Her Royal Highness

XX

My mother sat back, her eyes keen, waiting for me to speak. Again, I couldn't miss how much we looked alike. The same dark hair, the same blue eyes. I was taller than my mother, my legs longer, but she was slimmer, her waist impossibly tiny. She was so delicate, and yet fierce. It was almost comical that I would be afraid to talk with her.

Finally, I took a deep breath, and started.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," I said, trying to sound confident. "About what I want. About what I want to be, and how I want to go forward."

"Alright..."

"Mainly, I have been thinking about college."

I didn't miss the surprised expression on my mothers face. The last time we had spoken about college had been almost a year before, and had ended in a blow out fight when she had tried to convince me to attend St Andrews in her wake. We hadnt touched on the subject since.

"I have been doing some research, and thinking about what interests me, and what I feel I want to learn. I want it to be something that interests me, and captivates me. I know you want me to study politics, but you know that isn't my desire."

"Yes," she grinned ruefully. "You've made that quite clear."

Ignoring her reference to my past tantrums, I continued. "Harry has been helping me, and I've narrowed it down to the school and line of study I want to follow."

Again, her eyes widened in surprise. She knew Harry and I had come to a civil arrangement, no longer fighting harshly. But she didn't know that we spent most of our time together. That we had become....friends.

"Oh?" she said in surprise. "And what is that?"

"Philosophy," I said confidently. "At University of Birmingham."

Immediately, her nose crinkled. "Birmingham? Why there?"

"Because, they have a wonderful program, and have options of combining philosophy with other areas of study, like religion, ethics, political sciences. The school has wonderful reviews, and it one of the best in London,"

"Yes, Charlotte, I am aware of its record," she said dully. "But it is also a general college. I would have hoped, maybe foolishly, that you would consider a more ivy league option."

I felt my face harden. "Like St Andrews?"

Her expression gave away her answer. "Not necessarily,"

"Don't lie," I snapped. "Mother, I don't want to go to St Andrews. I don't want to study politics, and follow in your footsteps. I want to make my own path, and study something that I actually like. Something that interests me. I love philosophy, and it would be something I would enjoy. Doesn't that count for anything?"

She sighed, setting her glasses on the table. "Oh, Charlotte, don't be dramatic," she shook her head. "Of course your desires count for something."

"You could have fooled me," I snorted. "This is the first time I have actually told you want I actually want. That I have gone ahead and looked into schools, that I have compared them, and chosen one that offers excellent academics. That I have even chosen a line of study, and one that is quite challenging I might add. It isn't like I am going to the community college and studying basket weaving, for Christ sake,"

My mother rolled her eyes, and I could feel the conversation losing ground. But I couldn't help my annoyance. I was being honest with her, for the first time ever on this topic, and it was as though she wasn't even hearing me. She had her mind set on what I should want, and anything other than that seemed foolish.