Mondo Pastello | girlxgirl | Completed♕

Chapter XXXVI ♕ Preparation

I hugged him tightly, trying to convey my messed up feelings in this one act of affection. He felt tense against me but eventually willed himself to calm down, bringing his arms around me until he squeezed tightly. Under his suits and blazers you couldn't necessarily tell that he was skinny, but holding him like this it was a certainty. It saddened me, and now he was returning to whatever hell of a reality he lived in.

"Thank you, Jasper," I told him with sincerity in my voice.

"There's no need for that, Princess," I shook my head.

"Thank you for talking to me and listening to me and being there for me," I squeezed him tighter once more before letting him go. "I wish you the best of luck," I told him.

"Isn't that my line?" he chuckled softly.

"I think you deserve it more," he stayed silent at this and it was as if a silent conversation passed between our eyes, understanding washed over one another. He nodded slowly and I returned the action. Then he turned and headed down the imperial staircase, his clothed back being the last sight I see of him for a while.

After Cornelius came back we all caught up, him telling us of his adventures in Belgium with the PI acting as temporary guardian. When asked to contact him, the twins immediately retaliated. Their PI was their trump card, and after much pestering, the one thing they were allowed to keep to themselves. I didn't even know who he was as I worked through the twins. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they had an underground fight club or ran a black-market. It was just so like them.

I had not jet apologized to Sarina, but I attend to. I was still debating on what to do, because I knew that after how we left things, she wouldn't take me back that easily. Unfortunately, that would have to wait as with Cornelius's departure from us, the Royal Variety Performance was closer than ever before. There just wasn't any more time not scheduled to be doing something.

Especially me.

Because it meant my coronation was right around the corner.

I was drilled on languages and I was disciplined to perform my speech with excellence. Days passed as everyone rushed around, trying to get everything perfect while trying not to think too much about what everyone had gone through the previous week. Everyone was behind schedule, so it was crunch time.

The media found out about what happened. To an extent, of course. As far as the public was aware, the family had a ruffle with each other and he was discovered on his way to Belgium. No one needed to know where he actually was or what they had fought about. Bartholomew, with the occasional help of Cornelius, cleaned the jet until it was spotless. They no longer had practice for their musical show, so they took that time to finish the tedious task.

I, myself, was having a permanent heart attack each day. In less than thirty-two hours, I would have a crown on top of my head. How can anyone be calm about that? What if they test me, what if I'm not suitable? Many things rang through me in the last week of preparation, the only one offering me comfort being, surprisingly, Mother Queen.

She had not left for her manor after the situation was resorted and instead stayed to assist my rising to the throne. Apparently my mother was not far from calmer than I am, Mother Queen telling me all kinds of stories from my mother's past. It made me realize how similar I was to my mother. It calms me a bit.

But no matter how many words of encouragement flew towards me when I headed through the palace halls, even Royal Guards joining in, nothing could ever take away my nerves.

I was heading through the palace with a thesaurus on my head, practicing my posture for the coronation and the performance. The dress I had was also a rather large one, I hear, so I would need to watch my step perfectly. Any misstep and my reputation would barrow into the deep end of an Olympic pool. I would never be able to get out.