Alexandra's POV
Being pregnant on your birthday sucks. My least favorite thing used to be disorganization and incorrectly spelled words. Being pregnant shouldn't be on the list of an eighteen-year-old girl. I actually think Mother was pregnant with Michael at this age, but I still hold it against myself that I did it before marriage.
It was a drunken night. Alex and I never would have done it had we not been under the influence of alcohol. We had too many champagnes the night he proposed, one thing led to another, and here I am, feeling like a whale.
Mother has been really helpful after I said sorry. Silvia has been getting me books on how to manage a child while being a princess. And Alex? He's been at my side always. I'm in love with him, and I'm glad that I do. I know he feels the same way.
My dress is nothing short of convenient and spectacular. It's an empire waist gown that's a champagne color. My feet have been getting broader and my ankles more swollen, so I settle for sandals that are hidden beneath my dress. I wear it with my tiara, one that has a twin pair that belongs to Riley. Hers has a beautiful pearl in the center while mine has an alexandrite gem—our birthstones.
I thank my maids and Alex knocks at my door. "Happy birthday, ma chérie." He takes my hand and kisses it.
"Hello to you too," I say as he leads me to the Great Room.
"You are now eighteen!" he says, as if my age is something to be proud of. Age is but a number. Numbers don't quite matter to me.
"Yes, which means this is the eighteenth birthday I've had."
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "I got you something."
Right outside the room, he pulls out a beautiful necklace from his pocket. "This was my mother's," Alex says. "It's been passed down to the next queen of France for generations."
"Alex, it's lovely." He doesn't hesitate to put it around my neck. "But what about Madeleine, your sister?"
"She's not the next queen of France, nor my future wife." He smiles and kisses my forehead before we walk inside.
Everyone's already in festive moods, and many are puddled around Rilane. Of course. She's the more popular twin. She's the one that uses cool lingo and doesn't spend her nose in books. She's not the one stupid enough to get drunk and pregnant.
Men and women from around the world greet me happy birthday, and as I thank them, I feel mixed emotions inside of me. I've always felt very conflicted about my twin sister. She has our mother's magnificent blue eyes, whereas I just have simple brown. Riley's wearing a pretty dress the color of saffron. Not everyone would look appealing in such a bright, outlandish color, but Rilane makes everything look good. She could wear a gunnysack and look beautiful.
I admire her, but I'm not jealous. I still got her a present after all. I know she disapproves of my pregnancy, and we haven't been as close as before (but then again we were in the womb at the same time; you can't get much closer than that).
"Alexa! Happy birthday!" I turn to the voices and and it's Xander with Maria.
"Thank you," I say demurely.
"Big sis, I have a present for you," Xander says. He pulls out a picture frame, and the photograph is amazing—or rather, photographs. It's a collage of me with everyone I love, from my parents, all my siblings, Alexander, even Maria and Tess. A bigger picture warms my heart when it's just a picture of me with Xander.
"Thank you so much," I say, tears threatening to spill. I give him a hug and Maria turns to me.
"I know it's not much, again, but I made a bracelet for you," she says. She pulls out a woven bracelet, and her skills truly are impressive. The colors of the strings are white, yellow, and green.
I give my (probably) future sister-in-law a hug. "Thanks so much," I say. "Love you guys so much."
"Love you too," they both say, and they leave Alex and me alone.
"I think we should greet your sister," he says, and I nod.
I walk to Riley, feeling fidgety because I haven't spoken reasonably with her in a while. "Happy birthday, Rilane," I say.
She's absolutely glowing, like our previous fights never happened. "Happy birthday to you too, Alexandra!" She gives me a hug, and it feels so good to have my twin sister again. People say their spouses or significant other is their other half, but Riley is my true other half.
"I, um, got you something," I say, giving her the small box encapsulated by my sweaty hand. "I know you have dozens of jewelry but..."
Riley opens the box, and I swear, tears fill her eyes. It's a locket, and inside are two pictures—on the left frame is a picture of us when we were toddlers, and the other is of us a few months ago.
"Alexa, it's lovely," she says, giving me another hug. "The funny thing is..." Riley pulls out a box from a conveniently concealed pocket of her dress. She gives it to me, and I laugh when I see that it too is a locket. I open it up and the pictures are of us as identical witches for Halloween, and the other is her dressed up as a cheerleader and me as a scientist for last year's Halloween.
I laugh at how similar we think, yet we are so different. "I'm sorry about giving you a hard time," she says. "I just...didn't think it would happen to you, of all people."
"Yeah, me neither," I say.
"Princess Alexandra," says a stern voice. I turn around and there's King Henry, flown all the way from France. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers are twitching. He doesn't seem entirely focused. Is it because of his illness?
Riley, the entire puddle of people surrounding us, and I curtsy to him. "King Henry," I say. He's going to be my father-in-law. It is the epitome of non compos mentis, literally meaning "not of sound mind". It's insanity.
"Happy birthday, Princess Alexandra," he says, kissing the back of my mind. "It is so wonderful to finally meet you." He sees the ring on my left hand, the hand he's still holding. "I see Alexander has proposed," he says, obviously pleased.
"Yes, he has," I reply.
King Henry hums in response and grabs his son. "I need to talk to you," he says in French.
Alex just shrugs, reassuring me that everything's okay. "Rilane! Alexa!" says a buoyant voice. Tess gives each of us a hug, followed quickly by Matt.
"Happy birthday," Tess says breathlessly, as if she's been dancing and drinking a bit. "I have your presents, duh," she says, handing both of us two carefully wrapped gifts. I open mine, and I'm delighted when I see two books (one is an autobiography, the other is a historical fiction novel that's the third in the trilogy).
"Thank you so much," I say, giving her another hug. Riley gasps when she sees hers.
"The new Miraggiano clutch?!" she squeals. "It's not even out yet! How did you get this?"
Tess shrugs. "Constantino Miraggiano is an old family friend. He was more than happy to oblige when I requested that bag for you."
"You even got my favorite color!" (It's a soft light pink, a color I would never see in my closet.)
"I'm glad you like it," Tess says. "Come on, Matty, let's dance."
"Thanks again!" Riley and I say.
Riley opens her bag, and I open my book, because we both know how Matthew is. I get a bookmark that's made of thin gold, engraved with my name and a flower (a hibiscus, my favorite). Riley has dangling diamond earrings. I've always wondered what a birthday would be like if we weren't royalty. Would we get more genuine gifts like Maria's? I'm sure I would still get books, but probably ones that everyone sees in bookstores, not newly bound first editions (and when I saw first edition, it's literally the first).
Jerome gives Riley a kiss on her cheek. "Happy birthday, you two," he says, handing Rilane and me a hastily wrapped gift, the corner protruding like dog's ears.
I open mine, and I laugh, even though half of me is insulted and the other is easily amused. Jerome, always the joker. "Mothering for Dummies," I read aloud. "Thanks, Jer."
"Aw, baby, this is the best," Riley croons, giving Jerome a kiss. It's a card, hand-made, and inside is his clumsy, slanted scrawl. I'm betting it's a poem. Jerome is a jester, but he can be poetic when he wants to be. I think he publishes things under a pen name.
It makes me wonder where my love is. I rush to get out quickly, but my mother and father greet us first on a microphone. Riley and I get cheers and claps, and Mother and Father give us both our gifts before I can leave. They both give us keys. This makes me stay an extra minute. I bury my parents in hugs and kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much," Riley and I say to them over and over. A new car is a big deal for the both of us.
"What color is it?" Riley asks. We laugh because it's an expected question coming from her.
"Riley, yours is a cherry red convertible, like you wanted," Mother says.
"And Alexa, you have a silver hybrid car," Father tells me.
I love how everyone knows us so well. We enshroud them in more hugs before I excuse myself to leave. I rush up to his room, and I have my hand poised and ready to knock until I hear King Henry's haughty voice. He's speaking in rapid, angry French.
"Did you do as I asked?" Henry says.
"Yes, Father, I have," Alex replies, quite tiredly too. "You saw her ring."
"Are you certain she is in love with you?"
"Yes, Father."
"And is she pregnant already?"
I hold back a gasp. What does he mean by already?
"Yes, Father."
"Very good, Son. You make your father proud. Now we can go on with the plan and kill Alexandra once the child is born."
What?!
I can hear anymore. I'm more than hurt, more than offended. My heart is disintegrating every millisecond I breathe. I can't believe I was part of a plot that isn't even clever nor elaborate.
And I fell for it.
I'm just a piece in their plan, a pawn in their game. I'm expendable to them, like spoiled milk that deserves to be thrown away. I don't even need to ask the entire scheme.
Henry just wanted me to be pregnant so he knows his line of succession is certain. The Pierre lineage is definite so far as his grandchild is born. I'm hoping now it's a girl. I want to spite that man. And now that I think about it, Alexander too. I can't believe I allowed myself to even think he loved me.
And I returned the feeling.
God, I am such an imbecile! I can't even think right now. I want to rip every hair on my head by the roots. My pregnancy isn't an accident. It's an essential stage in a stupid stratagem.
I can't stop thinking about this. I don't—can't—believe in love anymore. Men want power, and that is all. Love makes a fool of everyone, and my siblings have fallen into love's trapping clutches.
Ooh, spiteful Alexandra. Yikes.
Question of the day: If you could have any birthday present, regardless of money and it is entirely limitless, what would it be? (Unicorn is a viable answer.)
Answer to previous QOTD: Thanks so much for your opinions! I know EXACTLY what I'm going to do, so don't you worry about it :) Besides, no one said Matthew was going to live long enough for that scene to happen anyway :P
Thanks for the reviews!
Kiren- Haha heels are fun...until you fall on your face :P What if Matt blacks out on the day of the wedding...Thanks for the idea!
Property of Illea- Oh, don't worry. It's going to be NOTHING compared to the actual rated M stories. I don't think I'll be able to live with myself if I write a super smutty chapter. Like, seeing myself in the mirror would probably disgust me, and using my brain to think up that kind of story instead of doing brilliant things would horrify me. If you want any ideas on how I was planning to write it, and maybe you'd like it too, there is a certain scene in Champion by Marie Lu and a certain scene in Graceling by Kristin Cashore. It didn't go in detail, but you knew the emotions and such. Thank you for the review!
LovableL101- Thank you for the opinion! And I love writing Maxerica :) If I could write a Maxerica and a "Messy" moment EVERY chapter, I would. Thank you so much!
PokemonLuver151- Thanks for your opinion! I appreciate it :)
selectionprincess59- Thank you!
Athenachild101- I wouldn't make it in detail, don't worry. I know what you mean about losing readers, but don't worry about it. I know exactly what I'm going to do. (I wouldn't be able to write that kind of super detailed "he did this to me" kind of thing; I don't think I'll be able to live with myself and think of myself the same way.) This will NEVER be M-rated. Promise. Genuine Girl Scout's honor, because I used to be a Girl Scout. Thank you!
olive . ivy . clo- First of all, AWWW! Thank you so much! There were so many compliments packed in that review, and thank you! Yeah, I know what you mean when they it's either "she closes the door" or "the rest was history" or something super cheesy and cliche, and I don't want my stories to be like that. When there's a cliche moment in any of my stories, I mention that it's a cliche moment, because it is, and there's no liking for cliches. But I digress. Thank you so so much!
LittleMissTori- Haha my story is your life? Nah, your life is probably much cooler than my stories :) But thank you. That's very nice of you to say. I want the world to be full of Matthews. Haha Maxerica moments equals #tbt. :P Thanks so much!
WinteryRose- Don't worry. The chapter will be...not "perfect" because I'm not perfect, but it will be good for everyone, I promise. No one will be scarred, no one will be offended, no one will feel like a pervert, this won't be a stereotypical fanfiction (cuz we all know why fanfics are notorious and hated sometimes). Thanks for your opinion!
SJWrites2014- Ugh, stupid, hungy computer gods :P That's why I only believe in one. Lol I sound so religious :P You really should title my chapters! They're perfect. Literally. Perfect. Thank you!
ilona18- Don't worry, I got it covered :) Thanks so much!
winterprincess- I don't think it's right for parents to have a favorite, but personally, I think it would make sense if Maxon and America each had a favorite because it was so clear America was her father's favorite, and Maxon was an only child (even though his father abused him). And rambling is fine :) Just not during a presentation or a public speech. I've had the opposite of rambling. It's awful. And I'm rambling. Thank you so much!
Love ya!- AcademicGirl
