The Royal Correspondent

 

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Introduction

MARLBOROUGH PRETENDERS PRESS AHEAD WITH CASE

    The Prime Minister’s office is in serious discussions with the royal family over the issue of the succession to the throne. Proposed changes would allow for the Marlborough pretenders to the throne to be legitimized in the event no heir is born to the Duke and Duchess of Clarence. As it stands, with no heir born to the royal family in 30 years, the royal family is in danger of going extinct.

    “It is really a line of last resort. The King wants what is best for the monarchy but they are anxious to avoid this option. However, as the Duke and Duchess of Clarence have not produced an heir in 10 years of marriage, they are reviewing their options. Now with the death of Prince George, younger son of the King, the royal family are in crisis mode. There are no other heirs in direct succession. Now there is serious danger the monarchy will end without the much needed heir,” a source has confirmed.

    In a statement provided by the Marlborough line:

    “We send our sincere condolences to the royal family upon the death of Prince George. The Marlborough family are ready should duty call to us as the rightful heirs to the throne.”

    The Marlborough pretenders have sought legitimacy over the years. Dating back to the time of King Arthur II, the line began with Prince Albert, the King’s eldest son who married a Catholic and without permission, losing his rights to succession along with any legitimate children born to him.

     His daughter Amelia Marlborough, also known as HRH Princess Amelia was born after Prince Albert died and had no rights to the throne. The family are contesting this decision, stating Princess Amelia Marlborough should not have been deprived of her birthright because of her parent’s marriage.

    "The family has bided their time patiently. They know that their birthright will be recognized. Now is the time.” a source revealed exclusively to the London Sentinel.

    Legislation is to be tabled next week.  It is expected that any changes will not be retroactive and will only take effect upon the date of the death of the Duke of Clarence.

 

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Funeral

Today we pay tribute to a Prince who died in the line of duty. For King and Country,” Ben Sterling intoned.

Claudia sat back and closed her eyes. Ben, the trusted voice of royal events for decades, visually setting the scene and providing a comforting perspective. He added gravitas to any royal occasion, normally missing in media coverage of the royal family. No broadcast was complete without him. Besides, who could make a funeral sound better than he could?

And now the Duke and Duchess of Clarence haves arrived at the Abbey. Prince George’s brother and sister-in -law. "

“What is she wearing?Vanessa Mansbridge wondered out-loud, looking closer at the monitor impervious to the glares in the broadcasting booth. Claudia watched as Vanessa furiously scrolled through her twitter feed.

“Is it really necessary to do this now?” Claudia asked, frustrated. “How about, for once, we show some respect?”

The Duchess of Clarence is wearing black Alexander McQueen dress, Jimmy Choo shoes and a hat by Lock & Co. Along with the Clarence diamond earrings, a wedding gift from the King and Queen,” Vanessa announced, a tad more enthusiastically than appropriate.

“Vanessa, can we just stick with the funeral right now?” a producer said in the ear phones.

Vanessa nodded her head, looking like a delighted girl who had been caught being naughty and didn’t regret it.

“Really Vanessa, did you not hear what I just said?” Claudia sat off to the side observing the proceedings.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, turning to face Claudia while composing a tweet with the fashion information. Behind her back, Ben pointed at Vanessa and made a slicing movement across his neck.

“Claudia,” she began patiently, looking up and down at Claudia’s outfit.

“People want to know these details. My hundreds of thousands followers eat this stuff up. I’m sure you’ve heard that Elizabeth supports the British fashion industry? The monarchy, our biggest institution has taken a blow to its core. It is at times like these that we need to take pride and comfort in all things British. Besides, doesn’t she look great?”

“Bollocks! Vanessa, if you lay that on any thicker we will be knee deep soon.” Ben said as he leaned back in his chair. Vanessa looked at the duchess again in the monitor as if double checking.

“I wouldn’t post that information if I were you,” Claudia warned Vanessa before stopping herself.

“Like I said, people want to know this information. Elizabeth looks fabulous and that divine outfit will sell out.”

“Let’s hope that happens after the prince is in the ground,” Ben muttered.

Vanessa, satisfied with the wording of finished composing her tweet and posted it with a satisfied grin. She liked being the first to get the scoop, even if she wasn’t the one who had done any of the work in order to get it.

Claudia checked her own twitter feed, fuming at Vanessa’s blatant copying of her tweets. She didn’t have as many followers as Vanessa. Like her, she was live tweeting the proceedings that everyone else was watching. She included information about royal traditions that Vanessa was blatantly copying without tagging her. An estimated 250 million people were tuned in to the first major funeral to take place in the age of social media. The public could share their grief in real time, proving an insight the publics mood.

Claudia briefly checked Vanessa’s feed, unsurprised at the resulting backlash and vitriolic scorn directed at Vanessa and the network over her fashion tweet.

Claudia looked up at Vanessa whose skin had paled. Her phone was shaking in her hands as she read the hostile responses.

“I think I need to get a drink of water,” Vanessa said, getting up to excuse herself, scattering her notes all over the floor. . The producers anxiously watched her leave the booth when she was supposed to be providing commentary alongside Ben.”

“Claudia!” Ben hissed. “Get on the air, NOW.”

Claudia jumped up and took Vanessa’s place. The seat was still warm. Vanessa wouldn’t like her siting there it but so what? She wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. Claudia looked at the valuable notes with facts and information about the royal family their wedding history scattered on the floor. Her mouth went dry as she thought of what to say.

“Claudia,” Ben hissed.

“The Duchess looks like she is feeling better. Fears of her not attending were unfounded,” Claudia said, gaining her bearings.

There was no way Elizabeth would not attend. Pregnancy or no, the King would make her, even if she was retching as she walked up the aisle. Claudia would have preferred focusing on something other than the Duchess but there was no way to avoid it. Since the death of Prince George, Elizabeth’s pregnancy had taken on a greater significance than it normally would have had the Prince not died.

“Her pregnancy has been like a ray of light. Bringing new hope to the royal family,” Claudia continued, adding hyperbole. Mentioning the pregnancy while trying not to minimize the dead prince was a fine line for everyone involved. Ben nodded approvingly.

“Prince Michael has greeted his parents, the King and Queen. He looks stoic despite the tragedy. The brothers were close.” Ben announced. "The loss of Prince George must be devastating.”

“Indeed,” Claudia replied. “They were all they really had in the world. George spoke on a number of occasions about how they trusted each other implicitly.”

It sounded good but it was not true. The brothers had not been as close as they appeared in public. She knew they had not been as close as they appeared in public. Michael was too competitive to allow it. Although George had been the second son, he had made his own royal path. Popular with the public, he had distinguished himself in Afghanistan during his two tours of duty. His parents had been relived when he had returned from his last tour. But the Prince begged to return, reasoning he did not want to let his comrades down. The Minister of Defense had reassured his parents that the prince would be protected. When George ended up being captured by the Taliban, the Minister offered his resignation. The King declined it.

The Taliban had announced they had a bounty on the prince’s head, and had intended on capturing the prince. Tracking his location, they had ambushed his unit, killing everyone except for him. The subsequent videos of the prince in his orange prisoner jumpsuit, were heartrending to watch as his appearance changed dramatically during the two month captivity. In one video he was unkempt, and had grown a beard, his hair was longer and his eyes hollowed. He had clearly lost weight and his face looked battered and bruised as men in dark clothing and knives ominously surrounded him. However, in his latest video his well-known spirit was on full display as he interrupted the terrorists several times.

“Do not negotiate for my release. Do not pay ransom.” George shouted off-message. Previous hostages had remained complacent and quiet. Not this one. Claudia thought, her admiration rising. Royalty could normally afford to act defiant and brave knowing there was someone else to handle the fall out. George was on his own now.

One figure shoved George back against the wall. The main hostage taker continued and speaking directly to the camera continued with his threats.

“If you do not pay ransom for the prince, he will lose his head. Your monarchy will be in shambles and we will be victorious.”

“You will never be victorious and you will never win. NEVER. ” George shouted.

The screen went dark and the media room sat in stunned silence.

The Prime Minister was adamant that negotiations take place but the King overrode them. If the government did not negotiate for other soldiers, they could not, in good faith, change their minds because this solider in particular was royal. George had wanted to be treated like the rest of his crew, and even with the future of the monarchy in jeopardy, he was. The King and Prime Minister had in effect, signed the prince’s death warrant. Members of the public protested the approach but it was in vain. The video of George’s execution arrived a week later.

Claudia had been told it was too gruesome to watch but she had forced herself to do so anyways. What kind of journalist would she be if she ignored it? The video showed the prince kneeling in the desert, a black clad man standing beside him holding a knife. The prince looked stoic and defiant, his eyes not wavering from the camera for a moment. When the man had finished speaking he grabbed the prince’s hair and slit his throat. The video showed him being beheaded, the camera panning in as the black clad man finished the job, dropping George’s head onto the torso body as if it was a piece of trash..

In a deliberate act of propaganda, the terrorists returned the prince’s body. But not before they burned his remains beyond recognition for good measure. The remains required dental records and DNA testing to conclusively identify him, her sources had told her.

 

“Everyone watched the prince grow up. From the impish young boy to the soldier proud to serve his country.” Claudia said, overcome by emotion. She had been a contemporary of the prince in age and she had a crush on him for the longest time. Her walls had been filled with pictures of him. Her friends had teased her but she would never admit it publicly. He had been the impish, accessible, fun prince who had become better looking as he grew older, unlike his brother.

Ben looked at Claudia, there were tears in his eyes and he struggled to maintain his own composure.

“I remember the day he was born,” Ben said calmly, his voice not betraying the emotion in his face. “I was amongst many that waited outside the hospital for the news.” Ben placed his hand on Claudia’s and took a deep breath. Maintaining his professionalism, he continued with the broadcast. .

“Prince Michael has taken his seat alongside his wife and their majesties, King William and Queen Emma.” Ben said reverentially.

The Prince greeted his parents politely. There had never been any love lost between father and son. The acrimony between them increased over the years by the King’s steadfast refusal to create Michael and Elizabeth Prince and Princess of Wales. A title traditionally held by the eldest son of the sovereign it is not an automatically bestowed one. After Queen Alexandra’s death 15 years ago, it was expected that the new king would create his eldest son Prince of Wales. As heir he automatically became Duke of Cornwall, but he used the Dukedom of Clarence title more frequently in retaliation. His beloved grandmother had granted him the Dukedom as a mark of affection. Cornwall just reminded him of his father’s snub.

The title omission was publicly embarrassing for the prince and his wife. In the ensuing years, when royal news died down, the title issue came up to tide the media over until the next royal controversy came along. There was much speculation about why the King withheld it. Many thought the reason was because the King did not approve of his son and daughter-in-law’s behavior and affairs. Claudia’s sources had confirmed that this reason was an accurate one.

The camera seemed to panned in on Prince Michael extra closely, expecting, even demanding, signs of regret in his facial expressions. Now was not the time to play to the cameras, Claudia thought. It had been no secret that Michael had resented George’s successes, while he remained effectively impotent and relegated to cutting ribbons and talking about the pride England felt in the soldiers fighting for the cause. Although they had camaraderie in public, there was always a game of one-upmanship between the brothers. Prince Michael may have had the glory of being the next king but that did not stop him from resenting the relative freedom his brother enjoyed to go anywhere and date anyone he wanted. George was the freewheeling playboy prince. Michael had been middle-aged from childhood.

No amount of Michael pulling rank and emphasizing his importance seem to faze George. He had always the more secure and confident brother. The one who, had things been different, could have made an interesting and engaging monarch. Though many wouldn’t have said that a few years ago in his partying phase. As it was, Michael, the more sober, older beyond his years, was next in line and petulantly ungrateful for it.

Michael always enjoyed having the last word. Many members of the media and public had thought the announcement of the Duchess of Clarence’s pregnancy was inappropriate during this time. Couturiers were quick to explain that the news had been announced because the Duchess was suffering from extreme morning sickness, there was a possibility that she might not attend the funeral did not want it to be seen as a snub. Claudia viewed the pregnancy announcement in the same week as the funeral as a last parting shot, earning Michael and Elizabeth even less sympathy than they already had. After ten years of marriage, their popularity had waned and in response to the news, there was a public backlash in newspapers around the globe. The pregnancy news caught the networks in a dilemma. As important as the pregnancy was, they had to pay proper dignified response to the dead prince. It was decided that any celebration of the pregnancy would have to wait until after the prince had been buried.

Vanessa returned to the studio booth to see Claudia sitting in her spot. Claudia relished the expression on Vanessa’s face. Staring hard at Claudia she dialed her phone without looking down and walked out of the studio.

She admitted she had been resentful and jealous of Vanessa. A celebrity in her own right, Claudia had watched the excitement of Vanessa’s arrival as fans waited to get an autograph or selfie with her. Vanessa had everything handed to her whereas she had to work for every sentence in her pieces.

It had taken her years to rise above being a generalist reporter and she had to prove herself before she was allowed to join the royal beat. Her father and older sister Lisa were well-respected journalists and made their disapproval known. As Senior Political Correspondent, Lisa looked down upon Claudia. Her father and sister regarded her reporting as nothing more than promoting the superficial cult of celebrity. It paid the bills, Claudia said, steaming. She would show them, she would show everyone that she could get ahead. She looked back at Vanessa envying her charmed existence. The only thing that stood in her way and being the most successful royal correspondent was Vanessa. Claudia watched as Vanessa returned to the studio, a smug smile on her face.

Vanessa, at the next break you can rejoin Ben. Thank you for filling in Claudia.” A producer said in her ear-piece.

Claudia thought she detected an apologetic tone in his words. The decision wasn’t personal. Vanessa was the star and people trusted her voice. Claudia was the rookie, still learning the ropes with no name recognition. For now.

Claudia turned to the monitor in the booth booth to continue watching the proceedings. She knew Vanessa was fuming and staring at the back of her head. Ben quietly chuckled and turning to Claudia he squeezed her hand.

“Steady on, Claudia.” He said quietly, winking at her. “You will have your moment.”

Together they listened to the beautiful, haunting music. Claudia marveling quietly at the King and Queen’s composure in the face of minute scrutiny. Still, she wished they would show some emotion. Any emotion to make themselves seem more human and accessible. But it was not the royal way now was it? She watched Elizabeth shifting uncomfortably in her seat, looking up at the ceiling as if she was noticing it for the first time. Or maybe she was looking to the heavens at the unfairness of it all. She doubted it., Claudia had seen Elizabeth display this type of behavior on other occasions. On the balcony on Remembrance Sunday she seemed to zone out. On royal engagements it was worse. As if she would rather be anywhere else. Sometimes she would laugh at inappropriate moments and she had gotten into trouble on more than one occasion when the wind swept up a flimsy skirt on a dress that was too short, revealing the royal bottom. Her beautiful hair would be unconstrained, blocking her lovely face and any serious message she tried to convey. It was as if she was her own worst enemy at times.

The only time she seemed to be in her element was at gala events. Glamorously dressed up in an expensive couture dress, , she appeared completely present, even flirtatiously playing to the cameras. At least she had finally learned to play to the cameras. Photographers would complain in the beginning all they could get would be profile pictures. She would ignore them as often as she ignored the public. In the beginning she would ignore them as often as she ignored the public, She would provide no acknowledgment for the public, no smiling or waving to the people; some who had waited hours to see her.

She had slowly grown into her role, leveraging her glamour and media created gift for turning everything she touched and wore to gold. Playing a role that had nothing to do with reality and everything to do with perception. It was what the public expected of her regardless of what she was really like and it was too late to change now.

Michael, clearly annoyed, nudged her. She refocused, staring straight at the coffin, her eyes suddenly watering as she struggled to keep herself in check. Michael looked grim as he pretended to peruse his program. Elizabeth was barely holding hers and it was in danger of falling before Michael caught it and placed it on her lap, turning to the correct page and pointing where they were in the proceedings as if she was a child who had forgotten her place. Elizabeth swatted his hand and looked away, clearly tired of the charade. Claudia had heard rumors that there was trouble in their marriage and as the years went on, it was becoming more difficult for the couple to hide it. It did not help that it had taken them ten years to conceive an heir with Elizabeth taking far more of the blame for it than Michael.

The King gave both of them a stern look and Michael and Elizabeth fell back into line.

“As entertaining as they are, can we please focus on the funeral instead of the spoiled, squabbling royals?” the ,” an exasperated producer announced from the control room.

“Sorry John,” someone sheepishly said into an ear-piece.

She was glad to have her brother-in-law, John Thorold, producing the same event. Unlike others in the industry, he was in it to helm a historic, meaningful event not a reality television show.

The crew reluctantly returned to the funeral.

The emphasis during the funeral service was on Prince George’s service to the country, both royal and in a military capacity. The camera focused on the catafalque coffin with the Union Flag draped simple, wooden coffin. The royal family had chosen not to use the prince’s personal standard in keeping with his wish to be treated like any other soldier. On the top of his coffin, lay his sword and on a cushion is Army air Corps Beret. Obtaining the rank of Captain in the Army, he was proud of his service. Below the coffin the royal family laid two bouquets. the royal standard. There were three bouquets. The first, one with white roses was from Michael and Elizabeth, it included a card with the words ‘Dear Georgie’ written on the envelope. The second, larger one from the King and Queen. One with white roses had a card from Prince Michael with the words ‘Dear Georgie’ written on it. Another larger one from the King and Queen. Two other wreaths lay beside them. One from the Prince’s regiment and a third from the Prince’s regiment, , The Blues and Royals and another one from the Prime Minister.. Members of this regiment had carried the coffin inside the abbey and were in position to carry it outside once the service was finished. The soldiers looked overcome as they carried their fallen comrade.

The week leading up to the funeral had been filled with one media fueled drama after another. As if the death of Prince George was not shocking enough, all angles needed to be covered. First, what type of funeral should Prince George be given? State? Military? Ceremonial? He was the second son, not the first and heaven forbid anyone forget that in death. The Earl Marshall’s office finally announced it would be a ceremonial funeral with ‘military flourishes.’ Whatever that meant. It was decided that the Prince would not lay in state in Westminster and had chosen not to be buried in the traditional Royal Frogmore burial ground. Instead and instead of burial in Royal Frogmore burial ground he would be interred in a private ceremony at Brookwood Military Cemetery in Surrey with other members of his unit.

“The prince was proud to serve his country in the Armed Forces. of his military involvement. It was his express wish to be interred with other British soldiers instead of the traditional royal burial ground. His grave would be marked with a simple, uniform regulation white cross grave stone like any other solider.” The Earl Marshall added.

“This is will be a private interment for the royal family. As such there will be no media coverage and we ask that all members of the media and public to respect and comply with this request.”

The Prince’s decision to be buried in a non-royal cemetery had been met with unanimous public approval, an extension of the prince’s ‘everyman’ appeal. The royal family were less enthusiastic. His grave site would be vulnerable to gawkers and potential vandalism and it would not be private, making it more difficult to visit without it becoming a big spectacle. But it was George’s style to want to be treated like a normal person. George had attended more funerals at Brookwood there than he could count and had always remarked on how deeply moving the rows upon rows of plain white gravestones had looked.

“It is humbling to see how many men and women have given their lives to serve their country so that we can enjoy the freedoms we do today.” He stated in a rare interview.

Once the type of funeral and burial location had been cleared up the next controversy involved the attendees. Who should be invited? Heads of State, members of other royal houses? It was never announced but representatives from each royal house were in attendance and familiar famous faces and political figures were scattered throughout the Abbey. familiar famous faces were scattered throughout the Abbey, with representatives from each royal house in attendance. George’s remaining godparents were positioned closer to the royal family, present, their emotions on full display more than those of his parents. People many had watched the prince grow up and the streets were lined with members of the public paying their respects to a prince who had started out as a wild party boy, continuing to party well past the age people would have viewed as appropriate. He had dated many women, some seriously but the relationships always ended. None of the women wanted to sacrifice their freedom for a life of minute scrutiny. Two of his more serious girlfriends, Poppy Danmark and Chelsea Sommers were present; awkwardly seated next to each other. George had dated Chelsea for seven years but Poppy, with her model good looks and impeccable aristocratic pedigree, was regarded as the more serious contender for next royal bride. It was not to be. The Prince was simply not ready to settle down and after years of aimlessness, he eventually found his path when he joined the Armed Forces, earning his rank, uniform and every medal displayed on it. until he eventually found his path after joining the military.

Prince Michael’s path had been more predictable. After leaving Eton, he had done a gap year in Chile, eventually going to university and earning a degree he did not need and would never use. He had gone to university, earning a degree he would never use. He met his wife at a party. Once the media found out about Elizabeth it was open season. and meeting his wife, Elizabeth. Their relationship had been rocky at times but s was touted as a love match Michael seemed to have finally found his equal. In the beginning it seemed a love match and it was touted as such. But rumors of his affairs while dating Elizabeth hung over their relationship like the Sword of Damocles, nearly causing it to derail. The Prince was ordered to settle down before he lost Elizabeth for good.

They had a dream of a royal wedding, the first since the King and Queen’s own wedding. Unseemly speculation started as soon as possible that an heir would be produced within the year as what was expected from the past. Michael himself had been born nine months to the day after the King and Queen’s wedding. The King himself had been born ten months after his own parents, Queen Alexandra and Prince Vincent’s, ill-fated marriage started.

There were hopes that an heir would be born shortly afterward. As the years went by with Michael and Elizabeth producing no heir  people started to grow concerned. Soon, the pressure started to be directed towards George to settle down in the event Michael did not produce one. George himself responded leaving on a tour of duty to remove the focus on him.

The House of Marlborough’s membership had dwindled over time as each subsequent monarch had less children. . Queen Alexandra’s grandfather, King Arthur I had three children, one who died in infancy, her father, and another son, Prince Robert, who became her future father-in-law. Her own father, King Arthur II had three children with Queen Alexandra as the youngest. . The King’s mother, Queen Alexandra had pared down the monarchy even further. Never appearing to like children, she had done what was expected of her, marrying her first cousin, Prince Vincent, a man she did not love and producing an heir she did not care about. Making it clear that this it would be the only child she would ever have, once the baby prince had been born she decisively had her tubes tied in the delivery room as as her husband, Prince Vincent, the Prince Consort, hoping she would change her mind about another child, protested. Hearing about this after the fact, her staff staff despaired of her decision. A foolhardy move which did not consider the long term future of the monarchy. Queen Alexandra had never been one to think long term or beyond her own wants and desires.

The present King did better, marrying for love and having two children of his own. With two sons he had always wanted a daughter but it was not to be. There was hope that George would eventually have children but now that he was gone it was all on Michael and Elizabeth. Or more specifically, Elizabeth. She bore the brunt of public criticism for the lack of children. With George gone and Elizabeth, aged 42 and unlikely to have a child, the situation was now dire. Without an heir, the monarchy would end.

There were rumors that the couple had resorted to in vitro-fertilization to conceive. It would make a juicy story if true, Claudia thought, wondering if her sources could confirm it. Speculation had been rampant for years with, each royal correspondent checking their sources so they could be the first to report on it. Until there was confirmation, no one would touch the topic. A scoop that big could take her to the big leagues and confine Vanessa Mansbridge to history.

She had been locked in a competitive spiral with Vanessa since she came on the scene. Vanessa, already so well established as the go-to correspondent, elicited equal amounts of envy, jealously and scoffing. Never having gone after a scoop herself, Vanessa merely reiterated the palace line verbatim, doing so beautifully and cheerfully better than anyone else. No other royal correspondent could come close to her in telegenic appeal. Few colleagues took her seriously and annoyingly, she did not seem to care. Claudia knew she wasn’t the only one aiming for Victoria’s position. Undeterred, she vowed to beat all of them too.

Claudia watched Wolfie Littlecott hold forth about the tragedy in his own imitable style. Portly and blustery, he took himself too seriously, not caring that his days of breaking stories were over and he had been put out to pasture a long time ago.

She mentally took notes while watching the master at work. She marveled at his ability to keep a straight face while sprouting bullshit. He was a legend back in the Fleet Street days. No one could take an inane remark and stir up controversy like he could.

“No one will ever forget where they were when they found out…” Wolfie said, his voice solemn, maudlin and reverential.

Claudia smirked, remembering the unseemly thrill when her editor burst into her office with the news initially. It was a tragedy but it was also a bone-fide royal story she could sink her teeth into with all of the pathos and flag waving patriotism to chew on for days. The royal family had death down to a science and the crowds responded in kind, converging on Buckingham Palace to leave flowers at the gates. In the days leading up to the funeral, Claudia and Daniel had watched from the windows of the green, multi-story media center set up outside the palace, surprised at the sincerity of the publics grief.

Royal reporting was a humdrum existence, her biggest recent story was her coverage of Prince Michael’s 40th birthday celebrations. She had also written a detailed breakdown her recent coverage had included Prince Michael’s 40th birthday celebrations and a detailed breakdown of the Duchess of Clarence’s shoe color. If she had known she would be required to research the brand of pantyhose the duchess preferred she might have reconsidered entering journalism. She knew more than she cared to know about the duchess’s shoes and clothing. No detail was too minor to feed to the public. Claudia wondered if the duchess ever wanted to be more than just a clothes horse, valued for her appearance and ability to produce an heir.

Her phone vibrated with a new text message. She did not wish tragedy on the royal family. Even if that tragedy was more interesting to talk about than the birthday of a privileged middle-aged prince.

She pulled out her phone, checking her text messages and smiled.

This was even better.

 

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I Need You

“What is wrong with you?” Michael asked Elizabeth impatiently. ‘You seemed to be in another place during the funeral.”

“If only I could be somewhere else, Michael.”

Michael shushed her. He was unsure about those around him. Some would say paranoid but after a spate of recent scoops that hit too close to home, he was cautious. No one needed to know there was trouble behind the scenes.

“Why do you shush me? It isn’t a secret, you know.”

“The less they know about the truth, the better. “ He whispered. “Besides, with a baby on the way, you need to take it easy. No stress,” he said, uncharacteristically solicitous.

“And why do you think it is that we don’t have a baby?” she said, her voice rising.

“It’s not like I’m the one with the problem,” she hissed. They were quiet the rest of the way back to Kensington Palace. Once in the privacy of their own quarters, they let it rip.

“Why must you be so uncooperative?” Michael asked exasperated.

“Uncooperative? You mean, submit to your will?”

“My mother knew what was expect of her, as did my grandfather.”  

“So, I’m nothing more than a brood mare? I’m just here to give you an heir and that’s all?” Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“It isn’t as if there aren’t advantages to the situation. Look at you, in such luxurious surroundings, how can you be so ungrateful? Not to mention, you are the ‘Perfect Princess’.”

“I know that you are jealous of me and you always have been. Can I help it if I’m more publicly relatable than you?”

Michael swallowed hard, setting his lips grimly. It was an expression she had seen throughout their marriage. After 10 years she was no longer cowed by it.

“The only reason we are still married is because of this child,” she said, trying to sting him without success. She was right, he thought.

“You would never leave. Look around you, how can you give up all of this?”  He taunted. “The global adulation would come to an end and you would be nobody. Just like you were before I married you.”

Elizabeth slapped him hard and looked him dead in the eye.

“The only person who would be nowhere is you. If it weren’t for me, no one would be interested in this family. You had lost relevance. Your family stupidly mated itself into extinction. The only person who had any heart and soul was George. Now that he is gone. I’m all you have.” She spat.

Michael looked wounded and Elizabeth almost felt sorry for him. Almost. George was his weak spot and she knew it. Michael got up and walked out of the room. She watched him dial the same number he always did.

“Where are you right now?” He said quietly. “I need you.”

Elizabeth could not remember the last time he had said those words to her. She walked towards her closet, filled with some of the best and most expensive clothes people fawned over and envied. How much pain had these outfits hidden? The illusion of perfection and maintaining the image at all costs. She looked at her famous wedding dress, removing it from the hanger, she quickly tried it on. Slender at the time of the wedding, it was now baggy on her 10 years later. Despite being two months pregnant, the dress hung awkwardly off her spare frame. So many dreams and hopes had gone into making this dress. The symbolism in the embroidery. Daffodils for rebirth and new beginnings, Roses for love, gladiolus for conviction. Press releases had revealed that these were her favorite flowers. Few had taken a deeper look at the meaning behind them. If they had, they would have revealed a cry for help, a truth everyone wanted to ignore.

They had loved each other in the beginning but she had not wanted to marry him. The pressure was enormous from her family, from the media and even the royal family so she caved in. She had not wanted this life, instinctively knowing that for all of the beauty, opportunity and the golden page in the history books, it would ultimately destroy her soul. It was not a matter of if, it was a matter of when. She had hung on, accepting the consolation prize of global fame that had kept her afloat. She survived longer than she thought she would, confounding early naysayers who thought Michael was marrying beneath him by choosing a commoner. She discovered a strength of will she did not know was inside of her. She would not let ‘them’ win, could not let them win. Now she had a child to worry about. One that would anchor her to this life; forever. She should have escaped while she had the chance.

Fame had devastating consequences not just for her but for her family, the Longbottom’s. Her parents ran a successful horse breeding farm. Her family had been so stable before her relationship with Michael began. During the courtship they had kept the family together, despite the media having fun with their last name and family business.

 After the wedding, her family had difficulty dealing with the blitzkrieg of attention that followed. Her parent’s marriage fell apart, much to the glee of the press who had all but bet on it. Addicted to the attention from the royal wedding, her sister Savannah started to court the press. Her brother Charles dealt with the pressure and intense speculation on his marriage in his own way. Working as Christian missionaries, he packed up his wife and daughter and headed to Africa. Her youngest brother George had always been a sensitive, adrift figure, suffering from depression. Fame magnified these qualities negatively and unable to deal with becoming fodder material, he committed suicide. The family was devastated and the private funeral became a circus as the media encircled the event. George had been her favorite sibling. He had never wanted fame and did not court it. The family presented a unified front at the funeral, but once it was over they went their separate ways. Despite their differences behind the scenes, Michael’s family had publicly and privately always stood firm. Why couldn’t her own family have done the same?

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Christening

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A special princess

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Savannah and the ring

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The Sharif's

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Smile and wave

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Death to precious ones

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Damage control

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The Statement

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Michael & Elizabeth

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For My King and For My Country

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Where is the Princess?

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We have the princess

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A life in the balance

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A public grief

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A trying time

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Citizens not subjects

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A tourist attraction

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For services to her country

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Five years later

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~

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