The Prince & The Popstar

The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

"So, keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground
Today's the day it gets tired
Today's the day we dropped out"
— Brand New

     Quinn straightened her pinstripe power suit's jacket, pulling down on the material just below the bottom of the pockets. "Now, you should know that what I'm about to tell you is a series of pieced-together stories from several servants of The Crown," she explained. "But, you should also know that when it comes to dirty, little secrets, the staff of The Palace are your most valuable resource. They are the eyes you never see and the ears you mistakenly thought were deaf."
     Then, Quinn began the tragic story of King Alexander and the incomparable Queen Tabitha—a story of the Royals' fractured past.

     It was Spring 2003 and the then Prince Alexander of Verastoria had just returned from Cambridge, where he completed his Master's Thesis for an MPhil in Economics. He was 24 and invincible; he had studied all he needed to study and now, the world beckoned his young mind, filled with endless dreams of success and accolades. He focused on what he could actually control, which he soon found out was little, due to the fact that the events taking place in the kingdom could not be tamed. Crime was on the rise, cutting-edge technological advancement was played close to the chest, and no one—absolutely, no one—wanted to be told what to do by a hot-shot university graduate who had little to no experience in the field that met his skill-set.
     It was widely known by the denizens of Verastoria, thanks to The Verastorian Looking Glass, that Prince Alexander abstained from romantic entanglements. Everyone within the square knew that he still carried a torch for the girl who took him through one whirlwind of a relationship. The girl was of peasant status—the product of middle-tier servants whose family had served The Crown for generations. Once The Royal Family was informed of the Cinderella-esque romance, they immediately put an end to it, sending the girl away, whereabouts unknown.
     Prince Alexander would flounder for a while, attempting to find his place in the kingdom, searching for that distinct sense of purpose. But, little did he know, fate had something in mind and it unapologetically collided with him on one rainy August night—the night The Palace held its annual black tie gala, benefitting the widely envied Verastorian education system. This noteworthy charity event collected hundreds of thousands of rings, all within a three-hour window. The people of the kingdom certainly wanted only the best for the next generation and they put up the money to make it possible.
     Prince Alexander did his best to simply be wall dressing next to the full-service bar, downing one glass of champagne after another. If he had to suffer through this mundane dinner party, he would do so completely numb, deflecting anything that came his way with some sarcastic slur.
     But then, an angelic voice spoke out. "Would you like me to fetch you a straw? You could put it in the bottle and cut out the middle-man."
     Prince Alexander turned and his stare met the undeniably beautiful face of a petite and demure young woman. "I—um—I—" Prince Alexander stammered.
     "If you'd like, I'd be willing to make it a 'crazy straw'," the young woman said. "You know, that way it's not only a useful utility, but fun with a little flair."
     Prince Alexander laughed awkwardly, trying to reach for something clever to retort, but he was completely empty-handed as his brain just wouldn't stop for a minute in order to formulate something other than mumbling nonsense.
     "Sorry—would you like a moment to collect your thoughts? I could go talk up the archbishop, giving you ample time to come up with something to say,"
     "No, please," Prince Alexander said, surprising himself a little as the words finally came out. "Don't leave. I'm just... well... you're quite a lot to take in."
     "Is that a compliment?" she asked with a dazzling smile. "Should I respond with a quip or a slap to the face?"
     "It's a compliment, I assure you," Prince Alexander replied. "Definitely a compliment."
     "Okay, then," the young woman said, grabbing the bottle of champagne off the bar, taking a few swigs herself. "So, tell me, why are you over here sulking in the corner?"
     "I'm not 'sulking'," Prince Alexander fired back. "I think of it more as 'brooding'."
     "Ah, like every bad boy in the history of literature. Don't you think that trope is a little tired?"
     "I think that if it works, what's the point of trying to change it?"
     "Ooo—I like that. Top marks. You started off a little shaky, but you nailed the landing. I give it a nine-point-eight."
     Prince Alexander looked at her with a blank expression. "What's your name? I must know. You're... you're... fascinating."
     "Aren't you ever the slick charmer? That's so adorable."
     Prince Alexander cracked a smile—something he hadn't voluntarily done in years. "Please, your name."
     "Tabitha," the young woman responded. "Tabitha Hall."
     "Wait," Prince Alexander said as his thoughts pivoted. "Is your father E.B. Hall?"
     "That, he is," Tabitha confirmed.
     "You're the Prime Minister's daughter?"
     "Do I lose points for that?"
     Prince Alexander chuckled—something he also hadn't done in quite some time. "No, not at all. I've heard about you, but I didn't know you were so..."
     "So?..."
     "Well, I was going to say 'ravishing', but that word just doesn't seem like enough."
     Tabitha looked down at the marble flooring, blushing. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
     "Not at all," Prince Alexander replied. "I don't believe there's a girl in this world who could hold a candle to you. I truly mean that."
     Tabitha gazed into Prince Alexander's bright green eyes. "You do mean it, don't you?"
     "With everything I am and anything I hope to be."
     Tabitha fiddled with the orange satin sash tied around her magnificent deep purple ball gown, meticulously embroidered with flowing, looping lines that made the dress appear as if it were crafted by something fluid. "Those are some pretty big words, My Prince. You might, one day, regret you said them."
     "There's only one thing that I would regret," Prince Alexander stated. "I would regret not asking you to dance."
     "Dance? Oh, you must be joking. No one here is dancing. We would look like absolute fools. And what would we dance to? The string quartet in the corner is only playing odd arrangements of Beethoven and Tchaikovsky—not exactly what I believe to be music to move to. It's more like music suitable only for a lift."
     Prince Alexander held up his hand. "Give me a moment, Tabitha. I'll be right back."
     He sauntered across the room and approached the lead violinist, briefly conversing with him before making his way back to Tabitha.
     "Okay," Prince Alexander said. "Now, let me ask you one more time: May I have this dance?"
     As he waited for Tabitha to extend her hand, the string quartet began playing an instrumental arrangement of "The Scientist" by Coldplay. The melody was wondrous and captivating and the future King and Queen pulled each other close, turning in place and soaking up all of the guests attention as they watched them twirl around with wide, unwavering smiles that were the focal point of the attending photographer from The VLG.
     Prince Alexander and Tabitha were soon headline news. Not only did The Royal Family approve of this match, but so did the general public. It was a match made in heaven—a prince and the daughter of a politician. It felt like it was written in the stars. They would go through the traditional protocols of formal courting through Fall 2003 and when December 22 rolled around, they announced their engagement to the world and were married on a gray, rainy day in June of the following year.
     As time pressed on, Prince Alexander and Princess Tabitha reveled in their collective successes, but they also had a few blow-out fights, as both had immovable convictions when it came to certain delicate situations, such as ethics versus morals. Prince Alexander believed in a strict code of conduct while Princess Tabitha took to an individual's principles when it came to right and wrong. Despite that, they always came through the other end, stronger than they did going in. They were perfectly balanced and the entire kingdom cheered for whatever they did and whenever they decided to do it.
     In Spring 2005, The newly crowned Queen Tabitha announced her pregnancy. Verastoria couldn't have been more thrilled. However, as the pregnancy progressed, The Queen became seriously ill. World-class doctors were at a loss and her condition was unbelievably difficult to diagnose. But then, a geneticist from The Mayo Clinic identified the markers and found that it was an incurable virus, which was later dubbed as "The Strife Virus", named after the discoverer, Dr. Clark Strife.
     On the day of her diagnosis, Queen Tabitha began writing in a leather-bound journal, recording every thought, every feeling, every fear that ran through her mind. She wanted her child to know that despite the glowing compliments in The VLG, she was a human being, flawed and imperfect. She wanted her child to understand the way she perceived life and how that affected everything she did.
     After two months' time, The Queen's medical team finally synthesized a drug therapy that would rid her of "The Strife Virus", but it came at a heavy cost. If she elected to receive said treatment, it would ultimately terminate her pregnancy.
     "We're not talking about this, Alexander," Tabitha said, folding her arms and looking in the opposite direction as she sat in her hospital bed.
     "Tabitha, you have to listen to me," The King begged. "We can always make another baby. We can't make another you."
     "Do you really think that my womb is some conveyor belt, manufacturing children on an assembly line?" She placed her hands on either side of her rounded stomach. "This child is special. It's an ineffable feeling, but I know it to be true. I will not end a life that has every right to breathe freely. I won't do it, Alexander. And I need you to understand it."
     "That's just the thing, my love. I don't understand it."
     Queen Tabitha took The King's hand and positioned it on her stomach at just the right place so he could feel the unquestionable pulse. "You see?" she pressed. "That's our son. He's alive, right here, right now. He just hasn't surfaced yet. But, I'm telling you this and you have to take it like gospel. Our child is going to change the world. I don't know how I know it, but it's a certainty that has flooded every corner of my mind. I'm sorry, darling, but I have to have this baby. And you have to promise me that you will keep him safe. Don't let anyone shine a spotlight on him before he's ready. He deserves to have a childhood away from the prying eyes of the public. Promise me that you'll do that for me."
     King Alexander sighed as a tear welled in the corner of his eye. "With everything I am and everything I hope to be."
     And then, Christmas came along and it wasn't going to leave without taking something away. After 18 hours of grueling labor, Prince Vincent of Verastoria cried out, making his presence known to all those around him. Queen Tabitha held him for a moment that refused to stretch and soon, her vitals began to plummet. King Alexander took his son into his arms and knelt down, kissing his wife's forehead.
     "How am I supposed to do this without you?" he asked, his anxiety sky-rocketing.
     "You'll do just fine," Tabitha replied weakly. "You'll figure it out. It's really all trial and error. Let him be whatever he wants to be—a fireman, a chef, an acrobat. Give him space to breathe, but not so much that it creates barriers. I believe in you, Alexander White. I always have." In her last moment, she took the leather-bound diary from underneath her pillow and handed it to her husband. "Give this to Vincent when he's mentally and emotionally ready to meet his mother."
     "How will I know when that is?"
     "You'll know. You'll feel it."
     "All I feel right now is the fear that I'm going to be a terrible father."
     "You'll find your rhythm. Trust me on this. It might not be on a time-table that you deem reasonable, but it will happen eventually. There's no doubt in my mind." The Queen's breathing then started to slow and became increasingly erratic. "Wow," she whispered.
     "What? What is it?" The King asked.
     "It's so beautiful here. It's warm. It's wonder—"
     And that's when the deafening sound of the flatlining pulse rang out and it would forever haunt The King of Verastoria.

     Quinn folded her arms. "And that's how it all happened. Your mother was an amazing woman and she fell in love with an amazing man, but unending pain has hardened that man. It's a terrible truth, but you, My Prince, are a living reminder of what he once had. It's not fair and I don't condone a majority of his actions when it comes to parenting you, but you have to understand that this is something that penetrates the deepest part of his soul. Queen Tabitha was his world."
     Vincent scratched the side of his face. "And I broke that world."
     "It wasn't your fault, do you hear me?" Quinn asked, trying to regain Vincent's attention as his mind started to wander. "It wasn't your fault."
     "Maybe not, but I'm in the inescapable position of being his greatest disappointment. And that really hurts."
     "Don't worry about his misplaced feelings; focus on you. You have so much to offer this world. Your mother knew it. I know it. You'll see, it's all going to work out. I promise you that."