#vincentwindsor

Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text.

2:25 P.M. Vincent! You need to come down to the lobby immediately, there’s approximately a dozen dogs yapping down here and falling over furniture! I think a pet store might have had an outbreak, possibly? Is it undiplomatic to adopt one?

2:27 P.M. Oh...never mind...they were just checking in the contestants for a dog show being held in the convention hall. The dogs are all going away now.

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.  ( @vincentwindsor )

“Wait! Who are we talking about? Oh, you must be talking about Vincent. Can you believe what an amazing man he’s grown up to be? I feel ancient, I’ll tell you--I’ve known him since he was a kid, he was probably so uncertain about what politics were going to be like as he grew up and the entire ‘royalty’ lifestyle to begin with, because how can you even begin to understand who you are as an adolescent when the media and the crown won’t allow you room to grow? It’s quite rigid, you see, but despite all of that, Vincent has grown into his own marvelously. I always wanted a younger brother--I was an older child, of course, so I never got to experience family the way most did--so I had to make my own. Vincent was...he’s a great addition to my little makeshift family. And no matter who wears the crown, he’ll always have that.”

@vincentwindsor

Seeing the thing for the first time on the inside was - odd. She’d seen the Buckingham Palace plenty of times on tv. Normally the outside or perhaps a window with the royals waving out. Sometimes the odd look on the inside, a historical program she would fight to keep on the tv, rereading her mother's letter in her mind and imagining herself there. Where she belonged, with a family. 

But it was bigger than she had imagined, cold in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She was going to spend Christmas here, or so she’d been told. A little gift for the poor orphan girl, she wasn’t sure what they were doing but they were finding out if her claim was real somehow. She wasn’t much worried about it. She was here in the meantime and that was nice - awaiting at the house longer would have been hell. She’d been teased plenty so far, from the time before and since. Children could be mean but Reha was pleasantly mean herself. Plus she was about to be a princess - what did they know anyway. 

There had been a long and tiresome thing outside after she first arrived, lots of cameras and questions. She’d been dubbed the Orphan Princess already which she wasn’t very happy about. Especially as it seemed the whole country was laughing at her.  She would show them too. Her father had left right after they got into the house- surely busy in it’s role as King. Maybe he wanted to finish things up so they could spend more time together.

So she was walking the hallways - always good at avoiding the people. This time they had too bright smiles and clipboards and talked to her as if she was slow instead of just a kid. They had been at her side every second except for pictures, whispering what to do and say or where to go next. Exploring alone was way more fun. She came across the prince not long after, the same pang of jealousy she had felt all her childhood when she saw him on tv knowing she should have been right there beside him. But that was going to be fixed now. She pushed the door to the room he was in open, having to use most of her body weight to do so- even if it was already half open. It seemed like a library, but not one similar to anything she had ever seen. But a few bookshelves covered the walls so the word in her mind fitted close enough. In reality, she would come to find it was one of the many sitting rooms.

“What’s up china?”

“Curly! That is the first thing I think of whenever I hear his name. I really don’t like his curly hair.” Luciana scrunched her nose. “But hey, never in my life did I think that I would meet a prince who has a better fashion sense than I do but he made me a believer.”

“Oh don’t bring him up, Gosh, what’s wrong with you?” She takes another gulp from her pint. “He’s so silly. I don’t trust him. It’s — that whole good son, good student, partier turned into a respectable young bloke is just — no! You can’t spend your life running around being a complete idiot and then just tada! Shape up. He does so much mansplaining too? Does he know that he’s what? Seven? Six? Years younger than me? And he says he can’t possibly understand where I’m coming from and how he won’t pretend that he can, which by itself is just fair, but he still forgets! Our signals are crossing all the time and it’s so tiring. One conversation with him leaves me knackered.”

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT.