Author's Note: I have been kicking this idea around in my head ever since I found my hardback copies of the Princess Diaries books when I was last at my childhood home going through some of my boxed up things. So naturally I reread the entire series! While I LOVE the books and enjoy the movies as a fun watch, I always thought that the character of Andrew Jacoby was so lovely and while it's hard to turn down Chris Pine, I think Mia should have given him more of a real chance. So that got me thinking…what would have happened if, instead of dating JP, what if she met Andrew and had a relationship with him? How would that have changed the events of the last book? Would it even change anything at all? Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Princess Diaries or any of the wonderful characters that Meg Cabot has created. The plot is my own and as the events of this story converge with some of the events of last book, there might be some overlap, but with the introduction of Andrew in the the book's events, there will be plenty of differences. :)

December 22, 2:35 am, Chateau du Genovia, Suite Royale de la Princesse

The impossible happened tonight. I actually enjoyed one of Grandmere's state functions.

It all started out the same as any other holiday gala. I had spent the entire day with the team of Genovian stylists getting plucked, pinched, and air brushed. My hair was endlessly rolled, curled, and teased, only to end up in a sleek updo—don't ask how that logic works out…I believe witchcraft might be involved.

My dress (a Sebastian original) was tighter in the bodice and poofier in the skirt than usual. I took one look in the mirror and it all clicked.

Grandmere was up to something.

The Genovian stylists always do an insanely amazing job of getting me 'princess ready,' but I didn't look like a princess tonight.

My hair—which is steadily growing out, but needs hair extensions as reinforcements—had been swept into a sleek high bun, with one of my smaller tiaras set at the bun's base. My makeup was surprisingly natural—Grandmere had been on a smoky eye kick recently—with only a hint of eyeshadow and mascara to bring out my eyes. In fact, the only obvious trace of makeup was the bold crimson lip my stylists had opted for.

My dress was a mix between champagne and ivory, with a tight beaded bodice that accentuated my still-new-to-me cleavage without being gaudy and the skirt flared into a full ballgown over endless layers of tulle.

No, I didn't look princess-y at all.

I looked downright bridal.

Which is insane because I'm not even sixteen!

After I left Tina a panicked voicemail about my set-up suspicions, I headed down to the ballroom to help Grandmere receive her guests.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" I asked through my smile as I finished greeting one of the many Lords that were in attendance tonight.

"Not right now, Amelia, there is someone I would like for you to meet." She dismissed with a wave of her gloved hand.

My stomach dropped as a guy about 2-3 years older than me in British military uniform—complete with blue sash and everything—walked up to us.

It was definitely a set up.

I had to give Grandmere some credit. Compared to some of her past failed set up attempts, this one actually wasn't half bad. Assuming that I wanted to be set up—which I didn't. Or rather, don't.

Anyway, he was tall, maybe about 6' 2", with short brown hair that was neatly trimmed, parted, and styled in a way that screamed military in very much the same way his uniform did. Judging by his age, he could only have been a year into his training and service.

And—okay—the guy was attractive. Very attractive. Especially when he smiled, which he did during his entire walk up to where we stood. I tried to make my smile seem genuine, but it was difficult.

I was absolutely mortified. Getting set up by my grandmother? At a state function, complete with an hour long program followed by a nine course meal where awkwardness was sure to be on the menu?

Humiliating.

"Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldi," Grandmere beamed, clearly very proud of herself, "I would like to introduce you to Andrew Jacoby, Duke of Kenilworth."

"A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace." I said, giving him a polite nod as he bowed towards us.

He straightened, "The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness."

"Amelia, why don't you show the Duke to his seat? I believe the two of you are seated next to one another and program should be starting soon."

Andrew—blissfully oblivious to Grandmere's scheming—politely offered me his arm, which I took as I shot my grandmother a glare.

She simply raised her penciled on eyebrows in challenge and walked away to signal the staff that guests should start to be seated for the presentation portion of the evening.

"I've become quite the fan of yours." Andrew stated after we took a couple steps in silence.

I turned to look at him, shocked. He had to have been kidding.

"Of me?" I asked.

"Yes," He stated matter-of-factly, guiding me towards the entry of the function room, "That was such a courageous thing you did. Bringing democracy to your people like that. Inspiring, really."

I shook my head, "I didn't give the people of Genovia democracy, Princess Amelia did."

"Don't sell yourself so short. You did an amazing thing."

I could feel my cheeks started to flush in embarrassment.

"I suppose I was due." I stated diplomatically, "I've made quite a few poor life choices recently."

Andrew abruptly stopped walking.

"Are you always so hard on yourself?" he asked.

I stared at him—mouth open in an unprincess-like way—momentarily stunned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Whatever the 'poor life choices' that you speak of are, they certainly can't be that bad. Not bad enough to negate the momentous thing you have done for your country, surely."

I chewed on my perfectly painted lip nervously (oops) thinking over the events of the last couple months, "Well, if you must know, I pretty much ruined my only chance at happiness by breaking up with the love of my life over something unbelievably stupid."

"Oh," Andrew commented, considering my words, "That is a poor life choice."

My jaw dropped again, "Are you mocking me?"

He raised an eyebrow in such an elegant manner, I was jealous, "I would do nothing of the sort."

I sighed, getting his point.

It was a point that my mother had been trying to make for the past few weeks, "Okay, that was a pretty dramatic statement, but I did lose a great guy and my lifelong best friend out of the whole ordeal. Maybe even a bit of sanity."

He gestured his head to the private drawing room that was off to the side of the ballroom where we were headed, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I looked to the ballroom where my presence was undoubtedly already noticed by Grandmere, "But the gala—"

"I think losing the love of your life is a bit more important than a handful of dignitaries congratulating one another for jobs that they have yet to do." He motioned his head towards the sitting room again, "How about it?"

I looked at him again and I'm not sure what it was about him, but it was almost like I instinctively knew that I could trust him. That I had finally found a young noble that I could really relate to, who wasn't afraid to talk to me like he would to anyone else despite the whole me being a princess thing. I mean, yeah, he addressed me properly, bowing and all of that, but within the same minute called me out on my melodrama—albeit politely.

It was like…I felt as though he was one of my friends from back home.

Which was how I found myself telling Andrew Jacoby, Duke of Kenilworth everything. And I mean everything. Every petty thought, every embarrassing detail to this virtual stranger who—and I am not sure how he did it—managed to listen with a focus I have only ever seen on Fat Louis when I am preparing his food.

When I finally managed to run out of words, I snuck a peek at him, too embarrassed for full on eye contact.

He gave a heavy sigh and I winced. What had I done? I just spilled my guts to a duke. A duke who probably thought that I was a total freak.

Pretty sure Grandmere hadn't envisioned this when she schemed this set up attempt.

"Pretty stupid right?" I muttered, my cheeks flushing with humiliation.

We sat there in silence for what seemed like eternity before Andrew did the most shocking thing. He reached

out and placed his hands over mine.

It took all of my princess training to keep my jaw from falling to the floor for a third time.

"No, Mia." He stated, "It is not stupid at all."

I looked at him—completely stunned—as he continued.

"This Michael wasn't honest about his previous relationship and you had every right to be upset."

"But I went completely psycho on him."

Andrew sighed, "I'm not saying that you necessarily handled it in the best way, but what you felt…your feelings were valid. You two weren't communicating honestly with one another and no relationship—no matter how 'perfect' you are for each other—can survive that. Should you have broken up? That's not for me to say, but Michael's response to you after he arrived in Japan is pretty telling.

"I'm a firm believer in timing and some things," he continued, "…some things just happen. Or don't happen at all. Or happen too late or too early and that makes all the difference."

We sat there in silence for a moment and I just stared at him. He had listened. He had actually listened to all of my crazy ramblings and had responded with advice that was…good.

He didn't tell me that I was completely in the right and Michael was completely in the wrong like Tina did. He didn't dismiss it as a misunderstanding that would be fixed with time like my mom did. He called it like it was: an issue that was blown out of proportion because Michael and I weren't honest with each other which had significant consequences whether I liked it or not.

"Wow. I…thank you for that." I breathed, still a little stunned, "I think that was exactly what I've been needing to hear."

Andrew gave my hands a squeeze before he let go and leaned back in his chair, "We British are renowned for our impeccably sensible advice."

I laughed an unladylike laugh and I felt a giant weight lift off of my shoulders. It occurred to me then that I was laughing for the first time since Michael and I had broken up.

I turned to Andrew, so profoundly happy that Grandmere was incapable of subtlety and had made Andrew my escort for the evening.

We heard the applause coming from the main function room signaling that tonight's program was over.

"We should probably head in there. It's generally frowned upon if guests are late to dinner and I'm pretty sure our absence will be more noticeable at a dinner table than in an audience." I stated, not wanting to leave the happy and relaxed atmosphere in the drawing room.

Andrew smiled as he nodded and stood, holding out his arm for me to take.

I grabbed his arm and we headed for the grand dining hall.

The rest of dinner was relatively uneventful. Andrew and I made our way into the hall, blending in with the crowd as though we hadn't just skipped out on the presentation. We took our seats towards the head of the table and made polite conversation with one another throughout the meal.

We talked about things like school (after his year in the military was done, he would begin his first year at Cambridge), the differences between Genovia and England during Christmastime (way more pear based festive desserts and infused olive oils in Genovian celebrations), and other things that were meaningful in getting to know one another, but not nearly as personal as what was shared in the drawing room.

He told jokes and stories that continued to make me laugh and in return I was able to get a chuckle out of him a few times with stories about trying to navigate international politics as well as high school.

It was honestly the most fun I've ever had at a state function. I was in such a good mood, I didn't even care about how smug Grandmere looked at her end of the table.

Andrew escorted me out of the hall where I joined Grandmere in bidding our guests farewell. Andrew was one of the last to leave, but it turned out that he was one of the handful of guests that were staying in the palace's guest quarters. (Grandmere's set up game was stronger than I thought.)

I bid him farewell after making vague plans to spend time together again before he left Genovia the following weekend.

"See, Amelia? That wasn't so bad." Grandmere said once all of the guests had left.

"You're right. It wasn't."

I turned to head upstairs, leaving a slightly stunned Grandmere behind so that I could finally get out of the restrictive corset and put on some non-restrictive pants.

I took off my make up, but left my hair in its high bun (that was a struggle I was not in the mood for), put on my leggings, my favorite tank top that was a Culture Club tour tee from the 80's (I had found it in a thrift store with Lilly last spring—it was the perfect amount of loose), and one of my mother's flannel painting shirts.

I tried to settle down with a book, but the slight growling in my stomach wouldn't let me.

The consistently worst thing about being a princess is that you get to attend all of these fancy events with course after course of amazing food, but more often than not, you're in a dress that makes it impossible to enjoy your meal let alone eat enough to be fully fed.

I slipped on some ballet flats and headed for the kitchens.

The kitchens were on the opposite side of the palace from the guest quarters which was why I headed down in pajamas that were not the matching silk set that Grandmere insists I wear because I was a "princess, not a homeless beatnik." I had some general reassurance that I wouldn't been seen by anyone other than staff, who by this point was used to my 'quirky American eccentricities.'

Which was why running into Andrew near the library was something I had not anticipated.

Based on the look on his face, he hadn't been planning to bump into anyone either.

He, however, had the foresight to wear loose fitting khakis with his white dress shirt from earlier in the evening, though the top few buttons had been undone and his sleeves were rolled up. I was once again struck with how normal he looked and how comfortable I felt around him—despite the fact that I was in my mismatched pajamas. And no make up.

WHY did I leave without at least putting some mascara on?

"Princess." He stuttered, trying to gain some composure.

I held up a hand to stop him mid bow, "Please. When no one is around and especially when I am wearing flannel, the bowing doesn't need to happen. Also, my friends call me Mia."

He smiled as he straightened, "Mia, then."

We stood in awkward silence before Andrew spoke, "So what brings a flannel clad princess out of her rooms at this hour?"

I smiled, "As hard as it is to believe, corseted dresses—while gorgeous—aren't very practical when it comes to eating."

"I noticed that you had barely eaten your pear tart during dessert course which was a pity. I'll be dreaming of that tart for a while."

"I'm sure there is still some left over in the kitchens. Care to join me?"

Andrew raised his eyebrow, "Really? But wouldn't that be—"

"Improper?" I finished for him, "Yes, but I've come to find that dessert tastes the best when it is stolen."

Andrew laughed and gestured for me to lead the way.

We crept to the kitchen in silence. While I was pretty confident that no one other than security was still up to catch us, I had no desire to explain to my father why I was caught walking around the palace alone late at night with a guy I had just met.

We made it to the kitchens and I made quick work of finding the leftover pear tarts. Andrew looked around for some plates and forks and we met at the kitchen's central prep counter.

The silence, while comfortable, was starting to get to me. I wanted to make him laugh again.

"You aren't intending for us to use those forks to eat this pear tart, are you?" I asked, trying to sound as regal as I could.

He looked at me quizzically. Sure he'd only known me for less than 8 hours, but he knew I was up to something, "Well, I was, but clearly I had made a grievous error in judgement. Tell me, what fork does one use to eat contraband fruit tarts?"

I smiled, shaking my head happy that he was playing along and walked over to where the silverware was kept, "So young. So much left to learn."

Andrew grinned as he took the smaller dessert fork I had offered him before I got to work plating our stolen meal.

The silence started settle in again.

"So…" I ventured, "You've heard all about my major life regrets. Anything you would like to share? Loves of your life that you've callously tossed aside?""

He gave a small smile at my dramatics and looked down at his plate, "Loves of my life? No."

"Are you currently seeing anyone?"

"Yes, actually." He stated matter-of-factory, digging into his tart with a renewed enthusiasm.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. Grandmere didn't do her research.

"How long have you two been dating?"

"About a year and a half now."

I set my fork down, stunned, "And she's not the love of your life?!"

He paused and thought about what he was going to say next, choosing his next words very carefully, "I'm not sure."

"I think that's your answer."

Andrew shot me an incredulous look, "Not everything is so black and white, you know. Catherine and I's relationship is complicated. We grew up together. There is a lot of family history there."

"But do you love her?" I asked.

"Of course." He replied immediately.

"And are you in love with her?"

He paused, frowning, "I'm not sure I follow."

"Remember when I told you about my friend JP?"

Andrew nodded and I continued, "JP was very supportive of me when things were really bad between Michael and I as well as after the break up. He's such a sweet guy and would always make time for me and would think of little things to do to cheer me up.

"We went on a few dates, but I could tell that while although I liked him and could even see us dating for awhile, I couldn't see myself falling in love with him. Not in the way that I had been in love with Michael. On paper he was the perfect boyfriend, even Grandmere approved of him, but I just couldn't see building a life with him. So instead of carrying on with a relationship that would have just been a shadow of what I'd had with Michael, I told him that we should just stay friends."

I took a breath and snuck a glance at Andrew who surprisingly seemed to be taking in my ramblings to heart.

"How did you know?" He asked so sincerely that it almost broke my heart.

"It just came down to on question: Was I my best and truest self when we were together?"

I snuck a peak at Andrew who was just staring at his half eaten tart thoughtfully.

"With Michael, I was his kid sister's best friend. There was also some family history there, but I didn't ever feel pressured into dating him. If anything, I was completely blindsided when he asked me out, but with him…I knew that I could be myself around him—flaws and all—and still he loved me. And the same went for him. He could be himself and we shared a lot of similar interests, but were supportive of each other's differing interests…aside from the whole Judith Gershner thing."

Andrew started nodding his head a little, which I took as a good sign, and continued.

"He helped me grow into a better version of myself and I just didn't see being with JP doing the same."

After a couple moments of silence, Andrew picked up his fork and took another bite of his dessert.

"Well," he stated, chewing thoughtfully, "It looks as though I have a lot to think about."

Without thinking, I reached out and put a hand on his arm, trying to offer comfort and support like he had done with me earlier in the drawing room, "No matter what, you should do what is best for you. And if that is staying with Catherine, then wonderful! I can't wait to meet her."

Andrew offered me a wry smile, "You're far too wise for someone your age."

I offered him a small laugh and pointed at my tank top, "I've just listened to their greatest hits album way too many times."

We both laughed and started talking about music for awhile—turns out Andrew was also a fan of Boy George and his upbeat melancholy love songs—before finishing our tarts and heading back to our respective rooms.

Andrew is headed off on a short hunting trip in the morning, so I know I should get to sleep so that I am not bleary-eyed when I see him off, but for some reason, I still can't seem to fall asleep.