It’s awesome having the Crown Prince of Denmark as one of my godparents.

I thought balls and parties would be few and far between, but hell was I wrong. Ben and I are here in Denmark to celebrate the 45th Wedding Anniversary of Queen Margrethe II and Prince Henrik. Thankfully, I wasn’t here for the church ceremony and brunch yesterday because I had finals to take. I got here just in time to attend the small gala being held at Amalienbörg Palace.

“Need some help?” Ben asks, making me jump slightly. When I turn around I see that he’s done getting his outfit on; white tie with orders and sash. We just received these new sashes as a gift from the Queen, due to the fact that both of us are somehow related to her—I think we’re cousins, but I have no idea if it’s second, third, fourth or so on. The light blue color brings out his darker blue eyes, although the little elephant dangling from the end of it makes it impossible for me to take him seriously.

“What are you laughing at?” He grins, helping me secure the order that has Victor’s face on it, set against a light blue bow.

“Nothing,” I giggle, “It’s just that little elephant on our sashes is so cute it doesn’t look like it belongs on a military guy like you or Victor—or any of the men that are going to be there tonight.”

He nods, “I agree, it’s slightly distracting. I wish they’d given us the Dannebrog Order instead but that’s of a lower level. So, we’ll have to just ignore the elephant.”

As he finally gets the pin to lock in place I state, “It’s staring at me.”

Throwing his head back in laughter, he says, “I hate to break it to you but nearly everyone there tonight is going to be wearing this order.”

Ah, right. Royals either wear an order they receive from the host country, or the highest order from their own country—and Margrethe isn’t hesitant when it comes to giving out orders. She’s no Queen Elizabeth.

I let out an annoyed groan and turn to take one last look in the mirror. My eyes automatically skip to the massive aquamarine tiara resting on my head. It’s my mother’s, which she boldly wore on her wedding day even though tradition is to not wear any colored-stone tiaras. It’s the same one she’s wearing in the picture I have of her and it must have been her favorite. But I feel like I don’t live up to her beauty enough to wear it; or live up to her in general.

Ben must notice my inner monologue is running, because he says, “You look beautiful, Ann. You know, I’ve been waiting to see you in that tiara. Technically it’s only meant for a queen of Chirnova to wear but since there is no Queen, you’ve inherited it. You’ve inherited it all. I believe my father wants to lend you some of my mother’s tiaras as well.”

I know he’s trying to cheer me up by telling me all the pretty things I’ll get to wear, but it’s not really helping. I think we both know that. But we cover up our nervousness and uncertainty and head towards the door.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I compliment as we walk down the hallway to meet Victor. “Is that your new medal?” I point to the cross pendant hanging from a red ribbon.

“Yes,” he explains proudly, “It’s the Medal of St. Agnes—I got it when I saved that fishing crew last month but because of the shooting they didn’t get around to giving it to me.”

I open my mouth to say something, but am rudely interrupted by the familiar voice of Victor from down the hallway.

“You two walk slower than me and I use a cane half the time!” Victor calls out from ahead of us, interrupting what I was going to say.

With a roll of my eyes, I yell back, “Rude!”

Even Marc and Gabe break their silence for a quick laugh before going back to deathly seriousness. Even though we aren’t even going to leave the palace to get to the gala, they’re still nervous about possible threats. Ever since the shooting all our security personnel have been exceptionally paranoid. I can’t blame them. With the trials now in full-swing it’s only a matter of time before another idiot—or idiots—tries to make an attempt at one of our lives again. But it’s good to see them smile again.

The noise becomes greater as we near the grand ballroom. Distant chattering turns to an overwhelming amount of voices all speaking at the same time. It’s hard to discern right now, but I’m sure all those voices are speaking a variety of languages; Danish, French, Swedish, Dutch, Norwegian, Polish, Chirnovian, Vladesvyan etc. It’s not as scary as it was to me, which makes me feel really good. I’m finally getting used to these get togethers, and these people are finally feeling more like my family. Especially the Danes.

All goes quiet as we wait in line behind the Danish royals, and their closer relatives. We’re near the middle of the procession line, behind the Norwegians, and by the time our names are announced my feet are already screaming in my pumps.

“His Majesty King Victor the Third, King of Chirnova, Vladesvya and the Baltiysk Isles.”

I’ve never seen Victor smile as widely as he does when his name and title gets announced like that. Yes, it’s tough knowing that there will never be another monarch of only Chirnova or only Vladesvya, but the joining of our countries and isles into a commonwealth has only made us more unified and patriotic. Our people are finally getting along, and we’re leading the example. Me surrendering my throne to Victor was a sacrifice; but a good one. Thankfully, Ben and I still retain our normal titles until we become King and Queen. I’m still only a Princess of Chirnova until I marry Ben.

“His Royal Highness Crown Prince Benjamin of Vladesvya, and Her Royal Highness Crown Princess AnnaMaria of Chirnova.” …Vladesvya and the Baltiysk Isles, I add in my head. After October that’s what I’ll be called instead.

The applause that follows even makes me smile genuinely. Walking close behind Victor, Ben and I manage to make it through the tight walkway without tripping over anyone’s gowns—or just over ourselves for that matter.

As we take our seats at an eight-seater round table, I realize that we’ve been lucky enough to be seated with the Dutch royals and the Grand Ducal Couple of Luxembourg. Victor sits between Grand Duke Henri and Queen Beatrix. Ben is between Beatrix and Crown Prince Williem-Alexander. Grand Duchess Maria-Theresa is next to Willem and I’m squished between Maria and Crown Princess Maxima.

They always do this at royal events and sometimes I seriously wonder if their way of coming up with seating charts is to pull House names out of a hat and just throw us together randomly. At the christening of Princess Estelle I was squished between the Crown Prince of Norway and Crown Princess of Belgium. That wouldn’t be strange at all, except all the other heirs to the throne are much older than me and it’s slightly awkward. I ask about their children while they ask me about my schooling.

“It’s so great to see you again, AnnaMaria!” Maxima’s enthusiastic use of my full first name throws me off, but I manage to pull myself together and reply.

“You too! How have you been?” I ask, briefly admiring her diamond and ruby tiara—a tiara I could practically drool over. Don’t get me wrong, my mother’s Aquamarine is gorgeous, but it’s a bit heavy. The one Maxima is wearing is definitely lighter but still amazing. What I wouldn’t give to get more padding like she has on hers…

She answers with one of her bright smiles; one of the ones I’ve seen before. I met her at the New Year’s Eve gala first and then again at the Memorial Service, and again at the christening. We keep running into each other—which is great because she’s the kind of royal I aspire to be. She talks to everyone, everywhere she goes. Everyone in this ballroom has probably spoken to her at least once. It’s truly remarkable, the communication skills she has—I heard she can even speak four languages fluently. 

“Wonderful, and what about yourself?” She questions, her strange Dutch and Argentinian accent kicking in. It’s a good thing Ben told me she was Argentinian or else I would have just thought her accent was the product of trying too hard to sound upper-class. It’s truly because she can’t help it. The Dutch and Argentinian clash pretty badly. But at least her voice isn’t shrill like others I’ve encountered.

“Great, just finished taking my finals, actually so I’m feeling pretty good,” I say in my futile attempt to be good at making conversation.

“Oh, that’s right, you’re graduating this month, correct?” She asks casually, taking a sip of her drink.

With a nod I answer, “Yes, thank goodness.”

“Any plans for college?” She catches me off guard with that question.

I’ve had an arrangement with the University of Seraphim since the beginning of this month. The first week of June, Kassy texted me about possibly going for an online BA or MA in foreign policy or political science. I haven’t decided if I’m going to go with one of those or rebel and follow my true love: science.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to start online classes by this winter, after everything dies down. I really wish I could go on campus, but with security being tight I know that will probably not happen for a few years.”

Her eyes soften as she replies, “I understand completely. Any idea what you want to study? I suppose something in the political sciences would be expected.”

Shrugging slightly, I sigh, “Not sure just yet. Foreign policy and international relations are possibilities. I might look into global health as well.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful major!” The Grand Duchess comments abruptly. “My daughter-in-law just graduated with a degree in International Health and she’s already working full time in London.”

“Really?” I try my best to sound interested, but really the whole night is going to be filled with silly small talk like this. 

The conversations continue to drone on and on as we pick at appetizers and different courses of the dinner. Most of the food is Danish or French due to the Queen and Prince Consort’s heritages. Almost all of it consists of items I would never touch, let alone put in my mouth. So, I fake it until I make it to desert—which turns out to be the only decent looking meal.

Only problem is, I don’t know how to properly eat it.

Everyone around me is picking up desert spoons to eat something that looks like a pound cake with ice cream and god knows what on the side. I try to mimic Maria Theresa, before she finally lets out a small chuckle and tells me, “You’re supposed to take a scoop of each item separately.”

“Oh,” I nod. “What exactly is it?”

She simply smiles and says, “Rugbröd bread with pistachio gelatto and pure vanilla cream. The Danes like to serve it at all their functions. My suggestion is to skip the gelatto, though. It can leave quite a taste in your mouth if you don’t like it.”

“Got it,” I nod again. “Thank you, by the way.”

Placing a hand on my arm, she shakes her head, “Don’t mention it. I wish I had someone to help me assimilate into this world.”

After a short pause, she leans back towards me while I have a mouth full of bread and vanilla cream. She says matter-of-factly, “We’re all here to help you and Benjamin, you know. It’s one thing to be thrust into the world spotlight as a girl dating a royal, but to find out that you are one? I can’t imagine.”

Quickly swallowing down my mouthful, I answer shyly, “Thank you.”

“Has it been hard?” She asks, although I bet she already knows the answer.

With a sigh, I tell her, “Yeah. Definitely. But I’m lucky I get along with Ben and Victor and… yeah. Everyone’s been really helpful.”

I can tell she has five kids like Victor mentioned earlier. Because she sure does have a motherly air about her. I think I like her because she reminds me of mom. Same warm smile, same supportive tone of voice. She even has the same kind of face. She’s like the dark haired, dark eyed version of mom.

“That’s good to hear. I have to admit, I cannot wait to see you permanently back here in Europe. It’s always fun to welcome new royals into the circle,” she admits with a gleeful smile.

“I can imagine.”

After successfully faking interest in both the conversations and meals, I finally get to relax. It’s dancing time.

The Prince Consort escorts the Queen out to the floor first, followed by the Crown Prince and Princess. The whole family joins in and eventually Ben and I are thrust into the ever-moving circle of waltzing royals. I suppose that dancing lesson we took together over Christmas vacation was a good idea. I need to thank Winnie sometime for that.

He leads, obviously but I keep up just fine.

“Dancers really can adapt to almost anything,” he notes with a mischievous grin. “I almost thought you would trip over yourself once we got out here.”

Insulted, I give him a quick and light smack on the shoulder. “I have never tripped over myself in front of the royals.”

“But you have in front of me,” he teases, leaning down to touch my forehead as the music slows. I feel his hand, from heel to fingertips, pressing against the small of my back; pushing me even further into him. I just know the photographers on the balconies must be having a grand old time now. The slowing of the music means all the couples will grow closer together and pecks may be exchanged. It’s only natural. This fairytale setting has inspired everyone’s lovey-dovey sides.

I acknowledge his previous statement by saying, “Ok, so in private I’m a bit of a klutz.”

“A bit?” He chuckles, his breath making the hair on the top of my head stir.

“Oh, please like you haven’t had your stumbles,” I point out smugly. “Like that time you tripped on your way to hand out military badges at the St. Agnes Academy graduation? I saw that in The Gabbler you know. They had a ball making fun of you for that.”

He lets out a light puff of laughter. “Do you still sift through those magazines looking for our faces? I used to do it, but eventually they all repeat the same stories. It gets exceedingly boring.”

“No, not intentionally,” I tell him quietly as we come dangerously close to the Crown Princely couple of Norway. “I keep seeing them in the Walmart my mom drags me to every Saturday.”

“Ah, so we’re on the cover of Hello! and Ok! as well, then?” He assumes; and he assumes correctly. Almost every time I’ve gone into that store—or any store for that matter—I’ve seen our faces somewhere on the front page or inside.

I nod, “Of course. Don’t you know we’re the next royal power couple?”

“I wasn’t aware,” he smirks. “But that does sound wonderful now that I’ve heard it.”

It’s the cheeky little moments like this that remind me why I put up with so much; why I’ve been working so hard to build up my world image; why I haven’t had a breakdown in such a long time. Ben is worth it, and I know he thinks the same of me. Which is great. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He asks suddenly, gazing down at me with a smile that makes my cheeks flush.

“Yes, you have,” I suppress a bit of laughter.

“Oh, well then let me tell you again—you look beautiful in that gown,” he whispers as we pass by other dancing couples. “And that diadem…”

I think he’s done with the compliments, but he suddenly adds, “and that lingerie,” in Vladesvyan Slavic. His voice is no higher than a low murmur, but I still tap him lightly on the shoulder to reprimand him for such a racy comment at a time like this.

“Benjamin Alexander,” I scold him like I usually do; two out of his four names and a stern tone.

“What?” He asks again in our language; looking down into my eyes with that puppy dog-like expression he always uses at times like these. “I saw that lacy white thing you call underwear—personally I think it would have been better to just go—.”

“Ben!” I hiss lowly, suppressing a snort of laughter. “Knock it off, before someone hears you.”

Our loving bickering goes on until my feet are too numb to dance any more. We retreat back to our table, where we can finally sit next to each other instead of semi-familiar distant relatives. It seems that after ten everyone ignores protocol—which is fine with me. The less protocol the better. Now I can finally lean in close to Ben and he can wrap his arm around me—almost like we’re at a prom. I guess this makes up for the fact that he couldn’t come to my senior prom with me.

I don’t know how long we sit in silence, but finally Ben says something. Not that it’s a topic I’d like to cover right here, right now. But he brings it up nonetheless.

“About Alissa,” he starts—prompting a roll of my eyes. “She’s stopped texting me.”

“Ah, yes I wonder why,” I flash him a smirk. The wedding invitations just went out this weekend, and guess who wasn’t invited?

“What did you do?” He asks, just barely holding back a smile. I know he wants to be proud of me for taking care of a scandal like this before it even breaks the surface.

Shrugging, I answer, “Not much, actually—just denied her and her family invitations to the wedding.”

His face suddenly goes serious, which makes my eyebrows crease in confusion.

“You did what?”

“They’re not invited to the wedding,” I state. “Is that a problem?”

“It could be,” he says worriedly. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because the invitations were finalized this weekend and you weren’t answering my calls,” I point out. “What’s the big deal anyways, do you pity her?”

“No, no, no,” he’s quick to respond. “But if they go to the media with the story that they weren’t invited because of a tabloid article and a couple of pictures with me… Ann, it could get very bad, very quickly.”

“I’m not scared of them. And plus, the press loves me more than her.” I lean back in my chair and take a sip of what little champagne is left in my tiny glass.

He sighs deeply, “I hope you can handle the backlash that’s going to come along with this.”

For the first time since I’ve found out about my true past, I finally feel like a royal. I feel like a Crown Princess. I have the confidence that I’ve been pining for this whole time; during this whole transformation.

“I can,” is all I say. He stares back at me, and for a moment I think I see a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. But it quickly vanishes before I can address it.

And he just sits there, nodding. Until finally he says, “Okay.”

_________________________________________________________

*outfit on the sidebar is AnnaMaria’s for this chapter’s event*

I’m back! (and really really sore and I look like a chipmunk). So yeah, I recently got my wisdom teeth (all 4 of them) removed so rudely from my mouth so that’s why I haven’t updated. But I’m feeling a little better now so I decided to edit and post this tonight! :)

Hope you guys enjoy and thanks again soooo much for reading <3 you’re all amazing readers! Keep up the votes and comments, they’re really encouraging when I have ‘dry spells’ with my writing. I love hearing you guys talk about what you think is going to happen next! Sometimes I get really good ideas from the comments section as well ;) so keep them coming!

Thanks again! -Nicci