In a certain way, everything stays the same. Bonnie still gets up at seven in the morning, makes a strawberry and banana protein shake on her Vitamix, goes to company classes and rehearsals and smiles through every single curtain call.

Except it doesn't. Because a couple of months ago she wasn't seeing a prince and now she is.

Three days after their date, Klaus sends her an email saying I happen to be a rather busy bloke and would be very happy to coordinate with you with a blinking emoji (somehow, she's more surprised to find out he of all people uses emojis than seeing an email from HRH Prince Niklaus sitting on her inbox). Attached is his royal engagement schedule, looking so official with his letterhead that Bonnie feels like she's breaking some law by reading government documents. She wonders if his email is the royal version of a callback.

Bonnie realizes she's living a double life when she grabs her weekend duffel bag and hails an Uber to West London instead of taking the Tube to go home without a second thought. Maybe double life is a bit of an exaggeration, but that's how it feels.

Most people at Shoreditch House – their safe haven, since she can't just show up at Kensington Palace's gates and he doesn't want to take the risk of paparazzi following him to her flat – greet her by her first name. Servers at the rooftop restaurant know her favorite drink and her favorite dish.

Other than the members of Shoreditch- many of them fellow artists who are fortunately uninterested on whether a prince is dating an American commoner – Caroline and Marcel, his closest friend, nobody knows.

It's like they exist in a pretty, tiny bubble, filled with laughter, hushed whispers, and lazy kisses. Bonnie likes the bubble, she does. When she's there, she pretends they're just a mundane couple at the beginning of their courtship. But sometimes, when Bonnie's outside the bubble and sees his face plastered on the tabs (PRINCE NIKLAUS LINKED TO LADY MARY! seems to be the big story of the week), she wonders if she's actually a dirty little secret. Someone that will only be kept at arms' length.

Their bubble is pink and cozy, but he also has a bubble. One that's gilded, glittering and it doesn't include her. This is when Bonnie tells herself how stupid she's been to think this could be real.

And then-

"Fuck, I missed you," Klaus whispers; his breath warm against the skin of her neck and his fingertips sliding down her spine. He's still wearing his navy blue suit, the same outfit he was sporting during his royal engagement in the afternoon. "I tried to slip out of there as soon as I could."

Then Bonnie wonders how she can even question what they have and mutes every doubting voice in her head.


They don't really have that awkward, world-revealing conversation to discuss "their status" or "what they are to each other". Bonnie finds that Niklaus is a man of action and doesn't need many words to convey his thoughts.

On an unusually chilly June Thursday, Klaus finishes his engagements, takes a car back to London and has his one of assistants purchase a ticket to her "Coppelia" evening performance. Afterward, when they're back in the tiny room at Shoreditch House and her legs are sore, he hands her an Advil with a pint of her favorite artisanal pistachio ice cream from a little store in Covent Garden.

"My favorite!" Bonnie cries out in a burst of excitement. "You are literally and figuratively a prince."

"I'm a considerate prince, love. What kind of prat does not know his girlfriend's tastes? That's just poor manners," he tuts in an ever so British manner that would make her chuckle if she wasn't trying to get over her mild shock.

"Girlfriend, huh?" is all that comes out of her mouth as she finds herself unable to think of anything else. She wants to freak out, get a notepad, make another list to figure out how this can work. Being his…whatever was simple, nerve-wracking but simple. This is complicated and has the potential to scare the ever-loving fuck out of her.

Her last serious relationship was with Jeremy Gilbert, a guy she's known for most of her life, and that was a mess at the end. Nik is unfamiliar and a member of the fucking British Royal Family. If she got her heart broken by Jeremy, a simple boy from her small hometown, what was the kind of damage could Niklaus inflict?

"Well, I would say this particular designation suits you, wouldn't you agree?" he asks as if they were discussing the weather, no hesitation in his tone. Bonnie doesn't know if his resolve and perfect use of the Queen's English is annoying or strangely endearing.

She's scared of what this could bring. Do they have a future or are they on borrowed time? Either option is enough to make her stomach flutter with anxiety. The thought of walking away from him, seeing him be with another woman makes her nauseous.

"I guess you're right," she agrees with a nod and brings a spoonful of pistachio ice cream to her lips.

And this is the abridged story of how Bonnie Bennett became Prince Niklaus' girlfriend.


B onnie Bennett is an anomaly. Perhaps that isn't the most delicate or polite word to use, but a suitable one nonetheless. For starters, Bonnie doesn't know any of his friends from uni, she doesn't attend Ascot or polo matches and doesn't live in Kensington or Knightsbridge. She is also not the delicate and fragile English Rose most of the world sees as his appropriate choice of partner.

No, she is Bonnie Bennett, a ballerina who wakes up at an ungodly hour to practice yoga and whose accent has the tendency to slip into a Southern twang when she's angry.

That makes her an anomaly in his small, disgustingly exclusive universe, but this fact is of no consequence to him. As a matter of fact, it is something that has only come to the forefront of his mind once or twice during their courtship. Until now.

"I have learned to dread your silent moments," Elijah comments as he enters the green drawing room. "What ails you this time? Surely Mother has already forgiven your indiscretions after all these months."

"No, Mother has been rather pleased with my recent work ethic as she puts it," he says with a chuckle; hesitant to voice his own thoughts. Bugger it. "Even after you were with Katherine for the better part of your uni years, you decided to marry Gia. Why?"

Elijah takes a seat on the Queen Anne armchair next to Klaus, figuring he would need a moment to analyze his question. It comes as a surprise, as Klaus has never been one to question his choice in partners. He didn't exactly like Katherine – an animosity resulted from an unrequited childhood infatuation – but seemed to be partial to Gia joining the family.

"What is the reason for your question?"

"No particular reason," he answers with an unconvincing shrug. "I'm just curious. Katherine was the perfect choice for the future King of England and you completely disregarded that."

Katherine, or rather Lady Katherine, is the only daughter of the Duke of Somerset and was touted by the press as an "exquisite future consort", with an "impeccable lineage". The entire country – in particular, the British media- was shocked when Elijah broke their relationship and started dating Gia.

After all, Katherine was a strikingly beautiful aristocrat that attended the right schools (Rugby School and St. Andrews) and socialized in the right circles (she was very close to the Duke of Westminster's daughters). How could she ever be replaced?

And yet, replace her Elijah did. With hardly a care for the drivel constantly being peddled by the tabloids and an unusually bright smile as he entered Westminster Abbey in his wedding day.

"We had an unhealthy, volatile relationship. The Mirror may have believed she was the perfect wife for me but I would have been miserable. I decided that keeping my mental health as King is better for England in the future than maintaining an unblemished lineage."

Silence blankets the room.

"I met someone," Klaus finally says, grimacing at how juvenile it sounds. This reminds him of why he loathes having these conversations.

"I'm not surprised. You've been unusually quiet for the past months," Elijah comments as he reaches to pour himself a cup of tea. Clearly, this will be a conversation that requires a bit of Oolong. "And by your early questions, I imagine she has become quite an important feature in your life."

"Your assumption would be correct," Klaus says and takes a deep breath before continuing. "She's an American ballerina at the Royal Ballet, and she's African American."

It sounds wrong and tawdry to reduce all of her to these words, but they accurately depict the nature of the situation.

"So, not someone like Aurora," Elijah concludes, prompting a peal of chuckles from both brothers.

Aurora, much like Katherine, was dubbed by the British press as an English Rose and a "lovely" addition to the family.

"No, Bonnie is nothing like Aurora," Klaus says; the thank God unsaid, but quite implicit. He may have been infatuated – perhaps even in love – with Aurora in the past, but the spell has passed.

"At the risk of getting ahead of myself, is this relationship becoming serious?" Elijah asks with a hint of curiosity, not fully expecting to get a straight answer out of him. Despite having some of his relationships – and flings – plastered on the tabloids, Klaus has always been one to keep his own feelings close to his vest.

"If you must know, we are serious enough to be exclusive and I want to protect her," Klaus says the last part in a quiet voice. "I appreciate her exactly because she's so different than Aurora or any other woman in our circle, but I know the press will attempt to destroy her for that. So I want to keep this as private as possible."

"I am rather inclined to congratulate you on your newfound maturity, brother," Elijah says, raising the cup of tea in his honor with a chuckle. "You have come a long way. Maybe we could meet her soon. I want to meet the woman who is inspiring all this change in you."

"You will, brother, but in due time. I plan on keeping her close to my chest and I cannot have this reaching Mother's ears."

"Well, I do not blame you."

Klaus' phone starts to beep, breaking the short moment of silence.

Marcel (11:39): Man, you have to check out the Mail's website. Now!

Marcel (11:39): And I mean now, now!

Marcel (11:40): I'm serious this time.

With a frown – Marcel of all people knows he despises reading any of this rubbish – Klaus types the online address with his two thumbs and understands why Marcel sounds so distraught.

Right below the Daily Mail logo, a picture of himself fills up the small phone screen. In upper case black letters, the headline questions:

PRINCE NIKLAUS HAS AN AMERICAN BALLERINA FOR GIRLFRIEND?


A/N: Just wanted to thank all of you for your reviews and say that I'm glad you're enjoying this royal all human AU! I know there wasn't a lot of Klonnie fluff this chapter, but I promise the next chapter will be filled with it. I'm also taking suggestions for outrageous tabloid headlines because (spoiler alert) there will be a lot of them in this story, much to Bonnie's distate.