A/N: thank you to everyone that has read/reviewed this story and my previous works. Your support means more to me than you'll ever know. I have formed invaluable relationships from this fandom that I will treasure forever; you know who you are. Thank you for encouraging me to write and being a voice in an otherwise dismal time. Take care. xx

The Kingdom had been blessed with a mild December this year and Eleanor found herself foregoing her usual complaints about the chill in the air and how it was time for she and Liam to take off to the family's private estate in southern France.

Better yet, jet off to Monte Carlo to 'spend time' with her grandmother, the Grand Duchess of Oxford. In her advanced age, Duchess Alexandra had taken to spending her winters in warmer climates; preferably in the homes of other, single affluent men. Her grandmother had provided she and Liam with a cover story while they had gone out and partied on more than one occasion, without their respective security details.

Instead, she pretended that she wasn't pleased by the warmth radiating from the man at her side as they walked briskly towards the Winter Market that popped up annually alongside London's iconic South Bank. The closer they became, the foot traffic alongside them became thicker and thicker. Jasper seized the opportunity to close the remaining distance between them; they walked in sync, hand in hand; shoulder to shoulder. He held her hand tighter, occasionally running his thumb along hers. If he could sense her nervousness from the crowd, he didn't let it show.

Eleanor knew that it wasn't fair to keep her true identity hidden from him. Especially if he thought that this had a chance of going anywhere. Robert would have a stroke at the thought of her bringing home an American after the stunt that Liam was currently pulling. Right or wrong, she wasn't ready to give all of this up just yet and she was going to be selfish, just this once.

The pair of them had fallen into a comfortable silence, each taking in the sights and sounds. The English sycamores the lined the South Bank embankment were usually bare at this time of year and the city had taken advantage of it by adorning them with thousands of strings of twinkling lights, bathing the river's edge in a warm glow.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Eleanor as they rounded the corner to the promenade. Nestled in the centre, amongst a sea of brightly coloured tents and market stalls was a group of carol singers. Eleanor smiled as they approached, their singing becoming louder and more clear. She leaned in closer to Jasper as he looked at her, his handsome face a mix of confusion and amusement. "It looks exactly like I remember! My dad used to sn- bring my brothers and I here when we were children," she explained sheepishly as they paused to listen to the remaining few bars of 'Carol of the Bells'. The song reminded her of her father, the late King Simon. It's heavy, dramatic instrumentals had always been his favourite. More than once she could recall seeing his fingers drumming on his knee along with the rhythm at the annual Royal Christmas Variety.

Since becoming king himself, Robert had made a point to have the song omitted from the line up earlier in the month. She knew that prior to their father's death, they hadn't been on good terms for reasons that were still unbeknownst to her. She recalled how their mother had tutted in the shadows; there was nothing that Queen Helena could do to override her son's demand. Another scenario where she had forcibly been reminded that she was no longer the reigning Queen of England.

Helena and her upper-class problems were the least of her concerns at the moment. Eleanor didn't dwell in her nostalgia long; the man next to her had found his opportunity to get her to open up to him more.

"Your dad?" Jasper replied interestedly as they paused in front of a stall selling coffee. "I could use a cup, how about you?"

"Tea, please," she interjected, locking eyes with the older man behind the counter. His eyes crinkled upon the realization of their mismatched accents. "I'm not much of a coffee drinker. You should know that," Eleanor continued playfully, bumping her shoulder with hers.

"Right," he chuckled, averting his eyes. Was it possible that Jasper was nervous?

"A proper English rose," the barista winked, sliding two paper cups across the wooden bar. "You're very lucky!"

"Oh, we're not-"

"-she isn't-"

She and Jasper immediately blurted denials over one another before abruptly stopped; both had realized that just mere moments before, they had been holding hands, and likely still would be if Jasper hadn't needed to reach for his wallet.

Jasper smiled sheepishly as he handed over a ten pound note. Eleanor could feel his eyes on her as she methodically added a splash of milk to her tea before carefully pressing down the plastic lid.

"Thank you. This blend is delicious," Eleanor praised, taking note of the name written above the stall. Simon's Social Tea. "My father's name was Simon."

"Used to work for the King. King Simon," he recalled fondly, thumbing to a photo of her father- his last official portrait- that was hanging on the inside wall. "Chose to retire from his Equerry staff shortly after his death, bless his soul. No well in Hell I would have served that brother of his, innit?

"Anyway dove, that blend is a chinese black tea leaf, with a hint of cocoa. King Simon always did like just a hint of sweetness. Used to say it was why he only had one girl, more than one would be too much sweetness!"

Eleanor smiled over her cup, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. The way she described her father's mannerisms and preferences were correct. Although she didn't recognize the man, Eleanor knew that once things settled after the holidays, she would make it her personal mission to put the Royal Warrant on this tea booth if it were the last thing she did whether her brother liked it or not.

"King Simon was a good man and I'm sure he would have loved the gesture," replied Eleanor kindly.

The man nodded his agreement. "He was. As is his son, Robert. A fine King with a beautiful Queen. His father would be proud, just as his people are. Long live the King!" he added with a hearty chuckle, and raised his mug of beer in their direction as they pulled away.

"Long live the King!" Eleanor lifted her cup in a mock toast, a small smile playing across her lips as she turned to rejoin Jasper's side. Conversation with patrons had always come easy for her; a trait that she knew that Robert had always been envious of. Liam, bless his heart, tended to think with the head between his thighs instead of the one on his shoulders and often blurted the wrong thing at most inappropriate time. There was a reason why Cyrus had been the one doing rural tours even though the twins were of age to travel alone.

They held eyes for a beat too long, and she knew that he knew. Eleanor could see the mischievous glint in the older man's eye; she foolishly hoped it was from the beer that he and his mates were drinking in the back, and not because he had just won a couple of hundred quid for giving D-Throned a Princess Eleanor sighting. If he truly did work under her father, and Truman by association, he would have recognized her immediately, and kept a sensible head in his retirement and would stay mum on the princess being incognito and on the arm of a new, unidentified beau.

For once, she was being recognized for being on someone's arm. They weren't on hers.

Jasper Frost accompanied by Eleanor Henstridge. Almost; Matilda Roberts was had now become an inconvenient cog in her wheel. Eleanor knew that when they did get back to his condo, she didn't want to have him breathing her ghastly middle name against her ear. She wanted to hear her real name fall from his mouth.

"Jasper, stop," Eleanor blurted out as she reached forward and grabbed his free hand. "I- I've been lying to you. If we're going back to your condo, I need to come clean with you about something."

His hand, which had previously wrapped itself around hers, became rigid. She refused to let him go, and stubbornly held his gaze. His bright, baby blue eyes were darkening, and not in the way she wanted. "What is it?" he said coldly, wrenching his arm free from her grasp. It was fruitless for her to try and hold on; she had seen his muscles. His strength was no match for her. "Do you have a boyfriend or something? Because if that's what this is Matilda, I'm not that kind of guy-"

"My name isn't Matilda," she interrupted, talking over him in a hushed, firm tone and took a step forward to close the distance between them. Eleanor grabbed ahold of the lapel of his wool coat, holding him in place. "My name is Eleanor. Eleanor Matilda Roberts. I didn't know you if you were going to perv me or not so I gave the barista my middle name. I saw you come into the Starbucks in the reflection on the glass."

He didn't relax as she expected him to, and that alarmed her. He continued to stare, and she decided to keep talking.

"Jasper," she moistened her lips and tried again. "That's it. I'm sorry. My name is Eleanor but my friends and family call me Len. Lenny. I will answer to all three. But I can't fuck you and have you say my middle name while you cum again. I can't. I don't have a boyfriend. I had a fiance. I left him four months ago because he asked me to marry him and I said no. I've spent the last four months working and not doing anything else until I met you and I don't want to let this go yet. I'm sorry I lied-"

"Eleanor," he cut in. Jasper lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek in his hand, effectively silencing her. She froze; she liked the way that he said her name with his mother tongue. It rolled smoothly off of his tongue; husky and rushed. El-in-or.

"Eleanor," she confirmed slowly. Annunciated each syllable on purpose. His expression was still guarded at as he stared at her. Waiting for her to crack with something else.

"Eleanor," repeated Jasper. His hand was still on her face. Burning her as he gently stroked her cheek.

"I like the way you say my name," said Eleanor. Sliding her hand up his chest, she coiled it around his neck and leaned forward as if she were going to kiss him, but paused when they were millimeters apart. The crowd moved around them, and neither seemed to care. For a moment, she was fearful that he was going to leave. The backstory surrounding Jasper's employment that Marcus supplied sounded dubious at best. But what if it were true?

The thought of her widowed, horny mother making a move on Jasper behind her back made her feel sick to her stomach. Made her want to keep him- this- hidden for as long as she possibly could before the monarchy and her status ruined it, as it did everything else.

"Eleanor," he said again; his voice huskier this time. His soft lips puckered against hers as he spoke, but he too refused to close the distance.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and Eleanor pressed her lips firmly against his. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, anchoring her body against his as he returned her kiss. Someone in the distance whistled loudly and they sprung apart, bringing them crashing back down to Earth. Eleanor buried her face in his chest; partially from embarrassment and partially out of fear of being recognized.

Neither of them noticed the silver-haired man holding two pairs of skates and his little girl watching them with a curious expression.

"Let's get out of here, and we can talk at my place? Where it's warm? I know I promised you a meal, but we can order in?" he suggested, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they turned away.

"Please," she agreed. Eleanor felt her body relaxing as she moulded hers into his side, and laid her head on his shoulder. She took another sip of her tea, and smiled to herself.

Inside, she was terrified.

Her concern over losing a man she had just met was highly out of character. Even long before she became involved with Beck, she was more of a use em' and leave em' kind of woman. More than enough male models and actors had done the walk of shame from the Palace. Some had been public, others had been not.

She would always recall the one who was so frightened of the King of England that he had made himself a bedsheet rope to escape without being seen. Unfortunately for him, he had been sighted by a group of tourists on the palace grounds and it had spread like wildfire over twitter. The Palace, on the advice of Rachel, who was acting on council of Queen Helena, chose not to comment, only that it was an 'internal matter' that was being dealt with privately by private security.

By private security, the statement had meant she herself sitting down in her mother's office to be berated for being a slut. She was better than a common slut. She was a princess, and princesses, according to Queen Helena, were not to be slutty.

She wasn't slutty.

She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and preferred to get off by an actual dick than a mechanical one.

Queen Helena had not been partial to that answer.

She had been young once too, but Eleanor knew she had spent her youth fulfilling her mother's bidding and making herself available for the bachelor King of England. Eleanor knew that her mother didn't fully love her father; she loved the status and everything that he brought with it. Simon loved her, but she loved another more.

Her mother's affair with her former lover was a well known secret within the palace walls.

Careers and lives would ruin if anything had ever been breathed to the press. It would surely be the end of the monarchy.

Perhaps her having a change of heart and dating a common, American man was exactly what she needed.

Robbie would understand, in time. Provided she didn't get pregnant.

Liam had fucked up enough as it were, and Eleanor knew that the family's redemption was now resting on her shoulders.

She wanted Jasper, it was true. The reality of their situation was that they barely knew each other. Would he still want her after he found out what she was? Who she was? Being in a relationship with her would demand a lifestyle change and put his entire life under a microscope, including his past in Las Vegas.

Whatever did or didn't happen, Eleanor had to hear it from him. Had to.

"I don't do this," she told him, breaking the heavy silence between them. Eleanor cast a brief look up at him, but Jasper was staring straight ahead although he now held her hand tightly in his.

"I think whatever this is is beyond that," he replied, looking down to briefly lock eyes with her. "All I know babe is that I can't let you go. Not yet."

Eleanor smiled. "The feeling is mutual."

"Good. It's not far now, trust me."

The fact that his mattress was lumpy and old (by her standards) was not the reason why she couldn't sleep. Eleanor lay on her side, watching Jasper's chest rise and fall peacefully in sleep next to her. She clutched his grey duvet to her chest as she watched him, her brow furrowed.

She wanted to wake him. She wanted to tell him.

She knew that she couldn't.

Everything had been perfect. They had returned to his condo; a modest 18th-floor 2-bedroom flat in a building along the Thames. A new development; she was fully appreciative of the modernity and the view that accompanied it. He ordered chinese and they ate it on his leather sofa and watched reruns of Royal and Beautiful at her request and by all accounts had acted like a perfect gentleman for the first episode and part of the second before he couldn't hide his disdain any longer.

Eleanor could feel his eyes on her, although she kept hers facing the television. He whispered in her ear that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Later in the evening; in the darkness of his bedroom as he drifted off to sleep next to her, Jasper begged her to not disappear on him. As if he could sense she was going to bolt the second she was sure he was asleep.

James was going to be less than impressed with this late night intrusion, but at least she was somewhere safe and relatively near home. He would want her back in the palace before the sun rose; the time was highly inconvenient for questions to be popping up from both family and press about with whom and where she had been spending her nights. Her schedule was filled from mid-morning to well into the evening. She and Willow needed to finalize the the menu for the Snow Ball the following evening. Her relationship with her sister-in-law had gotten off to a rocky start, but soon after the wedding- the reception, actually, both had gotten incredibly pissed and bonded over the burger truck that she herself had brought in as a gift to the bride and groom, knowing full well that the catered dinner would not be enough to counteract the open bar.

And now, she still wasn't quite ready to fess up the reason why she decided to play hookey and fuck off from James for the first time in months so she could shag a stranger who claimed that he didn't recognize her.

Eleanor stared at his sleeping form; mesmerized by the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. His breathing was steady and he didn't snore. She felt as if she could watch him forever; the thought of him lying next to her in her king sized bed back at the palace was nothing more than an unattainable dream. Robert would never sanction their relationship. Not with the way things were currently with Liam.

It was with that thought she carefully moved her slender body out from beneath his duvet.

At the foot of the bed, she could make out Jasper's crumpled dress shirt and her red knickers. Her bralette had to be somewhere between the sitting room and bedroom, and she hoped she would find it along the way. She had noticed a wireless phone in the kitchen, and she would be able to call James from the powder room on the first floor.

Eleanor carefully bent down and gathered the ball of fabric into her arms and crossed the room in three strides on the tips of her toes, light as a fairy. In this moment, she was grateful that her mother had forced her into ballet as a girl. Casting a final, sad look over her shoulder, she hesitated in the doorway. A small part of her wanted to stay. A large part of her prayed that he would wake up and talk her back into bed. That she didn't have anything to be scared of.

That he would stay hidden from her brother, the King of England, until he died or was dethroned, whichever came first.

She wasn't sure if her family would be so willing to let an American into their fold after what happened the last time with her great uncle. Thankfully, this one never made it to the altar, and was not divorced. Jasper didn't have social climbing ambitions. None that she could tell, anyway. For all she knew once he found out who she really was, things would change. He would sell their story for a book. There would be a tour.

Her life would be ruined.

Robert would surely lock her in the Tower of London.

Eleanor scoffed at the thought. As if. She knew damn well that she had her elder brother wrapped around her finger; it had been that way since the day she was born. She was the only girl. The youngest daughter. The princess.

When push came to shove, Eleanor knew full well that even Robert's mercy had a limit, and his limit with his sister was reached the minute she declined Beck's marriage proposal.

Because best friends, or something. She could see it reflected in his eyes. A deal had been misconstrued because of her. Beck was expected to become a prince; a rare gift that was reserved for someone as privileged as he.

Jasper remained motionless on the far right side of the bed, his sleep undisturbed by her departure. Eleanor pulled the door closed, and quickly pulled on her underwear and his button down. His starched dress shirt was soft and hung loose on her lithe figure. Her fingers did the buttons up halfway as she descended down the staircase. His scent surrounded her and she found the sandalwood and bergamot of his cologne comforting.

Entering the small, galley kitchen Eleanor's eyes flitted over to the range; the time flashed back at her: 4:40am.

James was definitely going to have some choice words for her. James didn't care that she was royalty. He treated her as if she were his own flesh and blood. A feeling she had not been used to in a while. Despite his very best efforts at parenting from afar, King Simon couldn't contain tame her wild ways, either. He thought she was acting out. In reality, he didn't understand what had happened to his sweet little girl.

She pondered the same thing herself more than once before snorting a line of cocaine through a twenty-pound note with her father's face on it.

Rolled face facing inside, always.

Eleanor plucked the phone of it's dock, and a piece of mail that was sitting unopened on the granite countertop. Padding her way down the darkened hallway, she felt around for the handle, her fingers finally closing around the smooth handle. Letting herself inside, she was thankful for the small nightlight. She turned on the sink, and sat down on the edge of the tub, and turned on the phone.

She had lied to him earlier. She had James' number memorized. Of course she did. Had to.

"Hill."

"It's me," she said softly, her voice hoarse from sleep.

James didn't reply immediately, instead a long, exasperated sigh waifed through the earpiece and Eleanor couldn't help but roll her eyes. And he thought she was dramatic.

"Of all the times-"

"James, save it for the car," Eleanor interjected as she turned over the invoice on her bare knees. "This is where I am. It's not far."

He told her to be outside in ten minutes, and disconnected the call without another word.

Eleanor closed her eyes, and inhaled a deep breath. She felt the hot tears spill over, and curse herself as she haphazardly wiped them away. She wasn't going to cry over a man she barely knew. She couldn't.

She turned off the tap and slipped back into the hallway, and stood motionless, listening for any signs of movement from upstairs, but it never came. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she located her trench coat and shrugged it on over her shoulders, and tied the sash tightly around her waist. She peered into the den, but amongst the pillows and blanket on the floor, she couldn't locate her jeans. It was fruitless.

James was going to murder her. It was mid-December, and she was clearly freshly-fucked. Wearing nothing but a men's button down and a trench coat.

If James didn't berate her on sight, her mother certainly would. Thankfully, Helena would never have the chance. If she found out that James lost track of her and that she took off with a strange American man, on purpose, neither would see the light of day again. Robert's wrath be damned.

Her hat, she had come to realize, was still back in Jasper's office at Harry Winston.

And there it would have to stay, she decided.

On a hook by the staircase, a plain, black ball cap hung alone. She swiped it without a second thought, and put it on her head, shielding her face in case the worst did happen.

Eleanor took one last long, lingering look up the stairs, and bit her lip.

"Don't disappear on me," he had pleaded.

All he had to do was look, and he would find her.

She prayed he wouldn't take too long.

"She's been in a right mood for the last two days."

"Is she trying to quit smoking again?"

"Is she on the rag?"

For the last two days, she could hear the whispers amongst her family, and the staff. She was unusually quiet. Moody. Snappish.

Nothing was good enough for her. Nothing. Willow knew something was up, but she didn't press. Instead Eleanor allowed her to take the reigns of the final preparations for the ball, and allowed her to retire to her room. She would come to her when she was ready. Eleanor had trust issues; she never did have much luck with authentic friends and she was naturally wary of her brother's new bride, regardless of how smitten he was.

And now, she stood staring moodily at her reflection; she was wearing a silver-sequined gown and her hair was styled back in a messy, loose bun. Her makeup was done tastefully. She knew she looked good, and despite it she was nervous. It was her first public appearance in months since she declined Beck's proposal.

Within hours, her face was going to be plastered all over the internet with the tiara Robert was to be gifting her.

Eleanor moodily sipped her champagne; just what she needed. To be photographed in a Harry Winston couture piece that Robert had specifically picked out for her.

She wished she had time to-

A loud knock on her bedroom door broke her out of her internal musings, and she flinched, nearly spilling her champagne over her dress.

"Eleanor? Are you decent?"

"Metaphorically speaking, no I am not," she shouted back as she threw back the rest of her drink, and purposefully slammed the crystal flute down on her dressing table.

She could practically see Robert's eye roll in her mind's eye.

"Can you come out here? Or are you going to stay in your closet all night? I've got something for you."

"I'm sure you do," she muttered under her breath.

She took one final look at her reflection. Swiping her pinky finger along her lower lip to fix her gloss, she spun on her heel and crossed the threshold back into her room, eyebrows raised.

Across the room, standing next to her brother holding a black, wooden box in his linen-gloved hands, was Jasper.

If he recognized her, he didn't let it show. His face was stoic and expressionless as he stared at her. He was looking at her, and he wasn't all at the same time.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely, putting her hand on her hip as she stood next to her bed.

"I've brought you something," he gestured to the box in Jasper's hands, a wide smile on his face. "I don't know what's put you in such a state these last few days, but I hope this helps. Recovered from the last German dynasty. The Mountbatten Star Tiara has been underground for nearly fifty years, Lenny."

Her eyes flickered over to the box. Damn. He did know her well.

"Smile Lenny, it's Christmas. It's your favourite holiday."

Lenny.

The corner of Jasper's mouth twitched. She saw it, and she knew that he knew that she saw it.

She had been caught.

His fingers moved over the golden clasp on the front of the box, and lifted the lid. Nestled amongst blue velvet, was the tiara in question, and even more beautiful than the pictures she had seen of it. She'd had her eye on it in the past, but hadn't put the effort in to track it down. Had it actually belonged to someone else and not pilfered from post-wartime spoils, she was sure she'd never have a chance like this.

Being a Princess did have its occasional privileges.

"Thank you, Robbie. It's lovely."

"You've got to be kidding me," Jasper exclaimed as realization dawned on him. "This is what you were hiding? This is why you left, Eleanor?"

Robert's jaw dropped as he looked between the two, racking his brain for how the pair could possibly know each other given their respective capacities. "Mr. Frost, you will refer to my sister as Princess Eleanor," Robert rounded on him, but Eleanor took a step forward and held her hand up.

"Robbie, shut up. It's fine. We've met before."

"You've met before?" he scoffed in disbelief.

Eleanor stared at her brother, her eyes narrowing. "Get out of my room, Robbie. In here you're my brother first, and my king second. I am grateful for your gift and I will wear it, but Jasper and I have to talk. I'm sure his hands are more than capable of fixing a tiara on my head. He's wearing linen," she added.

"You've got some explaining to do. Whatever this is, stays in this room. You will not let the press-"

"Get out," she cut him off, her voice raising an octave.

Roberts mouth snapped shut; he recognized the tone in her voice and knew well enough to not get on his sister's bad side during a moment like this.

"Don't be long," he said warningly, casting one final look between the two of them and left without another word.

She and Jasper stared at each other at a loss for words.

"You look beautiful," he offered lamely, setting the box carefully down on her coffee table.

She smiled sadly. "Thank you."

"Eleanor-"

"-I'm sorry-"

They spoke over each other, and then fell silent again.

"I'm sorry," she tried again, stepping forward. "I shouldn't have- I was scared. Robbie's reaction- this-"

"I'm not good enough for you," he stated. "That's it, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "It's not that," she assured him. "My life- how things have been over the last year- I promised I'd stay out of the papers. Dating a handsome American is not staying out of the papers."

"Dating, huh?" replied Jasper silkily as he moved to close the distance between them.

"I just wanted Christmas to feel like it used to," she whispered as he gently cradled her face in his hands. He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip.

"And did it?" he whispered back, leaning forward. She could feel his warm breath fan across her face, and she closed her eyes. "When I woke up and you were gone… I didn't know what to do. I tried to Google you. I figured out pretty quick that you were full of shit."

She smirked. "It was a new tradition," she reasoned. "I didn't feel so alone with you. Fuck whatever my brother says. I'm not losing you."

"This is insane," he laughed against her lips. She tried to kiss him, but he pulled back and shook his head 'no'. "Nothing about this is conventional. I want to keep spending Christmas with you, Eleanor. This one and every one after it."

"And every day in between?" she asked carefully.

"And every day in between," he confirmed, and pressed his lips firmly to hers.