Packing your whole life into boxes is easier said than done. It’s taken me two days to sort through all of my belongings and choose what I’m bringing with me to Vladesvya and Chirnova, and what I’m going to leave with my family. I’ve taken everything but a few sentimental items that mom wanted to keep, and I even let my brothers choose one of each of my cheap old rings each to wear on their ‘good luck’ hockey necklaces. Everyone in my family has gotten to pick a piece of me to keep with them.

In other words, the past two days have not only been emotional, they’ve been corny as hell. Waterworks, plenty of hugs and story telling have been abound.

The girls have taken it pretty hard as well. They’ve been with me on and off since graduation, only leaving my house when they need to go to their summer jobs. Ash and Ave keep telling me how horrible it will be that I’m not actually going to Bowdoin with them. Mel is upset that I won’t be joining her at work this summer. I know they’re just kidding around but it still makes me feel horrible.

But everyone has something to look forward to. In late August, after the London Olympics I’ll be able to come back for a three day weekend visit. Plus, they’re all coming to Chirnova a week before the wedding for the rehearsal and final bridesmaids dresses fittings.

As for right now, we’re saying goodbye.

“I’m going to miss you,” mom says for the millionth time this week. Her voice is still raw from crying last night, and her eyes are puffed up to the size of golf balls. I embrace her in one last hug to keep her from crying any more.

“Mom, I’ll text you every day and I promise we’ll do Facetiming once a week. I’m not disappearing off the face of the Earth,” I joke. Joking is the only thing keeping me from crying too.

She sniffles loudly and nods as I pull away from the hug. “I—I know. I love you, sweetie. It’s just not going to be the same without you.”

“Oh, stop talking like that,” I practically beg. A knot has begun to twist in my throat.

Dad sneaks in for one more embrace as Ben says goodbye to the twins and Adrian. I hear Ben say, “It won’t be the same without your humor, guys.”

“You’ll have plenty of our humor at the wedding,” Adrian assures him.

The knot clenches painfully.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” dad teases, planting a kiss on the top of my head and ruffling my bed head of hair.

“Dad, I can’t even do anything you would do with the amount of cameras following me.”

He snorts and agrees, “Point taken.”

Gabe and Marc are the first ones to point out that the jet Victor sent over to get us is waiting on the tarmac at the airport. I’m just glad they’re the ones that initiated the actual process of leaving. 

Ben grabs hold of my hand as we walk out the front door. We both heave a sigh of relief at the sight of a bare sidewalk; no photographers in sight. Just before we get into the SUV I hesitate and glance back at everyone standing on the front steps. It’s the sight that breaks me, but instead of crying I just wave and smile.

But the second we’re in the car and turning out of my neighborhood the tears come. I try to hide them at first, but Ben notices the shake in my shoulders like he always does.

Marc and Gabe remain silent in the front seats. Ben’s arm wraps around my back, the other squeezing my hand. I keep my crying quiet and curl into his side as we travel down the highway because I can’t bear to look out the window. Who knows how long I’ll go without seeing this place after August. After that visit it could be years before I come back. I have to make up for almost a whole decade of work I could have been doing in my pre-teen and teen years as a royal.

Everyone remains silent as we arrive at the airport. Thankfully, this time we’re allowed to drive straight to the garage near the jet. The photographers and news crews waiting outside the front entrance must be enraged with disappointment. And even though I’ve gotten used to them and am finally ready to face those lenses, I’m still glad we dodged them this time. The last thing I want on the front page of a magazine is a picture of me crying on my way back to Europe. I can’t even imagine the chaos that would ensue.

I can’t take the silence anymore once we’re on the jet, so I open my laptop and go straight to the files Kassy sent me. Nearly every single thing in the folder I labeled Wedding Stuff has to do with my dress. Apparently I have a meeting with the designer I picked––Aleksandra Poltza, the same designer that made the gown I wore to the gala at Amålienborg. It’s scheduled for eight tomorrow night. As far as I know this while dress-making process is going to be taking place at night, in the shadows, in secret. It’s almost like a covert mission.

No—no it is a covert mission. Aleksandra even told Kassy she would make two different back up dresses in case the first one’s design got leaked. I just hope this all goes as planned.

“Looking through your wedding folder as well?” Ben murmurs. I can see his eyes drooping but I know he won’t take a nap until I do. Early morning flights are difficult to deal with.

I nod, “Do you want to see the rough drafts of the dresses?”

I click on the folder inside the folder to click through the black and white sketches Aleksandra faxed to Kassy earlier this week. They’re all basically the same design that I said I had in mind; long or half sleeved, full skirted and classic. I vowed against the excessive use of rhinestones, tulle and ruffles. Dresses like that swallow my tiny body and make me look like a pastry.

“I think I like the second one,” he points to the all-lace design. “Of course, I might be partial to it because it looks like the one my mother wore.”

I bite down on my cheek before saying, “Sometimes I forget you lost your mother, too.”

“It’s alright,” he replies softly. “At least I got seventeen years with her. You didn’t get any with them. I’m hardly in a position to be mad at you for forgetting. You’ve been through much worse.”

“Well, I would have been fine if I hadn’t found out the real cause of their death,” I admit in a voice barely above a whisper.

As he loops his arm around my shoulders he whispers back, “But you’re fine now.”

Not really, I think dryly. But I respond with a forced, pursed-lip smile instead. “Yeah… yeah we both are.”

Fine. The word fine has a whole new meaning to me now. Fine no longer means I’m actually okay, it just means I’m barely containing one of the top three emotions that plague me daily: sadness, frustration or panic. 

Yes, there are many days when those emotions go unfulfilled, when I feel like everything is going right—but when I have bad days now… they really are bad.

To try to distract from the horrible onslaught of nervousness and anxiety, I eventually shut my laptop and fall asleep; my head cradled in Ben’s lap on a fluffy pillow as he reclines in his own chair. 

When I wake up I’m curled into his chest, with one hand intertwined with his and the other lazily attempting to grasp the fabric of his t-shirt. He’s already awake when I look up at him, as usual. I find he doesn’t sleep well on planes or in cars. Instead he opts for staring at me.

“Almost there,” he says groggily. 

“How long was I out?” I ask, sitting up and trying to rub the bleariness from my eyes.

A puff of laughter escapes him. “Almost eight hours.”

“What?”

“Well you said yourself you only got two hours of sleep last night.”

With a shrug I accept his point. It’s true, those eight hours of deep sleep were desperately needed. That kind of sleep only happens when I’m with him.

“We’re going to be landing soon,” Gabe suddenly says from across the cabin. He’s sipping at coffee with Marc in the first two seats on the sofa. “Better prepare yourselves.”

“For what?” I ask. “We’re just heading straight to the palace and it’s seven-thirty at night already.”

“Victor didn’t tell you two?” Marc asks with a raise of one eyebrow.

“Tell us what?” Ben asks right back.

The two of them exchange a look, and Ben’s guards do the same. It makes us want to take their guns and shoot ourselves in the head. When they say things like that, it has to be bad. Victor is always “forgetting” to tell us things lately.

“There’s going to be a sort of… welcome home caravan. The people have been lining the streets of St. Agnes since this morning.”

“Yeah, it’s like practice for your wedding,” Marc jokes lightly, taking another swig of his coffee.

“Except you’ll be in a car, not a horse-drawn carriage. Sorry to disappoint,” Gabe adds.

Half in anger and half in annoyance, I pick up the nearest object—an empty water bottle—and chuck it at the four of them. To my absolute shock, Marc manages to catch it after it bounces off his forehead.

“You know, it’s inhumane to abuse your security personnel,” he advises.

I let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan of frustration. “This man is going to be the death of me.”

“If he’s not careful he’s going to be the death of both of us,” Ben quips smartly. I watch as he collapses forward and slams his face into his hands, just like I did.

@HRHPrincessAnna: I’m coming home, I’m coming home. Tell the world I’m coming home. 

I find that on Twitter the trend #VitaDomaAnnaMaria is trending. Welcome Home AnnaMaria, in Vladesvyan, which is different from Chirnovian only because there is no ‘i’ after the a in vita. That’s what’s trending in Eastern Europe. 

“So they do like me?” I ask Ben. “The Vladesvyans?”

“They don’t like you… they love you,” he assures me.

I feel lips press against my temple and smile. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

It’s a bumpy landing, but we make it back onto the ground okay. There are no photographers near the tree line as we’re escorted to the cars. Unfortunately, the rule still stands that Ben and I have to ride in separate cars—at least for another week or two, until the threat level is reduced to a Level 2. 

We part with a squeezing of hands and nervous smiles. 

“Remember to smile and wave,” Gabe says as we head out of the airport. 

I regard his reflection in the rearview mirror with a scowl. “Thanks for the reminder, I almost forgot.”

And then the flashing and screaming starts.

The second we’re on a main road leading towards the capitol of Vladesvya, the crowds begin to thicken along the sidewalks. The people crowd near the street, sit on branches in tall trees and small children crane their necks from atop parents’ shoulders. It’s pretty clear that they’re just as happy about my return as my own country is.

My waving and smile only makes them scream more, wave more and hold their ‘welcome home’ signs up higher—which in turn, admittedly makes me grin even wider.

As we drive through the streets of St. Agnes, the magnificent capitol city, the hoards of people get even more massive. Signs get bigger, and the police prescience increases. The crowds outside the main gates of St. Agnes Palace are especially hyped up and loud. 

Thankfully there are no incidents, and we make it out of our cars intact. A crew of staff members, and of course Victor, are at the private entrance to greet us.

I’m stunned when Victor pulls me into his arms like a daughter. We haven’t really had that kind of interaction since Ben was in the hospital. 

He’s beaming, looking between the two of us and rambling on about how we’re the top news story in Eastern Europe… again.

This would be about the tenth time I suppose.

“I’ve missed you two,” he admits as we make our way to the private wing of the palace. “The entire staff has, too.”

His admission makes me smile widely. For a guy who isn’t fond of talking about his emotions, he’s doing a great job of expressing his happiness that we’re finally back for good. I can tell he’s happy just by the way he’s rambling on and on, but the fact that he admitted to missing me and not just Ben… well it makes me feel even more warm and fuzzy inside.

“No one touched your things, Anna,” he promises me as we arrive at our new suite. It’s next door to Ben’s old childhood room. Most of Ben’s things have been moved into this larger one, and all of my stuff is sitting in boxes waiting for me to go through it.

The boxes are stacked in the entryway and just manage to spill out into the sitting area. They’re all labelled neatly and tower no higher than Ben can reach. 

“Thanks,” I smile up at him. “Do you… want to stay with us for a little?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. I’ve always felt it was too strange to ask him something like that, but he answers, “Of course. Someone has to tell you both what’s been going on around these parts.”

As we settle in, I begin to look over the boxes. Ben and Victor sit in their respective arm chairs and talk about this weeks schedule. It’s a rough one. Our dogs, who are no longer exactly puppies, greet us with kisses and wagging tails. Rosie and Sampson seem to hardly even know we were ever gone. They settle into their respective beds near the window as the three of us settle in.

“Tomorrow you and Anna will head over to the stables at Novokeva. Your old instructor, Ivan will be there to help you teach Anna how to ride.”

“Oh lord,” I mumble lowly, sifting through the box labeled Pajamas. 

Victor chuckles. He heard me. “Don’t worry, An you’ll be fine.”

Ben adds, “We have two weeks to teach you the basics before the Military Parades. Plus, you have a five day break in between the two of them. I think it works out nicely.”

“Yeah nicely for you,” I snort. “You already know how to handle a horse in a parade—I’ve only ridden the ones at that stupid camp that get trained to be ridden by clueless teenagers.”

“Ivan will have you riding like Queen Elizabeth in no time,” Ben laughs. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You should be worrying more about your charities. You picked out your five main sponsorships and now you’ll spend the whole summer up until the Olympics like me—making up for the time you couldn’t be there for them.”

“Sounds fun.” Enthusiasm is nowhere to be found in my voice anymore.

“More shaking hands, talking about raising money and taking pictures with people in suits,” Victor sighs. “Get used to it, An. This is what we do. This is our family business.”

“Passed down through generations,” Ben drawls with a roll of his eyes.

With a puff of laughter I add the final line; the Vladesvyan royal family’s motto—the one that’s scrawled below their coat of arms. It’s quite similar to mine, actually.

“In the spirit of love, power and self-control.”

Ben grins, answering my smart remark by saying my family’s coat of arms motto. 

“Deeds, not words.”

___________________________________________

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. 

But yeah here it is :) not very happy with it, and may edit it later. Also, the reason this took me so long is that I’ve been going back into Suddenly Princess and editing those chapters as well—in addition to working on a couple other projects like my Son of Kronos story (check it out on my profile).

Hope you all liked it, and as always THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I couldn’t ask for better readers! Your comments are inspiring and your votes mean so much to me! See you in the next update!

- Nicki