"𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍..."
Beatrice "Birdie" Isley Kane is many things: a trust fund baby, a child star turned teen icon, and, in an unexpected twist, a British Royal.
But just months into her marriage to Prince Edwa...
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July 1990 Buckingham Palace
Daddy'll be cross again, Beatrice thought to herself, sighing quietly as she wringed her slender, sweaty, manicured hands, listening to her beating heart rival the quiet ticking of the clocks running all over that golden room. Like most decisions she made, Beatrice's primary concerns were whether or not her father would approve. She knew, however, that divorcing a Royal would be just another blunder to add to her constantly growing list of failures in his, and her mother's, eyes.
Quitting horse riding, her terrible lack of fencing skills, the Oscar loss of '82 and now this.
Her mother would ridicule her, naturally, and she was used to that by now but, disappointing her dear father was always the harder pill to swallow.
She could force it down for love, though. Real love that would be worth it.
For him.
"The cab awaits, Princess," Bertrand, her best-loved Palace official assigned to her security detail, announced after clearing his throat.
"Oh, yes," she murmured softly in her curious, but habitual Transatlantic accent. "Just a minute if you please."
She turned her face from the door and took the room in with a wide sweep. The White Drawing Room, her favorite room in Buckingham Palace.
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The painting of Queen Alexandra hung faithfully over a now defunct fireplace, overseeing the opulence of the quarter, reserved for occasional small gatherings and important guests, but Beatrice most remembered blasting a number of 70s and 80s tunes on her trusty Walkman in this very room as she feverishly penned heartfelt letter after heartfelt letter to her numerous fans across the globe. What had started off as a sweet hobby to pass the time quickly became more therapeutic than the very therapy sessions she'd committed to for the last two and a half years, though neither was quite as freeing as all the penance she'd done over the same amount of time.
She turned her head upwards and studied the luxurious crystal and golden chandeliers that hung from the grand and garnered ceilings, each one an ode to the wealth and artisanship the Royal Family had always had access to. She moved her eyes to the clear, sparkling and ornate mirror to the right of the outstanding painting, a mirror she had spent hours looking into, studying the lines of her face, almost convinced it displayed her best reflection. The gold detailing all around it and around the entire room had been a favored feature of hers. The white and the gold were such a perfect marriage, so simple yet regal, so timeless, and classical. But her eyes fell onto the red carpeting and she frowned. She had never liked it. Truthfully, she'd never taken a shine to much of any carpeting in general, but the red was particularly triggering.
