Conversations on Flight – Chapter III
…that makes it six pm here in London so we are only now an hour away until the new Queen, Queen Alexandra we expect, delivers her first address to the nation, and indeed to the world.
If you've just joined us here on the BBC we're now approaching out 16th hour of coverage since news first hit of the shocking attack on flight BA01, the plane that was of course carrying King William V, his wife and two young sons from their Royal Tour of Australia. The airplane was shot down soon after refuelling in Dubai…with no ah…survivors.
Shocking. Just a shocking day.
Indeed. I think we're all trying to fathom it together. Just looking at the faces on the crowd out there you can tell no one could even conceive of something like this happening.
No. But if we look now we can see a convoy of cars…
Yes, heading towards the estate. This will be the Prime Minister and the cabinets of both the coalition and the opposition, on their way to show their support for the new Queen as the world meets her - really for the first time.
Yes unlike other members of the Royal family, Queen Alexandra, or more Princess Alexandra as she was before – as a Princess she was very much sheltered from the public eye.
The Princess in the Tower.
Of course. Much of that due her mother, who has always played such a large role in her life, protecting her from the press, taking her out of school after the attack three years ago…
While she herself has remained quite prominent.
Exactly. Her mother – the Queen Mother I should no doubt say now – I would not be at all surprised if what we see in this new reign as almost a shared rule. Which indeed could be…
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"Your Grace?"
The thin white sheet of paper trembled soundlessly between her fingertips.
Oh.
That was her now.
She looked up from the desk. Miss Lehzen stood like a tense string by the large wooden door of the darkened study, her old hands squeezing themselves together so tightly she almost thought they could burst.
"It is time."
No.
She looked back down at the piece of paper as every sharp line of black text seemed to taunt her with her unworthiness.
She couldn't do this.
Why did she think she could do this?
"There are make-up people are waiting outside…" Her old tutor continued unabated, her German accent clipping with impatience. "…we must go now if we are to make the scheduled broadcast."
The paper now began to flutter noticeably in her hand. She quickly let it go and pressed it down onto the desk with force, but her palms stilled thrummed with an anxious energy.
"I just need another ten minutes, Lehzen." Her small voice cracked out from her dry throat.
But her stalwart teacher's brow creased into a familiar sternness, no doubt feeling the pressure herself in her unexpected change of employment that day. "Please Drina we must – "
"Ten minutes." She forced herself to sit up straighter, to meet her companion's eyes in unpractised defiance. "Alone."
Lehzen's mouth opened but her protest was quickly withdrawn into a reluctant sigh. She instead gave a quiet bow and stepped lightly backwards, then promptly showed herself out.
The grand door closed with a sombre clack.
She pushed herself from the desk and stood up with a jolt.
Where was Dash?
She needed him. She needed something…
She should've asked Lehzen to get him before she left.
Stupid.
Now with was stuck with being alone. Alone with her stupid speech and her stupid nerves.
She wrapped her arms tight around her chest and squeezed her hands into tight fists to stop them from shaking as her heart began to throb at a painful speed against her ribs.
Over one billion people.
Conroy said that. Said that was how many people would be watching when she told him she was going to write the address to the nation herself.
How very brave of you Ma'am, but this is not a book report.
Even the memory of his simpering, twisted voice made her want to vomit in the waste paper bin. And her mother didn't even say anything to defend her. But then of again of course she didn't.
She had marched away from them as quickly as her stupid little legs could take her, heading straight to the study to write, determined to prove Conroy wrong – but the doubt followed. It seeped into every thought, into every strike of the keyboard, until she felt as if it consumed her whole.
What if he was right? What if she was about to make a fool of herself in front of over a billion people?
She couldn't even fathom a number so large but it still gripped her into a profound panic.
Was this the sort of thing she would have to deal with all the time as Queen? Queen. She was the Queen. How the hell can she be the Queen? She hadn't even gone to university yet. She'd been trapped at home. She didn't know anything. Didn't know about foreign affairs or government or politics or diplomacy. That was all her uncle. And her nephew. He was eleven and he knew more than her. He was so much smarter.
And now he was gone.
Dead.
Killed.
A choked cry ripped its way out of her throat as her lungs were being pressed down with a horrible weight and her ears throbbed with the pounding of her heartbeat.
There was a knock on the door.
It couldn't have been ten minutes – if she didn't answer then Lehzen would leave.
Another knock.
"Your Majesty?"
Her breath stopped in her tight chest and her eyes fixed to the door.
The Prime Minister. What was –
"May I come in?"
No.
"Yes."
Her mouth shot out the answer before she could stop herself. She grimaced in pain at her stupidity. She couldn't let him see her like this. But then if she didn't let him in would he think she was some petulant child, locking herself in her room?
The door began to open.
Quickly she tried to shake herself into normalcy, force her body into a confident form she had seen her uncle take before, and breathe.
She needed to breathe.
"Please forgive the intrusion Ma'am but I thought I should wish you luck before your…" Mr Melbourne entered with his husky voice, carefully closing the door behind him and approaching her now outstretched hand to take in formality within his own, but when he did his words died and she found herself faltering under his focused gaze.
Breathe.
Please breathe.
"I… I'm sorry Ma'am but are you feeling alright?" His brow creased in concern as he looked down at her, her hand starting to feel unbearably hot in his hands while her heartbeat sped towards a frantic rate.
"Fine." She pulled her hand back quickly and turned away. She couldn't do this in front of him. The Prime Minister… not after they just met. And she thought the meeting had gone so well. Now he'd know she was nothing but a weak little girl. Just like Conroy always said. She needed to get him out of here. She tried to exhale but nothing came. Her chest ached with a crippling weight when suddenly she felt a wide hand along her forearm.
"Please, Your Majesty…" His low voice pleaded softly as he guided her back to the dark leather lounge. "…please - just sit."
She felt her body going along with him but her eyes close themselves tight in abject embarrassment. If she could just take a proper breath she'd been fine she wouldn't be doing this in front of him…
"Ma'am. Look at me." She felt her hands being enveloped by two cool palms when she realised she was sitting on the lounge. "Please."
Her eyes shot open.
Green.
A deep green staring right at her.
"I'm going to take deep breaths and you're going to follow me, ok?"
Green that looked impossibly tired.
"Ok – now slowly – just watch me."
The man swelled his chest out the slightest bit from his crouched position from the floor in front of her, taking in a measured and deep breath.
Follow.
He told me to follow.
Her head pulsated with her frantic heartbeat when she opened her lips and attempted a breath, but her lungs felt trapped tight into a vice, only allowing shallow and jagged gasp out. She looked away. Pathetic. Couldn't even do the simplest task. He must think she's pathetic.
But he continued nonetheless. Slowly.
In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Hold.
Her eyes lifted themselves up again, wanting to judge his reaction, if he was impatient or annoyed – but his own green eyes remained the same. Kind. They were kind.
She'd never seen eyes like that.
A slight breath skimmed out from the top of her lungs. The corner of his mouth creased into the smallest of smiles as he gave an encouraging nod and continued with the steady pace of breathing.
In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Hold.
They found themselves falling into the same rhythm, the gradual swell and release, when she felt the gripping pain in her chest loosen bit by bit until it melted away into a slight tenderness and her lungs were free to fill themselves up with precious air.
In slowly. Hold. Out slowly. Hold.
And then he stopped.
She felt almost like she'd lost something, breaking their rhythm. He gave her hands a small squeeze when his eyes danced with a faint smile.
"Better?"
She took in a deep breath and gave a nod.
"Better."
The Prime Minister smiled fully now, such a warm smile, when his eyes left hers and he looked down to their joined hands. He let out a small cough and pulled his hands back to himself.
"Please um…excuse me Ma'am, if I have overstepped my bounds."
His bounds? No. Of course. She was his senior now.
"No." She countered quickly, relieved she had found her voice. "I am… very grateful for your help." She tried a smile, when a black claw of doubt climbed back up into her gut. "You won't – you will not tell anyone about – "
"I wouldn't dream of it, Ma'am." He replied adamantly, to which she couldn't help but trust him. A man she hardly knew.
"Thank you." She smiled fully now, and he mirrored it with his own, when he gave a small huff and pushed himself up from his crouched position on the floor.
"No need to thank me, Ma'am." Mr Melbourne started as he gave a look around the small confines of the dark office then found his direction. "I'm just glad I was here to help you, that's a horrible thing to have to go through alone." He walked up the small stainless silver mini fridge under the wooden gin cabinet and retrieved a bottle of water.
She watched him carefully as he returned with the small plastic bottle outstretched to her in offering. Was that why he seemed to know exactly how to help her? "Has that happened to you before?" She took the bottle gladly.
His eyes darted downwards with a peculiar sadness, as he brought his now empty hands together and rubbed them absentmindedly.
"Once."
She shouldn't have pried. But still she found he interested her greatly. She felt like she already knew him so well - knew a version of him that was online, on the news, that her mother and Conroy and Lehzen gossiped about, that was so constantly present and well formed – The Playboy PM, The Eton Bastard, Labour's Last Resort, Tabloid Willy – she had been so nervous to meet that man.
But this… this man in front her now felt like another person completely. Someone utterly unexpected.
She looked down to the chilled plastic bottle in her hands as the condensation pooled at her finger tips when she took a slow, soothing draught of the water, then played with the small blue plastic cap on the top of the bottle while she waited for Mr Melbourne to speak. To ask her to hurry up.
But instead there was silence. A shuffle of shoes then the slide of wood against wood as one of the old chairs was brought up opposite her on the leather lounge, and then on which the Prime Minister sat himself down. Then silence.
She concentrated as her heartbeat slowly descended back into a steady pace. He didn't say anything, but she didn't feel as if he was waiting on her. Instead she felt something else. She'd felt a tinge of it that morning when she was looking out the window and he had shared his condolences, but now it rose within her like a soothing plume. Something intangible and unknown to her. Like she could admit something of herself and it would be ok.
Ok.
"I haven't given a speech to anyone since I was 14." She tested, forcing her eyes up now to look at Mr Melbourne, who was leaning forward in his small chair, his forearms resting on his lap. "I mean, besides Lehzen."
"Well…" His eyebrows danced slightly. "I can't think of a harder audience then that, Ma'am."
A laugh took her utterly by surprise. It shot up out of her like a heavenly burst of relief.
Mr Melbourne just gave small smile.
"No. I suppose not." She gave a sigh. "No doubt she's whipping everyone into shape outside then?"
"Give her another half hour and even my own cabinet will have replaced me with her." He gave a waggle of his brow, but then his expression changed into something more earnest. "She is an excellent choice for Private Secretary, Ma'am."
"Yes." She smiled to herself as a slight inkling of pride returned to her heart. "Yes I think she is." She looked down at her hands again until she found the will to take the next step.
But it was time.
Deep breath.
Look up.
"How do you do it?" She asked with a clear voice. "Give all those speeches to so many people?"
The Prime Minister shifted in his seat, clasped his hands together and looked up in the air as if looking for the answer when he gave a sigh. "I… well Ma'am I'm sorry for the language but to be honest, I guess I try not to give a rats arse about whatever I'm talking about."
"What?" She couldn't help but let out the smallest of giggles.
"Apathy is a surprisingly good palliative." He shrugged.
"You're joking." She smiled.
"Yes." He admitted. "Well, no. It is important to care, Ma'am. Indeed caring is the lifeblood of humanity – but it does make one horribly susceptible to doubt. Because now you have something to loose." His eyes flashed with a sudden sadness, but then he quickly shuffled himself forward in his chair and locked her in his sights. "There will be a lot of people watching you tonight Ma'am. More than you can even imagine; that is true. But they will be watching because you are the Queen. You are the sovereign of this great nation. You. Not me, not your uncle or Lehzen or even your mother. However you go out there, whatever you say – nothing will change that fact."
She sat uneasily on the lounge. "What if I only tell everyone to bugger off?"
"Then you will be praised for your brevity." He gave a kind smile. "You can do this Ma'am. I know you can. We'll have your speech on the teleprompter, so you won't forget your words, and worst comes to worst I'll be standing close - so if you ever doubt yourself, just have a look over at my daft old mug and remember that if the public still tolerate me as their PM, then they're going to absolutely adore you as their Queen."
Her cheeks unexpectedly flushed with a sudden heat, forcing her to look away from his eyes. But she couldn't deny the swell of confidence he'd gifted her. A small voice told her he would surely say anything to get her out there, but for some reason she seemed to trust him anyway. He believed she was the Queen. And so she was.
"Ok." She rose up from the lounge, to which he looked up at her in surprise, when she walked with determined steps over to the desk where her abandoned speech lay.
"Ok." He echoed in support and stood up as well. "Let's introduce everyone to the new Queen Alexandra."
"No." She said simply as she picked up her piece of paper.
"What?"
"No." She repeated with renewed confidence and met the Prime Minister's eyes across the room. "Everyone calls me that even though I've always hated it. But now I'm the Queen. And I will be Queen on my own terms. So from now on I will called Victoria."
"Queen Victoria." Mr Melbourne pronounced with a soft smile, causing a flutter in her heart. "Well then, Queen Victoria, hows about you and I take that new name of yours out for a spin?" He waved out his hand to the door with a charming glint of his eye.
Victoria folded the up the paper and held it tightly in her hand.
Yes.
She could do this.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr M."
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NB:
Yes hello welcome to the wonderful world where Lord M is definitely not dead and in fact has access to all sorts of medical treatment should he ever fall ill. What happiness!
But yes, hello, this fic has returned from the depths from which it came. But now I've got like a plot and planning for this so I'll say right here I fully intend to see this through the end, so hopefully you can stick around for it! That's if you like it in the first place…. Hmm… seem I doth presume too much.
Well, please drop a review if you like it! Or are mildly ok with it! Or, you know, to say hi or bye or shalom! Reviews are the blood to my leechy brain. Thanks so much for reading!