#royalfanficcollection

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 4. Him

‘be gentle my little thunderstorm, the world is just not ready.’ a.j. lawless

The day we had tea with the Cambridges ended the same way many before: with Lourdes sending a video of her ice skating routine asking for my opinion; that time I didn’t even pretend to see it. I ignored the text and tried to sleep. 

Louis barged into the room soon after.

“Will you stop ignoring our sister?”, he asked, rudely. “She notices, Maggie. And it’s really unfair.”

“Okay.” I said. “Goodnight.”

I heard him sigh, and nothing else. No steps out of the room, no creaky Clarence House door closing, no light down. Finally, I pushed away the cover and sat up.

“I can’t do this now, Louis. I have a headache.”

I’d come up with the headache excuse in order to skip dinner with the Prince of Wales and his wife, but my brother knew that excuse better than anyone. 

After leaving the Cambridges, we had gone back to Clarence House, where we were hosted for the trip, and changed into black attire for a military ceremony in town where I managed to avoid my brother to try and focus on being less upset. He wasn’t about to make it easy for me, though.

At one point, Harry came to stay in line with us as my father and Prince Charles received the compliments from the officials. He gave me that look of his I was now coming to identify as a signature look, one with more intentions than verbalized; one with more feeling than was allowed. 

“Nice dress.” He said. Leaning in close enough that only I could hear him, close enough that his lips brushed my hair and couldn’t be read by prying reporters, he added, “The person wearing it is prettier.”

It took all in me to contain an eyeroll, but the amused smile in my lips was impossible to hold back. Just as I felt my cheeks redden, Louis joined in.

“It’s probably our mother’s. The shoes definitely are.”

It wasn’t a dig for the untrained ears. My mother, in all ways, was more stylish and beautiful than a woman her age should be allowed to be. But knowing my brother for all the twenty-two years he’d been on this earth, I knew very well how to distinguish his honest compliments to his sarcastic ones.

Still, the moment passed, and I maintained the posture expected of me. Coming home, however, I had to tell my father I had a headache so I could come right upstairs before dinner, or else I might lose it in public. 

I had a nice, warm shower, put on my softest fleece pajamas, and brushed my hair while talking to my friend Constance on the phone about our other friend Stella and her terrible taste in men, allowing it to distract me from my brother and wild, unruly thoughts of Harry. 

After that, I got under the blankets and prepared to stare at funny pictures on pinterest - an app I had a fake, incognito account on - until sleep took over. I promptly ignored my sister’s text, as I was known to do, and not ten minutes later Louis barged into the room.

I finally heard the door close, and was overtaken by a familiar struggle against tears, but before I could decide if I should succumb to it, the mattress dipped as my brother climbed onto bed with me. A few seconds went by in silence before he finally broke it.

“Look. Maggie. I… I was talking to Will earlier.”

“Prince William?”

“Oui. I guess I just… I didn’t realize- of course I knew you were helping a lot back home. I just didn’t think it bothered you so much.”

I took it in; he was… almost apologizing.

“Well, now you know.”

“Yes, I do. And, I don’t know, I just…”

I pushed the blankets down and sat up, still not looking over at him, but allowing myself to be in the moment as well.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

I sighed, and finally looked over at him. 

My brother didn’t look too young or old, he had that odd quality of looking precisely his age. He had a light stubble growing around his thin, pointy jaw; it was the same color as his hair, blonde, which was now growing almost to his ears. It waved about, framing his eyes, a nice, dark blue shade just like mine - Lourdes had them too, all three of us had inherited them from our mother. The blonde hair we got from dad’s side of the family, as well as an unwavering determination.

“I’m not unhappy, Lou. I just… I could be happier, I suppose.”

He nodded. “And I want you to be.”

Letting out a long breath, I attempted to also let go of the anger, and focus on what I knew for sure about Louis.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. No matter the signs, or how often he was told of the contrary, Louis was always decided to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was a trait we got from our mother, too, and I wasn’t sure what had made me slightly more cynical than him in this aspect, but I suspected it happened somewhere in Law School.

Louis wanted people to be happy, to excel. He wanted laughter and adventure and success for every person that crossed his path. I knew for a fact there was no way he would ever really wish the contrary, on anyone. I knew something else, too, something much more important.

I knew exactly why he was afraid to come home.

“I know you’re trying to figure things out.” I told him. “I don’t blame you. I know it’s tough.”

He nodded, slowly, and took in a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was wavering; barely a whisper.

“I’m not, though. Not anymore. I think you know that. I haven’t been figuring things out anymore. I’ve known, really known, for a while now.”

All thoughts of the fight forgotten, I felt my heart tighten on my chest. I looked at my little brother, shrunk down and resolute, sitting by my side in bed. He was staring off into the room, but I knew, somehow, he was perfectly aware of my every move.

“You’re sure?” My whisper matched his. I presumed my fear did too.

He sighed, gulped, and shut his eyes tight, before opening them again and smiling at me, scared.

“I’m in love with him.”

The words were new, but the sentiment wasn’t; Louis was fifteen the first time he told me he thought he might be gay. I remembered the day as if I had been replaying it in my mind at least once a month ever since, because it was accurate. 

It was summer; I was almost eighteen, fresh out of my secondary school graduation, but still a few weeks before my adult future. We had been spending summer with our grandparents at the place they lived after my grandfather abdicated as king, Haydell Castle, in the east coast of Savoy. The Castle sat on a hill overlooking the Atlantic, and Louis, myself and Lourdes would go to the beach most afternoons to play volleyball and tan. One late afternoon, Lourdes was applying finishing touches to a sandcastle she’d spent hours working on. Louis had been helping, but left her to get some water from the cooler near where I was laying, struggling to read a book on the darkening light of the fast approaching sunset. 

He sat down by my side with a thud, drank half a bottle of water as I complained about the sand he’d inadvertently thrown my way, and then, without looking at me, said, “I think I have a crush on a classmate.”

Louis went to an all-boys boarding school. The boy in question was a very handsome senior, with kind eyes and handsome dimples. My brother spent a while telling me about how he liked sports and theater and wanted to backpack through South America after school. Then we spent the rest of the summer brainstorming what this could mean.

Monarchies weren’t built on diversity. The core of the system our family was built on was genetics and catholicism, two elements that were famously not very lenient. The Royal Family of Savoy had branched out from the French Royal Family many generations ago. Though we prided ourselves, then and now, that we were different, we still inherited some very big elements from them. A few tiaras, a few titles, and Catholicism. Though Savoy had freedom of religion, the monarchy’s official creed was still Catholicism. It was involved in most of our protocols and traditions, a king couldn’t even be crowned if he hadn’t been baptised in the church. 

The idea of a gay, catholic King of Savoy was ludicrous even to us, no matter how much we wished it wasn’t.

And then, there was the issue of the line of succession. Say the church and country allowed my brother to reign as an out gay man, say they allowed him to marry a man in the Catholic church, say they allowed him to be crowned as king with a prince consort… It would be his duty to secure the line of succession; a king’s job is to produce a child to be the next king whose child will be next after him, and so on. Though it was the 21st century, there was no precedent to a king’s heir being anything other than his own, biologic child. And even as we tried to consider the idea of my brother having one with an egg donor, using a surrogate, we immediately knew what that would mean: whoever this woman was, her privacy would never be respected. People would want to know everything about her. 

As to adopting, what were his options? In what world would the press not hunt down every possible information about the child’s biological family? Interview every distant relative for money? Come up with every way to embarrass them for clicks on an article? How could that child possibly be raised to be king with that kind of scrutiny surrounding them? 

I thought of it as we sat in silence. He loved Peter. Peter loved him. And yes, they were young and that might change, but Louis being gay wouldn’t. Louis wanting to be a father was unlikely to change. But there was no precedent for a king to have an adopted child as an heir, and having a biological child through surrogate would be too hard on a surrogate and her family, being harassed and forever linked to us. If he sacrificed his own wishes and decided not to have children in order to spare them, then me or my children would have to inherit, which to me was simply unthinkable.

“They’re not going to cut you out.” I told him. “You know mom and dad, they love you. They love us. It might be hard dealing with everyone else, but they’ll always support you.”

He gulped. “The thing is… they might love me, but that’s not enough to change centuries of tradition just so I can-”

“Be who you are!”

He was silent, pulling on a lose thread on the blanket.

“I suppose I could just do what they did back in the day.” He considered. “Marry some poor, naive girl, sleep with her just enough to produce an heir and make Peter my secretary so we can carry out a scandalous and secret affair.”

I gave him a sarcastic look, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” He started biting a nail. “I could just… not have children.”

“You want children.”

“...yeah.”

“We’ll think of something.” I told him, confidently. “It’ll be easier once mom and dad know. They’ll figure something out. They’re good at this. They’re not going to make you keep this a secret, they love you too much.”

He sighed. “It would be easier for me to abdicate.”

“That’s not happening!”

“Why?! Because you can’t fathom the idea of having to inherit?! You think it’s okay to put me or my children through hell so you can hold on to your comfort? Who’s being selfish now?!”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

“That’s not fair.” I wasn’t even sure the words had come out, so low was my volume and so loud my shock.

He reached out and held my hand in his, leaning over to lay his head on my shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I laid my cheek against his hair, holding his hand tightly. 

The worst part was knowing he was right. As unfair as it was, the easiest path was for him to come out and simply not have kids. But I didn’t want the headache of figuring out how to raise children to inherit after him, or worse yet, to have to be the heir if he was made to abdicate. It was such a colossal thought I couldn’t even think of it too much without feeling a panic attack creeping in.

He was 22. My little brother shouldn’t even be concerned about children at this age. And yet, because of the backwards traditions we were embroiled in from birth, he had no choice, and all our lives depended on how accepting the world would be of who he was.

“Hey.” I called, and he raised his head to look at me. “We will figure it out. I promise.” 

His smile was so small it broke my heart even more. He didn’t say anything, though. He just nodded, slowly, and stared at his hands.

“I love Peter.” I said, tentatively. I had said it before, but it carried a different weight now. Louis’ smile grew. 

“I want to introduce him to Lou. She didn’t come that time you met him, I think they’ll get along.”

I bumped my shoulder to his. “Just tell him to compliment her skating, she’ll love him.”

He chuckled, then looked at me very seriously. “Speaking of our sister, you could be more patient with her, you know?”

I sighed. “I am.”

“No, you’re not. Patient would be watching her videos and offering useful advice.”

“You’re asking too much.”

“I can do it, so can you! You think I care about ice skating?”

“Kinda.”

“Well… okay, I do. But they wear really sparkly dresses. Honestly, Maggie, she just wants to make you proud.”

“I don’t…!” I sighed, “I don’t really know how to talk to her, sometimes. I only had a couple of years with her before going to boarding school, you at least got to see her more often.”

He fished into his pockets, found his phone and opened the messaging app. I watched him create a group, add both me and Lourdes to it, name it ‘Louis’ Girl Gang’, and send the message, ‘this way it’s easier to chat!’.

“This way you can just watch how I interact with her and mimic.” He said. “Just react like me and soon you’ll be able to do it yourself.”

I opened my phone and replied, ‘this chat name is ridiculous’.

“Ouch.” He said, emotionless.

I gave him a dirty look, and we laughed. Both our phones buzzed at the same time with Lourdes’ reply, the first of many.

‘yay i love this! miss u guys!’

I smiled. She was too sweet for her own good. 

I had no idea what the future held for us, but I knew with one hundred percent certainty I loved every single atom of my siblings.

---- ---- ----

The drive to the polo club the following morning - our last one in Britain - wasn’t long, but we had to leave early enough that I had to do my makeup in the car. Did I need makeup to play polo? No. But would the press comment on how ‘tired’ I looked if I didn’t? Yes, so shaky hands on a tiny mirror it was.

Harry and William were already at the club when we got there; we were introduced to the horses we were using that morning, and the rest of the people who would be playing. There was a small breakfast laid out, with mimosas and champagne flutes, which we ate as we made some small talk and got to know everyone. 

“So,” Harry started, finding me alone by the water jugs.

“So.” I replied.

“I’ve been doing some googling.” 

“Yes?”

He sighed. “And I cannot, for the life of me, figure out when we may have met.”

“Oh.” I smiled.

I had started to think he’d forgotten it, or worse, simply didn’t care. But apparently he did. He cared enough to look it up.

The thought felt… oddly warm.

“I asked my people. And then I asked my people to ask your people, who weren’t able, or willing, to come up with an answer. So I do not know, for the life of me, when we may have met before two days ago.”

I nodded, smiling slightly. “Your efforts are noted.”

“Look, I feel like a jerk.” He sighed. “I’m sure I would remember you if we met before. You have a face a guy would remember.”

I swallowed the electric shock that line sent through me. “Apparently not.”

“Give me a hint. Was it here or in Savoy? Or another country? Day or night? Was it more than a year ago?”

I looked at him, brows raised. “It was in another country, during the day, more than a year ago.”

He nodded, attentive, scratching his beard. Then, he sighed dramatically. “God, I have no idea!”

“So you give up?”

He grinned. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. It’s a question.”

He stared into my eyes for a beat, as his smile grew.

“No, I don’t give up. I’ll figure it out.”

I nodded, silently, holding his stare.

I suddenly realized I didn’t have a plan. I hadn’t planned on making this a big deal, but now when I eventually had to tell him, we would both be faced with a story that wasn’t as interesting or sexy as we had made it sound.

“So, what are we thinking?!” My brother interrupted, joining us with William. “Heirs against spares?”

“What, and lose the chance to massacrate Harry on the field?” I challenged, as the ginger looked at me, mouth agape.

“Nice! I love the sentiment, Margueritte!” William cheered. “She’s on my team, dibs on Margueritte!”

“Excuse me, I believe I already have dibs on Mary.” Harry interjected, making his brother laugh.

The line was so unapologetically flirty I felt my jaw drop as I looked around. We were at a tent in the back, where the players were getting ready before being sorted into teams. There was no press around, but there was a lot of people who hadn’t signed NDAs or anything.

Louis was squinting at Harry with a mischievous grin on his lips. “Excuse me, are you flirting with my sister?”

I felt my stomach twirl in anxiety, and tried to give him a warning look, but before I could, Harry answered.

“I’ve been trying to, for the past three days.”

He was smiling at me now, again so unapologetically it felt as if I had lost all ability to function. William was watching the whole thing with an amused look on his eyes.

Louis’ grin grew into a smile, as he slowly moved his eyes from Harry to me, “Huh.”

“Is that a problem?”, Harry asked my brother.

“For me? No!” He assured him, “For you? Well…”

“She hasn’t exactly made it easy for me.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Louis-Adolphe!” I admonized, earning from him a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t use both my names as if you’re mom.”

William laughed.

“Any tips?” Harry asked Louis, very seriously, but looking at me as if studying an animal on the wild.

“Hm,” my brother considered him, “Patience. Her only relationship was with a family friend we’ve known all our lives, and that took forever.”

“Lou!” I warned, again.

“What?! It’s not like he can’t google you.” He shrugged.

“Okay.” I said, before turning on my heels to exit the tent.

I made myself busy elsewhere, but couldn’t keep my mind straight. My heart was racing and I couldn’t tell if the reason was Louis’ teasing or Harry’s unabashed flirting, or both. Before I knew it, though, we were stretching as a group, and getting our uniforms on; I did stay on William’s team, while Harry and Louis played together. 

He found me as we made our way into the field, while I was busy trying to tie the upper half of my hair on a low ponytail.

“Have I told you you look fantastic today, Mary?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll remedy that as soon as possible.”

“You look fantastic, Mary. White pants suit you.”

Harry’s eyes hovered down my body over my form-fitting white jeans under the black riding boots.

“Thank you.” I said, curt, and paced faster to my horse, starting to fasten the girth to adjust the saddle.

“...I’m sorry.”

I stopped, and looked back at him, only half surprised he was still there. A little more than half surprised by the genuine fear and sadness in his eyes. 

“Oh. For?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable before, when I was talking to your brother. I was just… trying to lighten the mood. Be, you know, funny I guess.”

I gulped; funny?

“Right. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I resumed my work on the horse’s saddle.

I even added a short smile to go with the lie, but it didn’t seem to convince him.

“Really, I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?”

He took a quick step closer and wrapped my hand in his; I felt my breath caught in my throat as I noticed how big they were, his knuckles were protuberant, his veins popped against his pale skin. In a dark corner in my mind I wondered what hands like those might feel like on my body.

“Mary.” He whispered, softly; I gulped, not daring to meet his gaze. 

“Marie.” I whispered back.

He sighed. “Marie. If you want me to stop, and just… be your friend, or even just a polite acquaintance…” 

He allowed the end of his sentence to hang in the air, ominous; It felt horrifying, specially hearing him call me my actual name. It made me look back at him, meeting his eyes a lot closer than I thought they would be.

“...all you gotta do is say so.” He finished, finally. 

The offer sounded awfully simple for a feat that sounded amazingly difficult, though I couldn’t understand why. He was being so annoying, so infuriating for the past three days. It would be so easy to tell him to back off, if only it weren’t for that little part of my heart that was trying to tell me he wasn’t that annoying. And really, wasn’t the only frustrating thing about it that we had had so little time together? After all, his hand was still on mine, and it did feel like my whole body was warmer than the British sun on that morning warranted.

“What’s this?” I asked.

As I looked back to his hands, I noticed once more that he had something written in them. He turned his palm towards me, while the back of his hand still rested in mine.

“This says ‘call Gil’, it’s the manager of my foundation in Lesotho. I have to get back to him about something. And this other line says ‘figure out trip’. It’s my mate’s birthday next month and the lads asked me to figure out how we can organize a hunting trip for him.”

As he explained his little reminder list on his palm, I traced it with the tips of my fingers lightly. After I ran out of the ink to trace, I started tracing the lines in his palm, very slowly.

“Bad memory?” I teased.

He sighed, “The worst. Well, not about important things. I remember important things. But names of people I met only a couple times, but should definitely know? Nope. And the deadline to things I have to do? Even worse. Hence the writing in hand.”

“Have you tried setting alarms on your phone?”

“I barely know how to make calls.” He rolled his eyes.

“Drama queen!”

“I’m serious! We’re not allowed to use social media, so really what’s there to do? I just don’t use it much.”

“God, it’s like you’re 80.”

He chuckled, and his hand closed on reflex over mine. Now it was almost as if we were holding hands. The thought, the warmth of his skin on mine, sent a shock wave through my body.

“Come on, Harry, no flirting with the competition!” Louis called out as he rode by.

We chuckled, timidly.

“Things seem better, with Louis.” He commented. 

I smiled. “We talked.”

“Did he understand?”

I nodded. “Yes. He’s got a good heart. He’s young, but he’d never willingly do something to hurt anyone. It’s just…” I sighed, giving him a side glance. “He’s got… some stuff to figure out. And I wanna help as much as I can. I just… Can’t sacrifice myself for it. And I think he gets it.”

There was a pause, a more comfortable one this time, and next time he spoke, he had a whisper of a smile on his lips.

“You didn’t ask me to stop.” He whispered. I looked at him. 

“I guess I didn’t.”

We exchanged a smile, and just as I felt my cheeks redden at the long pause, his brother rode by already on his horse.

“Stop flirting with my player, Harry, get to your horse!”

We jumped, startled, but chuckled timidly as he rode away.

“So, how confident are you that you’re going to beat me?”, he asked.

“Oh, only about 89%.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Ninety-six, tops.”

He nodded, amused. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Loser buys dinner.”

I bit my inner lip to contain a smile. It almost sounded like he was asking me on a date. Was he asking me out on a date?

“I… I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Well, Savoy is, what? Four or five hours away by train?”

“Another one and a half to the city where I live.”

He nodded, then shrugged. “I can do that. What do you say?”

I placed a foot on the stirrup, and jumped up to take my seat on the saddle.

“Win first, Your Royal Highness. Then we’ll talk.”

“Game on, Mary.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! please let me know if you like it? I’m open to notes, suggestions, all of it =) just liking this chapter would really help me know!

I don’t know how to say this without spoiling a big plot point in the story, but to be fair it is sort of the main premise, so if you’d like not to be spoiled on plot points, maybe come back later? Cool. Let’s get to it.

When I first started writing this story, I hadn’t intended on Margueritte’s brother, Louis, to be such a big character. I expected his time with us would be… well, shorter, after all the main idea for this story starts with his - again, spoiler alert - death. But as I wrote a little of him, I I liked him so much, and I ended up writing more and more and soon it was really heartbreaking killing him. As you’ll soon find, Louis fits into a trope I didn’t intentionally set out to write: the kill your gays trope. I don’t want to go into details because that’s enough spoilers, but suffice to say mea culpa, and also I hope you’ll give me a chance to show I do have a bigger intention with this: one, monarchies are famously heteronormative. They essentially can’t survive otherwise, or so we are told. I have always wandered about this. We’ve all read the historical examples of homosexuality being swiftly repressed for the good of the succession line. As a modern royal, Margueritte will have to look this issue in the eyes, too. She’ll have to realize the role she plays in a system where for her family and its history to survive, some families cannot exist in their purest form, and she will struggle with not being able to tell the world the truth about her brother - since it is not her place - knowing this makes her an accomplice in rewriting history to fit her best purpose. 

Which choices she makes and which path she decided to take in this issue are something I’m excited to explore, as I honestly believe monarchies will have to have a solution for this at one point or another.

TL/DR: though this story adds to the kill your gays trope, which I know it’s problematic, I want to write about the way monarchies perpetuate heteronormativity and how they will have to find a way for all their members, regardless of sexuality or gender identity, to feel at home in the institution, and I intend to add more non-straight characters so delve into this issue.]

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 3. Our Place in the Cosmos

‘I wish we had all been born birds instead’ Kurt Vonnegut

“Réveille toi, princesse!”, Louis bellowed, barging into my room first thing the next morning, “Time do doll up for the day! No little birdies coming to help!”

I responded the way I always did, by grunting half-heartedly, hoping it would be enough for him to leave me alone; it never was.

“Mags?” 

I felt the mattress dip to my left and then a sudden pull to the blanket. Prepared, however, with more than two decades of him in my life, I was already holding tighter to it.

“Come on, I brought coffee! Get up and look! I even added cream and powdered cocoa, just how you like it.”

I took in a deep breath, emerging from my blanket cocoon just enough to look at him with one eye, raising one eyebrow.

“I asked the chef, it’s the intention that matters.”

Sighing, I pulled myself up slightly to half-sit against the bed frame. I pulled the blanket off a little more, enough for one arm and half of my face to be out, and took the mug from him.

“Praise!” Louis looked up, in mock-reverence, “For the sacrificial bean potion has been accepted by the beast! The kingdom is spared another day!”

I rolled my eyes, or tried to in my sleep, but stuck to the coffee smell entering my nostrils as I blew it lightly, allowing the first sip to wake me up a little.

I’d been having the weirdest dream; I was in the conference room at work and my entire company was sitting around the room. At the head of the table, my bosses. They were all staring at me as I struggled through a presentation I couldn’t for the life of me remember and when I looked at the screen behind me, it was a powerpoint filled with images of Harry.

‘Care to explain, Your Royal Highness?’, my boss asked, which was weird, because no one at work treated me as HRH. 

‘He was just joking!’, I justified, hurriedly. ‘Of course he was joking!’

‘He seemed pretty serious, Margueritte’, said my other boss. ‘He was even jealous of your ex.’

‘Where would you live? If you married?’, asked Sophie, one of my colleagues. 

‘They’re both spares, so neither needs to inherit…’

‘I guess neither is needed at their own country, they could live in Savoy.’

‘No, she would have to move to England, of course.’

‘Why?!’

‘She’s the woman. They would make her.’

‘But her career is here!’

‘She can be a lawyer anywhere!’

‘Do you really think the British Royal family would allow her to continue to work?’

‘Guys!’, I started yelling, but my voice wouldn’t come out, ‘He was just kidding! Of course it would never work! Guys! We’re not together!’

‘What will the press say?’

‘What will her grandmother say?!’

“Maggie?!” Louis snapped his fingers in front of my face. 

Startled, I sighed, closing my eyes, trying to will the nightmare into oblivion. 

“You still talk in your sleep, huh?”

I looked at him, feeling my blood run cold. I cleared my throat, but didn’t say anything.

As a teenager, he always managed to get information out of me by pretending he heard me say something in my sleep and allowing me time to start justifying myself or ask incriminating questions before I even knew what he heard. With time, I learned. Say nothing. If he really heard something, he’ll eventually ask specifically.

“Who’s Mary?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Did you have a dream about Jesus? Because you were also saying ‘I’m a catholic! There’s nothing I can do about it!’, so maybe it was the mother of Jesus?”

Of course I knew what that meant. Harry had called me “Mary” at least thirty times the day before. And being anglican, Harry could lose his title if he married a catholic, a fact I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I knew, or when I learned. 

“Maybe.” I said.

He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through something, allowing me time to drink my coffee. A song started playing, slightly upbeat, with an indie feeling to it. I tried to remind myself to ask the name later, but had no energy at that moment.

I heard a noise and realized he’d taken a selfie of us.

“Pourquoi?”, I sighed.

“Just texting Lou.”

Both Louis and Lourdes, our sister, used ‘Lou’ as a nickname. It made for confusing conversations with other family members or friends, but amongst the three of us, we always knew who we were talking about, so we rarely used their names.

He showed me his phone, smiling, a minute or two later. There was a selfie in reply from Lourdes. It was a Saturday so she was home from boarding school, and the picture showed herself in bed with an open laptop nearby and some young teenager paused mid-sentence on it.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I think she’s watching youtube.” He returned. 

“She should be asleep.”

“She has ice skating practice soon.”

I sighed again, heavily. “She does too much.”

“Did she send you a video of a new move yesterday?”

“It’s possible. She sends me a lot of videos.”

“She’s getting really good.”

The coffee had gone cold, so I sunk into bed again and shoved the mug in his general direction.

“Put it over there.” He said, dismissively, eyeing the bedside table to my other side. 

I whined something incoherent, pleading as I sank lower into the blanket, but he made no move for the mug.

“I’m not taking it, you gotta get up, anyway.”

“Ugh.” Forcing myself to turn to my side, I stretched and pushed the mug into the bedside table, near my phone. 

Clicking the screen twice, I looked at my notifications. A couple texts from my friends and a few emails. I clicked it dark again and let the blankets consume me.

“Have you heard from Chris?”

I sighed loudly, more for him to be able to gather my annoyance than out of actual necessity.

“Non.”

There was a pause.

“You know we have to leave soon, right?”

I whined again.

“I know.” He sighed. “How’s work?”

I sighed, trying to respond like a normal, awake version of myself.

“Good.”

“Nice."

I constructed a sentence in my head, about how I had to stop taking time off if I wanted to be taken seriously as a lawyer, and how dad had promised me he’d let me focus on my career after he moved back home. Instead, what I said was,

“How’s school?”

He sighed. “Good.”

There was a pause, but I didn’t hear his fingers on his phone anymore. I closed my eyes again and started feeling a cosy sleepiness take over once more, as if it never left.

“Peter came out to his family.”

I opened my eyes again. 

“...I thought - oh. I thought everyone knew.”

“They… knew.” He said, uncertain. “His friends knew. His parents knew, but… pretended they didn’t. His extended family definitely didn’t know.”

I stretched a hand towards the bedside table, hovering over the vertical stripes of the wood. It was a victorian style chest with copper edges, two small drawers and a victorian lampshade on top. I knew there were 17 vertical stripes in the wood facing the bed - I had been counting them the night before after the Mayor’s ball, when I couldn’t sleep, thinking of how the edges matched the hair in a certain jerk.

“How… how did it go?” 

My brother sighed. 

“Fine.”

I turned in bed to face him, and waited. 

Peter was Louis’ roommate since his second year at the University of Edinburgh, when he left the dorms in search for more privacy. They met at an econ class and soon discovered they had a lot more in common than it seemed. Peter was also from an upper class family with a lot of generational wealth and property to look after, and was also studying in Edinburgh to find some space in which he could figure himself out before he had to dedicate his life to the family business.

“...I don’t know.” He admitted. “I guess, from what he said, it sounds like it went better than expected?”

“His parents came to your birthday party a couple years ago, right?” He nodded. “I remember them; they seemed nice.”

“They are, they’re lovely! It’s just… His father has an estate up north. It’s been with them for generations. Peter doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, so he has to inherit. And you know the aristocracy, right? They’re…”

“Overly conservative? Stuck in the past? Assholes?”

He smiled, slightly, then shrugged. “He needs to provide an heir.”

“He can, though.”

“He knows… it’s just…”

“Unusual.”

Louis let out a long breath; “Yeah.”

“Maybe they just need time.”

“His family does this… thing, every year. They’re big on Christmas. So they plan this whole, really long family holiday, with a trip, and activities, and theme nights…”

“I know, you spent Christmas with them last year.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “It was the most fun I had with older British people ever since I moved here.”

I smiled; my family had its own Christmas traditions, but as royals we didn’t have any commitments until New Year’s Eve, when there was a televised ceremony at the Capital and a speech from my father. It was nice, it gave us room to do whatever we wanted for the holidays, as a family, not property of the country. We could stay with mom’s family, or Lourdes could go skiing with a friend’s family, or I could go to Cabo with college friends in my junior year… so it wasn’t unusual for Louis to decide to spend last year’s holiday with Peter’s family, specially when his family made such a big deal of those days.

“It’s such a big spectacle, they start planning months in advance… Peter said they usually have already started an email thread at this point in the year… And he hasn’t received anything.”

“It’s October.” I reasoned.

His smile was sadder now. “His cousin said she’s in a thread.”

I sighed. “This…”

“I know.” He added, when I couldn’t find words.

I knew Peter, of course. Being only a couple years younger than me, Louis was basically my best friend. Not the one I talked to the most, but definitely the one who knew me better than anyone in the world. We loved Lourdes with our whole hearts, but she was more than a decade younger than me. 

As a result of that close age difference, Louis and I had a lot of friends in common. Even though I went to an all-girls boarding school in Belgium, and he to an all-boys boarding school in Savoy, we had the weekends at home, and the school holidays. And polo matches at the club, and charity events with family friends, and we always ended up meeting the other’s friends from school one way or another. 

Peter, then, became a fixture in our lives, and it broke my heart to know something so silly could be wrecking him without my knowledge.

“You should invite him home for Christmas.” I told Louis. “Invite him to come to Savoy. I think we’ll be at Corsilla Castle this year; it’s right by the beach, he’ll love it.”

He considered it for a few moments, but his brows were troubled. 

“I don’t know… He already has to deal with paparazzi at the entrance of our building and following us to class because of me… I don’t want to throw him even more to the wolves.”

I sat up in bed, adjusting my shirt. “It won’t be that bad! Remember my third year of University, when I brought Kat and Amanda home for Christmas? Paparazzi followed us around because of me, but then they went home without me and they were fine.”

He nodded. "I'll wait a bit more, see if they'll come around. If not, then I'll ask." 

I smiled. "Good."

Laying back again, I pulled the sheets to my neck, and turned back to the bedside table, closing my eyes.

It wasn't even five seconds before I felt a pillow hit my thigh. 

"What?!" I jumped.

"Get up!" he said, looking distressed.

--- ---- ---

After breakfast at Clarence House, I rode to the British Parliament with Louis and our father. I wore a nude, midi length, blazer-like wrap dress with two rows of buttons and a tank top of the same color underneath to make the neckline more conservative, with shoes and hat were of the same color. 

We sat in the House of Commons and watched as my father was introduced and delivered an address on the honor it was to be at the ‘center of British democracy’, and ‘how fortunate we are in Savoy to have such an ally across the sea’. I sat in my seat attempting not to look bored, which was a feat to behold as I had heard that speech a bunch of times in preparation for the trip. It was just as hard not to mouth the lines along with my father.

Over the past few years, tensions had been growing between the two islands: the British and the Savoyen governments were in conflict over the right way to handle the immigration crisis slowly taking over Europe from Syria. England, Savoy and France were all interchangeably accessible through the Eurostar, and that free access was generating higher immigration numbers, and because unlike France, Savoy hadn’t yet toughened their regulations over the issue, the British were more than a little upset at our government for, as they said, ‘facilitating the entry to Great Britain’. 

That’s what we were there to do, smile and wave and appear friendly to strengthen our diplomatic ties. And that was the main issue my father was subtly talking about in his speech. Our need to come together and find solutions to benefit the many, yada, yada, yada.

“I’m thinking of skipping the meetings to go with you to your event.”

I looked at him. Louis was still looking at our father as he talked about the economic partnerships between the countries.

“The meetings are important. Dad is talking to a lot of representatives.”

“I know, but he doesn’t really need me.”

I sighed. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Just have Cadie send a press release to inform people I’ll go.”

“We’ll discuss it later.”

I made sure to keep a smile on my face during the exchange, but as soon as had shaken all the appropriate hands and posed for the necessary photographs in front of the press, I pulled him into a quiet corner of the hallway while dad gave a short interview to a British journalist. 

“You can’t come with me.”

“Why not?”

“Louis, your responsibility is to help dad with diplomatic affairs.”

He rolled his eyes. “There won’t even be press there.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Stop stage-whispering, they’re gonna hear you.”

I took a step forward and gave my back to the people on the other end of the hallway.

“Papa is counting on you. The press is not important, it’s about…” I sighed, searching for help in my memories of the preparatory meeting Auguste made me attend. “It’s about building a relationship of trust with the people you’ll be working with when you’re king.”

“Maggie.” He took in a long breath. “Fine. Okay, you’re right.” He shrugged, sighing.

“You’ll do great. Remember, you’re here to learn.”

“Alright, fine, now you’re sounding like Maman.”

--- ---- ---

The Duchess of Cambridge was nothing but bright and bubbly, the picture of politeness when I met her that morning at the gravel driveway into Clarence House. The team figured it would be weird if we saw each other for the first time in public and had to make introductions in front of the whole world, so she was kind enough to drive to Clarence House so we could leave for our engagement together. 

I arrived from Parliament, where I left my father and brother to their meetings with elected officials, and had just enough time to change into a different outfit and remove my hat before I rushed down the stairs to meet the woman the world knew as Kate Middleton waiting in the drawing room with the Duchess of Cornwall.

The dress I was wearing now was silk and down to my knees, tied under my chest with a bow, bellow a V shaped neckline that stretched into long, bishop, sleeves. The Duchess of Cambridge was wearing a green envelope dress, midi-length, and nude shoes, with her silky, golden brown hair falling down her shoulders in perfect waves. She and the Duchess of Cornwall were sitting in armchairs, leaning towards each conspiratorially. They looked up at me when I walked in with Cadie, with an air about them that gave me the distinct impression I was the subject of their recent whispering.

With a mid-thought smile on their lips, they stood up.

“Your Royal Highness, may I present, Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge.”

“Your Royal Highness, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said, extending a hand, which I shook just as she flexed her legs down in a curtsey.

It was a bit of a gray area, who curtsied to whom between the two of us, because, although we both technically held the same spot in the lines of succession of our countries, I was there as a royal by blood, and she was only the consort of one; still, I wouldn’t have expected her to curtsey, so I curtsied too.

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Royal Highness. And please call me by name.”

“Well, then you must too. Call me Catherine.”

“You can just use Margueritte, if it’s easier. I make no fuss over our obnoxious French R’s.”

They chuckled.

“I will admit it shouldn’t be too difficult to skip the formal titles, I do feel as though I know you well already.” She exchanged a look with the Duchess of Cornwall that could only be described as knowing, and then said, in a forcibly casual tone, “I have heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” 

They stared at me, smiling. Behind me, Cadie was aiming her wide eyes at the ground; brows raised, an amused grin in her lips.

“Good things I hope.”

“Oh, of course.” Catherine laughed. “Nothing but good things!”

“A little too good, perhaps.”

Of my current options - ignore it altogether, try to pretend I misinterpreted their meaning or face it head on - I decided it was safer, more diplomatic perhaps, to stay in the middle. 

“We’re not as famous as Britain in Savoy, but we do get on the news sometimes.” I said, with a small shrug. “So long as you don’t believe everything you read. Unless it’s good.”

They chuckled again, but the Duchess of Cambridge seemed as if she wanted to contest my understanding, but decided against it.

“Of course.” She agreed, finally.

“And lucky you.” Added the woman to her right.

“We should get going, then.” Catherine’s aide, a young brunette, added from the door.

I curtsied to the Duchess of Cornwall, who wished us luck before kissing her step-daughter-in-law’s cheeks and waving us into the car.

There was a palpable shift within Catherine when we were in the car, alone if not for the driver and her aide in the front. Her hands were fidgety, her eyes moving quickly between the window by her side and the one in the front. At times I thought she might have looked at me as well, only for a moment, one from the corners of her eyes. 

She seemed level-headed. Mature. Sensible. So she could reasonably have meant something else entirely by what she said… what I said about the press, perhaps. Because what could Harry even have said about me? He barely knew me. It was only the day before that we met (officially, that is). How much time would he have had to talk about me to his family? Did he run home and told them of the cold, overly polite Princess he’d just met who kept rebuking his advances?

I looked over at her, who still seemed slightly fidgety, definitely more than when the Duchess of Cornwall was with us. I wondered if there was a particular reason, or if maybe she was just shy. Maybe she was also thinking of all those times she’d heard so much of me.

Her aide spoke before either of us did.

“Ma’am, why don’t you tell Her Royal Highness why we chose Place2Be to visit today?”

I was reminded of my mother, when she attempted to force me to talk to our adult guests at dinner parties when I was younger.

“Right.” The Duchess smiled. “Well, I’ve always really loved children. So after I got married, I was meant to chose organizations I’d like to support and I decided to start with children. Place2Be is was the first, it’s where I made my first speech. They…  they help children.” 

There was an awkward break. I wondered if that was it. Was that it? That seemed like a very short answer, though I suppose a case could be made that it was to the point.

My mother had made me attend enough etiquette lessons growing up to know that the host is supposed to make conversation, so I wanted to stay quiet, but the only thing I had to occupy myself with were my own thoughts, and that was unacceptable.

“I remember my first speech. It was… a nightmare, honestly.” I chuckled to myself. “And no matter how many of these things I do, I still get so anxious beforehand.”

She looked over at me, and I saw immediate relief and surprise wash over her features.

“Really?!” She shook her head in disbelief. “So do I! At times I’m shocked I don’t trip on my feet!”

“I used to only wear low shoes when I first started, I was afraid of the very same.” I confessed, with an embarrassed smile.

“And I do prepare, of course! I do all the work-”

“Exactly, it’s not about the work, just… the-”

“Responsability.”

“Yes!”

The way she smiled in response, shoulders dropping, voice wavering, I wondered how often she had been told by her own team all the things she should and shouldn’t do during these events; If I couldn’t escape Auguste’s nagging, and my father was the King, what hope did she have? Merely marrying into a family where her husband was still the heir to the heir.

As it turns out, the charity Catherine chose to show me, Place2Be, didn’t just ‘help kids’; it helped the communities around them as well, providing lunches, and courses for the parents, and and counseling tools for the children to learn how to properly express their feelings in order to be healthier. They mainly worked with school, so on that afternoon we joined them in an event in a primary school in the outskirts of London that served mainly marginalized communities and families of immigrants. 

As we parked outside the simple yet lovely building, our security stepped our first, followed by our secretaries, and finally, the Duchess and I. At the entrance, the organizations’ leaders awaited to guide us in our visit, with the press lined up at the opposite direction, cameras ready to snap.

Friends often ask me what is running through my mind when I walk anywhere with the press on my heels. 'How can you think straight-', they'll say, 'with those cameras and flashes following you so up close?'. The truth is, I do not think at all when forced to walk with the press watching. Things like arriving at events, such as this one, where the flashed are so constant it mostly just looks like the room merely has weirdly artificial lighting. I don't have time to look around and register or appreciate the landscape, or take notice of who is watching and what they might be thinking of me. All I can do is walk straight up, either taking the lead or, in this case, following it, and shake the hands I was suppose to and say the pleasantries I was suppose to, all making sure I have a smile on my face and my skirt isn’t blowing with the wind. 

There were two women waiting for us in the entrance, one was wearing a dress, the other a pantsuit. I‌ let Catherine go first, and after she had shaken their hands, and they had each done a short, polite curtsey, she turned around and introduced me as ‘Princess Marie-Margueritte’, with a perfect French pronunciation. 

The school was simple enough, brick walls with colorful art, posters about washing one’s hands and treating others with politeness. There was a smaller group of reporters inside, following us along as we walked, and our aides were taking pictures or videos themselves. 

As we walked, Angela, the principal in a pantsuit, was telling us about the progress the children had undergone since the school began its partnership with Place2Be. Less temper tantrums, more willingness to talk things through. Michelle, the representative from Place2Be, told us about the art therapy initiatives, which helped the children learn how to better process and express their feelings, and about the researches that showed children that were incentivized to talk about what they felt were less likely to develop mental health issues.

We passed by classrooms and halls until we arrived at a room with wide, round tables, knee high, filled with children and a few teachers. We walked in, reciprocating their timid, excited smiles, and another Place2Be specialist introduced us and welcomed us to take seats in a table in the middle, where two tiny chairs had been left empty for us, side by side. There was a hilarious moment when we realized just how low the chairs were as we tried to take our seats, and shared a mildly desperate look, before starting to giggle at the same time. We eventually sat down, knees together as demanded by etiquette, and said hello to our table mates, Audrey, Matthew, Safiya and Thomas. 

The instructor told us the exercise we were doing today was called safety net, like one an equilibrist might use in a circus to make sure if he falls he won’t get hurt, she said. The gist of it was, in our lives our safety net was the people we could count on to talk to or to help us if we felt troubled, like family or trusted teachers. They gave us sheets of paper and crayons, and told us to draw our safety nets, or something that represented them, which is when I sighed, looking at Catherine.

“I’m a terrible artist.” I told her. 

She chuckled, cheeks red, and seemed to ponder her words before she spoke.‌ “No pressure, only all the reporters will see.”

I‌ smiled, noticing her a little more comfortable now, sarcasm and all.

I looked at tiny, Asian little Audrey to my right, “do you think they’ll accept a stick figure? It’s all I can draw.”

She giggled and showed me her drawing, already a red man with strangely large hands and comically crooked legs, “Like this!”

“Yes,‌‌ I’ll try to do as well as you!” 

I ended up drawing only faces - they did say I could draw something to represent my safety net. In truth, I‌ would have drawn some of my friends, like Stella, Constance or Kat. Maybe even Sophie or Larissa, from work. But bringing up friends during royal engagements was practically asking the press to talk about them, and I did not wish that on anybody. 

So I drew exactly who I knew they would expect me to, my family. Of course I could count on my family, even if I had to put my career and goals on hold to help them with no early notice just because they needed me. Even if my brother seemed to not be putting much effort into coming home as soon as he should. Of course I could always count on them. And regardless, it’s not like I could draw anything else. Not when this was my job. Even if I needed space, they were, after all, the job.

“Woah.”‌ I told Catherine. “That is amazing.”

I wasn’t even exaggerating; she had drawn a pretty good, torso only version of her husband, with a bundle on his arms which I suppose was their son, Prince George. There was another adult figure by his side, with larger shoulders and a stronger jaw - I was seriously amazed at her ability with crayons. As I watched, she was filling in his hair with an orange one; I felt my heart in my throat. I knew that orange.

“Thank you,”‌ she said, timidly, “Yours are not so bad either!”

I‌ had four crooked circles in my sheet of paper, all black, and I had just managed to fill out two with weird, tiny dots for eyes and large, wavy lines for hair. 

“You are too kind.”‌ I told her, half-laughing. 

“Who are they?”, asked Thomas, the little boy to her left, pointing at her drawing.

“I drew my husband and my son, and my brother-in-law, Harry.” She told him, sweetly. “My husband is very patient and dedicated, he always helps me when I need, and he is a really good daddy. And his brother is very sweet.”

I kept my eyes to my black blobs, adding a hat to the one that was supposed to be my mother to hide the weird hair I had done, trying not to listen to her even though she was sitting right next to me.

“He is really kind, and really good with his nephew, and always makes people laugh.” She turned to look at me.‌‌ “You know Harry, don’t you, Margueritte?”

I‌ looked at her, feeling weirdly warm. “Harry?” She nodded.‌ “Prince Harry, you mean?” She nodded again, smiling. “Yes, we’ve met.”

I looked back at my drawing, now doing a ball on top of Lourdes’ head, as she was always wearing her hair in a bun for ballet or training. 

“Don’t you think he’s a sweetheart?”

“Well, I… Yes, he seems nice.”

I drew Lourdes’ hair a bit more forcefully, making it almost look as if she had a second head on top of her own.

“And he’s so funny. And a truly loyal friend, you can always count on him.”

This, I‌ thought, was a lot. So I sighed, and looked at her, brows furrowed, trying to decipher what exactly she was trying to do, but she was focused on her own drawing again, now giving Harry some freckles.

“He is very dedicated to his work, too. He and William love animals, and conservation work, and we started working on mental health a while back, that’s very important to both of them.”

“How nice.”‌ I said, moving on to one last circle, giving Louis - or attempting to - thin eyes and a long, thin nose. 

“How did the two of you meet?” she asked.

I‌ leaned in.‌ “Did he ask you to ask that?”

“No.”‌ She said, a faint note of surprise in her voice, but her reddening cheeks gave her away. “Why would he?”

“No reason.‌”‌ I‌ told her, smiling.‌ “We met a while ago.”

She nodded. “He talked a lot about you yesterday.”‌ 

“Did he?” I asked, now adding my brother’s long, wavy hair.

“He did…” She leaned in again, and whispered to me, “I‌ think you made an impression.”

“Well, that’s… good. I think.”

“He’s single, you know.”

The crayon in my hand broke. I‌ looked at her. She was… redder than I had seen her yet and, looking uncomfortable, she focused on her own work again.

“Whoever he ends up with will be really lucky, I think.”

“That’s…” I tried, my voice hoarse. “That’s nice.”

“Woah, I don’t have that much hair!”

I turned around. On my other side, there was Louis. 

The kids all turned around to look at him, in some kind of awe. The reporters in the front of the class started snapping their flash-photography more viciously. 

“Oh, hello.” Catherine smiled up at him.

“Good afternoon.”‌ He smiled back, sharing her hand, before waving it to the room. “Hello, everyone!”

“Welcome, Your Royal Highness!” The Place2‌Be instructor brought a chair for him, placing it after Audrey, and addressed the children, telling them who he was and asking Matthew, by his side, to explain to him the exercise. 

“Oh, so that’s why my sister was drawing me!”‌ He said, cheerily, after hearing the explanation. “That’s so sweet, Marie-Margueritte, even if you completely over did my hair, which I will attempt not to take personally.”

A reporter took three steps to the center of the room, and raised a camera to capture us better. The movement put me on my guard, so I smiled at my brother. 

“I only drew what I see. You need a haircut.”

“I do not need a haircut!” He said, brushing his hair back with a lazy hand that, having known him all his life, I‌ knew was precisely calculated. 

“What do you think?”‌ I‌ asked Catherine, who startled, and laughed.

“Oh, I think you both look lovely!”

We laughed at her defensive reaction. 

“Very diplomatic.”‌ Louis nodded and began drawing something on his sheet of paper.

Another kid came walking towards us and stopped by Catherine to show her his drawing; naturally, all the paparazzi turned to her to capture the sweet moment. 

Louis used this moment to lean over to me. “Se détendre. Papa dit que je pouvais venir.”

Relax, he said, dad said I could come.

I‌ sighed, still smiling, but focused on the crayons. 

It was around this time that the teacher started telling the students that had finished their first task they could start on the second. She said, now that we had our safety net, we had someone we could tell our problems to. Sometimes, she said, all you need is to get those feelings out of yourself, even if you don’t find a magic answer.

So, instructed to draw a box and put the things that made me angry inside of it, I used three crayons and a lot of time to draw a 3D, colorful box, so that the time would run out before I had the time to draw anything to put into it. It did, so we left our drawings on the table, knowing they would be shown off for the world to see soon enough, and marched out of the room waving goodbye to the children. 

We were led into a crowded, large meeting room, where the teaching staff shared their biggest challenges and joys of teaching young children and the precise ways the organization had helped. Next, we sat down with older students who told us of the difficulties of being their age, and the things about the future that made them anxious. 

My brother stayed mostly quiet except to crack a joke or two, making everyone laugh at his charming, easy-going personality. I focused on Catherine, on the children, and on keeping the most sincere smile I‌ could muster on my face. 

Eventually, as we were preparing to leave, Auguste, who had come with Louis, leaned in to tell us, in a whisper, that dad had been delayed in his meeting, and we should make ourselves busy before our next appointment, at which time the Duchess of Cambridge invited us for tea at her home.

Eventually, we shook all of their hands, thanked them for their time, and walked out of the school the same way we came in, to a large wall of reporters and a crowd of well-wishers. Normally, someone would suggest that we go shake their hands, thank them for coming, but I could feel my anger-box starting to crack, so I took matters into my hands.

Though Catherine’s aide volunteered to drive separately so me and my brother could go with her, I insisted she go with her boss, who I was sure, ‘would need her’. That way Cadie drove with the security, and I joined my brother and Auguste in the car they had come in.

“I know you want to yell at me,” he started, when we were seated, as the security closed the doors, and Auguste got in in the front seat, “but more importantly, did you get a text from Lou today?”

I smiled at the people outside and waved, silent.

“Oh, right.” He said, copying me. “It was a video. She finally perfected a double axel, she’s getting really good!”

After we took off, my smile dropped, and I turned to him.

“Qu'est-ce que tu fous ici?!”

He threw his head back against the seat. “Papa said it was fine for me to leave!”

“Or course he did. Why does it matter?! You have a job to do, Louis. You can’t just half-ass this job!”

“I know very well what I am supposed to do, thank you very much.”

“Do you?! Because it doesn’t seem like it!”

Auguste took a deep breath in the front seat, turning back towards us. “Perhaps there’s a better time for this discussion?”

“Shut up, Auguste!”

“Don’t be rude!”

“You need to understand you have a responsibility!”

“There was no press there, me being there would make no difference.”

“Not everything in this job is about the press!”

“Will you stop acting like you’re my boss?! You’re not Maman.”

I looked at the window, feeling more frustrated than I ever had. “You think of nothing, of no one but yourself.”

“Yes, and I should be more like you, and put everyone ahead of my every need. Because that’s healthy.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You spent your whole life letting them dictate your every move and then you complain that it’s hard?! Yes, Maggie, we know it’s hard-”

“I did this for you!” I screamed. 

“I never asked you to-”

“No, you didn’t! They did! Because they wanted to give you time to live your life before you had it committed to the monarchy forever! But guess what, Louis? It’s not a magic trick! Someone has to pick up the slack, and that someone is me!”

“You are not a victim here! They make you do these things because you let them-!”

“Because they need us! Because this job is taxing, and toxic, and exhaustive, and it’s our job to help!”

“You help because you want to-”

“I help because you’re in Scotland gallivanting around with Peter and somebody has to pick up the slack!”

“You know why I am in Scotland! You know what is waiting for me-”

“I do! But you don’t know that every day you’re not home I am sacrificing my career and my life as well!”

“You’ve done this your whole life, Maggie! You’ve always been like this-”

“Like what?! Like this what?!”

“Desperate to be the good girl! To be the child our parents think of when they needs someone responsible, and efficient. They place the burden on you because you let them! Ever since we were kids, you always acted like a third parent even though you shouldn’t have, so don’t blame me for your choices!”

“You don’t think I want to live my life?! You don’t think I want to travel somewhere people won’t know me or my family? You don’t think I want to text dad that I can’t come to this ceremony or that one because I am busy with my own things?! Who would help, Louis? You’re not home! Adrien is always away with Faye. Lourdes is too young. He is just one person!”

As my voice cracked, I turned to the window, trying to dry one tear before it fell. 

“...you don’t have to cry.”

“You know saying that doesn’t help!” I yelled, now crying more.

He extended a handkerchief, which I took, drying my tears before they could fall down my cheeks.

There was a long, awkward, painful silence in the car. 

“All I’m saying is,” he started, slowly, almost obnoxiously calm, “Stop placing the blame on me for not setting some boundaries and going after the life you want.”

I laughed, humorless. 

“You really think I don’t want to? I have a career, Lou. I have friends and loved ones, too. You did not invent a personal life. I want to live mine, but this family we were born into does not offer an opt out option.”

He sighed. “I think you’re angry at yourself and you’re taking that on me.”

“Really?” I rolled my eyes. “Explain that to me.”

“You’re angry at mom and dad for giving you more than you can handle, you’re angry at yourself for letting them, and you’re angry at Chris for the-”

“I am angry at you!” I yelled. “Mom and dad, too, of course, but you’re the one that is running away from your responsibilities! You want to know why I have to take all of this on? Because while you’re here, tucked away and safe from us and from every negative headline back home, Maman isn’t speaking to Aunt Katherine, and Aunt Stephanie heard about it! Your sister has driven away yet another chief of security, the third one in four years, and dad…” I sighed, “Dad is getting worse, Louis. Meanwhile, I am the one that has to keep everyone together to the expense of my own life and career, when this isn’t even my job. It’s yours.”

The only sound in the car was the sound of the wheels on gravel as we drove into Kensington Palace in awkward, heavy silence.

“We don’t have time for this.” I said, drying my tears, and trying to make sure my makeup wasn’t smudged in a hand mirror before we parked. “Just… behave.”

Though I did not look at him, I could almost hear his eyes roll before he forcefully opened the door and stepped out, as petulantly as when he was 8 and I told him he couldn’t play doll with me and our cousins. 

Kensington Palace was essentially built as one big set of squares and rectangles, which as most palaces in Europe, was now divided into sections, each being an 'apartment' given to specific families. The Cambridges' door was white, and by all means completely indistinguishable from the others. Louis had already ringed the doorbell when I reached him, and was avoiding my eyes, a pout in his lips, when Catherine's aide opened the door and welcomed us in; Louis and I were smiling again.

Catherine was in the kitchen making finger sandwiches as her husband watched, one hand to a glass of water, the other on a baby monitor. 

Louis marched straight to Prince William, shaking his hand as if they were long-time friends, but that meant nothing; that was just his normal personality.

"So you're the famous Princess Mary." William said to me when Catherine introduced us.

Her smile immediately dropped, and she placed a delicate, yet forceful hand on his shoulder. "William", she warned, "It's Marie-Margueritte."

"Right, apologies." He smiled. "I've heard so much about Princess Mary I suppose I just forgot it might have been a loving nickname."

Feeling myself blush, I cleared my throat, smiling sheepishly.

"I'm not so sure that's how I'd describe it."

"And why not?"

I didn't have to turn around to know who the owner of that voice was, I'd been replaying it in my head long enough to know. Even if I didn't, the knowing smiles on William and Catherine's lips would be telling enough.

“Harry!” Louis greeted joyfully, shaking his hand. “Long time no see. How excited are you to be crushed by us tomorrow at the polo match?

Even as he answered, laughing, his eyes kept coming back to me. “I think you need to check your overconfidence, Castillon.”

“I think you’ll regret underestimating me, Windsor.”

“What I’m learning from this is you’re fully capable of pronouncing our Royal House surname,‌ yet my name remains a mystery.”

He grinned at me, “It’s a loving nickname,‌‌ Mary.”

“It’s just… a name. Not my name. Just another name.”

“Regardless.”

To say it shocked me to see him was was an understatement, and yet, somehow, the moment it happened I‌ was also overwhelmed by a feeling of unmitigated relief to have him there.

On my ‘loving nickname’, Harry was unwavering. As Catherine had her husband set the table with the sandwiches, and asked what our favorite tea was, Harry talked happily with my brother about our trip, about his schooling, and about me, whom he kept referring to as ‘Mary’. I made a point to roll my eyes every time.

On his end, ‌Louis didn’t seem to find that odd at all, which made me angrier at him. I wanted to ask Catherine what the delicious smell coming from the oven was, and if she would be at the polo match tomorrow, but I‌ couldn’t drag myself away from standing peripherally around my brother and Harry, even though I had no participation in their conversation, hoping Harry would stop for one or two seconds to look at me instead, but he and Louis were now happily trashing the other’s favorite rugby team. 

I wasn't sure if it was the fight with Louis, or the wave of shock of seeing Harry again sooner than I had expected, yet somehow later than I wished, but I was suddenly annoyed. At Louis, for everything he'd said in the car. At Harry for focusing so deeply on his conversation with my brother instead of interrogating me again after apparently talking about me to both his brother and sister-in-law. But, perhaps more revealingly, at myself. 

It annoyed me that I cared. It annoyed me that I suddenly felt sixteen-years-old again, hoping a boy would look at me across the polo field. It annoyed me that I seemed to have been expecting him to arrive ever since saying goodbye the day before, as if it was a given he would. 

If forced with the choice of admitting I'd missed him or sticking knives into my eyes, I might pick the knives.

It was, however, when Harry asked if he was nervous about graduating, and Louis answered by saying he was looking forward to whatever came next, and that he was looking into maybe getting a master’s degree next, that I forced myself to leave.

I‌ asked Catherine if I‌ could use the restroom, and she directed me to the one upstairs, seeing as the one on the first floor was being re-tiled. I climbed up the large, hardwood stairs into a clean, minimalist looking second floor, easily finding the bathroom. I‌ washed my hands with cold water, placed them in the back of my neck for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, and tried to focus on calming memories.

Unfortunately, the most calming memory I‌ used to have - a skiing trip with Chris - was now tainted by the breakup, so it didn’t help. Instead, I‌ sat down on the edge of a bathtub, and pulled my phone from my handbag, checking my messages. 

Lourdes had texted another video, but this was a music video; the text read, ‘do you think I can do a routine to this?! i’m so obsessed!’

I replied, ‘why not? it sounds great!‘, without opening the link.

Constance, my longest childhood friend, had ominously sent: ‘Did Stella and Rick get back together?????? I have thoughts. Call me.’

I sighed, typing a reply rapidly; ‘I can’t talk now, I’m in London. Let’s have dinner when I get back and do another intervention.’

And skimming through an email my mother had sent, I now knew all her thoughts on how I should do my hair for the State dinner the following day. 

Telling myself it was mostly out of curiosity, I found Chris’ name in my list of old messages, and clicked through, seeing no new messages had arrived. I‌ blocked the phone, and went back outside.

When I was leaving the bathroom, before I could reach the stairs, I heard a soft wailing coming from a door to my right. It was half opened, and the room only lightly lit. Pushing the door forward, I recognized a beige and white nursery, and a moving bundle inside a wooden crib. 

“Bonjour, bebe!” I approached, as gently as I could, whispering softly. “Do you need mommy? Or papa?”

I looked at the door, hoping to see someone coming to fetch Prince George, but no one was there. 

“Alright.” I said, feeling slightly as if i was intruding, but not at all comfortable leaving the crying boy alone. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Placing him in my arms as swiftly as I could, I started to rock him from side to side.

“Should we go downstairs?” 

His face still contorted painfully, but the crying was a little more spaced out now. I figured his parents would know what to do and, as weird as it would be to just show up downstairs with him, it would be weirder to leave him behind. Turning to the door, however, I was startled once more by his uncle.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”‌‌ He smiled, looking at the baby. 

“How-?”

“Nanny-cam.” He answered, gesturing vaguely to the hallway, walking towards us.

“Oh.”‌ I‌ nodded. “He was crying, I didn’t want to leave him.”

He leaned down to look at the boy in my arms, raising one hand to his soft, tiny head as the citrus scent of his perfume overwhelmed me.

I‌ cleared my throat, trying to bring things back to familiar territory.

“Which bet did you lose to be put in nanny duty?” I joked.

He shrugged, smiling at his nephew.‌‌ “I‌ volunteered.‌ We’re buddies, aren’t we,‌ George?”

The baby stopped crying, looking at his uncle now making funny faces at him. It was hard not to smile.

“I‌ think he needs a nappy change. I‌ can take him if you want to go back downstairs.” Harry offered. 

“Oh, sure.”‌ 

Avoiding looking into his eyes from so close, I passed him his nephew - our arms touched in the exchange; I tried to suppress the little part of me that noticed he was surprisingly muscly. 

“We’ll meet you downstairs.”‌‌ He smiled, walking with the baby towards a changing station on the other side of the room. 

I walked through the door slowly, trying to delay having to go back downstairs where I‌ had to pretend I wasn’t upset at Louis, but stopped when he spoke again. Initially, I thought he was talking to me, but the baby tone quickly corrected that assumption.

“Did you go number one? Did you? Or two? What surprise awaits me, here, Georgie?” 

I leaned against the doorframe, smiling.

“Now, I‌ understand that a growing boy needs to go. We all do, it’s very normal. But I‌ just need you to prepare me, alright? How bad will it be once I‌ open this up?” 

I considered sincerely going downstairs, focusing on the diplomatic aspect of making friends with the more important people, the ones we were there for, his brother and sister-in-law. But, peering into the room again, I‌ saw Harry lean his tall frame closer to the baby, holding him still with one hand, trying to reach a far away drawer with the other. 

“Need help?”‌ I asked, stepping back inside. 

He jumped slightly, but smiled when he saw me. “Oh, I‌- I‌ thought you left.”

“I think you could use the help.” I‌ reached for the drawer he was going for, but looked back at him, questioningly. He nodded, so I‌ opened it, and found him a new nappy.

“Alright, team work it is.”‌ He said, “Keep him distracted so he doesn’t move as much.” 

I tried to distract George with a tiny, plush koala nearby, and uttered the first words that came to mind.

“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?”, I sang, dangling the koala from side to side, to the rhythm. “Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines… what?!”

Noticing Harry had stopped moving, I looked back at him, who was merely staring at me. 

“What?! You said to distract him.” I‌ justified, defensively. 

He shook his head, focusing on the task at hand again, with a renewed grin on his lips. 

“Don’t forget the cream.”‌ I‌ said, before he could close the tabs.

“Right.”‌ He nodded. “I‌ knew I‌ was forgetting something… Why are you good at this? Have any secret children the press can’t find out about?”

I‌ smiled at George, still dancing the little koala. “No, just two younger siblings and a bunch of little cousins I was constantly pretending were dolls.”

He chuckled, and closed the little adhesive tabs on the nappy, fiddling with the straps of his onesie now. “Where do these-?”

“Here.”‌ I said, handing him the koala, and finding the right buttons to close. “There we go.”

“Nice. What do we say to the pretty lady, Georgie? Say thank you.”

I‌ smiled, at both of them, but kept my eyes on the baby. “You’re welcome.”

Harry started putting the cream, and tissues away, as well as moving to throw the dirty nappy in the trash can, so as George got fussy again, I‌ picked him back up, and started singing Frère Jacques again, slowing down the melody as I rocked, hoping the baby would calm to the moves. Looking up, I noticed Harry was frozen in place, one hand in an open drawer, looking at me with the softest of eyes. There was something else in them, too. A kind of yearning that was almost blinding.

“What?”, I asked.

He smiled, to the floor. “Nothing… You’re good at that.”‌ He shrugged. “How much younger are your siblings?”

“Louis is three years younger, and Lourdes is eleven.”

“Wow.”

“I know.‌ My parents frown upon the word ‘unplanned’, so instead we say she was a ‘surprising blessing’.”

He laughed, not a giggle, or a chuckle, a proper laugh now. It was as surprising as when he laughed at my jokes the day before. Chris used to only chuckle at my jokes, usually with merely a nasalized sound to let me know he heard it. 

“I‌ always wanted to have a sister.”‌ He confessed.

“It's overrated. Mine mostly sends me videos of her ice skating practices, which all look the same, asking me for opinions which I do not care enough to have.”

He laughed again. “I sympathize.”

“How?”

“Well, she values your opinion. So do I. Why do you think I ask so many questions?”

“A lack of boundaries? Disregard to protocol?”

He laughed louder now, throwing his head back. The sound startled George, and made me blush with timid pride.

“Wow! Look at you. Throwing diplomacy out the window, are we?”

I sighed.‌ “You're right, I apologize… I'm just… not in the best mind space.” 

“No, that was a compliment.” He smiled, looking at me now. “I like it.”

There was the gentle yearning again… feeling almost inappropriate in front of a child.

“So what did Louis do to put you in this bad mind space?”

“I‌ never said it was bad, I‌ believe I said ‘not the best’. And what makes you think he has anything to do with it?”

He grinned. “Other than the fact you’ve been staring daggers his way since you’ve arrived? Let's see... You have this... Whiff of annoyance about you, which is worse than when I was bothering you yesterday, and you chose to be here with me and George and his dirty diaper instead of going back downstairs and enjoying tea with the others.”

“I like babies.”‌ I‌ shrugged.

“Yes, and I would think that might be it, but the poo I think damages the effect, doesn't it? I know it can't be me that kept you here, since you don't like me...”

“...I like you.” I said, giving it no further thought.

“You do?”

I shrugged, mindlessly.

“Wow… if you keep flattering me so much I might fall in love, Mary.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I‌ corrected, on auto-pilot. “Marie.”

He smiled. There was a silent pause as I walked George around the room, his eyes following each new space carefully.

“Truth.” Harry said.

I looked back at him across the room. “Pardon?”

“Yesterday, one of the last things I‌ said was that you should ask me something. And you asked, truth or dare? Well, I’m answering. I‌ pick truth.”

I took a few seconds to breathe deeply and appreciate three things; one, he seemed to remember our conversation yesterday in staggering detail. Two, his eyes did this… thing when he smiled, they squinted into tiny crescent moon shapes and it highlighted the blue of his irises. And three, in the rules of this game he seemed to be up to playing, I could ask him anything.

“What do you want from me?”

The silence that followed was even longer than mine. I had to look away from the way he stared me down this time, it was too… personal. Too transparently enigmatic. 

Eventually, I sat down in a rocking chair by the window, George on my thigh playing with the little koala. Harry walked over to us, slowly.

“By all means, take your time.” I teased.

“I’m just… trying to assess which answer you are ready for.”

My head snapped in his direction, almost in outrage. “There’s not supposed to be different answers. Only the truth.”

“Spoken like a lawyer.”

“It’s what you picked!” I rolled my eyes. “Well, what is it? What is the truth?”

He sighed, sitting in a matching footstool in front of me, uncomfortably close.

“There are levels to this truth, and for our blooming friendship not to perish, I think it’s important I don’t tell you something that would make you think less of me.”

“And I’m talking like a lawyer?” I asked, making him chuckle.

I weighed his words carefully, trying to understand the diplomatic euphemisms employed, but not allowing my mind to go too crazy with it. It was too far, too soon, but did he mean I would be offended by his honest answer? 

Eventually, though, he graced me with an answer.

“I want to know you.”

I looked back at him… the yearning was still there, but it had a glint of determination mixed in now.

I attempted to analyze his answer like a lawyer this time.

“To know who I am as a person, or to know what I look like naked?”

He barked out such a loud laugh now that George dropped the koala to the floor. The sound echoed around the room like a thunder, but it felt like it was echoing inside of me as well, warming me up from my stomach out. I couldn’t help but smile.

“No, no, Mary. You already asked your question, now it’s my turn.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “We are allowed follow up questions. It’s the rules.”

“Not the British rules. And we are in Britain.”

I leaned forward, determined. “Truth or dare has universal rules.”

“Enough lawyering, it’s my turn!”

He rubbed his hands together and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees; I suddenly felt very much like I was in court, and I wondered - as I had a handful of times since seeing him that afternoon - if he was finally going to ask the one thing I told him the previous day he did not know about us: how/when we met.

“Truth or dare?”, he begun.

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my legs, but still swinging them side-to-side to appease Gorge in my lap. 

I considered picking dare, and avoiding giving him the power to simply ask me how we met - which I’d have to answer; It’s the rules, and as a lawyer I had a duty to the law. But I also, in a way, or if I’m being honest, in all ways, wanted him to ask. So I smiled, looked him in the eyes, and said:

“Truth.”

“Why are you upset?”

The question came so swiftly and quickly I barely noticed it had happened.

“What?”

“Why are you upset? What did Louis do?”

I‌ looked around the room; I had frozen in place, so George got a little restless. Uncrossing my legs, I started bouncing him up and down on my knees.

“I’m not- I just…”‌ I shrugged. “It’s nothing. Siblings fight. Do you not fight with your brother?”

“Almost exclusively, but that’s not the question. It’s my turn, you picked truth, and I want to know.”

I sighed. “It’s… complicated.”

He nodded, leaned forward and picked George from me, sitting him in his own lap. 

“Go on.”

I‌ took a deep breath, looking around, though mostly in, and let it out slowly. 

“I‌ heard Louis telling you he wants to stay in Scotland to get a Master’s Degree.”

“And… you don’t want him to? Wait, you were already upset when you got here. That’s not it, is it?”

“Now we’re allowed to ask follow up questions?”

He grinned. “You don’t have to tell me… I‌ was just, I‌ don’t know, trying to help.”

I got up, and started walking about. I traced the outline of a giraffe illustration in the wallpaper with my finger, slowly. 

“I don’t think he truly understands his… Place. In all of this.”

“This being?”

“Us. The Royal House of Castillon. The Crown. The Monarchy. The firm. The family business.”

“Ah. Of course. And you think he has to?”

I‌ turned around to look at him. “What I think is unrelated to the facts. And the fact is he is the heir. And he’s not acting like one.”

He shrugged. “He’s young.”

“He is almost twenty-two. And when he is here, taking care of his life, enjoying his freedom, which trust me, I understand, who do you think they call when they need someone to go to a ceremony or a service, or-”

“A royal tour?”

“Exactly,” I‌ dropped my gesturing hands to my sides, deflated. “Me. It’s not that I don’t like the work. I‌ do. But… I have a life, too. I have a job. And I know I’m not a fancy, cool, lawyer. They’re not writing Law And Order episodes about corporate law!‌‌ But my choices should matter too, should they not?”

“They should.” He nodded.

“And I‌ understand,‌ I do! I, too, went to school abroad! Louis had to stay home for boarding school, because he’s the heir, but even that I did abroad! And then later I‌ went to University in America, and I did get a postgraduate degree there, too, though mine was a shorter program. But I came home soon after! And you know why?”

“Why?”, he asked, diligently.

“For him!‌ Because I knew my parents needed help and I thought if I was around to help, they would allow him more time for his studies, you know? To enjoy his life before he has to dedicate it to the country, forever. And‌ I had job offers in America! I could have stayed there, where no one knew my name, but I didn’t. I‌ could have gone into human rights law, but I didn’t. So he’s not the only one who knows what it’s like having to make sacrifices for this family. But right now, I’m the only one doing that. Not him. And how is that fair?!”

Thankfully, he didn’t attempt to answer me. Instead, he allowed me time to slow my breathing and look back at him at my own pace.

“Have you… thought about maybe talking to your parents about this?”‌‌ He started, his voice gentle. “Tell them you want to dedicate yourself to your job.”

“Yes. My father promised as soon as Louis is back from University,‌ I’ll be allowed time to dedicate myself to my job.”

“That explains your anger at his plans for the future…”‌ He sighed. 

“Is that it? No advice? Words of wisdom? Mockery of my outburst to offer?”

“Was that an outburst?”‌ He asked, brows raised. “God, you’re polite.”

I‌ giggled, walking back over.

“I‌ mean,”‌ he started, “I‌ get it. There’s a lot we wish we could do, but we can’t because of our position… And knowing your ticket to a slightly more normal life is so close, yet so far must be frustrating.”

I brushed my fingers through George’s fine, blonde hair. “But?”

He sighed again. “But I… Well, at the risk of ruining whatever chance I‌ have here, I don’t think there’s much need to really worry.”

“How so?” I asked, purposely ignoring his remark about his chances.

“Well… Is it really that big of a deal if he stays there longer? I mean, I‌ know it’s not ideal but you should just… tell your family you’re busy when they ask. You’re allowed. You’re an adult with a proper job, which is more than any of us can really say.”‌ He added, humorously. “The monarchy will survive, I’m sure.”

“And what if by never holding him accountable to his responsibilities he simply never learns? What if we let him stay and he just… doesn’t come back until it’s too late to really learn what he needs to?”

“Well…” He lowered George to the rug, and handed him the koala. “You know what the best thing about being the spare is?” He patted the seat in the chair I had recently vacated, and I sat down in front of him again. “It’s not our problem to solve.”

I‌ considered this. He wasn’t… wrong, per se. But it sounded so utterly bleak. I recalled the way he described my job in relation to anyone else in a monarchy just then, my ‘proper’ job.

“You don’t think our place in this is important?”

“There’s that word again, place. You said your brother doesn’t understand his place, but… do any of us? What is our place, Mary?”

“Marie.”‌ I corrected, absentmindedly. “And, you know what I mean… our place in the country. In our royal families. In the… universe.”

“We’re the plan B of an Old World symbol of power that no longer has any power. I‌ can’t blame your brother for wanting a more useful use of his time, and I can’t blame you for it either, because you’re doing the same thing.”

“The Plan B?”

“You know, the… center pieces. The garnish. The embellishment. This whole tour, the reason why you and your father and brother are here, is about the immigration crisis, isn’t it?”‌ I nodded. “Your country is a little too loose on their policy and because you have a point of entry to Britain, our politicians are blaming you for our growing numbers of immigrants.”

“First of all, our polic-”

“But really, think about it,”‌ he went on, ignoring me, “what can we actually do about it? My grandmother, your father, my father, and maybe even Will and Kate, they have some power to strengthen diplomatic ties and the show of friendship may shame our politicians into figuring their shit out.‌ But us, you and me? We’re really just here to smile and look pretty, aren’t we?”

“I’m… learning about Catherine’s work with children to bring some of the experience back home.”

“Yes, admirable.” He nodded. “But, again, and not just now, but overall, in our lives? What’s our role? Isn’t it just to give them something to brag about? Look at Harry in his military uniform, two tours of duty, who’s to say that the royal family haven’t made sacrifices for the country? And look at Mary-”

“Marie.”

“…In the news, they’re saying she won a case!‌‌ She’s a lawyer! How impressive are the members of the royal family!”

“Have you always been a cynic?” He chuckled, shyly. “Do you really not think what we do is important?”

He smiled. “I‌ just try to be as honest with myself as I can. And that begins with knowing that my, how did you put it? My role in the cosmos is to give the people a show. As the spares, that’s all you and I can do. Chose a good partner that they’ll enjoy building up and then destroying, hopefully a pretty wedding or cute babies one day, and if we can help some people along the way, all the better. It’s… it’s a good endeavor. We can help a little, I think. But… important? I don’t know. I can’t be sure I’d use that word to describe anything we do.”

I nodded, slowly, taking it all in. It was a… gloomy thought, and not entirely untrue. With one caveat.

“That uniform you mentioned, the two tours… were they fake?”

“What?!‌ No.”

“So you did go to war?”

“Twice.”

I‌ nodded. “And the people you went with, they were remarkable, weren’t they?”

He smiled, looking at his nephew slightly lost in thought. “Yes.”

“They wear the same uniform you do. Aren’t they important?”

He looked at me. “It’s… it’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it? Do you think the people we help, the people that benefit from the organizations we help as best we can, whose lives are touched by our work one way or another, somehow, the people you helped in the army… do you think they’d agree with you that what we do isn’t important?”

He opened his mouth to speak, waited a couple of seconds, and closed it again. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was, that the silence was nicer than it should be; that even though in the past it had felt invasive or abrupt holding someone’s look for too long, this time it felt nice. It felt like being seen.

George squealed loudly across the room, throwing a toy cube, and our daze was broken.

“We should take him to his parents.”

“Yes.”‌ He said, and we stood up at the same time, being caught off guard by how close we were. 

I slipped away, swiftly, caressing a hand over my arm to smooth the chills there, and he went over to pick up his nephew, who whined a little as he was separated from his toys.

“It’s okay, buddy, we’re going to go find mummy and daddy.” Harry told him, in a sweet, gentle, baby-voice. “If it’s boring downstairs I’ll play with you, alright?”

He was so excruciatingly sweet with the baby that I could feel it right in my gut, this… whatever it was that roared as I watched them.

Wherever his place in the cosmos was, I couldn’t help but wish it was close to mine.

--- --- --- ---

Margueritte’s outfits!

[A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters, I hope you liked it too! Please let me know your thoughts? Feedback is always welcome! Shoot me a message, or like this chapter, either way, thank you SO MUCH for reading!]

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 2. The British Inquisition

‘They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.’ F. Scortt Fitzgerald

It’s not that I didn’t like Harry. It was just his.... overconfidence, his relentlessness, his constant smug grin, his general aspect of brazenness - well, maybe I just didn’t like him. I didn’t like saying I didn’t like anyone, I had an honest belief that most people tried to do what they assumed was the best. Most often than not, their personality merely didn’t match ours. Like two puzzle pieces not fitting together. Not every single person should get along perfectly, and that is absolutely fine. I sure wasn’t intending on allowing it to put a damper on the work we had to.

Did I expect him to be there? No, I was surprised. I hadn’t seen him in years. It’s a small circle, being royal. You see people, can’t be helped, but Harry and I didn’t usually frequent the same places in our down time. He was a party-boy with a track record for hell raising, I was… well, a lawyer; an adult; let’s just say, someone who didn’t spend a lot of time in Vegas.

The way he tried to relate to me didn’t help. Not the casual flirting on the wake of his grandmother’s comment about his heartbreaker ways, which was simply confusing. Was he trying to prove her right or wrong? And which option was more freaky? No, it’s the thing he said after, about my cousin, when we were sitting in a procession carriage with his father on our way to Buckingham Palace

“I think I know your cousin!”

I smiled in response, politely. “Klaus of Luxembourg?” 

“No. I mean, I think I know him, too… But I mean the other one.”

“Brown hair? Thin nose?” he seemed more confused, “Always smells of cigarettes?”

“Yes, that’s him.” He nodded. “We met at the Grand Prix in Monaco, I think.”

“That’s Adrien.”

“Great guy.” He said. “Always knew how to party.”

It made sense he would know Adrien, they were both party boys with no thought to future consequences. With one caveat.

“He has quieted down recently.”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, getting engaged will do that do a man.”

The thing about my cousin Adrien was that he had a great heart. Unfortunately, it used to beat a little too much to the sound of parties all over Nordic Europe. And Northern Europe. And Southeast Asia. Everywhere, really. It became problematic for my family to have to track him around the globe to make sure he wasn’t about to do something scandalous in nature. There is no room for individuality or self-exploration in royalty; one mistake, even by a cousin who is not really going to be king, is connected to us all. All that is to say, we were all very happy Adrien had finally, officially gotten engaged to his long term girlfriend, which made him more predictable and reliable. So hearing from one of his old party buddies that said life change was somehow negative didn’t really warm His Royal Highness in my regard. Still, I was prepared to be professional.

“And, of course, I know your brother as well.”

“Edinburgh University is a fine institution.” His father added. “He’s acquiring a master’s degree, I understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what is his intention with it?”

At this moment a chuckle came from his son.

“To stay away from Savoy, I’m sure.”

“Are you, sir? What gives you that impression?” I asked, a lot harsher than I had meant, feeling my heartbeat in my throat at the sound of an implication. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Harry.” His father warned, still politely. “Will you please be quiet for once?”

“I was only kidding.” He shrugged, quickly.

Still, though the moment scared me, I was still prepared for a successful trip. 

And then the questions started.

It started with:

“I’m sure it’s not your first time in the U.K., is it?”, and when I told him that of course not, I visited my brother often enough and came with friends in the past, he wanted to know “Where did you grow up?”, to which I replied, not without some sass, “I thought it was obvious, sir, I’m from Savoy.” Not one to be deterred, he explained he meant if I was raised in the countryside or capital, or if I had gone to boarding school (mostly countryside until my father became king, then boarding school in Belgium). 

I wanted to merely avoid him, of course. But being the spare of the King I sat next to him - the spare of the heir - at luncheon, and so it was unavoidable.

It feels redundant to explain, but growing up in this world means a saturation of things that aren’t common knowledge to the regular civilian, so explain I must: A ‘spare’ is the term designated for secondary children, the ones who aren’t direct heirs. So when it comes to heirs to the throne, or monarchs, for centuries it was advised that they had one heir to inherit the throne, and at least one ‘spare’, one extra child, who would be available in case something happened to the first one. Which, in those days, was often. After the gift of penicillin and vaccines, spares became more of a commodity than a necessity. A trading card to negotiate with other kingdoms for political power. An arranged marriage here and there, a good dowry to a second child, turning an otherwise useless daughter into a queen consort for another country’s throne. 

In the twenty-first century, us spares were… well, even more useless. Monarchies as a whole lost much of their power, and so the spare’s job is no longer to secure the throne stays in the family in the case of a fatality, but only to support the monarch and future monarchs as much as they - as much as we - can. 

So it was natural we were sat together. Though his father was still the heir, he would be king soon enough. So his spare - Harry - was expected to chat-up my father’s spare - me. I don’t think, however, that it had been anyone’s intentions for him to chat me up that much.

I had spent some time admiring the room, it wasn’t a full on banquet room, but a smaller, dining room, with pink arabescos prints on the wall and kings and queens painted inside gold frames hanging from the ceilings, when I realized I hadn’t actually talked to Harry in a  while. Thinking he may have been timid after his father’s warning in the carriage, I decided to take the first step. I was nothing if not professional.

I should have known it would be enough.

“And where did you go to school, sir?”

He looked at me, seemingly surprised and a bit caught off guard. 

“Oh, ah, Eton. Eton College. Berkshire, not far from Windsor.”

I nodded, as though I knew where Berkshire or Windsor were exactly. 

“And, uhm,” he went on, the red cheeks transforming into a small smile, “you don’t have to call me sir. You can call me Harry if I can call you Mary.”

I grinned, resisting an urge to roll my eyes.

“It’s Marie.”

“Marie”, he repeated, forcibly, with a French accent this time. “Please, call me Harry, Marie.”

I shrugged, trying to hold in a sigh at the forced ‘rr’ sound when he said my name, “force of habit.”

“What did you do after school, Marie?”

I looked at him. “After?”

“Yes, did you play any sports?”

“Oh. I played some polo. Volleyball.”

A couple of seconds went by as his smile grew more knowing than polite.

“And what did you actually like?”

And, see, it was that kind of presumption that made him just a little… infuriating. The smile that accompanied the presumption - almost unbearably charming - didn’t help his case, either. 

”What makes you think I didn’t like those sports?”

He took a sip of his water, still smiling in a way I could, inexplicably, almost feel.

“Did you?”

“I hear the Crown Prince will be finishing his studies soon.” His grandmother put, to my father, before I could figure a way to answer him.

“Yes, he, uhm,” Father pondered, “He is very diligent with his academic career. We’re so proud.”

I suppressed a roll of my eyes by staring at my plate. 

The Duke of Edinburgh nodded. “I’m sure it’ll be a relief to have him back in the country.”

“Margueritte has been a great help. But it’ll be nice to have him home again.”

I smiled graciously at them before downing my water, hoping the conversation would have moved on before I had to join it.

After the meal we were guided to the gallery, where Her Majesty proudly showed us some Savoyen relics that the British Royal family had accumulated over the years, as well as their entire collection. 

There, the British Spare wanted to know if I liked art (of course), if I had taken any course about it on Uni (a couple more and I could have minored in it), and told me all about his own feelings on the matter.

“Like what you see, Marie?” He asked, on a whispered low baritone, when I stood in front of a painting of himself and his brother, leaning against a doorframe. He was pronouncing my name wrong again, as ‘Mary’, just placing the stress in the last syllable.

Instead of staring at him in disbelief, however, I took a deep breath and kept my eyes on his painted face. 

"Masterful work. Wonderful physiognomy, even if your right hand looks a little crooked... and small."

"My-?" He asked, confused, removing his arms from where they had been, connected behind his back, and staring at his own hand. "My hands are not small."

Pleased with the unsettled displeasure in his tone, much more amusing the previous flirty intonation, I followed his eyes, seeing again whatever it was he scribbled into them in black ink. His hands were indeed large and, resisting an urge to touch them, or take some time to imagine what they would feel like on my skin, I focused on the painting again. 

"The color in your hair was well captured, though it is depicted understandably bushier than reality."

"Okay." He rolled his eyes, now, as I watched satisfied the corners of his lips slowly curl up in a grin. “That’s an old- it was a long time ago.”

“Don’t worry yourself, sir, it happens to a lot of men. I’m told it’s very natural.”

“Okay!” He let out a silent laugh; interestingly, this time the grin it left behind did not unsettle me, though it did make me feel victorious somehow.

“Do you remember when we had to actually sit through these?” The Prince of Wales asked my father. “Are you old enough to remember that?”

My father laughed, delighted, “I am, yes. I once had to sit in a hot summer day in full military costume, a replica, of course, I was a child. And the mosquitoes just had a feast that day, because I was not allowed to move!”

They laughed, “Nowadays the children sit for a photograph and that is it!”

I looked over at Harry, hoping to see my own exasperation at the exchange looking back at me, and I did. It was accompanied however, by a softness in his eyes and smile that made me feel weirdly seen. As if he knew a secret I was hiding. It felt unsettling. So, leaning over, I said,

“I hope the painter signed a good NDA.” To which he laughed, now more loudly than before, looking back at the painting. 

There, I thought; this feels better.

We were ushered into another room, brightly lit and artfully decorated where we were served tea. I had been telling the Duke of Edinburgh about my focus on senior citizens’ aide when he approached again. And that’s when it got kinda weird.

“Did you have a good relationship with your grandparents?”

“Something you want to get off your chest, Harry?”, his grandfather asked. “I can step away if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

The Duke laughed at his own joke, and I tried to suppress a smile. 

“No, grandad, I’m just- just making conversation, it’s all.”

He then looked at me, expectantly, and seeing as his grandfather did the same I saw no way out other than to answer, “My great-grandmother is still alive, I have some wonderful memories of her from my childhood. And my grandparents, on both sides, are of some age, but still very present in our lives.”

“King Philippe” His grandfather nodded. “Well, Prince Philippe now, I presume, after he abdicated in favor of your father? Wonderful fellow. Still owes me some money from a poker game from a Tour of Savoy I did with the Queen in 1991.”

“Really?”

“How much money, grandad?”

“Oh, that’s between the both of us.” He looked at me, then. “Do tell him I’m expecting it.”

“Will do, sir.”

“Don’t involve Mary in your weird, borderline undiplomatic shenanigans.”

“Marie!” The Duke corrected for me, rolling his eyes. “And look who’s speaking... You didn’t see me preaching when your shenanigans ended up in the cover of The Mirror.”

“Grandad.” The prince exasperated. But, hearing me laugh, he smiled a little more comfortable. “First of all, yes, he did so.”

“I did?!” The Duke exclaimed, aghast, but Harry was now whispery, looking around suspiciously that we weren’t overheard.

“You lecture everyone!”

“Oh, nonsense.” He then turned around, aiming for his son across the room, sharing a couch with the Queen. “Your father will clarify this.”

Harry was shaking his head, eyes shut, but an amused grin rested on his lips. It was… not a bad sight; a thought which may be why I felt myself blush so furiously when he opened his eyes to look directly at me, and I felt like I was doing something wrong again.

“Oh.” The Duke of Edinburgh had returned, apparently with one last thought, and now leaned in to ask me on a stage whisper, “What are your favorite flowers, Ma’am?”

“My-?” I took a second to think on it. “I suppose daisies, sir, after my name. But I don’t really have a favorite. I like… all flowers. The more colorful the better.”

He seemed momentarily intrigued by the answer, then nodded, thoughtfully, before looking at his grandson as if for confirmation.

“May I ask why?”

He smiled at me, dismissively, already walking away again. “Oh, just trying to simplify my grandson’s life. He ought to know what flowers he should get when he inevitably sends your some.”

“Grandfather!”

But the Duke merely waved at Harry, back turned, and continued to walk away from the awkwardness he left behind.

“Good God… I’m sorry.” Harry looked around, searching. For what, I couldn’t be sure.

I just nodded, affording him a chuckle so he knew there was no harm done. Then, simply because I couldn’t exist in the silence anymore, I walked over to the tea table and found a coconut biscuit.

“He is… retired.”

I bit a piece of the cookie as fast as i could, making it impossible to have to join Harry back into the awkward moment he was so clearly still inside. 

“I haven’t… things haven’t-” He sighed. “I suppose he thinks I need… help.”

“Tennis.” 

“Pardon me?”

I turned to him. “At lunch, you asked which sport I actually liked. I really like tennis.”

He stared for a prolonged time, but the redness that had taken over his cheeks and neck began to diminish. Still, I felt mine bright and angry. I suppose I just didn’t want him to tell me what kind of help his grandfather seemed to think he needed. 

“Individual sport.” He nodded. “Shy, Mary?”

“I see we’ve gone back to Mary.”

“You’re free to call me Harry. I like having a nickname for you.”

“It’s… not quite a nickname. Just my name, but wrong.”

He smiled. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I shrugged, non-committal. “I guess I just dislike the pressure in team sports.”

“Hm.” He seemed intrigued. 

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that. I think I do. I just wonder if that’s all there is to it.”

I had another question ready, but refrained from it, looking away; his smile grew bigger.

“Go on, ma’am. What have you got to say?”

I let out an incredulous chucke. “Why do I have the impression you are playing a game with yourself to see how fast you can make me lose my composure?”

He shrugged. “I am, a little bit. Seems easy enough, since you don’t seem to like me, for some reason. But I’ve begun to see that is a losing battle.”

“Good.”

“Is it?”

“To me? Yes.”

“I’m not so sure it is.”

I downed the rest of the coconut biscuit to stop myself from arguing further, but he kept staring at me the entire time, which was unnerving. 

“Am I right?”

I took my eyes from the others to look at him, again. “About what?”

“You don’t seem to like me very much.”

I gave him a polite smile. “I don’t see why you would think so.”

He grinned. “That’s not a no.”

“You seem nice.”

“Oh.” He put a hand to his heart and closed his eyes. “Please, Mary, calm down, or I might burst with such loud endorsement!”

I laughed, contradicted. Harry remained silently watching me, so finally I sighed and looked out the windows overlooking the mall.

“You don’t seem to remember, but we have actually met before.” I confessed, to his confusion.

“We… have. I thought you wouldn’t remember it.”

Now, however, I was the one confused.

I had met him exactly three times in the past. I was confident he couldn’t remember the first, the second was a birthday party of a friend in common where I’m sure we didn’t speak, and the third was-

“Royal Ascot.” He nodded. “A few years ago, actually.”

I nodded, slowly. “Right. That… one time we met.”

“Yes,” he smiled, seeming genuinely happy I remembered it, “I think it was the second day. I know my grandmother wasn’t there, because she would have known you were and would have asked someone to bring you over to us to say hello, but no one did. It was mostly me and some of my cousins. I think maybe my brother was there, too. He’s the one who pointed out your group to me.”

It was, if I’m not mistaken, a good three years before. He didn’t have a beard, then. I attended Royal Ascot because Louis, my brother, had recently moved to Scotland to attend University and had gone a couple times prior. Despite Harry’s impression from earlier, I do like polo and horses, and was interested. But when we got there, and Louis told us we should go say hello to the British, I had a horrible flashback of the previous time I had met Prince Harry. 

“I did meet your brother a year before, I think? Maybe two. He was new to Britain, when he’d just started Uni, and so in Ascot I went over to say hello to him, but just as I got there, you… sort of, took off.”

I nodded, now feeling slightly… childish.

“Yes, I… I remember.” I risked a look over at him, who was biting his bottom lip. 

“I thought maybe you’d looked at me before I arrived, and ran off because you didn’t want to meet me.”

He laughed, and I joined, somewhat awkwardly, knowing that was… precisely the case.

I shrugged. “I needed a drink, I think? I do remember coming back around and Louis telling me we had just missed you.”

“Yes, it’s okay, of course.” He added, quickly. “He said you had gone off with your boyfriend.”

He added the line so dismissively, and yet pronouncing the word ‘boyfriend’ so specifically at the exact volume so that I could hear it clearly, but still know he meant it to be a dismissive sentiment, that I knew, somewhere inside, that I was meant to address it. It was hard not to be amused. Instead, I just nodded, trying to bite my inner lip to contain a grin.

“Yes, Christopher.” 

There was a pause. An almost comically long pause. He kept looking over at me, but I decided to just poured myself some more tea. 

“And, uh… Is Christopher from Savoy as well?”

I took a moment to think on it before replying. “He’s French, actually. His family is, mostly. But he was raised in Savoy.”

He nodded, slowly. I continued to pour my tea, also very slowly.

“And uhm, what… what does he do?”

I suppressed a smile. “He’s a hedge fund manager.”

He let out a loud sigh, which could have been a sarcastic laugh, and as I finished pouring my tea, I looked over at him as I brought it to my lips, enjoying his reaction maybe a little too greatly.

I wondered, as I walked over to Cadie, if he would leave me alone now. Clearly, the flirtationship would lose its appeal now he thought I was taken. Guys usually only respected other guys, so perhaps he would keep his distance now that I wasn’t as interesting as before.

Cadie was standing by the door, in a corner with the rest of our traveling staff as well as some Buckingham staff. She smiled as I approached and spoke before I even asked,

“His security just sent an update. There was a… logistic delay, but they’re about half an hour from London now. He should be here in time for the Mayor’s ball this evening.”

I smiled at her, knowingly. “Logistic delay? They mean he forgot to pack until the last minute, don’t they?”

She smiled, but no reply came; she knew I didn’t need one, and I wouldn’t force her to incriminate her future king. Instead, she said on a low whisper, looking behind me,

“He seems to like you.”

I rolled my eyes at the wall, so no one but her would see it. 

“He is one of the most annoying people I have ever met.”

“Is that why you blush every time he asks you something?”

I felt my own head snap at her direction against my will, “I do not!”, but I could already feel my cheeks redden.

Cadie smiled. “You’re allowed to move on, you know?”

I rolled my eyes at her, and was abou to reply when Auguste approached us.

“Ma’am,” he said, lowly and very menacingly, “I think your time might be more productive today if spent, perhaps, socializing?”

I sighed, and walked back to the tea table before I could give him the answer I actually wanted.

“Anything wrong?”, Harry asked, approaching again. “You look… annoyed.”

I wanted to say that was a common effect of his presence, but still, I merely smiled.

“Just checking if my brother is on his way; he is.” 

He nodded, and looked over at our staff, who averted their eyes from our direction, though unfortunately, not quickly enough.

“Is that your handler?”, he asked, looking discreetly at Auguste.

I responded by giving him a quizzical look.

“Secretary? Assistant? Aide?”

“Oh, no. My father’s junior aide. He’s… he’s being trained to work with my brother after his… heirdom starts.”

“Heirdom?” He asked, amused.

“You know, when he graduates and starts being a proper heir.”

He nodded. “And why don’t we like him?”

“I like him.” I shrugged, looking resolutely ahead, still feeling him look at me, disbelieving. “He-”

I sighed, turning back around, to the window, hoping no one could see me.

“He seems to think I’m still a fourteen year-old child who doesn’t understand that daddy has a big responsibility I’m getting in the way of.”

Harry was quiet for a long time. A long enough time for me to regret telling him this, and to wonder if there was a casual enough way I could pretend I was joking.

“Does he not know you’re a lawyer?!”

I looked over at him, who looked the most confused I’d seen him all day.

“He does… how do you know?”

He shrugged. “Your brother, and Adrien… I don’t know, I heard it somewhere. Adrien once said you’re the smartest person in your family.”

I turned to him, now, fully confused myself. “He… did?”

“What, does he not seem like the type?”

“The type to puke all over the Christmas tree when he’s drunk on eggnog? Yes. To  compliment people when they’re not around to give him credit for it? Not really.”

He laughed. “Oh, wow. Yeah… I’ll definitely be asking him about that… “

We let a moment pass in silence, and I noticed, somewhat joyfully, he hadn’t allowed the knowledge of Christopher stop him from talking to me. 

“Hey, how did you know?” I asked, and one of his brows corked up. “That I didn’t like polo or volleyball as much as other sports.”

“Oh. Well… I suppose, because it’s a tour.” He shrugged. “And you being...” His eyes traveled down my whole body and back up to meet mine. “Perfect… ly-perfectly poised, and… and polite and professional, you just… you seem like the kind of person who would make sure to give exactly all the answers you’re suppose to at such an -- important job.”

I let my face contort at the sarcasm in the words ‘important’ and ‘job’.

“You don’t think our job is important?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, which looked over at his shoes as he thought of how to answer me.

“So what was your favorite subject in school?” He asked, very deliberately chipper now.

I stared him down, unrelenting, matching his smile, until he sighed.

“I don’t think we’re ready for this conversation.” He said.

“When will we be?”

“When we’re friends.” He returned, quickly. 

It was an answer he had ready and, although I felt I was expected to say that we were already friends, I respected his self-awareness that we weren’t. So I just nodded.

“I liked classics.” I told him. “In school.”

He nodded, looking me up and down. “I see that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do I have a face for Shakespeare?”

“Well, your name already sounds like you should be in Hamlet.”

“You mean Mary?”

He laughed. “Yes. Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“And what did you prefer in school?”

He shrugged. “Sports.”

“Hm.” I let out, looking away so he wouldn’t see my second eye-roll. But he still laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing. I also see that for you.”

“Do I have a face for sports?”

I shrugged. “You have the body.”

He raised his brows at that, and I looked away, suddenly realizing my own words.

“I mean-”

“No, no, Mary, no need to explain. I understand.” 

His tone was so insufferable and his smile so knowing, and yet, somehow… I couldn’t help but smile.

“I think it’s your turn, now.”

I looked back at him. “My turn?”

“To ask me a question.”

There something benevolent about his tone, as if he was doing my favor by giving me a chance to change the subject. 

I took it.

“Truth or dare?”, I asked, to his surprise.

“Really?”

“You told me to ask a question. That’s a question.”

He took a step closer. “What happens if I pick dare?”

I faced him, keeping my face as still and intense as I could. “Pick and find out.”

I suppose the half an hour Cadie mentioned Louis would take to arrive might have fit inside the long look he gave me; but in truth, I wouldn’t know how long I stood there as he looked at me. 

Eventually, however, the loud laughter from both our families startled us out of the little trance we seemed to be in, and he cleared his throat, awkwardly.

This was when my father approached.

“Margueritte, your brother is arriving in Clarence House as we speak. It’s time to go.” He shook hands with Harry. “Thank you for having us today. We have to go receive my son who’s meeting us here for the rest of the tour.”

Harry smiled at him. “Of course. And will Christopher be joining you as well?”

I bit my lip to hide a grin, but my father seemed puzzled. “Christopher? You mean, our Christopher?”

“Our Christopher?” I asked my father, who sighed.

“You know what I mean… Christopher Ratté. How do you know Christopher, Harry?”

“We have common interests, apparently.”

“Oh, well, that’s... nice. I don’t think he’s in the country, however.” He looked at me. “Margueritte?”

“I wouldn’t know what Christopher is up to these days.”

“Yes, well, we’ll tell him you said hello if we do see him.” 

As my father left to say his goodbyes, Harry looked at me.

“You don’t know what he’s up to these days?”

“I wouldn’t know.” I shrugged. “Seeing as he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

I might as well have told him Santa Claus was real and he was getting coal for Christmas.

He nodded, slowly, a few times as his mouth opened and shut, before he finally seemed to settle on, “Oh.”

Before I could turn away to say goodbye to his grandparents, however, he held on to my elbow, delicately. 

“Damn, Mary, you could have said something.” He whispered, breathlessly.

I tried not to laugh, which was not an easy feat.

“You could have asked… you didn’t seem to have a problem asking anything today.”

“I didn’t want to… appear… invasive.”

This was too much, so I did laugh.

“Wow.”

“I’m glad you can laugh about it… does this mean I have permission to keep asking things?”

I sighed. “You didn’t seem to need permission before.”

He laughed, biting his lip.

“Sorry. I… It’s just- I don’t usually meet people who may… understand... What it’s like.”

I gulped. “What it’s like?”

He looked around the room. “What it’s like having to shape your entire life after… all of this, and yet… not to really have a role to play in it.”

I nodded, wondering if that’s all he wanted; someone to understand. Wondering if he did need help; or if Cadie was right.

“...Especially ones with a face like yours.”

“Aw.” I said, emotionless, deadpan, “you ruined it.”

I was going to turn away to go say my goodbyes to his family, but before I did, for reasons still unknown to myself, I turned to him again.

“By the way, Christopher wasn’t the only thing you were wrong about today…”

He was still grinning. “And what was I wrong about, ma’am?”

“Royal Ascot. That wasn’t the first time we met.”

--- --- --- --- --- ---

[A/N: Thank you so much for reading, please let me know if you like it by liking this page or leaving a comment? It’d mean so much to me!]

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 

When he left us, everyone did.

---- ---- ---- ----

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” 

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?” 

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

---- ---- ---- ----

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 

---- ---- ---- ----

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]

[boundtoyouphff]

Chapter 13: Come Dance With Me

A/N: Here is the next chapter like I had promised! I cannot wait to share more of this story with you guys. I hope to hear from you soon. Enjoy xx

*Please make sure you have read Ch 12 that I had posted earlier today BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER!*

--------------------------------

Dancing.

I love to dance.

You turned me around and I found those hopeful piercing blue eyes asking, “Come dance with me.” I grabbed your hand without hesitation as if an outside force pushed me into your arms. Our bodies were connected and moved as if we were puppets with our invisible strings being maneuvred from a source above the clouds.

I love to dance, but I found out that I love to dance with you more.

Maybe it’s the way you hold me securely in your arms as I put my trust in you to never let me fall.

But, I am falling. Falling in love with you.

They say to dance with your heart and your body will follow. Is that the case with love too? If you love with your heart, will your mind accept that love or is the voice of reason too strong?

Will this dance end before it can even begin?

I love to dance.

Come dance with me.

Come dance with me to a song that never ends.

————————--------

Giving the crowds one last wave, Harry jumped in the back seat of the vehicle and settled down into the comfortable leather while releasing a deep sigh. He finished his somber engagement at Fort Lennox this afternoon, one which held a memorial for all of those who fought and lost their lives at the Battle of Lennox. The majority of the Illyrian Royal family were present, including Emilia, but it was her brother Edward that was to accompany Harry today.

The prince closed his eyes for a brief moment relishing in silence that he had found. He breathed in a slow deep breath and released it through pursed lips as a wave of relief floated out from him. He now had a break in his tour where he would be able to spend some more time with Emilia.

The door flew open making Harry’s eyes spring open as his peaceful surroundings were distrubed by none other than Emilia’s twin brother, Prince Edward. He smirked and took the seat beside Harry before he unbuttoned his military uniform and threw his head back with a sigh. “I find these memorials are too somber for my liking.” Emilia’s brother voiced his unwanted opinion. His head turned to flash a smile at the quiet prince. “At least we are heading to Cavallo this evening. The resort we always book is off the charts mate. It will be good for you to have a fun evening off from this tour, Harry.”

The prince was doing his best to be courteous to Edward, despite his inward feelings for the man and the way he treated his sister. “I am looking forward to spending some time in the sun and on the beach I must admit. Is this a yearly dinner?” Harry engaged in conversation with Edward, hoping to pass the hour and a half drive to the resort.

But, his mind kept drifting off to an image of Emilia at the memorial. She had stood beside Harry and her brother Edward for the majority of the service. Her wavy long dress had Illyrian flowers printed across the fabric that flowed in the breezy wind that tousled her hair. Harry remained the stoic soldier beside her, dressed proudly in his military uniform he had brought along specifically for this occasion. From under the brim of his hat, he saw the princess bow her head and wipe away a stray tear. In that exact moment, you could hear a sea of cameras clicking away and capturing the moment. No doubt to use against Emilia in tomorrow’s papers. His heart sank in his chest for her, the princess was under constant scrutiny. Why were they so vindictive of her when she was the only one who showed true emotion, the one who wasn’t afraid to?

Harry joined the rest of the royal family, greeting the soldiers of the past and present to thank them for their continued sacrifice. Emilia was ahead of Harry to begin with, but he quickly caught up to the princess as she greeted and spoke to every single one of them who eagerly waited for her. She often kneeled down to their eye level and held a short conversation rather than just a greeting. There was one moment where they both delved into a deep conversation with a veteran who told them their story.

“Harry?” Edward had called his name, bringing the prince back into the moment.

“Yes? Sorry, my mind went elsewhere.” Harry locked eyes with the prince and offered a kind smile.

“Better not have been thinking of my sister, she’s off limits!” Edward tossed his head back in laughter, making light of the situation.

Little did Edward know, that was exactly who was on his mind.

—————————

The prince had arrived at the Malvarossa resort in Cavallo after a mentally strenuous ride and immediately felt relaxed with the stunning ocean views that welcomed him. Prince Edward ensured that Harry was all settled in his room at the private villa the royal family had booked for a few days. The villa was a separate entity of the resort and was often the place the family used as a vacation venue.

He walked out towards the balcony and opened the white panelled doors, immediately feeling the sea breeze hit him. Closing his eyes, Harry took in a deep breath and felt the bright Illyrian sun warm him. He grasped the balcony rails and looked down, deciding to go for a walk and check out the villa until he had to get ready for the dinner.

Harry was wandering around aimlessly when he ran into Julianna, The Duchess of Molvania and her husband Prince George who had their children with them, Prince Leonardo and Princess Fiona, Emilia’s cousins. Leonardo enveloped the prince into a hug and welcomed him to the resort, immediately inviting Harry to join him at the bar for a drink to which Harry accepted.

Prince Leo ordered their drinks and sat down beside the prince, running his fingers through his thick dark lock of hair. He held Harry’s gaze as he saw those same icy blue eyes that was a clear genetic marker in the Illyrian royal family. “How’s the tour going, mate?” Leonardo casually asked Harry.

“Well...” Harry laughed nervously and took a healthy sip of his drink. “You know how tours can be exhausting. So this is a well needed break.” He turned to angle his body to look out towards the crystal clear waters, watching as the waves came crashing into the shore.

“I get it, Harry. Been on my fair share and I cannot say I would willingly volunteer again for one.” Leo barked a laugh and clasped his hands together. “Tonight will be fun. You will definitely get to see a different side to my family..... the dramatic side that is.” He continued to laugh.“Us boys always place a bet on how long until things blow up. There is always some sort of family drama that gets unleashed when we all get together.” Leo shook his head at the memories that had come flooding to mind. “At least there won’t be any Emilia and Thomas drama like last year....”

Harry watched Leo’s expression morph into a somber one. It caught him off guard and caused Harry to want to know more of what Leo thought of his cousin, Emilia. It had seemed that most of her family was ready and willing to drag her through the mud, but Leo appeared not to be in that same category. His gut feeling was that Leo was a genuine friendly guy.

“It does appear that drama is always surrounding Emilia...” He left his statement drag off in hopes that Leo would take the bait and share his thoughts with him.

“Not of her doing... don’t be deceived by what you read.” Leonardo did not waste a breath in his reply as he stared at the bottom of an empty glass before ordering a new one. He spinned the bar stool around to face the prince, locking in his gaze.

“Let me tell you something about Emilia, Harry.” Leo nodded his head slowly. “Emilia is like a sister to me and I know her like one. She has more heart and empathy than anyone on this earth and she is not afraid to show how passionate she is. I have worked on numerous projects with her and she literally puts her heart and soul into every little detail. But, at the end of the day she is judged more harshly than anyone in this family thanks to my grandmother and the media.” Leo shook his head and displayed a look of disgust. “She is exactly what this family needs, what this country needs to see from their royal family, but my grandmother is stuck in the past.”

“It breaks my heart to see her light being dimmed because others can’t stand to see how bright she can shine.” Harry could feel the love Leo held for Emilia emanating through his words of admiration for the princess. It was a relief to see that at least someone in this family saw Emilia for what she was worth and could see the potential in her. The prince lifted his head to glance up at Harry. “She’s been through so much this past year. I didn’t blame her at all for running away to London for a while. I think she shouldn’t have come back and given a taste to gran what she is missing.”

Before Harry could speak in return, his eyes captured Emilia walking down to the bar dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a simple white buttoned down blouse and black flats. Leo caught Harry gazing at the princess over his shoulder and glanced back to see who had caught his attention. “Perfect timing.” He giggled lightly.

Emilia tucked her long dark hair behind her ear in an attempt to tame in from the wind blowing off of the ocean. She was carrying a duffel bag of hers and was on the way to check in to her room when she saw her cousin Leonardo and Harry having a drink at the private bar. Emilia waved at them with a beaming smile, silently loving the fact that they appeared to already be getting along with one another.

“Hello boys!” Leonardo hopped off of his bar stool and leaned in to greet his cousin with a peck on the cheek.

“Hello gorgeous cousin. Glad to see you have arrived for the familial festivities.” He patted her on the head to remind her how much shorter she was than him. Emilia rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm away before turning her attention towards Harry.

“Hi, Harry.” Emilia took a step towards him and opened up her arms inviting him into an embrace. He wrapped his arms around the beautiful princess and squeezed her tiny frame.

“Hello, Emilia.” Their hug lingered for a few seconds too long as Emilia took in a deep breath and inhaled Harry’s sweet memorable scent. Breaking apart, she lowered her head in embarrassment knowing that Leo would pick up on it. She always struggled to lie and keep things from her close knit cousin.

“I see you two have already started drinking.” Emilia peaked up at Leo and reached across him, grabbing his drink and downing it before he could intervene.

“Ahhh!” Leo gasped in shock. “I really have missed you cousin!” He waved at the bartender to order more drinks, but Emilia had stopped him.

“Nah, none for me Leo. I need to get settled in and ready for dinner.” She sadly informed the dark haired prince and watched him dramatically extend out his bottom lip into a pout.

“I am good mate.” Harry held his hand up in refusal.

“Well, I can’t be here at my lonesome?!” Leo tossed his arms up in the air and shook his head in disbelief.

Emilia angled her head up at him. “Should have invited Ella then.” She held her hand up in the air to act like a visor and block the sun from her eyes.

“Ya, not after the disaster that happened last year when you brought your boyfriend to the dinner.” Leo’s eyes grew wide with horror.

Emilia smacked Leo’s stomach hard. “Leo!” She scolded her cousin before turning her body towards Harry. “Leo is dating my stylist, Ella. No one in the family knows, but me.” Harry nodded in understanding, but it was not that particular bit of information that he was more curious about.

“I am going to take my bag to my room. See you two at dinner.” Emilia bent down and picked up her bag with a small grunt, forgetting how heavy it was.

“Need help with that?” Harry was quick to offer the princess, but was met with a glaring narrowed set of blue eyes.

Leo raised his eyebrow and watched the interaction. “Good luck convincing the tiger.” He mumbled, but both Harry and Emilia had heard his words.

The prince took a step forward towards Emilia, making the close proximity to her very evident in his intentions. She peaked up at him, gazing up at him while his hand brushed up against her own to grasp the bag. Emilia did not put up a fight like she normally would have and dropped the bag into his hand.

“Where’s your room?” The prince motioned for Emilia to show him the way.

“Follow me.” Emilia turned on her heel with crossed arms and waved goodbye to Leo. “Bye Leo, see you later.”

Harry grabbed the bag and carried it behind his shoulder. “Good god, do you have a dead body in here? How much did you pack for two nights?” The prince complained as he trailed behind Emilia towards the direction of her room.

“Oh stop complaining, Wales.... besides.” Emilia turned around and started to walk backwards. “A girl can never have too many clothes!” Harry rolled his eyes and offered a quick wink before following Emilia down the corridor towards her room.

Emilia and Harry fell into step with one another as a comfortable silence fell between them. Emilia glanced up towards the prince and witnessed the elated smile that was still plastered on Harry’s lips. She gently grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers together, patiently waiting for his gaze to fall upon her. The prince angled his head and looked down towards the princess and caught her staring up at him with an adoring expression.

Harry squeezed her hand while his lips spread into a beaming grin for the princess. “You looked beautiful today.” He showered her with compliments watching that little glint in her eyes appear at his sweet words. Emilia’s cheeks blushed with a faint crimson red, making her gaze falter to the ground in embarrassment, but was flattered at his compliment.

“Thank you, you are too sweet.” Emilia giggled and tucked a piece of her long dark brunette hair behind her ear. When she lifted her head, the prince’s eyes were still staring down at her while he blindly followed Emilia down the hall. “I am really happy that you are here with me. I have such great memories of this place.” The princess released a deep breath.

“Me too, Emilia.” There was a hint of exhaustion laced in the prince’s tone. He had been non-stop since his plane had landed in Illyria.

Emilia had made it to her suite in the villa and unlocked the door while she continued to listen to Harry vent. She kicked off her flats as Harry set down her bag at the front entrance. Emilia heard the deep sigh he released and turned back around with an endearing smile.

“Come relax and sit with me a bit.” Her hand reached out to him as their fingertips brushed up against one another. The prince did not need further convincing to spend some time with the beauty before him. He followed Emilia to the lounge and sat down beside her. Harry instinctively lifted his arm as she snuggled her frame close to his body.

Emilia sighed and placed her head on his shoulder closing her eyes briefly. Relishing in the private company of one another, the two of them sat in near silence being left alone to their thoughts. But, they still felt the comfort that the other offered them through simple touches.

“Are you excited for tonight?” The princess broke through Harry’s deep thoughts and brought him back to reality.

“Yes.” Harry’s lips spread into a smile. “But, I am looking forward to spending more time with you.” The prince happily confessed as he turned his head to smile down at Emilia. He saw her lips spread into a beaming smile while her eyes held his gaze.

Emilia quietly stared up at the prince, looking deep into his eyes as her mind started to wander back to that moment in the back of the car when Harry told her that he needed an answer with where they stood with one another. Part of her was waiting for these few days knowing that she would likely have more time with Harry to figure out where her heart was, but truth was she already knew what her heart had decided. It was whether she could get her mind to follow.

Her eyes drifted down to their entwined fingers and took in a deep sigh. Harry’s eyes followed her gaze down as he felt the light brush of her hand trail down his forearm. He could tell that the young princess was in an internal debate and he did not want to disrupt her thoughts so he quietly sat beside her and enjoyed analyzing every part of Emilia to keep it in his memory for a later time.

------------------------

Emilia emerged from her closet wearing a purple off the shoulder dress that boasted an asymmetrical frill skirt. It elegantly flowed across her body as she stepped forward in her bare feet towards the floor length mirror in her bedroom.

Harry had been casually sitting on the edge of her bed waiting for her to get ready for the family dinner this evening. He was sipping on a drink when he nearly choked on it watching the princess come out in the dress, taking his breath away.

The princess slowly twirled around, carefully analyzing whether it was the right choice of dress for the evening's events. The back of the dress had not been zipped up, exposing a healthy amount of her backside and her black bra beneath. Harry was literally at a loss for words as he continued to sit on the edge of the bed in silence.

Emilia turned around swiftly and caught Harry in the act, checking her out. She shook her head at the naughty prince, giving him an eye roll.

“It is not my fault when you come out looking like that, Em.” Harry tossed his arms up in the air with a light giggle. He watched as Emilia turned her attention back to the mirror, but this time a frowned replaced that bright smile of hers.

“Do you really like it?” Emilia had suddenly become doubtful in her choice as a shy almost embarrassed version of herself emerged while the confident side of herself faded into the background.

Harry pushed himself off of the edge of her bed and slowly stepped behind her. This was what he was witnessing with each passing day. The strong confident princess he met in London was fading as uncertainty came forth clouded by the pressures of her grandmother's expectations.

He stepped in behind Emilia and gently grasped both of her arms, giving them a light re-assuring rub. “You, my princess… are absolutely gorgeous in this dress.” His deep quiet, assuring voice calmed her fears with a few simple words.

Emilia felt his finger delicately lift her chin, making her look into the mirror at herself with the image of Harry standing behind her. She locked eyes with the prince through the mirror and saw his genuine sincerity that killed any doubt that had grown within her being.

His gaze faltered down to her exposed backside and trailed his finger down to the zipper that was at the small of her back. He heard her Emilia’s mouth gasp from his simple touch as her breath became jagged. Harry smirked cheekily loving the effect he was having on Emilia. His fingers grasped the zipper and gave it a light tug. He did her dress up, reluctantly hiding her exposed skin and undergarment.

He looked back into the mirror at their reflection and found Emilia’s eyes locked on him while her body remained frozen. The prince lowered his head while tucking her dark locks out of the way to find her exposed shoulder. Harry placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Don’t ever doubt that you are beautiful again, Emilia. You are beautiful to me.”

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The Illyrian Royal family’s festivities were well under way. The whole family had come together this evening and shared an enjoyable five course meal with local traditional Illyrian entertainers. They had even welcomed Harry as one of their own, as Emilia’s cousins included them in the familial banter and fun.  

The prince had been seated next to Emilia and her cousin Leonardo that apparently Emilia herself had arranged as alluded to by her father. He let it slip that his daughter wanted Harry to feel as welcomed as she did in London. Her parents were seated across from them as they engaged in a light hearted conversation. The Crown Prince couple were more relaxed and at ease than to what Harry had previously been witnessed to and he could see where Emilia got most of her traits from… her father.

“She has always had me wrapped around her finger since the day she was born.” Frederick smiled proudly at Emilia and shared a sweet moment with her. But, the prince could not help but wonder if her father knew how much inner turmoil was going through. She hid it so incredibly well and could pretend that nothing was the matter.

“I remember that day fondly.” Frederick continued as Harry and Emilia had focused their attention to the conversation with her parents while everything else faded into the background. The long wooden table was dimly lit above with hanging fairy lights while the reflection of the flames from the candles that lined the table danced upon their faces. “You were so stubborn, Emilia. So stubborn that you wouldn’t even breathe.” A glimpse of concern washed across his face as the memory of it all came flooding back to her father.

“No wonder Emilia is the way that she is. Lack of oxygen to her brain at birth really explains a lot.” Edward piped in from the seat beside his mother as he finally gave his family some of his attention instead of his girlfriend, Louisa.

“EDWARD!” Liza, Emilia’s mother gasped in horror. “You do not say that in front of our guest! Or period!” She scolded him, but Edward just chuckled and ignored his mother.

“Eddie, stop being an areshole.” Emilia glared at him with her piercing blue eyes.

“Or else what Emilia?” Edward egged his twin sister on.

Emilia parted her lips to speak her retort when a loud voice spoke her name from down the table.

“Emilia!”

Everyone became silent as Queen Eleanora scolded the princess, embarrassing her in front of everyone, including Harry.. “Behave and stop getting into these childish tifts with your older brother.” An awkward silence fell across the whole table as Emilia sat there in a clear state of quiet anger, staring at her grandmother with shock and disbelief.

Harry’s blood was nearly boiling as rage coursed through him. How in the world is Emilia getting in shit and being embarrassed for something that Edward had done. The thing that surprised Harry the most is her father did not even come to her defence, nor anyone in the family. He couldn’t sit by any longer in utter silence.

His lips parted to speak up on Emilia’s behalf, but he felt a hand quickly grasp his thigh and give it a hard squeeze. Emilia did not even look at the prince, but with a subtle shake of her head she begged him not to defend her.

“I am sorry Gran.” Emilia’s voice choked out.

The conversation around them started to become more lively, but everyone around Emilia was carefully watching her silent self. She refused to look at anyone or engage in conversation.

“Emilia…?” Frederick’s brow furrowed with concern as he watched a stray tear trickled down Emilia’s cheek. “I’m sor-” He was about to apologize when Emlia cut him off.

“Don’t.” She angrily spoke, wiped the tear away and turned her attention back to the dancers. Pretending that nothing had happened.

-------

Harry and Emilia were standing around in a circle with Emilia’s cousins Gabriel and Alessandra sipping on their drinks and watching the rest of the family dancing to the upbeat music. “This is not like you, Emilia! Standing on the sidelines while the rest of the family is dancing away. You are normally the instigator of fun!” Alessandra angled her head down at her younger cousin, with a cheeky grin.

Emilia shook her head and took a sip of her drink before replying. “Not tonight.” Her blue eyes drifted towards her parents dancing away with their silly moves. “I am trying to behave…” The tone in Emilia’s voice was evidently somber. There was a part of her pulling her towards the music, desperately wanting to let loose, but all she could see were her grandmother's eyes on her every move. She could not have another problem arise tonight for she was walking on thin ice.

“Behaving is really not in your vocabulary.” Gabriel smirked and fell into a fit of laughter. “Remember Ibiza?!”

“Oh Gabe! Ibiza was all on you, that I had nothing to do with!” Emilia tossed her head back in laughter at the memory of the debaucherous trip.

“You were right there with me, my partner in crime.” Gabe tossed his arms up in the air in innocence. “Stealing that boat.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose with curiosity as Emilia felt his eyes on her. She turned her head as the conversation fell to a silent shock. Emilia shrugged her shoulders, “What? It was a small boat ok, Harry!” She defended herself while confessing to the crime.

Gabriel cleared his throat and shook his head. “Emilia… we stole a fucking yacht!” He barked with laughter at her falsely portrayed innocence.

“A yacht?” Harry’s blue eyes glanced down and locked eyes with Emilia, watching the guilty expression on her face grow until she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Ok fine!” She breathed in between breaths. “It was a yacht…” Emilia held Harry’s gaze steadily. “I was young and following Gabe’s lead. He took advantage of my innocence.”

“Yeah, there is nothing innocent in those blue eyes Emilia.” The prince slowly shook his head down at Emilia and stared deep into those adorable blue eyes of the princess.

“Oooooh!” Gabriel and Alessandra could not help but laugh at the prince’s words. They both caught the way that Harry was looking down at their cousin in an endearing way as their gaze continued to linger.

“Looks like Ana has got some competition for Prince Harry’s heart!” Alessandra chuckled lightly to herself as Harry and Emilia both snapped out of their unwavering shared glance as their minds were brought back to reality and realized what they had done. Emilia’s cheeks became flushed at her cousin's remark and looked away to hide her face, silently kicking herself for not being more careful around Harry. It had been difficult enough tonight not being able to hold his hand or touch him in the way she wanted to in fear of her family finding out they were more than acquaintances.

“Who is Ana?” Harry was curious to find out.

Emilia leaned into him and pointed past her cousins to a young blonde teenager sitting at the table by herself watching everyone else dance with a partner. “That is my cousin Ana Lilia. Alessandra and Gabriel’s sister.” He caught the way Emilia smiled proudly towards her direction.

“A little birdie told me she fancies you.” Alessandra giggled with a raised eyebrow. “But, I am afraid that I need to get in on this dancing action. Are you coming Gabriel?” Emilia’s cousins had left them alone to themselves as they joined the family, dancing away.

Emilia’s eyes remained stagnant on her youngest cousin, sitting there by herself. She felt Harry’s hand settle on the small of her back and gently rub it soothingly. “You know you are allowed to have fun with your family. I bet you are a better dancer than me.” Her lips spread into an amusing smile as she lifted her head to glance up at Harry.

“I’d like to see you dance.” Emilia could not help but giggle at the thought. “In fact…” Her eyes drifted for a brief second back to Ana. “Why don’t you ask Ana to dance with you.” Emilia locked in Harry’s intense stare. “I know she would love it if you did.”

“You sure you want me to ask her? You know she might win my heart.” Harry cheekily replied and earned a playful smack on the arm by the princess.

“Yes, I am sure Henry.” Emilia gave him a light push forward. “Go!”

Emilia watched from afar as Harry approached Ana and bent down to her level with his hand extended out in an offer to dance with him. A fond smile started to stretch the corner of her lips as Ana nodded her head and stood up from her seat, eager to dance with him. Harry pulled the smiling blonde teen to the dance floor and twirled her around, innocently dancing with Ana as she smiled with joy.

A few dances later, Emilia was ordering a new drink when a hand gently grasped her wrist and gave it a light tug to turn her around. It was Harry with an adorable beaming smile and rosy red cheeks from dancing.

“Come dance with me.” His deep posh British voice was alluring and difficult to say no to. His piercing blue eyes cut straight through to her soul, rendering her speechless.

“Henry….” Emilia reluctantly shook her head in fear of the repercussions and also scared of the fact that her family would find out about them. It had been a difficult evening not being able to hold his hand or reach out and touch his face or play with those tufts of his ginger hair at the nape of his neck. All because of that lingering fear. But… to dance with Harry? He had to be mad!

“You deserve to have fun like the rest of your family and I promise that I will be careful where I lay my hands on you. A respectable dance between a prince and a princess.” Harry did his best to convince Emilia, knowing full well that she was on the edge about to take that leap with him.

“Henry….” Emilia broke her silence and tightened her grasp on his hand. “Fine. But, just one dance.”

“Deal!” Harry tugged on her hand without hesitation and led Emilia to the dance floor where her family were happily dancing beside them.

Harry twirled Emilia around as they kept up to the beat of the lively music. He was observant of her family's reactions of them, careful not to place his hands on her body suggestively. Emilia’s unbridled laughter echoed in his ear, bringing a beaming grin to his lips as he watched Emilia let go and have fun.

Emilia had promised Harry just one dance with him, but that one dance turned into another and another until they found themselves being the last ones left on the dance floor. Emilia selected a slower classical song that changed the aura of the dance floor into a sensual romantic one. She stepped forward towards Harry with a shy smile.

“Will you dance with me? This is my favorite song to dance too….” She lowered her head, displaying a rare shy side of herself to Harry. (Come Dance With Me started to play by Norah Jones https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbjZPFBD6JU )

“I’d love to.” He reached out and wrapped his arm around her body, bringing Emilia in close proximity, securing her in tightly with his grasp. Harry felt her hand settle on his forearm as she waited for him to take the first step and lead her.

Harry took a step forward as Emilia moved her body in sync with him. He slowly moved them around the dance floor as his hand drifted down to the small of her back. Emilia lifted her head up to look into the prince’s deep blue eyes. Being mesmerized, she fell under his spell and was thankful that his strong body was holding her weak knees up at that moment.

The corner of his lips tugged into an elated smile, relishing in the closeness of Emilia being flushed against his body again. He looked down into her ice crystal blue eyes and could get lost in the depths of them for days if he allowed himself to. Harry’s heart swelled in admiration for this beautiful woman in his arms. He could not help but admire her beauty both inside and out that encapsulated her kind heart.

“Henry…” Emilia’s feet stopped moving as she quietly whispered his name. Their bodies swayed in their cemented place as they looked longingly into each other's eyes.

“Yes, Emilia?” His hand lifted and cupped her cheek tenderly while he gently caressed it with his thumb.

“Will you spend the day with me tomorrow? I…” She lowered her head, averting her gaze to the ground. “I think we need to talk and figure out what all of this is between us.” Emilia took in a shaky nervous breath in fear of the potential outcome, in fear that this man in front of her could break her heart.

“Well, you could steal a yacht for us to hang out on.” Harry teased the nervous princess in an attempt to bring back that adorable smile of hers.

“Harry!” Emilia shouted his name.

“Oh… I know you can scream it louder than that!” The prince was relentless, but it was all in good banter.

“You are so awful…” Emilia shook her head and snaked her arms around the back of his neck loosely while his hands found a home on her hips. “Awfully handsome…” She stood up on her tippy toes and placed a soft kiss to his lips that was all too quick for his liking.

Emilia reluctantly tore his lips off of Harry’s but she could not risk their private moment together any further in fear of exposure. “We need to go inside Harry… We can’t get caught.” She was the voice of reason amidst their cloud of building desire.

The prince took in a deep breath and sighed heavily. “You are right.” His arms fell from her frame, breaking their embrace. “Let me walk you to your room.”

The pair left the dimly lit dance floor and made their way back to the villa. In the midst of the darkness, they searched for the others hands and interlocked their fingers, savouring every moment that they were able to share with one another. Emilia quietly moaned when their hands separated.

“Trust me, I don’t like it more than you do.” Harry walked Emilia down the villa’s hall towards her room which just so happened to be right next to Harry’s.

Emilia leaned up against the door frame and turned around to face the prince. “Good night Henry.” It took all of her not to just invite Harry in for the night, but the truth was she needed time for her own mind to think.

Harry flashed a brief smile and bent his head down to place a soft kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there as Emilia breathed in his familiar scent. Her hands reached up and grasped his forearms making him stay there for a few passing moments.

His arms slipped through Emilia’s hands, unable to continue being in the same space as Emilia any longer. “I can’t stay here…” The prince admitted and pressed his lips one more time to Emilia’s lips and said his goodnight.

“Sleep well, tiny dancer.”

[boundtoyouphff]

Chapter 12: It’s Not All Glitz and Glamour

A/N: Sorry for not posting as regularly, but I am making up for it with TWO chapters being posted today. The first one now and in a few hours I will post the second one so make sure you READ THIS ONE FIRST! Enjoy xx --------------------------------------

I am sure you have heard of the saying… “It’s not all glitz and glamour.” Well, I wholeheartedly believe that. I believe that we often like to hide behind our material things as it masks our truer self. It makes people on the outside believe that just because we have all the glitzy material things in our life that it is glamorous, that we are purely happy in our lives. It is true to a point that it brings us a certain level of joy… but that joy in our lives is replaceable.

Material things are replaceable, but the people in our life are not and those are the things in life that brings us that irreplaceable joy.

As I sit here in this gorgeous ball gown and feel the strand of a diamond necklace being placed upon the delicate skin of my neck, these thoughts come to the forefront of my mind. I feel it trapping me in the false sense of belief that all of this matters. This State Banquet to show our kingdom's prowess matters.

But, it doesn’t.

I never cared about the material things that someone could give me like this sparkling diamond necklace my father gifted me. What I care about is the time I spend with my loved ones, the smiles on their faces and the joy sparkling in their eyes, not the sparkles sitting on my chest.

What matters in life is not about the glitz and glamour.

It’s about our hearts and who they beat for.

It’s about the way he makes my heart beat.

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Harry tightened the strands of his bow tie, pulling it securely into place. Straightening his tuxedo suit coat, his hands smoothed over the soft fabric that lined his anxious body. Edward was behind him going over last minute details of the State Banquet that would be held for the royal visit on behalf of the British Monarchy. His words faded into the background as Harry replayed a conversation he had earlier with Emilia in his mind.

Flashback*

Emilia climbed out of the back seat with haste, afraid to look the prince in the eyes. Slamming the door shut she stepped forward with purpose towards Lexington Palace.

“Emilia!” Harry’s deep voice called from behind her to which she ignored and continued on her path. Hearing footsteps quicken to a run behind her, Emilia took in a deep breath knowing she would have to face him, but she surged forward.

She barely made it through the entrance before she felt his light grasp brush against her fingertips followed by the quiet whisper of her name. “Em....” His simple touch on her skin made her heart skip a beat. The way his deep voice quietly spoke her name almost made her give in to Harry in that moment, but a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“Ah! Harry, there you are!” Ed, Harry’s private press secretary had come around the corner to greet him and was quite in a hurry to take the prince away to prepare for the state banquet that evening. Urging him that he did not have time to waste.

“Not now, Ed.” Harry stepped around Edward to get to Emilia who had carried on with haste through the palace leaving Harry behind in her wake.

He watched her head turn slightly to the side and speak something to Tristan who turned immediately onto his heel and stepped in front of the prince, blocking him. Harry’s jaw clenched tightly, pursing his lips into a hard line. “Emilia is not ignoring you. Go to your suite, talk to Eddie or whatever his name is. Then come speak with her.” Tristan’s voice was calm yet commanding.

Fury coursed through the prince after hearing those words from Tristan. Who does she think she is telling him what to do? “Fuck that. Step out of my way.” Harry moved Tristan out of the way as the RPO he clenched his jaw disobeying Emilia’s orders to not let him by, but knowing that it was what was best for her at the moment. To have someone who cared about her after what she bore witness to today.

Emilia shut the door behind her and closed her eyes. Revelling in the silence that welcomed her home. She kicked off her heels and stepped barefoot on the cool marble flooring that soothed her aching feet. But, the silence did not last long as the door flew open and slammed powerfully shut. Emilia had wished he hadn’t come and listened to Tristan, but in all honesty she knew he would.

“Seriously Emilia? Shutting me out again?!” His voice rose in an angry tone. Her back remained turned to him while she glanced out the window in silence, not answering him. Emilia was afraid to speak, fearing that only her sobs would come out of her mouth while she attempted to hold herself together.

The deafening sound of silence fell between them.

Harry had taken a few deep breaths and calmed himself down knowing that anger and an argument was not what Emilia wanted nor could handle in that moment. He stepped towards the quiet princess carefully and broke the wall of silence down between them.

Both began their surrender to one another as Emilia was unable to evade the prince any longer. She turned slowly with a lowered head and arms crossed defensively, waiting for Harry to come the rest of the way to her. With each erratic breath, the prince closed in the space between them.

“Emilia, will you please look at me.” Harry was now nearly an arms length away. His tall figure towering over her, but not in an intimidating way. All she wanted to do was to run into him and feel security in the confines of his arms like she had earlier.  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly lifted her head to find a concerned set of deep blue eyes glancing down at her with a furrowed brow.

But, what scared her the most was how Harry saw through her in that moment. The mask she still had on her face was there, but he saw through it and knew without a spoken word what Emilia wanted from him.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms slowly around her, until the walls she had built around her willingly crumbled to her feet. Their gaze did not waver from each other until Emilia stepped into his chest and buried her head into the prince. His grasp of her frame tightened as he felt her body succumb to the feelings inside of her and to start to tremble as they outwardly escaped.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking through his shirt. His hand cradled the back of her head gently holding it into him tighter attempting to stop her endless sobs that floated out of her being. Harry had heard the words that broke the princess in that moment. The reporter that questioned who her actual father was...it wasn’t the question itself, it was Emilia’s thoughts of the answer to it that broke her.

“I’m here.” Were the only two words that Emilia needed to hear as she allowed her body to feel the pain behind closed doors, in private with Harry. The princess clutched his shoulders tighter and held on to him.

Within a few minutes, her tears subsided as the release of emotion freed the princess. Emilia lifted her head off of Harry’s damp chest and gazed up at him with tear stained cheeks. He brought his hand to her cheek, cupping it tenderly and dried her cheeks with the smooth caress of his thumb.

“I am sorry that I hurt you...” He confessed with a furrowed brow while his thumb comfortingly stroked her cheek. Emilia closed her eyes and angled her head into his cupped hand, relishing his touch. “I was only trying to —“

“Protect me.” Emilia interrupted Harry and finally spoke to him. She breathed out deeply and sighed, offering him a smile. Her hand reached up and snaked around his neck, putting slight pressure on the back of it to bend it down and rest his forehead upon hers. “Thank you for protecting me. It’s more than most people have done... and thank you for being there with me today.”

A smile crept up on his lips as he stared fondly down into the depths of her icy blue eyes. “You can’t listen to them Em. You know in your heart that you are your father's daughter. They are only attacking what they know will hurt you, cut you deep because you have taken everything else in stride. They cannot break you, and that fucking irritates them to no end.”

Emilia could not look away from Harry as she hung onto every word his deep comforting voice spoke. He lifted his forehead off of hers briefly to lay a sweet soft kiss to her forehead. The princess grasped both of his forearms tightly and held them in place.

The two of them stood in an embrace for a while longer, relishing in the company of each other and knowing that no matter what happened between them, they would always be there for one another.

End Flashback*

A smile crept upon his lips at the memory of Emilia. But, it grew wider with anticipation of seeing her again tonight at the State Banquet.

———

Harry had arrived early to the reception room where he was to speak with the members of the Illyrian Royal Family prior to the start of the State Banquet. He was greeted by the Crown Princess, Elizabeth, Emilia’s mother and she thanked the prince for keeping her daughter safe after the outburst from the press after their engagement. It was clearly evident that she displayed a sense of concern for her daughter over what had transpired earlier in the day.

“Thank you for making sure Emilia got home safely.” Elizabeth’s soft eyes thanked him. “I know she must be feeling a bit mortified at what happened this afternoon.” The Crown Princess angled her head as a soft motherly expression morphed onto her face.

“There is no need to thank me, your highness.” The prince put on his charming smile. “I know the feeling of being hounded by the press as well, I can relate.” Harry nodded in understanding before seeing another woman from behind them approach.

The Duchess of Molvania greeted her sister in law with a swift kiss on the cheek. “Good evening, Elizabeth. I adore your gown, is it bespoke?” The Duchess marvelled over the gorgeous gown, taking a step back to admire its elegance.

“Hello there, Julianna.” Elizabeth smiled warmly to greet her. “Yes, it is!” The Crown Princess turned her attention back to the prince. “Harry, this is Julianna Duchess of Molvania.”

“Oh! I am so sorry your highness. I was enamoured by Liza’s dress and I apologize for my rudeness.” Julianna stepped forward and kissed the prince on the cheek twice. “I’m Julianna, George is my husband.” The Duchess glanced around to locate her husband, but simply could not find him. “He probably nipped out for a quick drink.” She chuckled nervously, but continued to glance around to locate his whereabouts.

“How are you finding Illyria?” The Crown Princess changed the subject, wanting to make Harry feel welcome here in her country.

The prince flashed a charming smile. “Illyria is a beautiful country from what I have seen. I cannot wait to experience more of what it has to offer. The people here are so friendly and welcoming.” Harry ensured Elizabeth that his trip was going well and was looking forward with great anticipation towards the next few days.

“I do hope that my daughter has not been causing too much problems for you here.” Elizabeth took a small dig at her own daughter, laughing at her expense.

Harry’s brow furrowed as he took offence to her comment. He was truly getting tired of hearing how difficult people thought Emilia was and it was time to set the record straight. “Not at all, your highness. Emilia has been an enthusiastic ambassador for your family and even the country itself. I even witnessed this when she attended the Invictus Games in London. Everyone seems to really love how well she connects with people. I saw it today, with the kids and families at the hospital. She has been not a problem at all, more of a breath of fresh air.” The prince felt like he had to defend Emilia.

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, feeling touched by the prince's words. “That is what I want everyone to feel about my daughter. But, sadly that is not the case.” The Crown Princess’s smile faded for a brief second before her eyes lit up.

“Harry, Frederick and I want to extend an invitation to you tomorrow night to attend our family getaway and dinner in the evening!” Emilia’s mother, Elizabeth and her aunt Julianna, Duchess of Molvania warmly invited the prince to join them on a planned traditional Illyrian evening out at one of their favourite resorts by the sea. Harry’s only engagement tomorrow was a memorial at Fort Lennox where the Illyrian Freedom Forces held off a German Invasion in WWII at the sacrifice of many lost. The memorial was held yearly and the majority of the Illyrian royal family would be in attendance. After tomorrow, the prince had a day break in his schedule.

“It is a private family event and we always have the best of fun! It would be an honour for you to join us!” The Duchess of Molvania further added wanting to ensure the prince would attend. “Plus we typically take a boat out on the water the next day and have some fun at the beach. Emilia always seems to start a beach bonfire!”

The prince hesitated for a brief second, but nodded his reply with a smile. “Yes, of course I would love to join your family.” Harry hoped that Emilia would be ok with it, but he really did not have much of a choice in refusing the invitation.

“It’s settled then! I will ensure that my son Edward will bring you to the resort tomorrow from Fort Lennox. It’s about an hours journey.” It was arranged that Emilia’s twin brother, Edward would be accompanying Harry on the next day of his engagements in Illyria before coming back to the capital.

Elizabeth searched the room for a clock, questioning what time it was and wondering where the rest of her family was. “Surely, we must be starting soon. I wonder where Frederick is...?” Her eyes glanced up at the grand staircase to find her husband dressed in his state banquet attire walking down the steps. “Ah, there he is. Always fashionably late.”

“It is quite the chore to get these military uniforms on.” Harry teased with Elizabeth.

“Evening dear.” Crown Prince Frederick placed a brief kiss on his wife’s cheek before shaking Harry’s hand. “Welcome to the festivities, Harry.” Emilia’s father joked lightly, easing the intensity of the situation.

“Thank you, Frederick.” The prince parted his lips about to make conversation with the Crown Prince when he caught a glimpse of Emilia at the top of the grand staircase. The room fell silent as the rest of the family turned to watch the third in line to the throne embark down the staircase in such a graceful manner. Harry felt the breath being completely knocked out of him at the mere sight of Princess Emilia.

Her head was lowered to the ground with one hand grasping the staircase rails for balance while the other held a handful of fabric from her gown. She was completely unaware that all eyes in the room had fallen on her. Emilia was the epitome of a true princess, dressed in a timeless ice blue floor length gown that draped her body beautifully. The light in the room captured the sparkle of the diamonds that eloquently decorated the bodice of the gown that flowed out from her hips with delicate tule. She chose a royal blue sash that hung her Royal Family Order.

“Oh my!” Emilia’s mother gasped and clasped her hands together in complete admiration of her daughter, emanating the love she held for Emilia through her smile.

The young princess glanced up from the ground feeling confident now that she would not miss a step, but she found everyone’s eyes had landed on her. Her lips spread into an embarrassed smile, feeling her cheeks become flushed. She searched for a certain prince and found him standing next to her parents with a mesmerized expression on his face. The beaming smile that greeted her caused Emilia to reflect the same smile in own her lips.

Harry simply could not take his eyes off of Emilia. The princess had such a presence about her that could literally make a whole room stop and want to admire her. His heart skipped a beat seeing her stepping closer and closer to him.

Emilia waved to a few members of her family as their conversations started to continue again. The first person she greeted was her father who enveloped her into a loose hug, careful not to displace her gown. Elizabeth was still gushing over how gorgeous her daughter was and the effort she had asked her to display in tonight’s banquet. “Emilia... you are so stunning in that gown honey and you chose your own tiara from granny?!”

Emilia nodded with her blue eyes shining bright. Her hand went up and delicately touched her Arendelle Bandeau Tiara. It was specifically made for Princess Emilia from the Queen on the occasion of her birth and felt it was a homage to Queen Eleanora for tonight. The diamond necklace that covered her near plunging neckline was a gift from her father when she had turned eighteen. It hung beautifully off of her neck and added that royal touch to the dress that put her whole ensemble together in a well thought out manner.

The princess took in a deep breath knowing that it was Harry she had to greet next. Turning her  attention to the silent prince she took a step in his direction and smiled once they made eye contact. It was then that Harry was able to get a good look at Emilia and was honestly quite taken back at her beauty, rendering him nearly speechless. He could tell she truly had no idea how beautiful she was.

Emilia out stretched her hand, offering it to the prince. Feeling her parents eyes steady on her, she felt it best to greet the prince in a formal manner. “Your highness.” Harry lightly held her hand and watched Emilia dip down into a perfect curtsy that was not particularly necessary for her to do, but it showed a level of respect towards the British Prince.

“Princess Emilia.” Harry addressed her formally and offered a slight bow of his head to return the level of respect back onto the princess. He reluctantly released her hand, but gained her icy blue eyed gaze in return. “How are you this evening?”

The princess’s lips stretched into a warm smile. “I am well, Harry. I do hope my family has been entertaining enough for you while we wait.” Emilia cheekily side eyed her parents who giggled at her comment then walked off towards Fredericks brother George and his wife Julianna.

“Hey you...” Harry gained Emilia’s attention again and smiled fondly down at the beautiful princess. “You look absolutely gorgeous Emilia.” The prince complimented he dark haired beauty.

Emilia tilted her head with her lips tugging into a smile. Her hand reached out and grasped his forearm giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you Henry. You look quite handsome as well.” She took in a shaky anxious breath and was able to let down her wall for a minute. Emilia’s head drifted towards the ground as Harry kept his eyes on her. “I am so nervous... everyone will be watching and I am really trying not to mess up tonight. I cannot embarrass my family even more today.” The princess confided in Harry, opening up to him.

“Hey...” He watched her blue eyes lift and lock in his gaze. “That was a perfect curtsy and you did not have to do that for me. You know this stuff like the back of your hand, there is no need for you to worry about it.” Harry tried his best to reassure Emilia and help her regain that confidence she always had that had apparently been misplaced.

Emilia nodded quietly as a look of doubt floated in her blue orbs. “My grandmother came and spoke to me after you left.” Her voice whispered, careful not to let other members of her family hear. “She’s so angry with me...” Emilia breathed out and almost started to sob right there. She bit down on her bottom lip that held the tears in her eyes at bay. “God, I am so emotional today.” The princess laughed it off.

The princess's confidence had been shaken and she was at an all time low in that moment. She was feeling defeated and everyone was coming at her from all sides of her life. Emilia did not know where to turn to, but to Harry. The one person who seemed to understand her life and not judge her.

“For you firing your press secretary?” Harry’s eyebrow raised in suspicion, but he could not deny the budding anger he felt towards Emilia’s family. The princess staring back at him was not the same one he had walked away from her last day in London. A thought that started to scare the prince.

Emilia was slowly breaking.

“That was a part of it.” Emilia confessed. “That I put your life at risk today...” Her voice grew into a somber tone. “All granny said was that there were going to be some major changes... she said it in a threatening way. I cannot mess up.” Her head angled up at him with fear in her eyes.

“Seriously?!” Harry’s jaw clenched tightly. “None of that and I mean none of it was your fault. You had absolutely no control over it.” He tried his best to assure the princess that it was all beyond her control.

“Henry…” Emilia’s features softened as she calmly spoke his name. “Don’t be angry this is my battle. Let’s just get through tonight.”

Prince Harry hesitated in his response to Emilia, but her blue pleading eyes begged him not to make things worse for her. “Ok.” He took in a deep sigh and flipped his internal switch to ‘prince mode.’

Emilia nearly leaned in to place a kiss onto his cheek, but stopped herself and took a step back from Harry. The prince could not help but chuckle at her. “You just can’t resist me…..” Harry leaned into whisper in her ear. “Can you, Emilia?”

He was intentionally trying to tease Emilia with his close proximity to her, causing the princess to become annoyed with him and find a source of her sassy feisty self. “Not in that ridiculous uniform Captain Wales.” The princess barked back and started to step away from him to create more distance between them.

“What can I say? It’s not all glitz and glamour.” The prince angled his head down at Emilia, fondly staring into her eyes.

“Now that is something that we can both agree on.” The two of them stood there silently across from each other as their gaze did not waver despite the room around them filling up with people ready for the evening's events.

Emilia’s lips parted to speak when the doors opened at the top of the staircase to reveal Queen Eleanora’s and the King Consort Francis’s arrival to the reception area. She turned her attention and expertly hid her emotions from the rest of her family and planted on that perfect smile she had learned to give. The royal family and esteemed guests had first arrived in the reception area first to sort their order of arrival to the state banquet that was to be filmed on national TV not only in Illyria, but in the UK as well.

————————————

The procession into the marvellous state room had begun with Prince Harry accompanying Queen Eleanora, escorting her to the monarch’s seats while the Illyrian national anthem played by Queen’s Illyrian Guard orchestra. Princess Emilia escorted the Illyrian Forces General Major and took her seat down the row from the prince. She lifted her head and caught a glimpse of Harry stealing a quick subtle glance her way. Remaining standing she peaked down at her dress and ensured everything was in proper placement.

Queen Eleanora leaned in and spoke a few words with the prince, waiting for the rest of the members to make it to their seats. “I trust that you are enjoying your time here in Illyria, Prince Harry.”

“It’s been a delightful visit so far, Your Majesty. I am eager to complete the rest of my engagements with members of your family and see what else your country has to offer.” Harry had flipped a switch, turning on his princely charm and manners in order to represent the Queen well.

Everyone had taken their respective seats as the Queen stood back up to address the room and conduct her speech to open the state banquet.

“Your Royal Highness, King Consort Francis and I are delighted to welcome you to Lexington Palace this evening. Through this state visit we celebrate the enduring friendship which has enabled our two nations to prosper and grow side by side. Over the many numbers of years of our shared history, there are few nations who are able to claim a closer bond. Through your highness’s visit and your acts of friendship, you have formed your own personal collection of the Illyrian people that were recently showcased in the Invictus Games you founded that embodied the true spirit of the unconquerable soul that directly embodied the spirit of the Illyrian people.

To this day, our close relationship greatly contributes to the economic and cultural life of Illyria. The United Kingdom is one of Illyria’s largest investors as we have a thriving British community that is developing across the nation, furthering our economical ties. Internationally, we have a strong shared commitment to the people we serve and who serve our country. Through our shared history of revolutions, our families have shared the battle field and to this day have fought side by side to ensure a better future for the next generations to live in peace and freedom.

I can recall the State visit of your grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II, an admirable friend of mine that we are saddened to hear of her untimely illness preventing her from this visit. Her fondly remembered visit, accompanied by your grandfather, the Duke of Edinburgh in 1993, I spoke of our nation's close understanding and relationship that would become increasingly important as a new configuration of Europe was emerging.  As we look towards a new partnership, it is our shared values and commitment to each other that are our greatest asset and demonstrate that even through change, our enduring alliance remains strong. As innovators, traders and internationalists we look with confidence to the future. As we continue to work together to ensure peace, prosperity and security, I am confident that this friendship between Illyria and the United Kingdom, which we greatly treasure, will continue to deepen and to prosper.

We hope that your visit to Illyria will broadcast the values we as a nation share with the British people and strengthen our ties to your country. Thank you all for attending this truly special evening as we welcome His Royal Highness, Prince Henry of Wales, to Illyria.” Queen Eleanora angled her body down towards Harry and offered a slight bow of the head in acknowledging him with an admirable smile. Taking her seat, Harry waited for a few seconds to stand to deliver his, as per protocol.

Emilia watched Harry stand and straighten his tuxedo along with his sash. She could not help but admire the military medals that decorated him as a British soldier. He stood up confidently and grabbed his speech by the palace aide behind him. The Illyrian General that was sat next to Emilia leaned in and whispered. “It’s a nice change to see a prince who has truly served his country the way Prince Harry has and continued to do so.” The General spoke fondly of the prince to which Emilia offered a slight nod in agreement as Harry’s speech began.

“Your Majesty, members of the Illyrian Monarchy and esteemed guests. Please allow me to begin by expressing my gratitude for the extraordinary honour of attending this state visit to Illyria on behalf of my grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II. The Queen wished me to express her best wishes to you all and wished she could have attended herself as she holds an admirable love for the people of Illyria.” Harry delivered his speech with such confidence and touched on important aspects that his country valued. Being a military man, he spoke about fighting on the frontlines with the determined Illyrian forces and their military commitment to providing both peace abroad and in their home country.

The princess sat there completely enthralled listening to Harry speak even sometimes from the heart, adding in last minute remarks that were off script but added so much to his speech. His eyes locked with Emilia and saw her proud expression as she sat there in silence watching him. It gave him a boost of confidence to finish his speech strong and make his family proud of him.

“You have shown the people of this world what it means to be Illyrian and with the unwavering affection of the British people towards Illyria; we surely can say that we are your loyal friends and allies that affirm the common values that will unite this friendship long into the future. On behalf of all Britains, I offer a toast to the eternal friendship of our people, the vitality of our nations and to the long cherished and remarkable reign of Her Majesty, Queen Eleanora.”

Harry turned to the Queen and offered his assistance in aiding her stand to complete the toast. Everyone in the room stood in unison and grabbed their glasses, holding it up into the air.

“To Illyria... Long live the Queen!” Harry’s voice resonated throughout the banquet hall.

“Long live the Queen!” The guests repeated in unison

*Stay tuned for the next chapter soon!*

[pofcroyalfanfiction]

Chapter Four - Poison Ivy

Ivy House, Marlborough

Early evening, September 1st  

By the time the clock on her laptop had struck five, the last of the parents were driving out of the parking area behind Ivy and leaving their daughters behind. Some had just come back from cosy family farewell feasts in town, whilst some had to stay behind a little longer to console a few of the younger girls who were already feeling homesick.

Ellie sat on her bed with her window open, listening from her third-floor bedroom to the sounds of those coming and going down below. It was a welcome distraction from the chaotic mess of plans that she was trying to get her head around, which was proving immensely difficult despite the vast array of lists and charts that she had spent the last few hours preparing.

Weekly timetables packed with sports and club meetings in every free period, with even more sports and clubs squeezed in between them. Lists of the girls that she knew in Ivy, colour coded to signify what cliques they were in or what clubs they were a part of.

Purple for Field Hockey, blue for Football, orange for the Swim team...

These were all distractions too. Hours ago, Ellie had intended to head downstairs and join the rest of the house in the common room, a time to mingle and reunite with friends for a few hours before the evening where, as was tradition, there would be a 'Welcome Back Ivy' party. Normally she would skip it, or quietly head off back to her room after half an hour when nobody was looking. As with everything to do with her school life this year, this night would be different.

Once her parents had left, she stripped off her school uniform and flung open each of her suitcases to piece together a dozen different outfits to try on. Each one she laid out on her bed, beside the large mirror that sat on her pillows and leaned against the wall, allowing her to get ready for the evening from the comfort of her fuzzy purple bedspread.

Yet it was somewhere between brushing her hair and doing her eyeliner that her eagerness started to drop and her bravery started to fade, when that little sting of self-doubt crept in and slowed everything down. With her parents there, with everyone's parents there, the girls of Ivy House were friendly and welcoming. Parents had a way of dampening that typical school atmosphere of popularity contests, bullies, peer pressure and hormones.

With the first day excitement blanketing over everyone it was easy to forget incidents like the one with Ruby Brower the year before, who got locked out of her room when she came back from the showers and earned the nickname 'Ruby Cheeks' for the rest of the year. Then there was Florence Hutton, a sixth form girl who passed out in the common room during Ellie's 2nd year, smelling of vodka with her panties around her ankles and her eyebrows shaved off. She was expelled from the school for indecent behaviour, but everyone knew she wasn't the sort of girl to get blackout drunk.

The girls of Ivy could be brutal, vindictive and petty. Everything Ellie needed to have a horrible evening of socialising.

The makeup on her bed vanished under dozens of different coloured pens and highlighters, the dresses and jeans that she had picked out were crushed beneath piles of drawing pads and notebooks.

Her frustration grew as the hours passed, each club that she found conflicting with another, each giggle or snippet of chatter that she heard from the corridor as girls headed downstairs to the party. Each minute that passed without her leaving her room, with every one being a reminder of how easy it had been to talk to people just hours before. Every moment she would curse herself for being stupid enough to think Marlborough could schedule every activity it had available without any of them clashing.

How could they? There are hundreds!

Every time she shuffled her notepads more club leaflets would fall out onto her bed, each reminding her of something she'd already signed up for that she'd have to work into her schedule.

If I can ask to get out of Maths five minutes early, I can just about get to Tennis tryouts on time and hopefully those finish before Shakespeare Society starts at four o'clock, but then I can't do Drama club on Sunday afternoons, at least until the Hockey season is over. Maybe if I ask Mrs Moon to move the meet to Fridays instead, but then that would mean...

Thump, thump, thump!

Ellie shoved a heap of notepads, bras and makeup out of her sight, sending them all clattering onto the floor just as a dozen loud knocks drummed against her door. The noise caused her to jump, sending more of her things across the room and making her clutch her chest to stop her heart from bursting out.

Three of four girls lingered outside her door, laughing and chatting between themselves as they delivered the same drumming to the other bedroom doors along the corridor and clearly having all the fun in the world.

"Screw it." Ellie tossed the rest of her notebooks aside and picked up her eyeliner again. "I'll figure it out tomorrow."

She spoke aloud to herself, willing herself forward. Ivy may be a jungle, full of hidden enemies and lethal predators, but she definitely wasn't going to be their fearful prey. She wanted to push herself this year and she wasn't going to fail on the very first night by keeping out of sight with her nose buried in inconceivable timetables.

The corridors were eerily quiet when Ellie stepped outside of her bedroom, except for the distant chatter of the common room downstairs and the quiet mumbling of girls in their rooms who were deciding to stay put. She immediately felt the nerves freezing her in place, making her feet feel like lead weights that lazily dragged along the carpet.

The risqué black mesh top that she'd decided to wear was already beginning to feel like a mistake, along with the more pronounced cats eye that she'd drawn on her eyes and the slightly darker shade of lipstick that coated her lips.

Keep going. It'll feel even worse if you turn back now.

Ellie tip toed her way forward, wanting to make as little noise as possible as she made her way past the doors of her neighbour's rooms. She listened to hear if anyone was in the rooms around her, curious to see who was inside, what they might be like and wondering if they were just as nervous as she was about socialising.

The room across the hall seemed strangely quiet and empty, but her next door neighbour was definitely there, rustling around inside her room and apparently unpacking something heavy. Ellie couldn't help but stand outside the door, looking at the moving shadows at the bottom of the doorframe and smirking as the girl inside clearly hummed a tune from the latest Wither Sisters album.

"That's a good sign." Ellie whispered quietly, pondering what other bands they might have in common.

The humming stopped abruptly, the girl's shadows freezing in place beneath the door and making Ellie's heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She could feel the girls stare burning its way through the wooden door, then the shadows started moving again, growing larger and larger, then the door handle started to turn.

Ellie sprinted away, desperate not to be caught in the act of spying on her first night back, especially on her next door neighbour. She ran around the corner and out into the main hallway where more girls were leaving their rooms and heading downstairs, then she hid behind the open door of the girls' bathroom. She heaved a sigh of relief when a door opened and closed back down the corridor without anyone coming around and looking for her, and when the coast was clear she quietly and gracefully made her way towards the stairs, desperately pretending she wasn't so flustered.

Awkward encounter number one is now out of the way.

The common room was absolutely packed when she arrived, since it was the first time that day that everyone was in the same place and doing the same thing without parents or unpacking to worry about. At least sixty girls squashed together, piling on to the dozen or so sofas and benches that were scattered around the room or huddled in groups around ten circular tables that were each painted a different colour. Some were still wearing their uniforms while most had clearly had the time to get changed into their best outfits. On top of the hundreds of different conversations and reunions going on, party music was booming out of large speakers around the room and forcing everyone to yell loud enough to be heard over both the music and each other.

One of the Ivy prefects, the pristine looking fifth year girl called Dana Cook was shepherding a bunch of first year students through the crowd and trying to be heard over the music. "First years, follow me, we have to finish orientation!"

Ellie ducked out of the way just as some of the smaller girls spotted her and decided to separate from the orientation group and head towards her, but Dana roared at them to come back and they meekly complied. Ellie always did her best to avoid the first year newcomers at Marlborough, those who weren't yet prepared to think of her as a normal student. She wasn't going to be rude and not say hello, but school was hard enough without people ogling her and following her around.

Alex waved at her from a table at the back of the room where she was happily talking with two of her friends from the third year, a pudgy brunette called Laura Houghton and Bella Stokesworth, a girl even smaller than Alex who tied her black hair into two thick braids that ran down her back. Together they were sharing a table with about six second year girls, who all watched Ellie closely as she sat down and immediately started whispering amongst themselves when they thought she wasn't looking.

"Didn't think you'd come." Alex said to her as she entwined their arms.

"You know I've been wanting to change that." Ellie said irritably as she looked around the table. Laura and Ashley had continued their conversation about trying out for the Fencing team, whilst the group of second years were whispering so loudly to hear each other that they didn't realise Ellie could hear them.

"Does she ever come to these things? I never saw her last year!"

"She came to the meetings but never the parties!"

"What?"

"She came to the meetings!"

"What?"

Alex turned in her seat so that she blocked the second years view of her. "Don't worry about them. Relax a little, sis."

It was easy for her to say. Alex had adapted to boarding school like she was any other normal girl, especially not one who had spent the years before being home-schooled and hardly having a social life. She had jumped at the opportunity whilst Ellie had sat and stewed, only occasionally getting her feet wet and testing her comfort zone when it came to making friends.

I don't want to wait anymore, I'm ready.

Alex was right though, it really wasn't so bad. Sitting at the table and talking with her sisters friends was a pleasant experience, she always knew it would be, but the struggle came with getting used to it. Her interactions with other students felt so few and far between, even with all the classes where she sat side by side and worked with girls and boys her own age, she had never opened up to someone enough to make a friend.

That's my goal.

"All right girls, settle down, settle down." Mrs Moon spoke over a microphone and then waited for the music to be turned down before she continued. "We need some more even groups here. Jane, why don't you go over there with Sadie. Hannah, why don't you guys join Trish's group down here."

Girls started shuffling around, frowning as their conversations were broken up and they were forced to find new friends for the evening. "Ah, Ellie, nice of you to join us."

Oh lord.

All the girls in the room rapidly twisted and turned around in an effort to find her. Like spotlights searching for a target, at least sixty pairs of eyes settled on her. Ellie raised her hand, smiling shyly and hoping for the attention to move elsewhere before she exploded. Alex reassuringly bumped her shoulder, letting her know she was nearby.

It's okay. You're used to people staring, aren't you?

"I'd say there's too many of you over there. Ellie, come and join Ashley and the girls at the front here." Mrs Moon beckoned her over, with each wave of her hands acting like a crane which slowly lifted Ellie out of her seat. She was just as comforting and friendly as she always was but this time, at least to Ellie, it felt a little evil.

Ellie's eyes darted around as she made her way to the front of the crowd, weaving between tables and avoiding looking at the girls around her who followed her every movement. She heard Alex's voice behind her, loudly pointing out that Sasha White quit the Fencing team last year and left a spot open, which thankfully restarted her friends conversation along with every other conversation that seemed to have stopped when Ellie's name was called. Using the noise as cover, Ellie hurried the last few steps around a few tables and sat down in the empty seat that Mrs Moon pointed her too.

Happy to be out of the limelight, she hadn't taken the time to look at who she was actually sitting next to. At first the girl didn't look at her, only briefly glancing at her arm with an offended look on her face, as if Ellie had no right to sit next to her, but when her large, doe-like hazel eyes looked up at Ellie her expression quickly changed to an eagerness.

Oh, that Ashley.

Ashley Mills had a big reputation among the fourth years of Marlborough College. Her family was one of the wealthiest around and seemed to be top of the pile when it came to the rich kids of the school, everyone looked up to them, some even feared them. In a school where almost everyone came from money and powerful families, reputation meant everything and was the difference between popularity and social exclusion. Ashley's older sister Sarah was also the Head Girl, and the expectation was that Ashley would be following in the same footsteps.

The Mills family held onto power with an iron grip and held almost as much influence over Marlborough College as Ellie's family did, if not more. Ellie knew that if she was going to make any progress at school this year, she would have to deal with Ashley Mills.

Ellie decided to speak first, knowing that most girls were afraid of even sitting next to a member of the Mills family and that perhaps that was something she could relate to. Ashley wasn't known to be a bully or mean, just someone that held a lot of power among the students, particularly in Ivy House.

Maybe Ashley herself wasn't so bad, maybe it was her family that was the villain that everyone was afraid of. A powerful family could cast a very large shadow over someone's life, something Ellie was very familiar with.

"Hey." Ellie said, acting confident and making herself comfortable in her seat. She wanted to show Ashley she wasn't afraid of her and it seemed to be working.

Ashley's eyes were twinkling, her mouth slightly open as she watched her. Ellie could tell she was thinking, analysing her closely and pondering what to do with her. Ashley's speech was friendly, her words like honey and nowhere near matching the family reputation. "Hey, don't see you at these things often."

"Yeah." Ellie answered nervously, distracted by the openness that came with sitting at the front of the room. "I normally skip out after forty minutes or so, but I'm planning to try a bit harder this time."

She watched Ashley, hoping that she'd said the right thing and not ruined her chances of friendship already. On the contrary, Ashley seemed almost impressed with her answer. Lucy Morello and Lauren Beattie, Ashley's closest confidantes, both moved their chairs closer so that Ellie was squeezed in amongst them and the rest of the room was shut out.

"Well, you aren't missing much so I don't blame you. It's not really much of a party with all the kids around." Ashley turned her head and looked at all the first year girls that were gathered together nearby, all them quickly averting their gaze and pretending they weren't just looking at her.

"So why do you stay?" Ellie asked.

"Mrs Moon expects it of me, at least to stay for the quiz. Something about my influence and being a role model." Ashley explained nonchalantly. She leaned in closer to Ellie and hid her lips from the view of everyone but their table. "The girls and I were going to hang out in my room after, if you wanna join us?"

"Don't you want to relax with the rest of the house?" Ellie said, matching the whisper. She could feel girls around her leaning in and trying to hear her.

"You don't want to make friends with them." Lucy piped in, surprising her. Up until then it had seemed like only Ashley was allowed to talk.

"You were wise to avoid everyone." Lauren added.

"Yeah, Ellie." Ashley looked suspiciously around the room once again. "You're maybe not aware yet, but you should know most of these girls are Scheming. Little. Bitches."

Her words were vicious and harsh, directed at everyone around her and clearly coming from a girl who had been on the wrong end of several of these schemes. The whole of Ivy suddenly felt much more hostile and made Ellie appreciate the safety of sharing a table with Ashley Mills, a girl who was quickly revealing how difficult it was going to be to make real friends.

The quiz ended up being incredibly easy, the questions were aimed at the first years as a way to help them socialise and make friends whilst the older girls were allowed to sit back and only pretend they were taking part. Ashley, Lucy and Lauren made a conscious effort to involve Ellie in their conversation, even if it jumped from various girls, boys, classes and sports that she was yet to meet or take part in. Ellie could ease herself in, just as she had hoped to do. Her confidence was growing, as well as the sense that she was becoming part of something.

The girls even huddled around her protectively and gave the group stink eye to Rhiannon Wakefield, a Sixth Form girl who accidentally bumped into Ellie's chair.

It was startling to her how much being part of a group and having friends around her could change her perspective, allowing her to sit and be herself, to enjoy what she was doing without being worried about everyone else. She could look around the room and stare into the eyes of girls she had never spoken to before, girls who she would normally shy away from when she'd first come downstairs.

This included an older woman, tall, intimidating and well-toned, standing in a dark corner of the room and looking directly at her with her arms crossed. She looked too mature to be a student but too young and uncomfortable in the crowd of girls to be a new teacher, her body language was stern, stand-offish and almost as suspicious as Ashley was. She kept her eyes on Ellie as she left early with her new friends, her gaze so unsettling that Ellie had to rush the others to leave the common room even quicker.

She tried to put it out of her mind, focusing instead on the heavily decorated door of Ashley's bedroom.

"So what about you guys?" she asked vaguely as Ashley unlocked the door and led them inside.

"What about us?" Lucy asked back, casually slumping down on Ashley's bed.

"You said everyone down there is a scheming bitch, so what about... you?" Ellie was tentative and avoided looking at their reactions, instead focusing on the walls of the room which were already covered in photos of Ashley with her friends. Popular kids from all across the school were easily recognisable, making Ashley's status as Queen of the school even more obvious, as well as the fact that she was unfairly efficient when it came to unpacking.

"We're trying to save this place." Ashley commanded her attention again and pulled her onto the large queen size bed to join them. "Ivy used to be the best house in school, we had the best sports teams and we always won the House tournament. Now it's just filled with bullies and cliques while the rest just want to transfer to New Court or Elmhurst."

"Me and Sarah are doing our best, trying to make sure Ivy gets back on top, but the bad sort are still getting in and dragging us down. You know all about that though, right?"

The atmosphere inside the bedroom very quickly shifted as the three girls watched Ellie closely and silently, waiting for her to respond. Was she implying Ellie was the bad sort?

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ellie, feeling insulted.

"Just that you must be used to your fair share of fame hunters and leeches, Princess." Ashley gave her a knowing smile.

"Yeah, you're from the biggest family around. You have more power than anyone in England, let alone Marlborough. You're friends with movie stars and celebrities, just last week I saw you in OK! Magazine hanging out with Taylor Swift." Lucy added in an adoring tone that Ellie was very familiar with, yet her knowledge of the private lives of royals was worrying.

"Okay, chill fan girl." Ashley scolded her friend with a judging stare and looked warmly back at Ellie.

"There aren't as many as you might think, but yeah." Ellie said, moving on. "It's gotten a lot worse after Granny died, people coming out of nowhere and claiming we share a family connection."

It took them a moment to realise who Granny was, but that wasn't unusual when she was talking to people outside of the family. Ellie waited for the inevitable chorus of "Ohhh!" and smirked when the girls provided it.

"We should really stick together Ellie, your influence would really help get us back on top of the tables at school. Can you imagine what we could do with you on our side?" Ashley and the girls looked between her and each other, excitedly thinking about the prospect.

"Well I've been signing up for more clubs than I can count, and I've got more team tryouts this week than I've had in my entire life. What do you need me to do?" Ellie spoke honestly, she couldn't think of much more she could be doing to help make Ivy great again, and in truth she wasn't that bothered about it.

But if helping them means I can make some friends... why not?

"Oh, don't worry about tryouts. Ashley can get you on most of the squads easily." Lauren casually brushed aside her worries.

Ellie looked disbelievingly at Ashley, who was taking out her phone and nodding at her smugly, as if it was completely obvious that she had that level of power. "Do I have you on Facebook?"

Ah, great. I figured this would come up.

"No, no. I don't have a public Facebook account." Ellie knew if anyone gained access to her private account, there would be hell to pay when her parents found out. Private pictures were one thing, but when those pictures could then easily be stolen and sold, that was a risk nobody in her family could take.

"Well girly, that's gonna have to be our first order of business!"

They ended up making an entirely new profile for her in order to keep her family and photos private, despite repeated questions from Lauren and Lucy asking why her family's privacy was so important. Ashley was more respectful, and Ellie guessed she often had similar interactions with people wanting to befriend her. It was nice to have someone who could understand her, as well as reign in the girls when they got too curious.

"You just don't want us to see all your celebrity friends." Lauren sighed at her, pretending to be hurt.

"I don't have that many, actually." Ellies account was tiny compared to Ashley's, who had hers loaded up on her laptop to be an example for Ellie. She was more embarrassed by the fact that she had no friends her own age, while Ashley boasted over two thousand.

"Don't worry about that. You can easily make everyone in this school worship you." Ashley was looking at her like she was some sort of science project or ancient artefact, urging her to unleash her power.

"Ashley, I mean real friends. Like this." Ellie jealously gestured to Ashley's friends list.

"Like that." She pointed with her eyes to the walls, covered in vast amounts of photos of dozens and dozens of friendships. "What I don't want is people worshipping me, people pretending they're on my side. I want to make friends from shared experiences, from going out, from partying, from being together!"

The words were well rehearsed, spoken dozens and dozens of times in her head over the summer. Her voice had grown louder as she spoke, angrier even. Her cheeks were warm and flushed, and the girls looked at her, half in shock and half in awe as she sat and stewed in her frustration.

"There's only one place to start." Ashley squeezed in beside her, pressed their cheeks together and stuck her phone out in front of them. "Smile!"

Hours passed by late into the night as they took more and more photos together and started populating Ellie's new profile with her likes and dislikes, her favourite bands, her favourite hobbies and all these new profile pictures. The friend requests started pouring in when Ashley added her as a friend, making her phone buzz so often that it turned into one constant vibration. Lauren and Lucy delighted in re-doing her hair and makeup and gushed over how proud they were to be the stylists of a Princess. Ashley meticulously picked out outfits for her to wear and oversaw every style choice the other girls made with Ellie, clearly enjoying being able to thoroughly turn her into one of them.

Ellie was starting to feel like she belonged, but even more so, she was starting to feel like she had been claimed.

With all the photos she was uploading with her arm around Ellie, looking fiercely at the camera and daring anyone to try her, it was clear that Ashley wanted Ellie to be well and truly one of her girls.

"It's honestly so hard to stay friends without social media." Lauren told her when she was starting to hesitate over accepting the friend requests on her phone. Lucy accepted five more for her and then dragged her into another photo of them dancing on the bed to a Disney song.

Ellie decided she would take her time. She would only add people in her year, people she knew she would be seeing in class regularly. It was easy at first, adding a new friend between trying on different outfits from Ashley's wardrobe and posing with each other, but things were different by the end of the night, when she was heading back to her room at three in the morning wearing another girl's jeans and feeling better than ever than she'd ever felt at Marlborough.

Over six hundred requests were waiting for her, from new kids in school to sixth formers who were in their final year. Ellie's restrictions had gone from her year only, to people on the teams she was hoping to join, to the years below and above her, to then finally all of the school. She was adamant that it wouldn't go any further than that.

As she made her way up the stairs to her floor and practically skipped through the corridors leading to her room, she reassured herself that the people on her page could only see what she wanted them to see. Ashley and the girls had been eager to upload every photo they had with her with captions like 'Look who I met' alongside others like "My new best girlfriend", but they had at least asked her each time whether she was happy with them.

It'll all be fine. They're all nice photos and it's all secure within the Marlborough network, it's good. You're good. The Palace won't find out.

She swung around the corner into the small off-shoot corridor where her bedroom door was waiting, but a tall, intimidating and well-toned blonde woman stood blocking her way. She was wearing all black skinny jeans and a long sleeve top despite the time and had clearly been waiting for her to show up.

Ellie almost fell over in her eagerness to stop. The woman crossed her arms and looked irritable, like a mother who had been forced to stay up late until her daughter got home.

"Your Highness, are you all right?" she asked in a Pennsylvania accent. Aunt Emma's influence in the decision making was now clear. Ellie's spirits immediately dropped.

"Oh, you..." Ellie mumbled, failing to hide her disappointment. She had easily forgotten after the night with Ashley and the girls.

The woman blinked, obviously a little hurt by the less than friendly greeting. "My name is Jennifer Jareau. I'm here as your in-house protection officer, Ma'am."

Ellie winced. Being called Ma'am was like a spear through the chest after the night she had just enjoyed. "The one sent by my grandparents, yeah." She couldn't help but sound snide.

"They had a hand in my appointment, yes, but I'm here fully at your service and that means knowing where you are at all times." She was clearly growing more annoyed.

"Isn't it your job to find out?" Ellie took on an aggressive stance, her arms crossed to match Jennifer. "I've been here three years and I haven't needed to tell anyone where I am or where I'm going."

"With respect Ma'am, things will be different this year." Jennifer gritted her teeth, her words curt and sharp.

"Oh, will they?" Ellie pushed past her, wanting to get away from Jennifer before all of her good vibes were crushed. "And don't call me Ma'am, not here."

She turned to her door and ignored the woman, but only when she tried turning the handle did she realise that in her nervous rush downstairs hours before, she had forgotten to bring her keys. Ellie pulled on the handle several times and each time the door stood firm, leaving her lingering with her back turned to someone who was quickly becoming, at least to her, the worst person at Marlborough.

"Here." Jennifer sighed, going into the bedroom opposite Ellie's and grabbing a spare key. She inserted it into Ellie's lock and opened her door.

Ellie mumbled an abrupt 'thanks' and slid back into her room, quickly closing the door in Jennifer's irritated face.

[pofcroyalfanfiction]

Chapter Two - A New Palace

September 1st 2028

Marlborough, England

The drive back into Marlborough was always difficult on the 1st of September. Traffic would grind to a halt in the sleepy little village as students started returning to school, their parents desperate to find an empty parking space so that moving their children's things was that much easier. The Cambridge family were no different, stuck in traffic in the middle of the high street as they waited for the roads to clear. It took them thirty minutes to travel a mile, and then another thirty sitting in a side road outside Ivy House as they waited for a parking spot to free up. Kate could still vaguely remember her own mother driving her back to school, in a time where Marlborough was less famous and the student body was still something that the small town could handle.

What days those were.

She passed the time by browsing photos on her phone, trying to pick from the hundred that she'd taken of her kids together on their first day of school. It was a good distraction from the growing restlessness inside the car, trying to find one photo where Charlotte was looking at the camera or one where Alex wasn't making her little brother laugh by pulling silly faces.

"Oh! How 'bout this one?" Kate asked hopefully, holding up her phone so that Ellie and Alex could see from the back seats of the family Range Rover.

"No! Only one of my eyes is open there!" Ellie shot her down quickly and impatiently, like she'd done for the entirety of their journey.

"You've rejected every one so far Ellie." Kate pouted at her in the rear view mirror. Getting her eldest daughter to take nice photos was always difficult, but Ellie's pickiness meant Kate could take as many photos as time would allow and then get to coo endlessly as she scrolled through every single one. Will had noticed her getting teary eyed more than a few times during the trip to Marlborough.

"Just pick one already. It's obvious she's not gonna help out." Alex threw her head back against the seat and groaned at her older sister. She would have been perfectly happy with any one of the last hundred that Kate had showed them.

"Can we get in yet?" Ellie asked, noticing a car leaving the parking lot.

"Nope, still full." Will said, glancing around the cars ahead. "I'm sure if we let them know we're here, they'd make a space for us."

"No!" Ellie denied him quickly. "It's fine. We can wait."

"Speak for yourself why don't you?" Alex rolled her eyes at her sister.

It was hard not to find Ellie a little irritating. She had been restless and overeager to be back at school ever since they'd left London. Kate had tried to get her to unwind over the journey but her daughter was having none of it, she was a bundle of energy that was itching to explode.

Kate had never seen her eldest acting this way, definitely not when it came to her education, something which for the last three years Ellie seemed only half interested in at best. This year there was a spark inside of her that had never been there before, a drive to do well and achieve great things. Kate was loving her daughter's new spirit, but she couldn't help but be a little worried.

She's planning to do everything. Every class, every club, every team, every sport. Even ones she knows she won't like. She wants to make a million friends and pass every exam with top marks. She wants to craft the perfect school life for herself, but she thinks it'll happen straight away.

Kate wanted her daughter to do well, as any mother would, but she didn't want to pressure her. The performance reports she had been getting from Ellie's teachers implied that her daughter was an average student, that she wasn't trying, and most worrying of all that she wasn't making any friends.

Kate couldn't figure out what to do. She knew Ellie was being naïve thinking she'd be able to do everything and not have it affect her classes, but she didn't want to crush her daughter's new found adventurous attitude. This wasn't the Princess Eleanor she'd been raising previously, this was her Ellie, her bundle of curious and excitable energy before she'd been told what her future role would be.

Kate wanted to keep that going, but she didn't want Ellie doing all this because she felt she had to, she wanted her doing well in school because she wanted to. Kate could only hope that the school would look after her daughter, help her achieve everything she was aiming for this year and not pressure her to do anymore.

Ellie is putting enough pressure on herself as it is. And besides, Marlborough makes no secret of being proud to teach two Royals. They want them to be shining examples of excellence.

Ivy House itself was a collection of buildings that had been squeezed into a narrow plot of land, stretching back at least half a football pitches length away from the high street. The oldest part of the house was all anyone could see from the main street and was built in the sixteenth century, but the rest of Ivy was built via multiple extensions over the years to accommodate more and more girls. The whole complex was so squashed into the middle of the town, a hundred meters from the school grounds and requiring a ten minute detour to get to the parking spaces at the back.

Kate regretted Ellie and Alex's placement into Ivy House every year, with the struggle for parking spaces and the squashed atmosphere, but she knew that the girls would be comfortable once everyone had moved in. Ivy was one of the smaller houses at the school even after Marlborough started accepting more students, and on any other day it would be relaxed and peaceful, the perfect place for her girls to live while studying.

When they were finally able to get a parking spot outside, Ellie couldn't wait to get out of the car. They were all restless after sitting on traffic for hours, but Ellie was on another level. She was outside, closing her car door and breathing in the Marlborough atmosphere before anyone else had a chance to undo their seatbelts.

"Did you bring the toddler reins?" Will asked her, wiping pretend sweat from his brow.

"We'll have to buy some in town." Kate told him, gathering her things and sliding out the car gracefully.

Immediately she could feel the eyes following them, excitable young kids carrying suitcases were stopping in their tracks to watch their every move. Kate waved at some of them before their parents smiled apologetically at her and shepherded their children away, allowing the chaos of moving in to return.

New students.

Kate looked around for her own children. Alex had already rushed off and was hugging another girl, a short and awkward looking girl who beamed at Alex and proudly introduced her to her parents. Kate couldn't remember the girls name, Susie was her best guess, or Lola. Alex had never spoken at length about her friends at school, only that there were lots of them.

Ellie was a different story. Kate found her hovering by the old noticeboard that stood by the back entrance, reading all the different postings for clubs and sports teams. Kate watched her for a moment, seeing how she acted around the other girls who were nearby. Some girls said hello to her, but nobody greeted her like a friend they hadn't seen in months. Kate could sense her daughter's nerves as she tried to hold conversations with other girls, obviously fighting herself to be more talkative.  She knew how awkward her daughter must be feeling, but a smile was forming on her lips.

Kate watched proudly, clasping her hands together and full of joy. Ellie was immersing herself in school and putting herself out there. She wasn't standing out either, wearing the same uniform as all the other girls meant there was no hint of a Princess there, which seemed like the only thing that was holding her daughter back.

Will tapped her on the shoulder. "Kate, the new housemistress wants to say hello."  

He had Alex with him, having wrangled her from her friends, and was gesturing to a strict looking older woman in her forties, with wavy red hair, a large nose and wearing a black pantsuit. She was waiting patiently, briefly and politely greeting other parents. Kate found her gaze unsettling as it repeatedly focused back on her and William, clearly showing which royal couple she wanted to speak with.

"Ellie. Grab your things." Kate called back over her shoulder to the group of girls at the noticeboard, hating to ruin her eldest's fun. When no response came she turned and tried to pick Ellie out from the crowd, but the oddest feeling stopped her. She couldn't recognise her daughter, all the girls seemed to blend together. Normally Ellie's awkwardness made her stand out, but now all she could see were a bunch of giggling school girls in the middle of a reunion.

"Ellie." Kate shouted again. Her daughters face snapped to her direction and immediately Kate could see the disappointment in her eyes. She said her goodbyes and trudged away from the group, leaving the rest to keep talking.

"You can go back to them in a bit." Kate said, putting her hand on Ellie's back and looking at the girls, wondering if all this time her daughter really did have friends here. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Mum." Ellie said to her casually, not sensing the significance as she repeatedly looked back over her shoulder.

The housemistress stood at attention as Kate approached. Another woman was beside her, looking slightly younger and more welcoming. Her summery dress and sandals came across as less professional, but there was an obvious friendliness about her that Kate could appreciate.

The older woman shot Ellie a glance and then subtly looked at Kate.

"Mum, this is our new Housemistress Rachel Hunt." Ellie looked quite put out as she hastily introduced them, her voice professional and slightly bored. Kate watched and smiled as the older woman's chest swelled with pride at the sound of her new title.

"Your Royal Highnesses" Miss Hunt sunk into a deep curtsey as she shook both her and Will's hand. "A pleasure to meet you both, ever since I was made Housemistress of Ivy I've been looking forward to this moment."

"Please, just Will and Kate is fine." Will heartily shook her hand with a disarming smile.

"We're just excited and proud parents today." Kate told her as she shook Ms Hunts' hand gently.

"And our House Dame, Jenny Moon." Ellie introduced the younger woman in a clearly more excited voice which Kate and Will quickly picked up on. Mrs Moon offered a lighter curtsey, focusing more on a relaxed, welcoming handshake. "Nice to meet you both."

"So you'll be making sure the girls don't get into trouble?" Will asked jokily, wrangling Alex with his forearm like she was a wild lioness as she rolled her eyes and snickered quietly.

"Of course, though Ellie won't be any trouble. We can count on that." Miss Hunt said proudly whilst Ellie looked away and grumbled.

"And we'll make sure Alex cuts out the late night T.V" Mrs Moon said, crossing her arms and already laying down the law, yet her familiarity with the girls made her seem more like a big sister who wanted to watch the T.V in peace.

"Don't worry." Alex laughed mischievously. "There's nothing good on this year."