àsta, àsta, àsta

“It does usually help with boredom or stress.” Momentarily, that was. Àsta was too curious to see how a Monegasque princess would shop to say no to the invitation. “Oh no, I... I don’t really shop anymore. My personal style is t-shirts and jeans or sweaters or something. The palace’s style team just told me not to waste money on clothes because I don’t know what to buy.”

“Ah yes... the wedding of the decade.” In a way, yes: it had been a while since the world had celebrated the marriage of two royal brides. “Remind me again if it’s dick privilege or age privilege? Because it isn’t about trustworthiness,” she said with a light scoff. Aleks current position was a joke to everyone else except the king. Keeping him as the heir was not only ridiculous but unjust when every other candidate was doing a better job at, well, their job. “I see.” Now she felt mildly embarrassed for being so defensive. “Mum just asked what I had been up to and I realized I have no agenda.”

She jumped in her seat and whisked her head around to look at the stranger. Stranger because that what he was. She wasn’t sure if this was how royals behaved: pretended to be friends with everyone they had talked to once, or if this was just infamous Swedish friendliness. Could have been both, could have been neither. Her lips formed one very tentative smile. “Yeah... I’ve never seen a Tron movie. But I’ll keep my eyes open for scifi murderers.” Murderers? She hoped she got it right. What was Tron’s plot anyways? “Abductors? Most people here have complained about how boring this place is. I don’t get it. Shop and shop, so many restaurants that you can’t even visit them all...”

“I’m sorry, what?” She let a casual smile appear on her face. “I don’t know. I guess you learn to control it better. Though I’d take my time with them. I can’t down six drinks within half an hour either.” She still went to order another one. Once she had thanked the bartender she turned back to the princess. “But unlike me, you don’t get terrible hangovers. If I drink more than two glasses of red, my head explodes. You’re so much younger that you probably don’t have this problem.”

“I see.” Didn’t know what to give her or didn’t want to give her anything? Avoiding unnecessary conflict was a good option in the situation so Àsta kept her mouth shut. “Does it make a difference?” she asked harshly, standing rigidly in her spot. Natasja and her pride were an impossible combination. “No problem. It was a nice party. I was happy to attend.” It did make the familial relationship feel a bit more organic.

“So I was told to ask you what I can do to help you.” And she doing it was a miracle of one sort, and Natasja accepting her help would be one more. “So here I am, offering my help to you.” ( ** @nctasja )

“C’mon Vaughn. You know I’m a sad drunk.” He had witnessed it on a few occasions. “Join me, then I don’t look so lonely and sad.” She patted the seat next to her. “You came here with the guest of honor. Barbie makes a better sister to Natasja than I ever will. They are disturbingly close.”

“Really? Good to know,” Àsta replied and grabbed another glass for herself. “Ah so if they don’t love each other, I look like a supportive sister?”

“A few?” She chuckled softly. “No, I was thinking about half a dozen or so. Natasja probably doesn’t find anything offensive — if it’s done by anyone else except me, that is.”

“Is it bad form to get drunk at your sister’s engagement party?” She stared at the bottom of the empty G&T glass. “It automatically makes you look bitter, doesn’t it? That’s disturbing.”

Àsta Magnusdottír attending the engagement party of Natasja Magnusdottír, her half-sister, and Vita Asturias on the 10th of August, 2019. 

“Last time I was abroad was two years ago and that trip was to London... Dubai’s definitely something different,” Àsta mused as she peered outside from the big glass window. “Everything’s just made of glass and steel. It’s fun. Different.”