New Romantics
The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden light over the bed where Taylor and Alexandra lay tangled together beneath the white linen sheets. The quiet hum of London traffic drifted in through the open window, mixing with the occasional chirp of birds in the distance.
Taylor was curled on her side, her head resting on Alexandra's shoulder, the tips of her fingers tracing slow patterns along the princess's bare arm. Alexandra's hand rested lightly on Taylor's waist, her thumb skimming the edge of her tank top where it had ridden up during the night.
The room was quiet except for their breathing and the distant sounds of the city waking up. It was the kind of peace Taylor hadn't felt in weeks — not since the press had caught wind of their trip to Monaco and the headlines had spiraled out of control.
"American pop star involved with the future Queen of England?"
"Scandal at the palace — Taylor Swift's forbidden romance with Princess Alexandra."
"Is Taylor Swift the next royal consort?"
The noise had been deafening at first, but somehow, lying here in Alexandra's arms, the outside world felt muted.
Alexandra shifted beneath her, brushing a lock of blonde hair away from Taylor's face. "Do you want to go get coffee at that place you like so much? Then I can take you to the studio."
Taylor smiled sleepily, her eyes still half-closed. "You remembered."
"Of course I did."
Taylor's hand slid down Alexandra's arm, her thumb brushing over the smooth skin of her wrist. "I have rehearsal today. New choreographer's coming in. We'll see what she's got planned for the Eras Tour."
Alexandra's lips curved. "Okay, so what time do you have to go and be amazing?"
"Not for a few hours."
"Perfect," Alexandra said, her hand sliding up Taylor's side beneath the sheet. "Because I have some ideas on how to pass the time."
Taylor's eyes fluttered open just as Alexandra's mouth found the curve of her neck, her lips pressing softly against her skin. Taylor's breath hitched as Alexandra's hand slid higher, her fingers brushing the edge of her ribs.
"Lex..."
"Shh," Alexandra whispered, her mouth trailing down toward Taylor's collarbone. "I'm busy."
Taylor laughed softly, but the sound melted into a sigh when Alexandra kissed her just below her jawline. Her hand slipped into Alexandra's hair, threading through the dark strands as Alexandra shifted her weight, pressing Taylor deeper into the mattress.
"You know this isn't helping me get to rehearsal on time," Taylor murmured.
Alexandra's lips curved against her skin. "You'll survive."
Taylor's mouth parted to protest, but Alexandra kissed her — soft and languid at first, then deeper when Taylor's hand tightened at the back of her neck. Taylor pulled Alexandra closer, her leg hooking over Alexandra's hip, and Alexandra smiled into the kiss.
"Lex..." Taylor breathed when they broke apart, her forehead resting against Alexandra's.
"Mmm?"
"Coffee first," Taylor whispered. "Then you can distract me as much as you want."
Alexandra laughed softly, her thumb brushing Taylor's cheek. "Deal."
Neither of them moved.
"I should get up," Taylor said after a moment.
"You should." Alexandra's lips brushed the edge of Taylor's jaw.
"I should."
"You won't."
Taylor sighed, pressing her face into Alexandra's neck. "No. I won't."
Alexandra smiled triumphantly. "That's what I thought."
Taylor's laugh was muffled against her skin. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you love me."
Taylor lifted her head, her blue eyes meeting Alexandra's. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Yeah," Taylor said, her thumb brushing Alexandra's jaw. "I really do."
Alexandra's heart flipped.
"Good," Alexandra whispered. And then she kissed her again.
The drawing room was cold despite the roaring fire crackling in the marble fireplace. Alexandra stood near the tall windows, the pale winter light casting sharp shadows across her sharp cheekbones and the tension lining her jaw. The queen stood opposite her, stiff-backed and regal in a navy dress suit, her pearls resting coolly against her throat. Lucas lounged in an armchair between them, legs crossed, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"This is unsustainable," the queen said, her tone cutting. "Every headline. Every article. Photos of you and Taylor kissing outside the palace gates. You are the future queen of this country, Alexandra. Not a Hollywood celebrity."
"I'm aware," Alexandra said, her voice clipped.
"Are you?" the queen's gaze sharpened. "Because the media seems to believe otherwise. They've started calling her the Grace Kelly of the 21st century. You know how that story ended, don't you?"
"Taylor isn't Grace Kelly," Alexandra said coldly. "And I'm not Prince Rainier."
"No," the queen agreed. "Because Grace Kelly was accepted. The Church of England doesn't allow—"
"Gay marriages," Alexandra finished for her, her eyes hard.
"Exactly," the queen said. "Do you expect the Archbishop of Canterbury to simply change centuries of doctrine to accommodate this... phase?"
Alexandra's mouth tightened. "It's not a phase."
"You're not just risking your own reputation," the queen continued. "You're risking the crown. The stability of the monarchy."
"Stability?" Alexandra's laugh was bitter. "James is dead. The country is still grieving him. I'm standing in the wreckage of a future I didn't ask for — and you're worried about public perception?"
"Public perception is the monarchy," the queen snapped. "Without it, we are nothing."
"Funny," Alexandra said, her blue eyes flashing, "because Taylor's popularity seems to be helping that perception. Unless you'd prefer the headlines about James's death to stick around a little longer?"
The queen's mouth thinned dangerously.
Lucas stretched his arms behind his head, looking far too comfortable considering the charged atmosphere. "Mother does have a point," he said lazily.
"Excuse me?" Alexandra's head whipped toward him.
"About tradition," Lucas clarified. "Technically, the Church of England doesn't allow gay marriages."
Alexandra's eyes narrowed. "Are you helping her case or mine?"
Lucas's smile sharpened. "I'm just saying... the Church of England doesn't allow gay marriages. But..." He sat up, his expression turning mischievous. "They would have to. If the head of the church was in one."
The queen's gaze sharpened. "What are you suggesting?"
Lucas's smile widened. "Lex will be the head of the Church of England when she becomes queen, won't she?"
The queen's eyes darkened.
"And if all goes well with Taylor..." Lucas shrugged. "They'll have to marry them as tradition dictates. State wedding. Full cathedral. Westminster Abbey. Televised." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. "Can't exactly say no to the head of the church now, can they?"
"That's absurd," the queen said sharply.
"Is it?" Lucas raised an eyebrow. "If they want Lex as queen — and they do want Lex as queen — they'll have to accept Taylor. You said it yourself — public perception is the monarchy. And Taylor's approval ratings? Off the charts."
Alexandra's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "He's not wrong."
"You would manipulate the very foundation of the church to satisfy a personal indulgence?" the queen's voice was low and dangerous.
"To satisfy a love," Alexandra corrected.
"And the Church of England was created to satisfy a personal indulgence, remember it, mother?" commented Lucas.
The queen's gaze turned icy. "The monarchy is built on duty, not love."
Alexandra's jaw tightened. "Maybe it's time that changed."
The queen's eyes flashed dangerously, but before she could respond, Lucas stood, brushing imaginary lint from his jacket.
"Well," he said brightly, "this has been fun. Glad I could contribute."
Alexandra shot him a dry look. "You're not helping."
"Oh, but I am," Lucas said, smirking. "Now all Mother has to do is decide what's more important — the crown or her daughter's happiness."
The queen's gaze lingered on Alexandra, her expression unreadable.
"You're playing a dangerous game," the queen said at last.
"And you're running out of moves," Alexandra replied coolly.
The queen's mouth pressed into a thin line. After a long pause, she turned toward the door. "We'll discuss this later."
Alexandra watched her mother disappear down the corridor before glancing at Lucas.
"You think she'll come around?"
Lucas's grin widened. "Oh, she'll come around."
"And if she doesn't?"
Lucas shrugged. "Then we make them crown the first gay queen and her pop star consort in history."
Alexandra laughed despite herself. "God help us."
"Or not," Lucas said, his eyes glinting mischievously. "You'll be the head of the church soon enough — you can handle the divine intervention yourself."
The rehearsal studio was buzzing with controlled chaos — dancers stretching in mirrored corners, choreographers reviewing notes, assistants adjusting lighting and sound cues. Taylor stood in the center of it all, radiating calm authority. She was dressed in sleek black leggings and a fitted tank top, her golden hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her sharp gaze followed every movement on the floor, and her voice, low and clear, cut through the noise as she gave instructions.
"That turn needs to be tighter."
"Shift the spotlight a half second earlier."
"No, the bridge needs more weight — more drama."
Alexandra watched from the doorway, unnoticed at first, her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes tracked the confident way Taylor commanded the room. There was something undeniably sexy about Taylor in this mode — sharp, focused, completely in control. Alexandra's stomach tightened.
Taylor turned, mid-sentence, and her eyes caught Alexandra's in the mirror. A slow smile curved her lips. "Hey, I didn't expect you so early."
Alexandra pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. "I had some free time and decided to take you to dinner."
Taylor's smile widened. "Are you trying to steal me from my own rehearsal?"
"Do you want to stay?" Alexandra asked, her voice dropping slightly.
Taylor's eyes darkened as her smile turned playful. "Nope. Let them figure it out without me." She turned toward the head choreographer. "We'll pick this up tomorrow."
The team barely registered Taylor slipping away as Alexandra took her hand, their fingers linking easily.
When they stepped out of the studio, the flashbulbs went off almost instantly. Paparazzi lined the sidewalk, cameras clicking and reporters calling out questions. Taylor's body tensed for half a second before Alexandra's thumb brushed the back of her hand.
"I hate that you have to go through this because you're my girlfriend," Alexandra said softly.
Taylor turned toward her, her eyes soft. "Darling, I already went through that for being myself. This doesn't change anything. It just makes it more worth it."
And then Taylor leaned in and kissed her, slow and deliberate, right there on the sidewalk in front of the cameras. The flashes exploded brighter. Reporters shouted louder. Alexandra smiled into the kiss and didn't pull away.
When they reached the car, Alexandra opened the door for Taylor before sliding in beside her.
"You didn't have to kiss me back there," Alexandra said once they were settled.
Taylor arched an eyebrow. "Did you not want me to?"
Alexandra's smile was lazy. "Oh, I definitely wanted you to."
When they pulled up to the restaurant, the paparazzi were already waiting. Alexandra's security team stepped out first, ready to clear a path, but Alexandra ignored them. Instead, she reached for Taylor's hand and held it as they stepped out of the car together.
Unlike Joe, Alexandra didn't try to shield Taylor from the cameras or pull her toward the door. She walked calmly, confidently, her hand clasped with Taylor's.
"Princess Alexandra! Taylor! Over here!"
"Are you two official?"
"Taylor, are you moving to London?"
"Lexie! Is she the one?"
Taylor, accustomed to the chaos, kept her face neutral. But Alexandra — Alexandra smiled.
"Good evening," Alexandra said smoothly, making eye contact with one of the photographers. "Daniel, Josh, Fred"
Daniel, mid-shot, looked stunned. "Hi, Your Highness."
Alexandra nodded.
Taylor blinked in surprise as they continued toward the entrance. "You know his name?"
"I know most of them," Alexandra said with a slight smirk.
A female photographer called out, "Princess! How did you two meet?"
Alexandra's eyes sparkled as she turned toward the camera. " Doesn't matter, I'm lucky to have her," she said simply.
Taylor squeezed her hand. Alexandra squeezed back.
And just like that, the headlines were already writing themselves.
After dinner, Alexandra took Taylor to the palace, slipping her hand into Taylor's as they walked through the grand, dimly lit hallways. The gilded ceilings and oil portraits of past monarchs looming above them gave the place a sense of weight, a quiet reminder of the centuries of tradition and expectation pressed upon Alexandra's shoulders. But Lexie walked with purpose, her grip on Taylor's hand steady and warm.
"Where are we going?" Taylor whispered, her voice hushed in the stillness of the palace.
Lexie smiled, glancing sideways at her. "To meet someone important."
They stopped in front of an ornate wooden door, carved with delicate roses and inlaid with gold. Lexie knocked softly before pushing it open.
Inside was a cozy sitting room, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace's public spaces. A large window overlooked the gardens, and a fire crackled in the marble fireplace. The room smelled faintly of lavender and old paper.
Sitting in a high-backed chair by the fire was an older woman with silver hair swept into a loose chignon. She wore a soft blue dress and a string of pearls, her thin hands resting over an embroidered shawl. Her gaze lifted when they entered, her blue eyes sharp despite the softness in her expression.
"Alexandra," the woman said, her smile widening as she extended a hand toward her granddaughter.
Lexie crossed the room and kissed the woman's cheek. "Grandmother, I want you to meet someone."
Taylor hesitated for a beat before stepping forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace."
The duchess's eyes softened as she took Taylor's hand in both of hers. "Call me Margaret, dear."
"Margaret," Taylor repeated, a bit breathless. "Thank you for having me."
Margaret's gaze sharpened as she studied Taylor's face. Then she smiled. "Oh, I know who you are. You've made quite the impression on the family."
Taylor's cheeks flushed slightly. "I hope it's not a bad one."
Margaret's smile deepened. "My dear, if it were a bad one, you wouldn't be standing here." She released Taylor's hand and turned her attention to Lexie. "So, Alexandra. Have you finally found someone who makes you happy?"
Lexie's lips curled at the edges. "I think so."
Taylor's hand brushed against Lexie's, and their fingers interlaced.
Margaret's eyes gleamed knowingly. "Good. You'll need someone who can handle the storm that comes with loving you."
Taylor's smile wavered at that. Margaret's gaze didn't miss it.
"You don't need to worry about the press or the public," Margaret said, her tone gentler now. "The world always has an opinion — especially about women. You'll both figure out how to handle it. Just... stay close to each other."
"That's the plan," Lexie said, her eyes steady on Taylor's.
Margaret's smile softened further. "Well then, I think I quite like you, Taylor Swift."
Taylor laughed lightly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I'm relieved to hear that."
Just then, the door opened and Queen Eleanor swept into the room. Her sharp gaze immediately fell on Alexandra and Taylor's intertwined hands.
"Mother," Lexie said, her voice guarded.
"Eleanor," Margaret greeted, her tone cool but polite.
The queen's eyes flicked toward Taylor. "Taylor, I see Alexandra has made you quite comfortable here."
Taylor's grip on Lexie's hand tightened. "She has."
Eleanor's gaze darkened slightly, but Margaret's soft chuckle broke the tension.
"Don't start, Eleanor," Margaret said. "She's already passed my test."
The queen's mouth twitched at that. After a moment, she inclined her head toward Taylor. "Very well. We'll see how long you last."
Taylor's smile didn't falter. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."
A flicker of something — respect or perhaps mild surprise — passed through Eleanor's gaze before she nodded slightly and left the room without another word.
When the door closed, Taylor let out a breath. "Well... that wasn't terrifying at all."
Margaret laughed softly. "Oh, don't let Eleanor scare you. She just likes to keep everyone on edge."
Lexie's thumb stroked the back of Taylor's hand. "She'll get used to you."
"And if she doesn't?" Taylor asked.
Lexie's smile was soft but sure. "Then that's her problem."
Margaret's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I like you both very much."
Lexie was sprawled across Taylor's plush white couch, her head resting on Taylor's lap as Taylor's fingers ran lazily through her dark hair. The low hum of music drifted from the speakers, mixing with the faint city noise beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of Taylor's apartment. A glass of red wine sat forgotten on the coffee table, and Lexie's lips were still slightly swollen from the kissing session they'd just abandoned — reluctantly.
Taylor's gaze drifted down to Lexie's face, taking in the soft curve of her cheek, the way her long lashes brushed against her skin as her eyes fluttered open. Lexie smiled up at her, that rare, soft smile that made Taylor feel like she could breathe easier — like the world outside didn't matter as long as Lexie was looking at her like that.
"You're thinking about something," Lexie murmured, her voice low and lazy.
Taylor hesitated. This was... tricky. And dangerous. And probably going to lead to Lexie freaking out, which was not the vibe Taylor was going for tonight. But... well, it had to happen eventually.
Lexie shifted, her eyes sharpening when Taylor didn't immediately reply. "What is it?"
Taylor sighed. "So... my parents are in town."
Lexie's brow arched. "Oh?"
"And they want to meet you."
Lexie's eyes widened slightly, the relaxed line of her mouth tightening. "They... want to meet me?"
Taylor nodded, brushing a loose strand of dark hair behind Lexie's ear. "We kind of had a... conversation about us."
Lexie sat up, propping herself on her elbows. "And how did that go?"
Taylor hesitated. "Not great."
Lexie's mouth twitched with something between amusement and dread. "Define 'not great.'"
"My dad thinks it's... complicated."
"Because I'm a woman or because I'm the future queen of the United Kingdom?" Lexie asked dryly.
"Both," Taylor admitted. "But mostly the second part."
Lexie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Fantastic."
Taylor sat up, resting her hand on Lexie's knee. "But my mom... she's more open. I think she just wants me to be happy."
Lexie's lips pressed together. "And your dad?"
"Scott's... Scott." Taylor shrugged. "He's worried. But he'll come around. He's just scared it's going to blow up and ruin my career, my life— and maybe yours too."
Lexie's gaze sharpened. "He's not wrong."
"Maybe not," Taylor admitted. "But I don't care."
Lexie's expression softened. Her hand slid over Taylor's, fingers threading together. "And what exactly do they expect from me?"
"Just dinner," Taylor said, voice light. "My mom thinks you're charming."
Lexie snorted. "She's clearly never spoken to the British press."
Taylor smiled. "She thinks you'll win my dad over too."
Lexie's gaze flicked to Taylor's mouth, then back to her eyes. "That's optimistic."
Taylor leaned in, her hand sliding up Lexie's thigh. "You've already won me over. That's the hard part."
Lexie's lips curled. "Oh, really?"
Taylor kissed her, slow and lingering. "Mhm."
Lexie sighed against her mouth, her hand slipping beneath the hem of Taylor's sweatshirt, fingers grazing her warm skin. "Fine. I'll meet them."
Taylor grinned. "Yeah?"
Lexie's eyes narrowed. "But if your dad asks if I intend to marry you, I'm throwing you under the bus."
Taylor laughed. "Fair."
Lexie's smile was wicked. "And Taylor?"
"Yeah?"
Lexie's gaze darkened. "You owe me for this."
Taylor's breath hitched. "What do you want?"
Lexie's fingers curled at the back of her neck, tugging her down. "I'll let you know after dinner."
Taylor's laugh dissolved into a sigh as Lexie's mouth covered hers.