Hi everyone! Here's a quick little story that came to me. I was thinking about what might happen if the princess took a stance on political affairs. This takes place after the end of my other series. I don't think you need to read those, but you obviously can if you want! FYI for you non-royal watchers, but Trooping the Colour is the Queen's official birthday celebration and it occurs the first week of June. I'm not a huge politics person, so bear with me if any of this is incorrect, but I've just sort of glossed over everything, so it's probably fine.
David was just walking from the car park when the Range Rover pulled up in front of their apartment, returning Eleanor from her afternoon engagement. Tom spotted him first, an exasperated look on the sandy haired man's face. Then, she was out of the suv, beautiful face clouded in anger.
"I'm allowed to have an opinion!" She was fuming, hands balled into tiny fists, raging at Tom.
"That's not the issue, princess." Tom tried, closing the vehicle door and following her into the shade of the courtyard, Eleanor walking inexplicably quickly on the gravel in her high heels. The three stopped there, and Tom turned toward David, telling him about the day. Into the engagement and out, protestors lined the streets. They seemed to be split down the middle; pro Brexit and anti Brexit, but it was still yelling and anger and tension all around.
David exhaled, his car keys jingling in his hand. He should have stayed at work ten minutes later. Tom would've been gone and Eleanor would have been more calm, maybe.
"I'm just trying to be rational, but her royal highness is being unreasonable." Tom's professionalism was rapidly deteriorating. That got him a dirty look from both companions.
"Maybe you should skip the parade tomorrow." David tried, knowing the exact response he would get, but had to at least try. Since they had moved in together, Tom had relied on David to help manage her. Two heads were better than one and all that, beside the fact that she listened to David, mostly.
This time though, he knew it wasn't going to work. Since the interview she had given a week or so ago, tensions were high. Her brother was angry with her for going on the telly to discuss her views on Brexit, but she just wanted to do the right thing and was sticking to her guns. Once you told her not to do something, it was all in, dig in her heels stubbornness.
Inside their apartments, she stopped in the entryway, putting her clutch down. She crossed her arms and looked at both men, lips in a tight line.
"There are reports that there will be some protests." Tom continued, arms crossed as well. "Pro Brexit, protestors that are angry with you."
"With me?" Now she was straight out frowning. "You know I get tons of threats, who cares? I'm going to the parade and I'm riding my horse."
"Can we compromise with a carriage?" David tried. They had entered the kitchen, and she turned away from them both to open the big metal refrigerator.
"No. What's the difference? Horseback or open carriage?" Eleanor replied, turning back toward him and Tom and handing Tom a bottle of water. "I've ridden in trooping the colour since I became a colonel in the guards. I'm not stopping now for complete tosh. Maybe I should go on the telly again and tell them I'm pro-choice, pro-immigration and I believe in the NHS. Really give them something to talk about." She winked at David, brushed past Tom, and headed upstairs to change.
David sighed and looked at his mate. She was a handful, that was for sure.