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ourplaceinthecosmosphff · 4 years

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Chapter 5. Truth or Dare

‘TRUE BEAUTY is not of the body or of the face, no, it is a thing of the soul - of fire and air, breath and spirit, something brave and unafraid.’ Segovia Amil

The door opened without a knock; I saw through the reflection in the mirror Cadie stop herself from walking straight in, instead fixing her posture and looking solemnly at us.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.” She said, formally.

“Don’t bother with formalities on my account, Cade.” Louis told her, grinning. “We’re all friends here. I won’t tell Auguste you usually call my sister by her name.”

The secretary grinned, but didn’t move. “There’s a delivery for you.”

“For me?” She replied with a nod.

“I think it’s a dress.”

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, jumping up from his seat in the two-seat sofa in front of my bed.

I raised a hand in pause to Cass, who was just about finished doing my hair, and turned around to eye my brother suspiciously.

“What is it? And why is it in my name?”

“It’s for you.” He said, walking to the door and speaking to someone outside. “In here, please!”

The Prince of Wales’ butler walked in, solemnly carrying a garment bag over both his arms, which he laid over the couch where Louis had been sitting, before turning around to bow to the both of us, and leave as swiftly as he had come.

“If it’s for me how come I don’t know anything about it?!”

“It’s a surprise.” He shrugged, smiley. “Cass, are you done over there?”

Cass, who had been discreetly spraying my hair as we talked, pulled another couple of strands leading into my bun and took a step back.

“Look at me, please, ma’am? Oh, yes, I’m done. Beautiful!”

I looked in the mirror. My hair was pulled loosely to the back in a bun, with strands falling artfully to the sides of my face. Atop my head, sat Empress Eugénie's 1853 pearl and diamonds tiara, commissioned by Napoleon III to celebrate their marriage. It was adorned with 212 pearls and 1998 diamonds. After Napoleon III’s 1870 defeat, the tiara was surrendered to the Savoyen Royal Family and now it laid on my hair. It was one of my favorites from the Savoyen Crown jewels vault, and Maman had sent me with Georgian pearl earrings to match, which I picked up as Louis rushed Cass and Cadie out of the room.

“I already have a dress, Lou.” I told him, approaching the garment bag.

“How would you know it’s a dress?” He asked, teasingly, to which I only gave him a suspicious look with one raised brow. “Okay, fine, it’s a dress…”

He pat a chair next to the bag and I sat down, just as he sat in the coffee table in front and held both my hands in his.

He cleared his throat. “As I have expressed, I am sorry for the things I said when we were fighting.”

I watched him, silently, then nodded slowly. “Okay?”

“However, there is something I have been meaning to talk to you about, which may have transpired during our, uhm, bagarre.”

“...yes?”

“Maggie, you have to stop letting mom and dad walk all over you.”

“I do not-”

“You have worn at least three outfits this tour I know for a fact that you wouldn't even have purchased if it weren’t to make sure Maman wouldn’t have something to criticize.”

“Excuse you, I think my outfits were very cute!”

“I didn’t say they weren’t!” He clarified, pointing a finger at me. “All I said was… they weren’t you.”

I sighed, resting my back against the chair.

I couldn’t say I hadn’t noticed before that every time I had to do something regal there was a tiny voice in the back of my head wondering, what will mom approve of? before I chose an outfit. Her style had more of a conservative, 50s debutant vibe, while I tended to be more romantic yet modern. It was a fine line that separated both styles, and the advantage usually fell to my mother.

“She’s a very stylish woman.” I countered, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“She sure is. And you are twenty-five years-old! You should be allowed to wear things that are… out there, daring, iconic!”

I laughed. “I’m not exactly a fashion icon!”

“My point exactly. You could be.”

“Louis-”

“I know you have style! I have seen it! You just hold it back because you think you have to!”

“I do have to.”

“It’s the twenty-first century! The Swede Princesses show a lot more skin than you do!”

“They don’t have our mom breathing down their necks.”

“Maggie, fashion is supposed to be fun! But you need a little bit of courage to really shine in it.”

I sighed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs, confidently. “Let me guess, the dress maman chose for you for tonight's of a light shade, probably blue to match your angelic eyes, with a simple silhouette that covers everything God gave you, am I right?”

I didn’t have to answer; he knew he was right, so instead he merely walked over to his delivery as he spoke.

“I have made some very good contacts since I moved to Britain, in part thanks to religiously attending London Fashion Week. So I made a call.”

He dramatically opened the bag, to reveal a strong, smooth red fabric.

“Red?!”

“I looked it up, the Duchess of Cambridge herself has worn red to a previous state dinner.”

I bit my lip. It did look quite pretty. And much more interesting than the very conservative choice my mother had made.

“Okay, I’ll try it on.” He squealed as I got to my feet. “But just because I’m curious! If I feel it’s too much cleavage, or too out there, I’m putting on the blue dress.”

“Yes!” He threw the garment bag at me and ran to the door. “I’ll go get dressed as you do that, and send Cadie in to help you.”

As I rummaged through the bag, I saw another thing inside.

“Spanx, Louis?!”

He closed the door with a thud.

I needed Cadie’s help to get everything on without damaging my makeup, hair or losing the tiara in the mess, but at last, I was ready.

Cadie approved it. “It’s perfect!” She breathed, amazed.

I walked out of the bathroom to the full body mirror in the room, finding Louis sitting in the sofa again. His eyes widened as he saw me. “Woah.”

“Strapless?!” I asked him, unfazed. “Lou, you know I can’t show cleavage on a state dinner!”

“Oh, no, mustn't let the British know you have arms!” He rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. “What will they tell the church?!”

“Lou!”

“Relax, look, it’s an upper neckline, you’ll be fine! Again, the Swedes wear strapless all the time”

“We’re not Swedish!”

“To be fair, the draping does cover much of your chest.” Cadie added, to Louis’ joy.

“Thank you, Cadie. Why don’t you go wait outside?” I told her, with an eye roll. She left, grinning.

The shape of the dress was almost a mermaid-cut, but the draping made it a lot loser in the lower-body, and added a very interesting detail to the hips; in my case, making it look like I had some.

I sighed. “It’s… beautiful.”

“But?”

“There’s a lot that goes into choosing a dress for an event like this, I can’t just change it last minute.”

“Your tiara matches, I made sure of it. The dress is tighter on your body, but not that much that Maman will have any right to criticize, the dress is red, which is new for you but not against the rules, and most importantly, out of your comfort zone! With the added bonus of the sexy factor!”

“This is the gayest you’ve sounded in your life.”

He put a hand to his heart. “Thank you!”

“I shouldn’t be looking sexy in a state dinner, anyway.”

Through the mirror, I watched him give the windows a look he seemed to be hoping I would see.

“What?!”

“Well, you know, that is true… unless there’s a very handsome man in the state dinner who’s been shamelessly flirting with you for three days straight.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled despite myself. “I was wondering if that had any influence over this intervention.”

“No!” He replied, quickly. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Although you gotta admit, it’s perfect timing!”

“Harry’s just being…”

“Nice?” He asked, sarcastically, before walking over to adjust the drape. “What’s wrong with nice? You deserve nice.”

He placed a hand over my arm and looked at me in the mirror.

“Chris didn’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

I wanted to roll my eyes at him for bringing him up again, but instead I just nodded, trying to allow the words to take root in my heart.

“But Harry might.” He shrugged. “He seems to at least know you’re way out of his league, that is more than Chris already.” We chuckled. “So wear the dress. Feel as powerful as I know you are and let him know it too.”

So I held his hand, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay.”

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

Once you’ve seen one palace, you’ve seen them all: high ceilings, golden fixtures, red carpets. The one thing that changes is the art in the walls, the people in the paintings, the era of the vases. Buckingham Palace was not different, which is why I wasn't taking too much notice of it as we walked in that night; I had spent our first day in the country admiring Buckingham, tonight was about more.

Tonight was the ultimate opportunity we had to show the world how friendly our countries' relation was, so that the people might pressure their politicians into putting work into fixing the immigrant crisis. In a more direct way, the star of the night were the speeches by the Queen and King. In an indirect way, I had been informed by Cadie on the way over that the pictures of Louis and me with the Cambridges and Harry had become very popular online, and that it wouldn't hurt to look as friendly as possible.

That would be harder, though, because on state dinners the seating chart was made very carefully so that the main visiting royals can mingle with the hosts, and the spare royals can give their attention to the other guests, so they feel heard.

As we walked in, I suddenly felt absolutely wrong in the dress. Though there was limited photographers in State Dinners, they were definitely there. Particularly at our arrival. The flashes were so blinding I could only focus on walking without tripping over my train, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but wish I was wearing my comfortable, old blue. Louis had prepared me for it, though.

Back in Clarence House, as we descended the staircase, the last ones to be ready, he reminded me that everything new felt wrong until it didn’t. That was easier to say when all he had to wear was a boring tuxedo he had worn at least twenty times prior.

When we walked into the living room, the conversation stopped. My father and our five person staff stared at me, head to toe, mouths opened, as my brother offered them a cocky look.

“Well,” I said, “I’m ready. Shall we go?”

Though Auguste said nothing, he looked as though he wanted to, but reconsidered when my father merely smiled, offering me his arm, and we made our way out.

Now, walking into the palace, I was reconsidering the choice myself. The dress was beautiful, my hair and makeup were perfectly in place thanks to Arnie’s flawless work, the tiara was a dream come alive; it was me. I was a pile of nerves.

As Louis offered me his hand to climb up the steps, he looked at me, confused.

“Why are you shaking?”

I shrugged, and he grinned.

“Just you wait.” He replied when I questioned this.

Dad led the way, greeting Her Majesty with a kiss on each cheek, before taking one step to say hello to the Prince of Wales and his wife, just down the line. As the heir, Louis was next, so he stepped forward and bowed his head before kissing her as well.

“Your Majesty, is it 1956? Because you look barely a day over 30.”

The Queen let out a naughty giggle, caressing the diamonds in her bracelet shyly.

He was going to make a fantastic King.

“Your Majesty.” I said, bowing down in a curtsey when it was my turn.

“Princess Margueritte.” She greeted as I, too, kissed her cheeks. “You’ve been making quite a ruckus these last couple of days.”

I looked at her, feeling my head tilt sideways. “Have I?”

“I hope my grandson hasn’t bothered you too much.”

“Oh. No! Harry? No. He is… No!” I assured her, feeling my myself blush. “Uhm. He, he is-”

“He's always been a bit like a shark like that. If they stop swimming, they die. Well, he does if he stops flirting.”

I laughed, aware we were being filmed, hoping the press wasn't close enough to pick audio, trying to look as unbothered as possible.

"He's been very friendly and... Welcoming."

"I'm sure."

"What is it?" asked the Prince of Wales, drawing the attention of my father, brother and the Duchess. I shook my head, but the Queen told him merely, "Harry".

It seemed to be enough, though, as the whole group nodded, grinning.

"Oh, yes. It seems my son is a bit taken with your daughter." The prince told my father.

Though his mouth said "oh" in an amused way, I could tell it wasn't the first time he heard of this.

“It doesn’t help she’s exactly his type.“ The duchess commented, making the group laugh again, so I‌ attempted to hold a steady, polite smile on my face.

We moved on to mingle and get in our positions to enter the dining hall; as the guest of honor, since Dad was here, there wasn’t anyone else to wait for. The rest of the guests were already in the dining hall, probably being told to find their seats now. The royal families - hosts and guests - were to enter later, so for now we could be ourselves and enjoy some privacy.

“Breathe.” Louis told me again, as we followed dad around the room. “You look about to pass out.”

“What did she mean by ‘his type’, you think?” I asked him, in a whisper.

“He’s probably dated someone who looks like you.” He replied, grinning.

“More than one... but ‘his type’, though. You think he just likes me because I’m blonde? He just likes my looks?”

“Great relationships have started with looks.” He said, turning around to face me, stopping me in my tracks. “How do you know he’s dated more than one person who looks like you? Have you stalked him online?”

I rolled my eyes, turning to look around the room. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have a tell, Maggie. When you’re lying you look away so people can’t see your eyes.”

Instead of dignifying his - smart - insight with an answer, I merely hooked my arm in his and walked off, having just identified the people I’d been looking for, and trying to ignore the smile on Louis’ face when he realized where we were going.

“Good evening.”

Though Harry had his back to me, I could watch the reaction of his brother and sister-in-law. They looked at me as I approached, unsurprised I was coming; almost as though they had seen me already. When I got to them, instead of greeting us, their eyes went to Harry.

His shoulders squared back in a long breath, and then he turned around and looked at me. I watched his mouth open and his eyes widen, both so slightly it made me question if I’d imagined it, but also so obvious I wanted to turn around and go back to Clarence House to get changed immediately. It didn’t help he looked me up and down quickly and then gulped, before averting his eyes.

“You both look very dapper tonight.” Catherine said, smiling awkwardly between her brother-in-law and us. She was wearing a dark blue gown and a diamond tiara, hair half up, half down.

“Thank you!” Louis said, returning her smile with none of the awkwardness, and a lot of amusement.

“Yes, we’re very happy to have you.” William said, looking equally as amused. “I’m afraid you’re at the boring table today, Louis.”

Catherine gently edged her elbow to her husband’s arm. “Don’t say boring.” She whispered, making Louis laugh.

“Trust me, I understand what you mean.” He replied; I tried to smile, as it felt like that was the tone the conversation required. But it was hard when Harry still hadn’t looked back at me. “What is the party table, though? Does Harry get a round of Bubbly Pong going?”

They laughed, I mimicked. Harry looked around the room very still. There was an uncomfortable silence as the laughter died down, and suddenly there was a British aide telling us it was time to get to our places in line to enter the dining room.

I gladly took the excuse to move away, feeling sick to my stomach. Had I been excited before? I hardly remembered it anymore.

“I’m in the boring table, too.” Catherine told me, walking quickly to catch up to me as we moved to the middle of the line as the heirs went forward. “It was terrifying on my first time at one of these, but I’ve come to find you can have some interesting conversations, don’t you think?”

I smiled, remembering her nerves from the car the day before. “No, you’re right, it’s not that bad, actually. Though, it’s not as interesting as it seems to outsiders, either, I suppose. My sister is convinced there’s dancing, like in a ball in a Disney movie.”

She laughed, looked back, and then added, whispery, “You make him nervous.”

“What?”

“I’m over there, I’ll talk to you later, I hope.”

We exchanged a smile, even if mine was a bit confused, and she moved to stand next to the Prime Minister.

“You know, in Britain only the married women attend these,” Harry started, standing next to me in line. “And you wouldn’t be allowed to wear one of those until married, either.” He said, staring at the tiara in my head with - I was happy to see - some reverence.

“In Savoy, unmarried women can wear tiaras as long as they’re over twenty-one. Good thing I’m not British.” I said, on a low tone, glad Auguste couldn’t hear such an undiplomatic sentiment.

He grinned. “Yes. I’m very glad about that.”

I looked around, seeing the line basically done. “Are you not going to find your place?”

“I think I’m right where I belong.”

“With me?” I asked, surprised; he returned a flirty smile.

“Yes, Mary, with you.” I rolled my eyes, grinning.

“Do you get all your pickup lines from Taylor Swift songs?” He laughed a bit louder than the current volume level in the room, and more than one pair of eyes turned to look at us.

Usually they wouldn’t pair the ‘lower royals’ together like this. The high ranking ones, yes; queen and king, heir with heir. My father and Louis were both ahead, and would be sitting at the head of the table, with William and Catherine, I supposed. But Harry and I should have been paired with diplomats or dignitaries.

As we walked into the room, to the sound of their national anthem, I noticed two important things. One, Harry looked very handsome in white tie and tails, with his military medals pinned to his chest. Two, as we walked, he gave a grateful smile to a nearby aide, and I wondered if he had arranged to be seated with me. I felt… strangely flattered.

As we got to the table, and the anthem finished, a staffer pulled the chair for me, and we were all seated in silence as, at the center part of the table, they prepared for the speeches.

“I don’t think I can stress this enough, Mary.” He said, whispery, leaning closer to me than it was necessary.

“Marie.” I corrected, now more teasingly than anything else, making him smile as he looked into my eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

I didn’t have a teasing answer for that; I could barely think straight as he kept staring into my eyes from so close.

Suddenly, however, his grandmother’s voice startled us both out of it and we stared ahead as she began to speak.

It felt as though the Queen and my father spoke for hours; I‌ kept my eyes focused ahead hoping to steady my breath and sweaty palms enough to be able to look back at Harry at some point in the night.

Luckily, by the time they started serving the entrees, I‌ had remembered that due to the dinner etiquette I was supposed to make conversation to the man by my other side before Harry. So I took in a deep breath, smiled politely, and asked him about his work.

By the time it was our turn to talk, he gave me a friendly smile and said,

“Dare.”

I sighed a short giggle. We had, now that I‌ thought about, left the truth and dare game unfinished the day before. I‌ had answered last, so I supposed it was his turn. I cracked my brain to think of something that was good, but not scandalous.

“I dare you to,”‌ I‌ started, slowly, staring into his water glass, “tap you fork to your glass loudly to call the attention of the room to yourself, get up, and improvise a speech in honor of my father.”

He barked out a laughter that started louder than any of us thought was appropriate, and we quickly ducked our heads down to hide our playful grins and blushing cheeks; Harry was still laughing. Taking a deep breath, he looked around the room.

“I can’t!”‌‌‌ He replied. “It’s not protocol, it’ll be too weird. It will make the news!”

I sighed, smiling. ‌“Alright, then. I‌ suppose you could… start coughing when the staffer comes back for our plates and then dramatically grab his sleeve and pretend to have an allergic reaction.”

This time his eyes widened as he laughed, leaning closer to me. “Are you trying to get me disowned?!”

I‌ laughed.‌ “Too much? Okay. I dare you to…”‌ I looked around the room, thinking.

The table was shaped like an upside-down U. The Queen and her guests were at the top, horizontal edge; Harry and I were at the start of one of the legs, close to the curve of the table, which was narrow and had no one sitting there. The person closest to the other gentleman on my side, was Catherine, and by her side, ‌my brother.

“I dare you to throw a pea on my brother’s wine glass.”

He leaned closer to me in order to see around the tall centerpiece arrangement in the middle of the table. He smelled of… lime, possibly? And I‌ felt myself leaning back towards him to smell it better.

“Hm, how about Cath? She’s more in my line of vision.”

“No!” I‌ whispered, making one of his eyebrows raise slightly above the other. “She’s nice, I‌ don’t want to mess with her.”

“And your brother isn’t nice?”

I rolled my eyes. “My brother has been a royal since birth and is used to me. Your sister-in-law seems to still be trying very hard to… behave the way people expect her to. I‌ don’t want to make that harder.”

He smiled.‌ “How do you know that?”

I‌ shrugged.‌ “I’m observant. Stop stalling. If you won’t do that, then…”‌ I looked back, seeing the staffers come back around to collect our plates. “When they’re removing your plate, I‌ dare you to burp your thank you.”

“For such a pretty girl, you are… disgusting.”

“Ouch.”‌ I said, on a bored monotone, making him fight a smile.

I‌ kept my eyes ahead as the poor staffer approached by his side to remove the plate, and then I‌ heard a loud and disgusting “thank you”, making me laugh.

We waited until they had left and broke down in a fit of giggles that made me feel very hot; I‌ took a long sip of my water, deciding I had had enough wine for the night.

Throughout the night, the game went on through each course; because I‌ didn’t want him to get any ideas about revenge, I‌ kept choosing truth, and as the first one traumatized him so much, so did he, and we ended up just having a regular conversation. Well, kind of.

He asked how many people I had ever kissed; I did the quick math in my head and told him nine (Chris was my first everything, as he was a childhood friend, and other than one 7 minutes in heaven incident at 16, the rest were all casual dates during the one time when we broke up during University, and since the last break up). So I asked him the same, and he very quietly, blushing, justified his double digit as he stuttered through a lot of excuses, which I thought was cute.

He asked what my pet peeve was, and I talked about wanting to scratch my eyes out when people chewed gum open-mouthed. I asked who was his favorite out of all the famous people he had ever met, and he told me about meeting Paul McCartney, which lead me to volunteer my experience in a Paul McCartney concert in New York a few years before, and soon we were exchanging our favorite Beatles songs, and what were our favorite bands as teenagers, which was particularly cringey for both of us (I had an insanely embarrassing obsession with Britney Spears, he had a gangster rap phase).

He asked how old I was when I stopped playing dolls (13), I asked how old he was the last time he peed himself (20, drunk). He asked what was the last text I sent, and I told him about confirming lunch plans with my coworker for the day after tomorrow. I asked him what was the last thing he searched on his phone, and he told me about googling how to tie a bow tie, which earned him a confused look.

“I know, I know. I ought to know it by now. But I told you about my terrible memory. I can never remember.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me one thing on your internet history you wouldn’t want me to know about.”

He stared at his plate, thoughtfully.

“Well, in the name of our blossoming friendship, I feel I should come clean. After your brother mentioned it at polo, I did google you.”

I nodded. “Yeah, so did I.”

“You did?”‌ I‌ nodded. “Well, may I just say those pictures are low quality, and everything is actually much bigger-”

“I‌ meant I googled myself, you narcissistic piece of work.” I‌ laughed.

“Oh, you googled yourself and‌ I’m narcissistic?!”

I‌ shrugged.‌ “I guess I wanted to see what you would see if you googled me.”‌

“Well, I‌ saw some adorable childhood pictures.‌ Bangs look cute on you.” I rolled my eyes.‌

“Shut up.”

“Found out you have three dogs, amazing. And Christopher looks like trash. You can do better.”

I laughed again, drinking more water just to have an excuse not to have to comment on it.

As we moved to the next course, we took some time to talk to the people on our other sides, so I did my best to focus on the questions the gentleman to my right was asking me.

In the back of my mind, however, something bugged me. I couldn’t stop thinking that he still didn’t know about the first time we met, and the longer I‌ took to tell him, the more uncomfortable it would be when I finally did.

“Truth or dare?”‌ He asked, without preamble, as soon as I turned to him again.

“Truth.”‌ I‌ smiled, hoping he would ask how we met so I could get it over with.

“Which of your siblings is your favorite?”

I‌ sighed; mostly because he had a very irritant, smug grin on his lips.

“I can’t answer that. Also, it’s so unfair that you only have one so I can’t return this horrible question.”

“Yes, that’s why I asked. Go on, you can do it.”

“Fine. Louis. But I‌ have-”

“Oh, wow, Mary!” He said, mock-shock all over his face.

“You asked!” I‌ said, whispery.

“That is cold!”

“I have reasons!”

“Fine, what are the reasons?”

“I was eleven years-old when Lourdes was born! I love her, of course. But I‌ only had a couple years with her before going to boarding school. Louis is just a few years younger than me, we grew up together! We’re just… closer.”

He nodded. “You went to school abroad, right?”

“Well, I‌ had a year in Savoy, then I‌ transferred to Belgium.”

“One year?”

“Yes, and it was easier to see them then, I came home every weekend, spent as much time with them as I‌ possibly could. Even when I was living in Belgium, actually. I still did my best.”

“You came home often?”

“As often as I could.” I said. “Lourdes was three when our grandfather abdicated due to his age. She will never remember a time when she wasn’t the daughter of a king. I was already off at Belgium by then. I wanted to be… I don’t know, to be…”

“There.”

I sighed. “Well, yes.”

“You felt guilty you were away.”

I looked at him, but didn’t say anything for a while.

“I don’t- I don’t know. It’s stupid. I know there was nothing I could do, I just… They were so busy, our parents. Busier than ever. And I just... ”

“You didn’t want them to feel alone.” I looked at him, surprised. He shrugged. “Will did the same for me.”

He reached over and took a sip of his wine. “When… everything happened. Not just the divorce, but everything that came after, I think he felt guilty leaving me.”

I didn’t need to ask what was the ‘all’ that had happened. The entire world knew. For this reason, I think, I wanted to offer something vulnerable in return.

“I came over to Savoy every weekend.” I confessed. “I left school every Friday on a private plane, and went home to see my family as if I still was studying in Savoy. My father shielded me from it, but the press found out and he was under attack for the expense. They called me spoilt, and said my mother insisted I was educated in Belgium out of an unpatriotic whim.”

He gave me a sad look, but I shrugged.

“I just wanted to make sure Louis and Lourdes were alright. I didn’t want them to forget about me, or think I might have forgotten them.”

He nodded. “You want to know what I think?”

I smiled. “I know you’ll tell me.”

He chuckled, silently. “I think you sound like a girl who really liked her country, and her home, and her family, and really wanted to be there, but could not, for some reason, stay in school near them. I wonder why?”

I leaned back, sighing, a grin on my lips. “And what is your theory?”

“Don’t lawyer me, Mary.”

We laughed.

“Marie.”

“It must have been tough.” He added, seriously.

He didn’t know; he seemed to just… understand.

The staff arrived to remove our plates, and we took some time to ourselves. When they left, I turned to him again.

“The girls didn’t like me.” I confessed, softly. “I see now where they were coming from. I was too… too much. Quiet, but I overcompensated a lot. I had… a lot of opinions, which I mostly shared with the teachers, in class, when forced. I was always called on and, of course, everyone knew, or thought they did, every detail about me, and my family. And they all seemed to think I needed to be… more.”

“More what?”

I shrugged. “Everything. Or maybe less of everything... I don’t know, I just wasn’t enough. I just wanted… for no one to know who I was.”

“So you moved to Belgium.”

I smiled, sadly. “No one cared who my father was there. They found out, eventually. But I already had a couple of nice friends by then. It was all I needed.”

He smiled. “I hated school.”

I rolled my eyes. “Everyone did-”

“No, I… I really did. I’ve never been smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m serious. I don’t mean it in self-pity, either. It’s just… I’ve never been good at it. I don’t have an affinity for academics. I never had… an affection for any subjects, at all. I always just liked… the outdoors. The conversations, the connections with others. The adventure. I hated being inside.”

I smiled. “People are different. The only problem is the system that convinces us there’s only one way to be.”

After dessert, as soon as the Queen and King stood up, we were allowed to, as well. We were then ushered to another saloon where drinks were going to be served, and guests could mingle with other guests other than the ones they had been seated with at dinner, and soon after say their official goodbyes to the Queen.

The gentleman that had sat to my right introduced me to his wife, and we talked about their children for a while before I felt the conversation die out and gave a secret signal (adjusting my earrings) for Cadie to rescue me.

“Hello…” Louis grinned when I‌ joined him, where he was observing our father from a distance.‌ His tone alone got me to blush.

“Shut up.”

“Why? I was just going to say you and Prince Harry sure seemed to be having fun.”

I sighed, “We did.”

“That’s nice.”‌ The tone was different this time, more… honest. Less mocking. So I smiled in return.

“And I deserve nice.” I repeated his line back to him, making his smile grow.

“Auguste noticed it, too.”

I sighed again.‌‌ “Let me guess. Have I‌ behaved promiscuously?”

“He is not sure if anyone will have noticed, but he thinks it’s a bad match.”

“Ugh, what is this, the eighteenth century?”

He shrugged.‌ “He said something about both of you being spares, and none having a throne to inherit, it’s just not good politics.”

I gave him a flabbergasted look. “What?!”

“I’m obviously kidding!”‌ He laughed, but I‌ rolled my eyes. “Look, just don’t let him talk you out of it, okay? Harry is great. He’s funny, and polite, and according to Kate, seems to really like you.”

“What? What did she say?”

He grinned again. “She told me in confidence, I‌ can’t repeat it.”

“Louis!”

“He’s nice!‌ And you deserve nice!”

“I know…”

“…he’s also super hot, which doesn’t hurt.”

“Shut up.”‌ I replied, but with a grin of my own this time.

“What, you’re telling me you don’t think he’s super hot?”

“That’s not- I‌ don’t- Shut up!”

I‌’d seen Harry approaching out of the corner of my eye, and was desperate for him to stop talking.

“Hello.”‌ He greeted.

“Hi, Harry…”‌ Louis greeted him with the same teasing tone he had used to greet me.

“…Hi.”‌ Harry’s smile grew a bit more, and he blushed looking at the floor, uncomfortably.

“Stop.” I‌ whispered to my brother.

“Oh, look. I’m getting a call.” He returned, dead-faced. showing us his dark, silent phone, which was most definitely not receiving a call. “Talk to you later.”

Harry laughed as I‌ sighed. “Sorry, he’s…”

“Hey, do you want get out of here?” I stared, intrigued. His smile dropped as regret took over his face. “No!‌ I‌ just mean… To walk around, in the palace. See some cool closed wings and stuff.”

I‌ laughed. “Sure.”

“Really?”‌ He seemed genuinely surprised, and my heart ached.

I looked around at the room, enough people looking at us just because we were who we were. Our brothers looking away from us in a way that made me sure they were very aware of our movements. Auguste was standing by my father, but keeping an eye on me from the corner of his eyes. Cadie gave me a discreet thumbs up from the corner.

I remembered we were meant to be leaving the country tomorrow morning, and thought of how he still didn’t realize when we met. I remembered just how much he annoyed me only three days ago, and realized I didn’t know when I might see him next. Sure, it was almost time to leave, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I wanted to see this through.

And I deserved nice.

So as he watched me with expectant eyes, I felt my heart jump in my throat and smiled as I said, “…yes.‌ Lead the way.”

--- ---- ---

Margueritte’s State Dinner Outfit

[A//N: Thank you so much for reading!!!!!!! I’d love to know your thoughts, please drop me a message here or like this page? Again, it’s a privilege, thank you for reading! Next week: Harry and Margueritte go on a secret Buckingham palace adventure!]

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