Alexandria was only ever meant to be a princess. A scandalous socialite to grace the covers of gossip magazines and twitters trending page.
When her older brother tragically dies in a suicide, Alexa suddenly becomes the next heir to the English thr...
"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." -C.S Lewis ♛•♛•♛
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I saw a blur of gray cross my vision.
Or maybe that was just the mascara I smeared across my eyelids with the back of my hand.
I watched as Alfie stumbled out of the hall, a sloppy, drunk mess, and breathing suddenly became the hardest thing in the world. My chest expanded with shame. It squeezed all the oxygen from my lungs until I was stumbling too.
"Are you alright Alexandria?" My mother whispered, her voice hollow. Her fingernails which had caught me, dug crescent moons in my skin. I needed to go after Alfie, but she sensed my urge and her hand squeezed tighter. "I don't think it'd be best to follow him right now."
I swallowed a painful, jagged rock in my throat. "I don't really care what you 'think is best' anymore."
She let go of my arm like she'd been stung and I stepped forwards. Leena's eyebrows were furrowed as she moved forwards, trailing me. The hall had erupted in scandalized whispering, which stuck to my skin like hot wax.
I needed to get away from all the whispering, all the judgement.
And I needed to scream at my brother.
I didn't wait for the guards to open the doors, and instead pushed through them roughly myself. I blinked away hot, heavy tears as my footsteps distanced me away from my version of hell- Britain's Elite.
"Calm down, please." Leena said, her voice a strict warning. "The tabloids don't need another-"
I whipped around so fast a strand of my hair came loose from my immaculate bun. "Is that all you care about?" I snapped, my voice a fraction too loud for the thin walls of the palace. "My brother is dead and you're worried about the tabloids?"
"I'm worried about you." Leena responded just as quickly and fiercely. Though she didn't need to raise her voice to be intimidating like me. "That is my job, your Highness. I worry about tabloids when you decide not to because I'm the one who has to salvage your reputation every time you ruin it."
I groaned in frustration as I turned away, my thoughts running rampages in my head. I was acting like a child. Throwing a fucking tantrum. But I was so- angry.
I didn't want to be in this stifling black formal dress, with its high neck that felt like a tightening noose. I smelled my misery and gloom, and my head was foggy.
Alfie was hunched over in his bed, Harold rubbing his shaking shoulders comfortingly when I entered his bedroom.
I froze, anger slowly dissipating from my chest like rotting leaves. I couldn't scream at Alfie, not when he was like this- so broken.
"Dia?" Alfie mumbled, turning his neck to look at me. His eyes were blood shoot and glazed.
"Why didn't you come to Henry's funeral?" I managed, my voice barely hanging on. I felt like an acrobat balancing on a line of string, wind wrestling to push me over on all sides.
