to say more, but for the first time in his relatively short life, he has been rendered utterly speechless.

"But...I'm Arthur's brother." Henry jokes with a cheeky smile on his pale face. It makes him look gorgeous, coy, and makes Sam's stomach do somersaults.

"No-I..." Sam frowns, "I'm Sam... Will's brother. If you know him."

"I know him." Henry smiles again. Sam's starting to think he doesn't have another facial expression. That, or he's really enjoying Sam's company. He's hoping it's the latter.

"I'm adopted." Sam blurts. It's a force of habit. Most people have this questioning look on their face when they find out that Sam is Will's younger, much darker brother. He's taken to just sharing that bit of information unprompted, just to avoid confusion.

"Uh." Henry only begins to look confused after Sam's admission, not before, which leaves Sam a little bewildered, "I know. Will doesn't stop talking about you."

"Good things I hope." If Sam could visibly blush, he'd be tomato red right now. He takes a sip of expensive champagne.

Henry is so handsome, in a boyish sort of way. Wavy, shoulder-length hair the colour of a freshly stacked hay bale. An angular face with a sharp jaw and impossibly high cheekbones. Striking hazel eyes which are tinted with blue accents that can't have come from either of his parents. Did his grandparents have blue eyes?

"Well he's very proud of you." Henry admits, before looking at Sam through his attractively long eyelashes, "He definitely didn't do you justice though."

"Oh..." Sam malfunctions just a touch and ends up guzzling the rest of his champagne in an attempt to still his beating heart. "Glad to know I've made a good impression."

"So far so good." Henry grins, nudging Sam slightly with his shoulder, "I'm expecting good things from you, Samuel."

"Samantha." Sam has no idea why he even said that. Normally he would have done anything to hide his real name, including assuming a more Eurocentric accepted one, like Samuel. But Henry is... different. He doesn't want to hide from him. He wants Henry to know him at his most authentic. Embarrassing name and all.

"It's Sri Lankan. After the god Saman." He continues awkwardly, avoiding looking in Henry's eyes.

Henry, god bless him, just smiles brightly, and says, "Samantha. I like it. A lot."

Sam looks at the boy beside him in awe, then manages to give him a genuinely delighted smile.

Perhaps his name isn't so embarrassing after all.