Thanks very much for reading along! My first attempt at pinning down Nicholas...I hope my interpretation meshes with yours.
And thanks, friend, for helping me keep royal titles and relationships straight. I think I've got it sorted out now. :)
Mia did not go to her office. Instead, she took refuge in the rose garden. She found that, even when trailed by Shades, being outside made her feel freer - her movements, her thoughts, even her breathing. Now, surrounded by the beautifully tended fruits of the collaboration between her grandmother and the team of gardeners, Mia wondered again if Clarisse's passion for flowers didn't begin as a need to escape the palace walls.
She walked briskly, and vaguely hoped she appeared efficient rather than in a hurry to run away. Shades had the decency to hang back, and when she had put enough distance between herself and the news business, she slowed to a thoughtful amble.
The News. She shuddered.
To say she and The News had gotten off on the wrong foot would have been an understatement. Her first dealings with reporters in San Francisco had been mortifying, and her insecure fifteen year-old self had never quite gotten over it.
Now she was used to being news, if not always entirely comfortable with it. Even the not-so-flattering news. She laughed off a bad camera angle. She pretended to laugh off speculation about her husband's fidelity. She managed to crack a smile when gossip columnists tried to figure out if a new suit had been cut to disguise a burgeoning baby bump.
Mia accepted that her destiny was intricately entwined with that of The News. They had had their ups and downs, but lately, it seemed there were way fewer ups; and Mia was feeling less like the Genovian Queen who had successfully navigated the first few years of her reign, and more like the awkward teenager who had stood in the flash of the paparazzi's cameras like a deer caught in headlights.
Her inexperience with the spotlight and her lack of understanding of human nature had caused her to be blindsided by the press during her royal debut. Those things had been remedied, but now there were factors entirely beyond her control that led to negative reporting. Gossip, a late spring that had delayed the pear trees' blossoming, other unfortunate economic factors, and more gossip - all these things were played up by The News to a public that, despite their approval and admiration of their Queen, were just as eager as any populace for a scapegoat and a juicy story.
Everyone wanted to blame someone for their troubles, and Mia was a conveniently visible target for the jittery pear farmers, the frustrated lace industry (Lace was so last season.), stubborn parliamentarians, and that stupid "Eggs With Elsie" show. It felt as though the entire nation were waiting for her to fail.
It was just like being in high school all over again, only on a way bigger scale.
And her husband wanted her to go back to the time in her life that symbolized everything she had worked so hard to overcome. Of course, Nicholas wouldn't understand. He was the epitome of cool and sophisticated, the antithesis of everything she had been.
He would have been the Josh to your Michael, insisted the slightly neurotic girl with the clunky shoes. He wouldn't have seen you when you were invisible.
Recently, the old Mia had been popping up more often to offer helpful warnings like that, lest the current version of herself, confident and elegant, should forget who she had been. Who, deep down inside, she was afraid she still was.
She plopped onto a bench, propped her elbows on her knees, and dropped her head into her hands.
Just like high school, except it was all so much more personal now. There was no place to hide, no part of her family life that couldn't be exploited for political reasons or invaded for entertainment purposes. Even the most intimate aspects of her marriage were valid talking points.
She pressed her hands harder to her face, hoping to find solace in the blackness and escape the cold that crept out of her heart and spread across her chest.
"Mia."
She pretended she hadn't heard her husband say her name softly while she thought about whether she wanted to talk to him.
"Mia, please."
She still didn't look up, but she scooted a few inches to one side of the bench to indicate he was welcome to join her. She felt him next to her, and his warmth began to work on a tiny portion of the ice in her heart.
"We don't have to talk about anything in particular, but it would make me feel better if you at least sat up. I'm afraid you're going to squish your lovely eyes."
She laughed because it seemed a ridiculous thing to say. She straightened up, then leaned to the side so her head could rest on his shoulder. Her eyes were still closed, but she knew exactly how to sway in order for her head to find its place in the crook of his neck. She felt his arms wrap around her, and Adolescent Mia retreated a bit in the secure reality of him.
"Whatever this is, I know it's bigger than table manners. And you've been keeping it to yourself long enough."
He was right. She was tired of snapping at her loved ones. She was tired of feeling lonely, with no one but her panicky past self for company.
Her emotions had moved her to a place beyond tears, but they still strained her voice. "It's everything," she rasped.
"You know," he began, referring to their inside joke with a sigh of mock exasperation, "if you had just given up the throne to me, I would be the one sitting hunched over on the bench, humming 'Catch A Falling Star.'"
She finally opened her eyes and looked at him. "Was I? I was not. Was I? You're so lying to me."
"I'm not. You were, in fact, humming, which is how I knew you were trying to put up your invisibility shield. Then you stopped humming. That's when I got worried." He frowned, disappointed with himself that there was some part of her he couldn't understand. "I don't know what it means when you stop humming. What were you thinking about then?"
"I guess… I don't know." She was too preoccupied to form an answer.
Because he had just proven the gawky, clueless pre-princess Mia wrong. Her husband saw her all the time. She couldn't hide from him even if she wanted to.
Sometimes she forgot how well he knew her, the little random details she had shared over the years and the things he had figured out simply by wanting to know her as completely as possible. Where she had once shied away from social interaction, his inquisitive nature and attentiveness drew him to people. To all people, not just women, although these qualities had fueled his reputation as a player during his bachelor years and, on occasion, during their marriage.
Well, that, and the fact that he had been a shameless flirt.
But Mia had always been his favorite character study. He knew her better than anyone else ever had, with the possible exception of Lilly.
She was suddenly overwhelmed by his desire to spend the rest of his life learning everything there was to know about her, and by his knack for breaking down her walls and making her cry. She bit her lip against the tremor caused by long-absent tears.
Seeing her struggle, he slid off the bench and moved around so he was kneeling before her, and he took her hands in his. "Mia."
It was a special talent he had. Nicholas wasn't one for endearments, but he could say her name as though nothing in the world could possibly give him greater happiness. If she hadn't been a queen, she would have felt like one.
"Nobody likes me," she said in a small voice.
"Everyone likes you. What's not to like?"
"They blame me for everything."
"You're in charge. The person in charge always gets blamed."
She gave a weak smile. "Are you still interested in -"
"No," he said emphatically. "Being king sounds great when you're not actually king. No, forget it. We're not switching."
"It's way more fun than it looks."
"Oh yes, it looks like loads of fun," he replied, his words steeped in sarcasm.
"But you would look so lovely on a postage stamp."
"Nice try."
"I can't go back," she whispered.
"Mia, you have to go back. You're the Queen, as we've already established. Gregory will miss you soon. And it looks like it might rain later."
"I mean, to high school. I can't go back to high school."
He studied her carefully before answering. "Alright. So don't go back."
"It's just that I was kind of miserable there. And almost nobody liked me there either. I feel like everyone is waiting for me to fail."
"If any of your classmates thinks you have failed in life, they've been living under a rock for the past ten years."
She shook her head. "I mean, in Genovia. I think everyone is waiting for me to fail." Talking helped, and her old nervous habit of speaking too quickly began to kick in. "My approval rating is at an all-time low They are waiting for me to fail - me! The Queen who was raised as an American commoner and had to learn everything so late in the game And now I have my own child to raise Only I didn't have a royal upbringing So I don't have a clue how to raise a child as a future monarch And the pear farmers are struggling and no one is wearing lace these days and I don't feel like the confident Mia who showed up just a few years ago Instead I feel like the old Mia The insecure Mia The Mia I've known most of my life! And they're all waiting for me to fall on my face," she finished, taking a breath. Then with a wince, "Literally and figuratively. Just like in high school."
He shifted his gaze to her hands and swept his thumbs across them reassuringly. She watched him process her frantic monologue while he gave her a chance to catch her breath.
"Those are a lot of things to be worried about."
"Yes." She started to say more, but decided it was better to clamp her mouth down on the words.
He looked back up at her and began an impressive litany of rebuttals. "Your upbringing is a source of fascination, and most Genovians are grateful for your unique combination of royal habits and down-to-earth nature. You are already raising your son - we are raising our son - and I think we're doing a fantastic job, if I do say so myself. If you're worried about whether our child will be lacking in regal qualities with your grandmother around, then - Wait." His eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Have you met your grandmother?"
She chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it's inevitable some of that will rub off on him."
"Absolutely," he confirmed before picking up where he left off. "Farmers are a tough breed. They know they're at the mercy of the elements, and they've learned to be resilient. Fashion trends always come back around, even the ones that shouldn't. Who you are now is not a different person from whoever you were as an adolescent. You simply grew into the strong, remarkable woman you were born to be. And you're more graceful with each passing year. You rarely even stumble. So if they were waiting for you to fall - or fail - in high school or anywhere else, I think we can safely say that you showed them."
"I did?" she asked.
"No. Try again."
"I did," she stated, almost sounding like she meant it.
"Yes, you did. I think you would be safe to attend the reunion. If -" he hurried to add before she could object, "- you wanted to." He paused and gave the appearance of pondering something of great importance. "Unless there's a chance there might be chickens?"
She made a face at him. "I doubt it would be likely I'd run into livestock. Am I ever going to live that down?"
"No," he said with a charming smirk - Really, how did he even make smirks charming? - before turning serious again. "Now," he said, his eyes boring into hers, "what didn't we cover?"
"I think you pretty much addressed everything," she said, knowing full well she wasn't fooling him. She would have been twirling her hair by now had her hands not been so firmly clasped by his.
"I addressed the things you mentioned. What are you not telling me?"
His hypnotic solicitude drew out more than she was willing to share. More than he would want to hear. She sighed. "They think I've already failed…as a wife. They think our marriage is a failure."
His jaw tightened. She knew how much that caused him pain. How much it hurt him when Elsie delightedly reminded her viewers of his former reputation as a ladies' man, or when pictures of innocent interactions with women had captions asking whether a leopard could change his spots. "I have been faithful to you," he said, his voice low and his eyes still on hers.
"I know. But they don't. They think I can't keep your interest."
"Then they don't know you. Or me."
"They think it's why we don't have another child," she whispered.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place for him then. He stood, pulling her with him and taking her into his arms. He held her as close as humanly possible. "It's alright."
"It's not alright," she sobbed, unable to keep the tears from coming for another second. "What's wrong with me?"
The question was barely past her lips before he was answering it. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. We have one beautiful child, and if another is meant to be, he or she will come to us at the right time."
"But we've tried and tried!"
"The right time," he repeated. "Timing is everything with these things. You know that."
"I've been so busy lately. Maybe we just keep missing the right time." She didn't sound convinced by her own explanation.
"It's entirely possible."
"For five YEARS?"
"Yes. It's possible. Even for five years," he said, rubbing her back soothingly.
She tried out another reason. "I have been under a lot of stress. Maybe I'm too stressed."
"Gosh, I wonder why. I mean, I know you're ruling a country, but it is a small one."
She sputtered out a tearful laugh in spite of herself. "That's true." The laugh didn't last though, and heartache won out. "They keep waiting for another heir. But I don't want another heir. I want another child."
Nicholas eased her away so he could look at her again. His eyes were vibrant with moisture and a formidable intensity. When he spoke, all traces of his characteristically droll humor had dissipated.
"To hell with them," he spat. "To hell with people who want to speculate about our marriage and our family. I love you and you love me and we love Gregory. And we may not always be happy and life might not always go smoothly, but as your prince consort, I will always be in your corner. And as your husband, you will always have every bit of me. Mind, body, and soul - I will always be yours and yours alone."
For just that moment, there was nothing left - no more tears, no more words, no more doubts. No more multiple Mias. She threw her arms around him and he caught her up in a pain-numbing kiss, and then even the rest of the world fell away.
At least, for the moment.
to be continued...