Walking the Tightrope
Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of Alexandra's opulent bedroom, casting golden streaks across the room. The quiet serenity of the morning was interrupted by a soft knock at the door, followed by the unmistakable voice of Queen Eleanor.
"Alexandra, darling, we're coming in," her mother announced, not bothering to wait for a response.
Alexandra bolted upright, panic flooding her veins as the door handle twisted. She glanced at Taylor, still half-asleep beside her, hair tousled and wearing nothing but one of Alexandra's oversized button-down shirts.
"Wardrobe," Alexandra hissed, yanking Taylor out of bed.
"What? Why?" Taylor whispered, her voice groggy.
"My mother is here!" Alexandra whisper-shouted, shoving Taylor toward the ornate double doors of the wardrobe. "And probably half her staff."
Taylor's eyes widened as she grabbed her clothes from the floor, slipping inside just as the bedroom door swung open.
Queen Eleanor strode in, flanked by two assistants and her personal secretary, Roger. Her sharp eyes scanned the room, landing on Alexandra, who was attempting to look casual while perched on the edge of her bed in a hastily thrown-on robe.
"Good morning, Alexandra" Queen Eleanor said, her tone clipped but affectionate. "You look... well."
"Good morning, Mother," Alexandra replied, forcing a smile. "What brings you here so early?"
"We need to discuss the plans for The Garden Party" Queen Eleanor said, gesturing for Roger to lay down a folder. "And I wanted to check in on your father's recovery. He mentioned you've been quite busy lately."
"Busy?" Alexandra echoed, her heart racing. "Not really. Just, you know, the usual royal duties."
The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly, a skeptical look crossing her face. "I see. And what is that?"
As the Queen spoke, one of the assistants began tidying up the room, moving dangerously close to the wardrobe. Alexandra's stomach dropped when she saw the assistant reach for the handle.
"Don't touch that!" Alexandra snapped, louder than intended.
The assistant froze, blinking in surprise. The Queen raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Alexandra," she said slowly, her tone dripping with suspicion. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
"No, of course not," Alexandra said quickly, trying to appear calm. "It's just... my wardrobe is a bit disorganized. I'd prefer to handle it myself."
Queen Eleanor's gaze lingered on her daughter for a moment before she waved the assistant away. "Very well. Let's focus on the Garden Party. Roger, go over the guest list with her."
As Roger began detailing the event's logistics, Alexandra's mind raced, her focus split between the conversation and the knowledge that Taylor was mere feet away, hidden behind a row of designer gowns.
Taylor pressed her back against the cold wooden panel, her heart pounding as she listened to the muffled voices outside. She clutched her clothes tightly, trying not to make a sound.
This is insane, she thought, suppressing a nervous laugh. I'm hiding in a wardrobe... in a palace... from the Queen.
The absurdity of the situation was almost enough to distract her from the growing discomfort of crouching in the cramped space. Almost.
After what felt like an eternity, The Queen finally rose from her seat. "We'll leave you to get ready for the day," she said, her tone brisk.
Alexandra exhaled quietly, relief washing over her. "Thank you, Mother."
As the entourage filed out, the Queen paused at the door, turning back to face her daughter. "And Alexandra?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever you're up to, be careful. You know how quickly the press can turn."
Alexandra nodded, her smile tight. "Of course."
When the door finally closed, Alexandra rushed to the wardrobe, throwing it open. Taylor stumbled out, looking both flustered and amused.
"Well, that was an experience," Taylor said, smoothing her shirt.
"Tell me about it," Alexandra muttered, running a hand through her hair. "I think I just aged ten years."
Taylor grinned, pulling Alexandra into a quick kiss. "Worth it."
Alexandra groaned but couldn't help laughing. "You're impossible."
"And yet, here I am," Taylor teased, grabbing her bag. "But I should probably sneak out before the Queen comes back with a search party."
Alexandra walked her to the exit carefully, where Taylor's security team was waiting discreetly. As Taylor quietly slipped out of the secret door outside the palace, she glanced back with a wink.
"Next time," she called softly, "you're hiding in my wardrobe."
Alexandra shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched Taylor disappear into the early morning light.
When Taylor arrived back at her apartment, she was exhausted but content. The hours in the studio had been productive, and the melody she'd been working on still hummed softly in her mind. She didn't expect to find anyone waiting for her, much less Queen Eleanor herself, seated primly on her sofa as if she owned the place.
Taylor froze momentarily, her hand still on the doorknob. The sight was surreal—a monarch in her understated but undeniably regal attire, calmly waiting in a modern London apartment.
"Your Majesty," Taylor greeted, closing the door behind her. Her voice was steady, though her heart raced.
"Miss Swift," Queen Eleanor replied, her tone clipped but polite. "You're probably wondering why I wanted to see you."
Taylor raised an eyebrow and dropped her keys on the counter. "I assume it has to do with Alexandra."
"It's Her Royal Highness, Princess Alexandra," the queen corrected, her gaze sharpening.
Taylor bit back a smirk. "Right. My apologies."
Queen Eleanor studied her for a moment before continuing. "My daughter likes you. But I would be very happy if you would... discourage the relationship."
Taylor tilted her head, folding her arms across her chest. "It's not really a relationship."
"No, of course it's not," Eleanor said smoothly. "I know you're preparing for your tour. Bad publicity wouldn't be good for you—or anyone, really."
Taylor's eyes narrowed. She was used to power plays, but this was on another level. "Can I speak frankly?" she asked.
The queen gave a small, almost amused nod. "Of course."
Taylor took a step forward, her posture firm but respectful. "The thing is, I didn't have anything planned with your daughter—no strategy, no games—until you came here for this... girl talk. And started threatening me."
The queen's eyes flickered with a dangerous glint. "You would do well to be less frank."
"With all due respect, ma'am," Taylor said, her voice calm but resolute, "you're the Queen of the United Kingdom, and I understand the weight of that. But Alexandra's choices are hers, not mine. If she decides to spend time with me, that's not something I'm going to apologize for."
Queen Eleanor stood, her movements deliberate, her stature commanding. "Be careful, little girl," she said, her tone icy. "As you say, I am the Queen of the United Kingdom. And this is my country. Perhaps if you weren't American, you'd understand the importance of manners."
Taylor didn't flinch. Instead, she allowed a wry smile to creep onto her lips. "I'm not afraid of you."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in what might have been a smile. "Afraid of me? Of course not. Why would you be?"
She took a step toward the door, turning back with an air of finality. "Now, bow to your queen and get on with your life."
Taylor's smile widened, a flicker of defiance lighting her eyes. "I would," she said, her voice steady, "but as you said, I'm American. We were never taught to do that."
Queen Eleanor paused, her gaze lingering on Taylor for a moment longer. Then, with a small, imperceptible sigh, she turned and left the apartment, her exit as regal as her entrance.
Taylor stood in the silence that followed, her adrenaline pumping, and a small, triumphant grin tugged at her lips.
"Hell of a day," she muttered to herself, before heading to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.
Alexandra had just finished a meeting with her team when her phone buzzed with a message from Taylor:
Taylor: Your mother dropped by. She's a delight.
Alexandra blinked at the text, her heart sinking. She immediately dialed Taylor's number.
Taylor answered on the second ring. "Before you start, yes, it happened. And yes, it was as intimidating as you're imagining."
Alexandra groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What did she say?"
"She suggested I bow out of whatever this is," Taylor replied, her tone breezy, though Alexandra could detect the undercurrent of irritation. "And called me 'little girl,' which was... a choice."
"God," Alexandra muttered, pacing her bedroom. "I am so sorry. She had no right to—"
"She's your mom," Taylor interrupted, her voice softening. "And the Queen. I get it. She's trying to protect you, even if her approach is... dramatic."
Alexandra stopped pacing, leaning against her desk. "Still, she shouldn't have confronted you. I'll talk to her."
"No need," Taylor said lightly. "I think I held my own."
Alexandra couldn't help but smile. "Of course you did. You're the most stubborn person I've ever met."
"Pot, meet kettle," Taylor teased.
Alexandra's smile widened, though the guilt still lingered. She needed to do something to reassure Taylor—and herself—that she wasn't going to let her mother dictate her choices.
"Are you busy this weekend?" Alexandra asked suddenly.
Taylor hesitated. "Not particularly. Why?"
"There's a garden party at the palace," Alexandra said. "It's a bit... formal, but I'd like you to come."
Taylor's laugh was a mix of surprise and amusement. "A garden party? At the palace? With your family?"
"Yes," Alexandra said firmly. "You deserve to see that side of my life, even if it's messy. And... I want to make it clear that I'm not ashamed of us."
Taylor was silent for a moment, and Alexandra could almost hear her processing the invitation.
"Are you sure?" Taylor asked finally. "Won't it cause a scene?"
"Probably," Alexandra admitted. "But I've spent my whole life worrying about scenes and scandals. I want to stop hiding. Especially from you."
Taylor exhaled softly, and when she spoke again, her voice was warm. "Alright, Lexie. I'll be there. But don't blame me if I don't know which fork to use."
Alexandra laughed. "Just follow my lead. And bring that disarming charm of yours—it'll drive my mother crazy."
"Oh, I can do that," Taylor said with a smirk audible in her tone.
As they ended the call, Alexandra felt a mix of nervousness and determination. Inviting Taylor to the garden party was a risk, but it was one she was willing to take.
This time, she wasn't going to let fear—or anyone else—dictate her happiness.
The dining room of the palace was as grand as it was stifling. The long mahogany table gleamed under the weight of polished silverware and crystal goblets, a testament to the kingdom's centuries-old traditions. The royal family gathered for dinner, their conversation polite but laced with the unspoken dynamics that had defined them for years.
Alexandra was seated between her father, King Edward, and her younger brother, Lucas, as the courses began to arrive. She knew she had to say it. If she hesitated, her mother would sense her unease and pounce on it.
As the main course was served—roast pheasant with truffle sauce—Alexandra cleared her throat. "I wanted to let you all know that I'll be bringing someone to the garden party this weekend."
Her mother, Queen Eleanor, who was delicately slicing into her pheasant, paused mid-motion. "Oh? And who might this guest be?"
Alexandra straightened in her seat, meeting her mother's sharp gaze. "It's Taylor. Taylor Swift."
There was a brief silence, broken only by the soft clink of Lucas's fork hitting his plate.
"Well, that's unexpected," James, Alexandra's older brother, said. As the perfect heir, his voice carried the weight of duty and decorum. "Do you think that's... wise?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Alexandra shot back, her tone defensive.
"It's not exactly traditional," James said, his expression impassive. "And it might draw unnecessary attention."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, James. The press already obsesses over us. What's a little more attention going to change?"
King Edward chuckled, setting down his goblet. "I have to agree with Lucas. Besides, Alexandra's been in better spirits lately, and I can't help but think this Taylor has something to do with it." He turned to Alexandra, his warm gaze softening. "You've been smiling more, Lexie. It's good to see."
Queen Eleanor, however, was far from convinced. She dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin, her movements deliberate. "Edward, with all due respect, we have a duty to maintain the dignity of the crown. Inviting a pop star to a royal event—"
"She's not just a pop star, Mother," Alexandra interrupted. "She's kind, intelligent, and understanding. And more than that, she makes me happy."
Eleanor's eyes narrowed, but before she could reply, Lucas chimed in. "If she makes Lexie happy, that's what matters. Isn't that what we all want for her?"
The queen's lips thinned, but King Edward interjected before she could argue further. "Lucas is right. At the end of the day, Alexandra's happiness is important. And if Taylor brings that, I think we should welcome her."
James sighed, looking as though he wanted to protest further but held his tongue.
Alexandra glanced at her father and younger brother, gratitude welling in her chest. "Thank you," she said softly.
Queen Eleanor gave a tight smile, though her displeasure was evident. "Very well. But understand, Alexandra, that your actions reflect on all of us. I trust you'll ensure this... guest understands the gravity of attending such an event."
"I will," Alexandra said, her voice firm.
The rest of the dinner proceeded with less tension, though Alexandra could feel her mother's lingering disapproval. Despite this, she couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement. For once, she had the support of her father and Lucas, and she was determined to show Taylor—and the world—that she wasn't afraid to embrace what made her happy.
Next Chapter... the Garden Party