Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Princess

The media was in mourning. The death of James, the heir to the throne, had consumed every headline, every news broadcast, and every corner of the internet. Black-and-white portraits of James lined the front pages—his smile frozen in time, framed by somber headlines:

"Tragedy in the Skies: Heir to the Throne Lost in Pacific Crash"
"Prince James Dead at 34—Nation in Shock"
"What Comes Next for the Crown?"

The streets of London were unnervingly quiet, the usual hum of the city dulled under the weight of collective grief. Outside Buckingham Palace, crowds gathered beneath gray skies, leaving flowers and handwritten notes pressed against the iron gates.

In the midst of this national heartbreak, the arrival of Alexandra, Lucas, and Taylor at Heathrow Airport was barely a blip on the media's radar. A single grainy photo of the three of them stepping off the private jet made its way online, but it was buried beneath the flood of coverage about James.

Alexandra was dressed in a tailored black coat, her hair pulled back in a severe chignon. Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes, and her hand was clasped tightly around Lucas's arm. Taylor walked a half-step behind them, also dressed in black, thanks to Markus's quick thinking before they left Monaco. The dress was simple and elegant, hugging Taylor's frame in a way that would have usually drawn attention—but not today.

The press barely registered her presence. The cameras, the headlines, the public's gaze—all of it was fixed on the loss of the heir to the throne.

When Alexandra stepped onto the tarmac, the cold London air biting against her cheeks, the reality of it all seemed to hit her at once. The weight of expectation, of duty, of a future she had never wanted—it was no longer a distant threat but a looming certainty.

Taylor reached for Alexandra's hand as they descended the steps of the plane. Alexandra let her fingers curl around Taylor's instinctively, but her expression remained stoic as Markus led them toward the waiting black car.

"How bad is it?" Alexandra asked quietly as Markus opened the door.

"Every news station is covering it nonstop," Markus replied. "The palace has issued a statement. Your mother will want to see you immediately."

Alexandra sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Of course she will."

Lucas slipped into the seat beside her. "You okay?"

Alexandra didn't answer. She couldn't.

Taylor slid in beside her, their legs pressed together. Without a word, Taylor reached over and intertwined her fingers with Alexandra's. Alexandra didn't look at her, but her grip tightened.

The car pulled away from the tarmac, and Alexandra finally spoke.

"He was supposed to be king," she said softly. "He was supposed to do this. Not me."

Lucas's gaze darkened. "I know."

Taylor's thumb brushed against the back of Alexandra's hand. Alexandra's eyes were fixed on the window, on the gray blur of London flashing by.

"You don't have to face this alone," Taylor said.

Alexandra's jaw tensed. "Don't I?"

Taylor leaned in, her voice low. "Not if you don't want to."

Alexandra's lips pressed together. For the first time in days, her gaze broke away from the window and settled on Taylor's face. The blue-and-gold of Alexandra's eyes were dark and glassy, but Taylor could see the steel beneath the grief.

Alexandra's hand slid from Taylor's grip as the car approached the gates of the palace. Her expression hardened. The cameras were waiting beyond those gates, the weight of the crown hovering just beyond reach.

And now it was hers.

Taylor stayed in the car as they pulled up to the palace gates. The black iron gates loomed ahead, adorned with golden crests that glinted under the dull London sky. Beyond them, the press was already gathered, their cameras flashing even through the rain-speckled windows.

Alexandra's hand hovered over the door handle. For a moment, Taylor thought she might say something—ask her to stay, tell her she needed her—but Alexandra's gaze remained fixed on the palace. The door opened, and Markus stepped forward to shield her from the rain as she stepped out. Lucas followed behind her, his face set in grim determination.

Alexandra didn't look back.

Taylor's chest tightened, but she understood. This was Alexandra's family—her grief, her crown, her weight to bear. There was no place for an American pop star at the heart of British royalty's mourning period.

As the car door closed, Taylor exhaled and leaned her head back against the cool leather of the seat. Her eyes drifted to the window, watching Alexandra's figure disappear beyond the palace gates.

The car pulled away, cutting through the slick London streets. Taylor's phone buzzed in her hand. A message from Tree.

We need to talk. Now.

Of course they did. Taylor had essentially disappeared off the grid for the weekend, ran off with a royal, and then ended up in the middle of the biggest royal tragedy. It was only a matter of time before Tree got involved.

When the car stopped, Taylor recognized the hotel. The Langham. Of course. Tree would want neutral ground—a place where she could control the optics if someone caught wind of Taylor's whereabouts.

Taylor sighed, tugged her coat tighter around her, and climbed out of the car. The doorman opened the entrance for her, and she was immediately greeted by a hotel staff member who led her toward the elevator.

The suite was on the top floor. Of course it was. Taylor stepped inside, and there they were: Tree Paine, her parents, and a bottle of champagne sitting unopened on the coffee table.

"Champagne? Really?" Taylor said, raising an eyebrow as the door clicked shut behind her.

Tree didn't smile. "We need to talk."

Andrea Swift stood, her expression tense. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Taylor replied. "It's not my brother who just—" She stopped herself, not wanting to say it out loud.

Tree was already in business mode, seated on the couch with a tablet in her lap. "We've got a problem."

"Which part?" Taylor scoffed. "The fact that the future Queen of England is in love with me or that I showed up to the palace in the middle of a national tragedy?"

Scott Swift, sitting in the armchair, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Taylor—"

"No," Tree interrupted. "Let's get to the point. The press hasn't focused on you yet because they're too busy with the heir's death. But they will. It's only a matter of time before someone realizes you were with Alexandra in Monaco. And then the questions will start."

Taylor crossed her arms. "Let them ask."

Tree's eyes narrowed. "You don't get to be careless with this, Taylor. This isn't just about your reputation. This is about the royal family. Do you have any idea how ruthless the British press can be?"

"I have some idea," Taylor said flatly. "I've been in the tabloids since I was 17."

Tree's mouth twitched. "Yes, and how well did that work out for you?"

Andrea stepped in, her tone soft. "Taylor, honey... are you sure about this?"

"About Lex?" Taylor's gaze softened. "Yes."

Tree sighed. "Then we have to be smart about it. If you're going to be involved with her—publicly—you need to think about the consequences. The backlash. The politics. This isn't just celebrity gossip. This is the monarchy."

Taylor's jaw tightened. "I don't care about the monarchy."

"You should," Tree said. "Because Alexandra does."

Taylor's chest ached at that truth. Tree wasn't wrong. Alexandra had spent her whole life navigating the weight of her title, the expectations, the rigid rules of royalty. Taylor could disappear from the spotlight anytime she wanted—but Alexandra couldn't.

"So what are you saying?" Taylor asked.

"I'm saying we need a strategy," Tree replied. "Or you need to walk away."

Taylor's heart hammered painfully against her ribs. Walk away? After everything? After Monaco, after Alexandra had stood there and practically asked her to be part of her world?

"No," Taylor said quietly. "I'm not walking away."

Tree's expression softened slightly. "Then let's figure out how to keep you both standing when the storm hits."

Scott Swift sat back in the armchair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His expression was carved from stone, the tension in his jaw visible even from across the room. He had been silent through most of Tree's speech, letting her play the role of manager while he simmered beneath the surface. But now, his eyes darkened as they fixed on Taylor.

"Taylor..." His voice was low, measured. "Can we talk privately?"

Taylor's brows furrowed. "We are talking."

"No," Scott said, standing. "Alone."

Taylor glanced at her mother, who gave her a wary look but didn't intervene. Tree's gaze was hard, assessing. After a moment of silence, Taylor sighed and followed her father into the next room—a smaller sitting area with dark paneled walls and heavy velvet drapes. Scott closed the door behind them.

"Okay," Taylor said, arms crossed. "Go ahead."

Scott's eyes flashed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Taylor's jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He took a step toward her, his hands braced on his hips. "This is dangerous, Taylor. You are playing with fire."

Taylor's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "I've been playing with fire my whole career."

"Not like this."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "Don't I?" He took a breath, clearly trying to steady his voice. "Do you understand what this means for your career? For your life? You've worked so hard to build this... this empire. And now you're going to risk it all—for what? A relationship with a woman?"

Taylor's eyes sharpened. "Careful."

Scott's nostrils flared. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. But this isn't just any woman. This is Princess Alexandra. Future Queen of the Unitend Kingdom. You can't just... date her like you would a normal person."

Taylor's eyes flashed. "I'm not trying to date her like a normal person. I'm trying to love her."

Scott ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And what happens when the press turns on you? When the tabloids dig into your past and hers and start tearing you both apart? What happens when the palace intervenes—when they start whispering that Alexandra can't possibly be queen if she's with you?"

Taylor's heart thudded painfully. She had considered all of this, of course. Late at night, when Alexandra was asleep beside her, Taylor had imagined the headlines, the backlash, the whispers about Alexandra's fitness to rule. She had imagined the Queen's cold stare, the disapproving articles, the comparisons.

"I don't care," Taylor said.

"You don't care?" Scott's voice sharpened. "You don't care if your career goes up in smoke? If the monarchy decides Alexandra has to choose between the crown and you?"

"I'm not making her choose," Taylor said fiercely.

Scott's expression darkened. "You think they'll give her the choice?"

Taylor's chest tightened. "She deserves to have both."

"And what if she can't?"

Taylor's eyes flashed with quiet steel. "Then I'll still be standing next to her."

Scott's mouth twisted. "And if that means sacrificing your career? If it means the world turns on you?"

Taylor's gaze didn't waver. "Then so be it."

Scott shook his head, his expression heavy with disbelief. "You're really prepared to give it all up for her?"

"Yes."

For a moment, Scott just stood there, watching her. Measuring her. Taylor had never seen him look so torn—half admiration, half fear.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're making a mistake."

Taylor's heart hammered painfully. "Maybe."

Scott's gaze softened. "But you're not going to change your mind, are you?"

"No."

Scott exhaled, his eyes flickering with something tired and resigned. "Then God help you both."

He turned and walked toward the door, but before he left, he paused. His hand lingered on the doorframe.

"For what it's worth," Scott said, his voice quiet. "I hope you're right."

Then he walked out, leaving Taylor standing alone in the darkened room with her heart thundering in her chest.

Taylor had just arrived at her apartment when someone knocked on her door. She opened the door to find Alexandra standing there, looking as though the weight of the world had settled onto her slender shoulders. Her hair was slightly messy, strands falling loose from the careful bun she'd probably worn earlier. Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed, the gold flecks in them dulled beneath the weight of grief.

"I couldn't be there anymore," Lexie said quietly, her voice strained. "They even wrote a speech for me." She stepped inside, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. "My brother died... and they wrote down my feelings."

Taylor's chest tightened painfully. Without thinking, she reached for Alexandra's hand, pulling her further into the apartment. "Come here."

Alexandra didn't resist. Taylor led her to the couch, where Lexie sank down heavily. She shrugged off her coat, revealing a black sweater beneath it. Taylor sat down next to her, tucking her legs beneath herself, their knees touching.

Lexie sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. Her hands were trembling slightly, and Taylor took one, threading their fingers together.

"They expect me to just..." Lexie swallowed hard. "To say the right words, look the right way, and then... what? Go back to business as usual?"

Taylor brushed her thumb over the back of Lexie's hand. "That's not fair."

"Of course, it's not fair," Lexie said bitterly. "But that's the crown, isn't it? I've been trained my whole life for this moment. To step in when James couldn't. To carry the weight. And now it's happening, and all I feel is..." Her voice broke, and Taylor's heart clenched.

"You don't have to say it."

Lexie's eyes welled with tears, her gaze fixed on their joined hands. "I loved him so much. He was my big brother. He always protected me—stood up for me when our parents couldn't understand why I didn't fit into their perfect little mold."

Taylor's thumb moved slowly across Lexie's knuckles, steady and grounding.

"And now," Lexie continued, her voice rough with emotion, "he's gone. And suddenly, I'm next in line. Me." She laughed bitterly. "I've spent my whole life trying to avoid this. And now there's no way out."

Taylor's heart hammered painfully. "You don't have to do this alone."

Lexie's gaze finally lifted, and Taylor's breath hitched at the vulnerability in her eyes. "But I will be alone, won't I? Because I can't have you."

Taylor's hand tightened around hers. "Who says you can't?"

Lexie's lips pressed together. "You've seen the headlines. My mother barely tolerated Amanda. The monarchy isn't built for... this. For us."

Taylor's jaw tightened. "Let them burn."

Lexie's eyes widened. "What?"

Taylor sat forward, her free hand brushing a lock of hair behind Lexie's ear. "Let them burn. The headlines. The rules. The expectations. If they can't handle you choosing your happiness, then maybe they don't deserve you."

Lexie let out a shaky breath. "You really think it's that simple?"

"No," Taylor said softly. "But I'm still standing here."

Lexie's gaze softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "I'm scared, Taylor."

"I know." Taylor shifted closer, her forehead nearly touching Lexie's. "But I'm not going anywhere."

Lexie's breath hitched. "Even if it destroys everything?"

"Even then."

For a moment, they just sat there, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Lexie closed the distance, pressing her lips softly to Taylor's. It wasn't urgent or desperate—just quiet, a fragile offering of comfort. Taylor kissed her back, her hand cupping the back of Lexie's neck.

When they pulled apart, Lexie's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Taylor smiled softly. "Always."

Lexie leaned into her, and Taylor pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her. The crown could wait. For now, all that mattered was this—Lexie in her arms, breathing steadily against her neck.

Taylor sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The glow from the television cast soft shadows across the dimly lit room. She was holding a mug of now-cold tea in her hands, but she wasn't drinking it. Her eyes were glued to the screen, where Alexandra stood at the gates of the palace, flanked by her family, dressed in elegant black.

The queen was standing beside her, composed and stoic. Lucas stood slightly behind them, his face a mask of detached grief. But it was Alexandra—Lexie—who held Taylor's focus.

Lexie's hair was pulled back in a simple but precise bun. The black dress she wore was modest yet perfectly tailored. Even through the screen, Taylor could see the tension in her shoulders, the barely restrained emotion beneath the mask of composure.

God, she looks so much like a Queen

A hush fell over the crowd as Alexandra stepped forward. The microphone adjusted slightly as she took her place at the podium. Taylor's heart twisted painfully as Lexie took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper in front of her.

"My brother James was not only the heir to the throne but also my protector, my confidant, and my greatest friend."

Her voice was steady, but Taylor could hear the slight tremor beneath the carefully practiced tone. Alexandra's blue eyes swept over the sea of people. Taylor saw her exhale slowly before continuing.

"James taught me that strength is not in power or position, but in kindness. He believed in the value of compassion and integrity. He reminded me that true leadership is not about ruling over others, but about serving them."

Taylor's grip on her mug tightened.

"I know that my brother would not want us to grieve him forever. He would want us to remember his life, his laughter, his love. He would want us to face the future with courage, to continue the work he was passionate about, and to stand together as a nation."

Lexie's voice softened, a flicker of emotion breaking through the polished delivery.

"James loved this country with his whole heart. And while his loss leaves a void that will never truly be filled, I promise to honor his memory by carrying forward the values he stood for."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her gaze lifting toward the camera. Toward Taylor.

"And I hope... I hope I make him proud."

Taylor's breath hitched.

Lexie stepped back, handing the microphone to one of the royal aides before retreating to her place beside the queen. Her face remained stoic as the crowd applauded respectfully, but Taylor saw the way her hand subtly tightened around Lucas's arm. Lucas leaned toward her, pressing a reassuring hand over hers.

The broadcast shifted to the news anchors, discussing Alexandra's new role as the heir to the throne and how the monarchy was preparing for the transition.

Taylor's hand lifted to her mouth, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Future queen of England."

It wasn't that Taylor hadn't known this was coming. James had always been the heir; Lexie was the spare. But now James was gone. And suddenly Lexie was next.

Taylor's phone buzzed beside her. She glanced down and saw Lexie's name on the screen.

Her hands were shaking as she answered. "Hey."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was doing that today," Lexie's voice was quiet and rough over the line. "I didn't really have a choice."

"You were perfect," Taylor whispered. "He would've been proud."

There was a pause. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

Lexie exhaled shakily. "I hate this."

"I know."

"I feel like I'm losing him all over again."

Taylor closed her eyes. "I wish I could be there."

"I wish you were here too," Lexie admitted. Another pause. "Will you... come over tonight?"

Taylor's heart stuttered.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Of course."

"Okay." Lexie's voice was quiet. Vulnerable. "I'll see you soon."

When the line went dead, Taylor set down her phone and closed her eyes. She could still hear Lexie's voice, could still see the way her eyes had searched the crowd as if looking for something—for someone.

For her.

Future queen of England or not, Alexandra Habsburg was still Lexie. And Taylor would always find her way back to her.

Alexandra stood in the grand study of the palace, the soft light of the chandeliers reflecting off the polished oak walls. Her father was seated in a leather chair near the fireplace, his posture relaxed despite the weight of the last few days hanging heavily in the room. The loss of James had settled over the family like a fog — silent, constant, suffocating.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She glanced down at the screen.

Taylor: I'm here. In your room.

Her heart skipped. She glanced toward her father, feeling the weight of his gaze.

"Taylor?" he asked, his voice low but perceptive.

"Yes," Alexandra said, pocketing her phone.

"I like her," the king said simply. His tone was measured, but there was a softness in his eyes that Alexandra hadn't seen in a long time. "She's... good for you."

Alexandra hesitated. "Are you sure?"

The king smiled faintly. "I know what it looks like when you care about someone. And I know what it looks like when you're trying to pretend you don't."

Alexandra's gaze dropped to the floor. "I don't know if she's ready for all this."

"Maybe not," her father admitted. "But you can't plan for something like this. And it's not about whether she's ready — it's about whether she's willing."

Alexandra exhaled slowly, her shoulders tightening beneath the thin silk of her blouse. "I don't know if I'm ready."

Her father stood and crossed the room toward her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "No one is ever ready for this life. Not even James was." His expression softened. "But you'll figure it out. You always do."

Alexandra's throat tightened.

"You don't have to do it alone," her father said gently. "Now go. Don't keep that girl waiting."

Alexandra hesitated only a second longer before turning toward the door.

She took the stairs two at a time, her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the ascent. The palace was quiet at this hour — the staff discreetly tucked away, the lingering hum of activity from earlier in the evening now faded to silence.

When she reached her bedroom door, she hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Taylor was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her blonde hair falling in soft waves over her bare shoulders. She was wearing one of Alexandra's shirts — the navy one with the royal crest embroidered near the hem — and a pair of sleep shorts. A novel lay forgotten on her lap, and she looked up at Alexandra with a soft smile.

"Hey," Taylor said.

Alexandra closed the door behind her, leaning back against the wood for a moment. "Hey."

"You okay?" Taylor asked, setting the book aside.

Alexandra shook her head. "No."

Taylor's smile faded. She unfolded her legs and slid toward the edge of the bed. "Come here."

Alexandra hesitated for a second longer before walking over to the bed. Taylor reached for her hand, her thumb brushing over Alexandra's knuckles.

"Did your dad say anything?" Taylor asked softly.

Alexandra smiled faintly. "He likes you."

"Of course he does," Taylor teased. "I'm very charming."

Alexandra huffed out a soft laugh, but her smile faded as she sat down beside Taylor. "He also asked me if I was ready for this. For... everything."

Taylor's hand tightened around hers. "And what did you say?"

"That I didn't know."

Taylor's gaze softened. "That's fair."

Alexandra exhaled shakily. "But I think... I think maybe I could be. If you're there."

Taylor's lips curved into a small smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

Alexandra's hand slid up Taylor's arm, her fingers curling at the nape of her neck. "Good."

Taylor leaned closer, her forehead brushing against Alexandra's. "And for the record... I don't care about the crown or the press or what anyone else thinks. I just want you."

Alexandra's breath caught. Her fingers threaded through Taylor's hair as she closed the space between them, their lips brushing softly at first — hesitant, tender — before Taylor's hand slid to Alexandra's jaw, deepening the kiss.

It was grounding, this — the taste of Taylor's mouth, the warmth of her hand beneath Alexandra's shirt. In a world where everything felt uncertain, this was the one thing Alexandra was sure of.

When they finally broke apart, Taylor's forehead rested against Alexandra's.

"So... how long do I have you for?" Taylor whispered.

"As long as you want me," Alexandra murmured.

"Forever, then."

Alexandra smiled against Taylor's lips. "Forever."