The Homecoming Prince
Dear Diary,
Well, yesterday I graduated from the Oxford University with my Masters Degree in International Relations! And now I am on my flight back home, to my beautiful Genovia. It’s crazy that I’ve finished my official schooling, although the real learning has probably barely even begun. Now that I’m twenty five, I’m supposed to prepare to take over the crown from my parents, (as if I haven’t been preparing my entire life). Genovian law says that once an heir turns twenty five they should take over the throne within the next year, so by this time next year I will be King of Genovia.
Even though I’ve studied diplomacy and foreign policy in school, I still feel completely unprepared for the weight of the crown. I love Genovia, but I am so scared I’m still not ready to be King. Another part of me wonders if I’ll ever be. I’ve known I would be King one day my entire life – it’s something that’s kind of hard to ignore when you grow up in a literal castle – but there was a time that I secretly was hoping for a way out of it. I love Genovia, I just don’t know if I’m the right man for the job.
But enough of the worrying, the only thing I have to worry about tonight is my birthday party, which is going to be more like a ball. When I get home I immediately have to go get ready.
Technically, I already had my birthday party back in March, when Sirius and Peter rented out our favorite nightclub and invited everyone we’ve ever met. That was definitely more fun than this is going to be, but it’s important to my family and the government that this specific birthday be celebrated among the noble society. It’s formal attire and all the noble families and members of parliament will be there, so I need to show them that I am one of them, that I am ready to be King.
Shit I’m worrying again.
Peter will be there, but Sirius probably won’t. He flew home early to be crowned as ruler of the Genovian Isles today, so he most likely will be too busy and wrapped up in his family drama to sneak away. He said he would send me a message if he could come, but considering the fact his entire family is home right now, I doubt it will happen. I can’t believe we still have to keep our friendship a secret. I get that his family thinks my ancestors “stole the crown” from his ancestors, but – I mean, imagine disowning your son for befriending a prince. Sirius used to say that he wouldn’t care if they disowned him if it wasn’t for the fact he would lose his claim to rule over the Isles. He says it’s because he doesn’t want the pressure falling to Regulus, but I think he really wants to do the job. He’s like me, he loves his home and his people. I wonder if anything will change now that he’s been crowned.
Anyways, it’ll be a lot less fun without him there, but it’ll be nice to be home again either way.
James
James steps off the plane and lifts his head to the sky, breathing in the fresh Genovian air. It smells like the sea and the pear trees that the country is so well known for. Home, he thinks, but his attention is quickly diverted by his parents calling his name from where they are standing by a car parked on the landing strip. James grins and jogs over to them, wrapping his mother in a warm hug and then doing the same to his father.
“Congratulations sweetheart!” his mother exclaims, “We’re so sorry we couldn’t make it to the commencement.”
James shrugs, “It’s okay I understand,” and his father squeezes his shoulder, giving him a small apologetic smile, “We’re all together now, that’s all that matters.”
And in truth, James does understand why his parents couldn’t make it. A country couldn’t run itself and they had gone to such lengths to make it to his last graduation that he told them not to worry about it this time.
Off to the side of their reunion stand both his parent’s assistants. His mother’s assistant is the highly trusted and organized, but young Dorcas Meadowes. She’s the same age as James and had started working at the castle as an intern when she was just 22, but quickly worked her way up and gained his mother’s (and everyone else’s) trust and respect. His father’s assistant is a slightly older, charming, but firm man named Kingsley Shacklebolt. James turns to them and gives each of them a hug as well, which Kingsley embraces and Dorcas tolerates. She takes her job very seriously and keeps glancing at her watch, indicating they are on a tight schedule. Noticing this, James suggests they should get going and Dorcas’ face floods with relief. All five of them get in the car with darkly tinted windows and a little Genovian flag waving from an antennae, and begin their drive to the castle.
James and his parents chat about his graduation and his goodbyes to his friends, but once the conversation comes to a lull Dorcas takes the opportunity to start informing James about the night’s plans.
“So James, when we arrive you are going to be introduced to your new personal security guard. We haven’t been able to find you your own assistant yet, so I will be working for both you and your mother until further notice.” James suddenly understands why Dorcas appears so stressed.
“I think you’ll like this security guard James,” his mother adds, “Your father and I assisted with the last round of interviews.”
“We know you don’t like being followed around by security,” his father says, “but unfortunately it’s a part of the job and we’re hoping this one will be more like a friend… who happens to be there for your safety.” He smiles at his son encouragingly.
“Yes, he’s around your age,” Dorcas says, looking like she wants to move on.
James looks at her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, “Our age,” he corrects her.
James knows that as a member of the royal family he really shouldn’t correct people like this because it can make people feel embarrassed, but Dorcas had been around for a while and she knows James. They make eye contact and she smirks back at him, nodding before continuing to explain the plans for the evening. James listens, but his attention jumps around as they drive through the downtown area of the capital city. He truly loves his home and he hasn’t seen it in so long that he can’t help but get distracted by it.
“Your highness, this is Remus Lupin, your new personal security detail,” Dorcas says, waving her hand towards the man who steps forward to meet James as he exits the car in front of the Genovian castle’s back entrance.
“Hello,” James says, extending his hand, but as he shakes Remus’ hand he looks at his new security guard’s face and there is a flicker of recognition. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t believe so, your highness,” Remus says stiffly.
We’ll work on that, James thinks, not wanting to correct Remus for his strict restraint in front of everyone. If Remus was going to be more of a friend than a security guard then he would have to be more comfortable around James, and definitely not refer to him as ‘your highness.’
“Hmm,” James consents, although he still feels like he recognizes the man. I mean, who could forget someone with a scar across his face like his? James wonders how he got the scar, but he holds his tongue. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Remus.” James’ parents greet Remus as well and in a moment the whole group is moving up the steps and into the castle.
Inside employees are bustling around preparing for the ball. The Potters had established a casual yet productive environment among the employees in their home. They treated the employees with care and respect, which made them want to get their work done well. There was no need for them to stop and bow to greet the family as they walked through, which some other royal families would be shocked by.
The floors of the castle are largely made of beautiful off-white marble and the walls are decorated with subtle gold adornments and carvings along the edges. There are royal portraits scattered amongst the artwork on the walls, but the Queen prefers to hang mostly her own collection of art pieces from around the world that she has been building up throughout her life.
James moves to walk next to Dorcas and casually asks, “Any messages for me?”
Dorcas glances at him, knowing exactly who James is hoping to hear from. Since they became friends in university, James and Sirius have been sending messages via notes, passed off by trusted employees of the crown who often have to move between the mainland and the isles.
“No messages,” she says.
James isn’t surprised. He wasn’t expecting Sirius to be able to get away, but he is a little disappointed. No message means Sirius most likely won’t be able to sneak into James’ party tonight.
Technically he wouldn’t have to sneak, Sirius had been invited along with the rest of his family. A smile crosses James’ face, amused by the idea of the chaos that would unfold if the entire Black family actually accepted their invitations. He knows they wouldn’t, they only did if they were required to, which hadn’t happened in a long time. It was going to happen again, soon, at his coronation though. James pictures the Black family sitting, pouting through the ceremony. Sirius seemed to be one of the only members of the family who could manage a smile. The image of Bellatrix’s wicked, unsettling grin crosses James’ mind, and then Andromeda’s quiet smile. Then comes Regulus’ small smirk. James’ mind settles on that image for a moment. It was a rare occurrence, which makes it stick out in his memory more. He hasn’t seen Regulus in a couple of years now and James wonders if he looks any different. In reality, James doesn’t really know Regulus, but he likes to think he does because of how close he is with Sirius.
As the group makes their way towards the back of the castle and up to the third floor where the family’s quarters are, there are carpets and old tapestries that make the place feel warmer and slowly more like home. Just before entering the family’s quarters his parents stop, which means everyone else stops with them. They turn to James and explain that they have taken the liberty of re-doing his room for him, but that it is taking a bit longer than expected, so he will be staying in a guest room until further notice.
“We thought you should have a more mature room as the soon to be King,” his father grins at him.
“Don’t worry though we’ve kept all those Star Wars Lego sets intact in storage,” the queen adds and James feels a little embarrassed in front of Remus, who he already finds quite cool.
“Thank you, Mum, Dad,” James says, shocked, and gives both of them a hug.
“Now, we have to go, but Dorcas will show you which room we’ve set you up in,” his Mom says before giving James a quick kiss on the cheek. His parents turn and walk off, back towards their offices where they have to take care of some royal duty. James watches them and feels a small sense of panic bloom somewhere in him, and a wash of guilt that quickly follows.
James has always been the sentimental type and he knows that they didn’t throw any of his stuff away, but he was never going to see his childhood bedroom again. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. Maybe his parents thought that if he’d been involved he would’ve kept putting off the change and it would’ve never happened. He is grateful, but he can’t shake the sense that he has lost something. He tries to push it away though, and turns to Dorcas with a smile.
“Perfect,” James says, walking into the Monet room.
Every guest room has a theme based on the art his mother has decorated the room with. The Monet room has always been his favorite. There is a green-blue comforter that goes perfectly with the different variations of garden paintings on the walls. Someone has moved all his clothes into the closet and drawers and his mother, surely, has put a small stack of his books on a shelf underneath one of the nightstands.
The windows are big and have a slightly different view from his room, which looks out the back of the castle. From there he could see all the beautiful, natural wonders of Genovia — the forests, the plans, the cliff sides, and even glimpses of the ocean. This room is situated off to the side of the back end of the castle, so parts of the architecture encroach on his view and he can see bits of the city, which is not necessarily a bad thing, he reminds himself.
“Thank you, Dorcas,” James turns around from where he has been taking in the room to see her and Remus watching him, expectantly. It makes him uncomfortable, so he searches for something to say. “So, do I get to pick out my own suit or has someone chosen for me?”
“You’re about to be King, James. I thought it was time we start trusting you to dress yourself,” Dorcas smirks and he notices Remus trying to hide a small smile, which excites James, who grins back. “So, don’t mess it up,” Dorcas adds sternly before walking out the door.
James looks at Remus, who stares back for a moment and then, as if remembering his position, looks down and starts to turn towards the door. To leave or avert his eyes while James changes, James isn’t sure, but he doesn’t let himself find out.
“Look, if this is going to work,” James motions between them, “then we’re going to have to be friends.” James crosses the room and holds his hand out for a second time to Remus who had paused and faced the prince again. “I’m James, please call me James.” Remus looks at James’ earnest face with a mix of confusion and curiosity before shaking his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, James.”
“I really do think we’ve met before,” James says, looking at him sideways as he makes his way over to the cream colored couch in the room. He is enjoying letting the challenge of winning over the friendship of his broody security guard be a distraction from everything else.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember if we have, your high– James.”
“I’m not high right now actually,” James laughs at his own joke comfortably from the couch and Remus lets out a small snort of laughter that he tries to control, “but I wish I could be for tonight. It would make the event much more bearable.” Remus nods, regaining self control, but James is appeased. He imagines he and Remus will become good friends as the man becomes more comfortable around James.
There is a sudden knock at the door, which makes James jump a little, and Dorcas shouts “James you better be getting ready!” From the other side of the door.
“I’ll go wait outside,” Remus says with a small smirk, turning around to head out of the room, but James stops him again.
“Wait – no, I need your help picking a suit,” James says and gets up to go over to his closet.
If Remus is bothered by the prince’s request, which had not been included in the security detail job description, then he didn’t show it. He seems only slightly amused.
An hour later, James is fast-walking down the halls of his home in an expensive looking, navy blue suit, white button up, and matching bow tie on. His curly black hair has been freshly adjusted to look as presentable as possible. He is wearing his classic gold rimmed, round glasses that he can’t see without, his matching gold watch, and his gold signet ring with his family’s crest of a stag under a pear tree. His shiny brown shoes are making a clacking sound on the floor with every step he takes, which some people would find annoying, but James likes. It makes him feel like he is tap dancing through life. Remus, in his black, government sanctioned, security suit walks five paces behind James, but keeps up easily, as he is a bit taller than the prince.
“You’re late,” Dorcas says, falling into step with James from where she had been waiting for him at a corner of the maze that is the Genovian castle.
James shoots her a grin as they walk, “My mother says the queen is never late, everyone else is simply early.”
“Yes, but you’re not the queen.” Dorcas points out with a reserved, smug look.
James just laughs and after a moment asks, “So what exactly do I have to do tonight?” This may be his birthday party, but it would be much more of a networking event than anything else and he knows he has responsibilities he is going to have to uphold.
“You need to have at least one conversation with every member of Parliament,” Dorcas begins. James admires how Dorcas is always on top of everything. She seems like she is never confused or behind or forgetting anything. She seems like she’d be a good queen, James thinks passively.
“Individually?”
“No,” Dorcas responds immediately and James wonders how many questions he would have to ask her before she ran out of answers. “And you need to dance with every eligible young woman in attendance, unless they decline to, which they won’t,” she pauses and adds, “Unless they’re injured and unable.”
James laughs, “I think you’re overestimating my woo-ing abilities, Dorcas.”
“Oh no,” she can’t help but smile a little, “They’ll dance with you no matter what, not because of your woo-ing capabilities, or lack thereof, but because you are the prince, soon to be King, and it is your birthday.”
“Ouch, Cas,” James says with a smile.
“The Fawn is entering the West Wing,” Remus whispers into his ear piece and James looks back at him and then at Dorcas, eyes wide.
“Really? We’re really sticking with ‘the Fawn’ as my code name? This is my 25th birthday for gods’ sake.”
“You will be promoted to ‘The Stag’ when you are crowned as King,” Dorcas says.
“And who will my father be?”
Dorcas hesitates for a moment and then says, “A guest.”.
That surprises James, although it made sense. He couldn’t imagine his parents ever just being guests at an event, among the general attendees. They had always been King and Queen, had always been royalty, bigger and more powerful than anyone in James’ mind. The idea that their power is soon going to be transferred to him makes his heart race with nerves. He won’t let himself think about it now though, because he is about to enter a party where he must show everyone what he is not quite ready to believe himself – that he is ready to be King. So he flexes his fingers, shakes out his hands, and puts his most charming smile on.
The three of them come to a stop at the large, intricately carved doors that will open up to the top of the stairs in the ballroom. James can hear everyone in there already, the laughter and chatter, the music. Normally James is never nervous for a party. He has always been a social butterfly, but this feels different, it feels important and he has the creeping feeling that he is going to fuck it up. James turns to face Dorcas who is looking him up and down, examining his appearance. Her eyes meet his and he tries to prompt a smile from her strictly composed face with his own.
“Give me your glasses,” she says.
“What?” James asks, alarmed by the question. “No,” he starts to step back, panicking a little. His glasses are a bit of a security blanket for him, which is why he has never been interested in contacts.
“Calm down, James, I just want to clean the smudges off them.”
Dorcas can see his nerves now and gives him a small comforting smile. James sighs and forces a little, nervous laugh out before handing her his glasses. She takes them and uses a handkerchief that she pulled from her purse to clear the smudges. The importance of her position required Dorcas to attend these kinds of events with the royal family, so instead of her usual, fashionable skirt and blazer, she is in a light blue formal gown that contrasts beautifully with her dark skin.
Without looking up she says in a low voice, “You’re going to do great James, this is exactly the kind of scene you flourish in. All you have to do is dance and talk.”
She hands him his glasses and gives him a firm look. James is grateful for the encouragement, but it isn’t quite enough to make him believe in himself. He has spent his entire life faking it until he made it though, so that is what he knows he will do tonight. James is sure at some point it will stop working. Every paper he has turned in for school he had been sure was the one he’d finally fail, every awkward moment between friends he was sure would be the last before they ditched him for someone better, but so far his faking-it has continued to work.
He and Dorcas exchange nods and she walks over to the guard on the right side of the door, murmuring something to him. James throws a glance back at Remus hovering behind him.
“You ready?” James asks with a playful smile.
“As I’ll ever be,” Remus rewards him with an equally playful look. James’ grin widens and he turns back to watch the doors to his future open wide in front of him.