'No.'

'You cannot simply say no.' My grandmother argues, and already I can tell she's getting annoyed by my reluctance.

'Yes I can, I just did.' I shrug, taking a large bite of my toast. She's already fussy this morning because I'm eating downstairs with the maids and butlers, and not at our designated dining room.

'Marzia, you need to have a dress fitting, what if I haven't sized you up properly and the dress doesn't fit for your father's coronation!' She says, as if it really would be the worst thing in the world.

'Grandma, isn't it comforting the amount of faith I put in you?' I ask, still trying to worm my way out of having to go for a fitting, one of the things I've happily avoided the last six years.

'Asher, make sure she gets in the car on time for that fitting, tomorrow at noon. I will not have Alissa's time wasted.' My grandmother huffs pointing at my bodyguard who stands in the corner and refuses to come sit down.

'Yes ma'am.' He says, as if he's ever been able to get me to do anything.

'And please change before your mother gets here, you know how she likes things.' My grandmother says, pointing at my dressing down and sweatpants, matched with hair that doesn't constitute a ponytail with how messy it is, 'I'm sending Sara up to you in an hour before your mother arrives.'

'Please no.' I beg, but she's already walking away, heels clicking in the wooden floorboards.

Once she's gone, Asher finally relents and comes to sit himself down next to me on the maids bar stools around the island. I would tell you I'm sitting here for moral reasons, however this reminds me of home, in London, and I happen to really like the staff.

Asher agrees with my grandmother, telling me we're not setting a proper example sitting in here. I countered him with the fact that I don't think once in my life have I ever been proper, and I don't know why he thinks I'd start now.

'You might actually have to start listening to her, you know. She is the queen.' Asher says, taking a piece of toast from the mass amounts of food the chef decided to prepare us this morning.

See, Chef Gaston and I were best friends before I moved away. I spent most of my time down here in the kitchen, getting under his feet. The Aga in the corner was always warm, and so in the winters I would bring my book and curl myself up beside it.

Last night at four-am, when the sofa in the library became unbearable to keep trying to sleep on I wandered downstairs and tried to read with the light from the lantern outside, but the window isn't that close to the stove, and anywhere else is too cold on the tiles. I tried for about a hour, but gave up and after deciding that sleep just wasn't going to happen, I spent the rest of the time until dawn sitting on the balcony in a blanket, and not for the first time, wishing Emilio was here to understand.

'Yeah, but you're not so I don't have to listen to you.' I sneer jokily and he nods, knowing just how true that is.

'Are you excited to see your mother?' Asher asks, as if he was simply asking how I slept.

'No.' I tell him honestly, 'My mother I've spoken to every few days since I left, it's the kids I can't wait to see. With Tegean and Ansel, it'll be the first time I've ever met them in person.'

'Don't you talk to the girls on Skype? Ansel will know who you are, he'll recognise your voice.' Asher says, comfortingly.

'Yeah they'll recognise me.' I nod, happily, 'I'll just actually be a person today. An actual human being, you know?'

Asher nods, making his way through enough breakfast to last him until afternoon tea in the capital centre East Laumant, with everyone after mum's arrived. My dad's already out of the castle for the day, and my grandmother had a royal appearance in the city, so Asher and I have been left to our own devices for the day.

He's suggested that we do something public to show my face in the kingdom again, but I've already told him that I would rather stick hot pins in my eyes at the thought of the security needed for a spontaneous princess trip. He rolled his eyes like always but agreed when I told him I'd like to spend the day in the library.

I pretend to Asher that I like the library but really I know that taking Asher anywhere else will drive him insane. Last night while my father and my grandparents and I had dinner, he stayed tucked away amongst the shelves reading up on his family.

Of the massive book, he's already gotten through about half of it, and when I went to wake him up this morning, he was sitting up in the chair beside the window with the book and his glasses on his lap. He clearly hardly slept at all last night, given the bags around his eyes this morning.

I think he felt guilty, sleeping in a little too late and apologised when I came to get him. I assured him that it was fine, repeating my childhood understanding that I didn't need a bodyguard in the palace, so it wouldn't matter, but he still kept finding small ways to make it up to me, and my grandparent's to lessen a punishment that no one was going to give him.

My grandmother kept asking last night where my bodyguard was, but I said I had dismissed him for the evening for some alone time and she seemed okay with that answer. I couldn't bring myself to pull Asher away from learning about his father.

Once I've finished my toast, I wrap my jumper further around me because something I forgot about my father's house is that it's damn freezing all the time. No matter how high the thermostat goes, I guess heating up three hundred and twenty-nine rooms is a little difficult. Plus no one really uses the library anymore, my dad's read all the books by now. Emilio has told me many times that I'm a cold hearted person, but maybe I'm also cold blooded, too.

Asher follows me, ambling along as if he's not bothered about discovering more about his family. He's already dressed in a fancy suit that he really shouldn't have bothered with, and his hair looks as if he just shook it when I know he'll have spent a good few minutes fixing it into place.

Asher had rolled his eyes at me when I came skipping into his room this morning wearing my Christmas pyjama pants and a grey jumper with lemons on it and the words, 'don't be bitter, be better'. He said it was ironic, I hit him. He says I'm not proper enough for this castle.

I slow down my walking because I forgot how massive this place is, but Asher takes the lead as if he's been visiting the library since he was a child. He's got the book tucked under his arm, he's not let the thing alone since I handed it to him.

I want to ask him about it, but I don't have the heart to make him explain. Asher doesn't ask what he doesn't need to know about my brother, and the expectation for me is the same. Plus I can't watch him tell me everything is fine again, when we both know he's lying.

He holds the library door open for me and I walk into the strange silence. There's a maid already laying out tea for us on the coffee table in our favourite seating spot, right beside the window that overlooks the grounds. Asher likes it, he stared out for a few hours yesterday before carrying on reading.

He sits himself down in the chair and pulls a mug of tea into his lap to warm his hands. Surprisingly a football field of a library isn't that warm.

I wander towards the wall of books, skimming the shelves for the one about my brothers. I skim my fingers over the ones about my great grandfather, and my grandfather and my father and -

Wait.

I frown, inspecting the empty space on the shelf beside the book about my father. I wave my hand around just to make sure I'm not seeing things. Behind me, I hear a chuckle and turn to see Asher who is grinning at me.

'What are you doing with your hand?' He nods, his book frozen in one palm.

'Did you take another book?' I ask him and he raises his eyebrows and shakes his head like I expected him to, 'There wasn't a space here yesterday, something's missing.'

'I only took this one.' He shrugs, clearly having only focused on his book all last night, 'Did your dad take one?'

'I don't think so.' I bite my lip, 'My grandmother was telling me he doesn't read about our past much. Or talk about it. She says he always leaves the room when it's mentioned.'

'Maybe he didn't want you to read it.' He suggests, taking a sip of his tea and then nestling it back into his lap, 'What book is gone?'

'I don't know. I'm going to go see if he's home and ask him.' I tell him, spinning around to head back towards the door, just as it swings open and my father comes jollily walking in, 'Speak of the devil.'

'Devil? Charming.' My father grins, shooting a wink at Asher who has scrambled to sit up and look professional.

'Dad, did you move a book from in here?' I ask him, gesturing to the bookshelf where one space is left solemnly.

'I've not been in here in weeks. Maybe the maid did, what's gone missing?' He asks, walking over and letting his eyes scan over the titles, 'Oh.'

'What?' I ask, noticing the panic in his reaction. Asher has put his book down and stood up at the change in my father's attitude.

'Have you moved this book?' My father says, pointing an angry finger at the shelf.

'Why would I have asked you where it was if I had moved it?' I respond, concerned at my father's sudden change, 'I don't remember which book it was, I just noticed it was missing when I was looking for something to read.'

I pause, treading carefully with my question, 'Is that book about us, dad? Chris, Charlie and I?'

'Marzia, forget this happened. Go to your room and get ready for your mother's arrival.' Dad says, a hand attached to his head in distress.

'She's not due for an hour, dad what is going on?' I interrupt his rambling.

'My darling, your room. Please.' He says, using a voice I remember as being final.

I look towards Asher and he picks up his book, tucks it underneath his elbow and leads me out of the room, abandoning the tea prepared for us. Neither of us say a word as we walk to my bedroom, my angry footsteps echoing around the walls.

'Are you going to calm down?' Asher asks, his hands in his pockets condescendingly.

'Are you going to go away?' I snap.

When we reach the stairway I notice the hurried footsteps of my grandfather on the opposite balcony rushing towards the library. Asher stops, watching my gaze and I growl, getting more and more irritated at my 'child' status in this place.

Just as I'm about to shout after my grandfather, I notice three other figures making their way up the stairs; the Greenewood triplets visiting from their grandmother. Asher smiles and waves as they come near us.

'Please distract them.' I hiss, shoving him out of their sight, 'I'm going to go listen in on my grandfather.'

'Are you suicidal?' He whispers, dragging me against the wall and blocking me in to stop me from running away.

'Only around you.' I sneer and he shakes his head, refusing to move no matter how much I push his arm.

The triplets reach where we're standing and Augustus laughs at us. Zoë looks considerably more fancy than she did on the train, and now she's wearing her engagement ring. The press are going to have a field day. The princess returns and the daughter to one of the richest clans gets engaged, all in one week.

'Why is it that we always seem to find you both in such compromising positions?' Augustus asks as Asher refuses to let me leave.

'She's trying to go spy on her father and the king.' Asher informs them, clearly thinking that throwing me under the bus is the appropriate way to get to know my friends.

'Do you have a death wish?' Quigley asks, stunned.

'Only in the mornings.' I hiss.

Asher chuckles and pushes me back towards my bedroom. We're along the corridor in no time and Quigley shuts the door behind him. I go stand at the balcony, agitated and swing the doors open to get some fresh air.

There's moments of silence where no one dares to say anything for fear that I'll explode on them. I'm thankful to this day that for all the things I can say about this insulting pink bedroom, at least it backs out over the ocean, so I'm allowed to open the windows. Charlie decided to move rooms one year and quickly realised that for fear of any attack, he couldn't open the bulletproof windows that looked out onto the streets of our country. He moved back pretty fast after that.

I remember a time, one year where the threats became so high, that they closed the nearby marina and I was told to always stay indoors, in case someone brought an AK-47 onto a boat and tried to kill me all the way round here. The memory only serves to irritate me more.

I cross over to the corner of my room and kick the door shut of the walk-in wardrobe behind me, just to keep their eyes from looking at me with pity and concern.

I decide to change, mainly because if I don't they're going to wonder why I shut myself in a closet, and I refuse to let them think I've been crying. I pull away my pyjamas and find the section dedicated to gym clothes, mostly lycra, all black.

I don't know why I go for these clothes. I don't know why my hands reach for these comforting trousers and tops. After Chris died these clothes were all I could wear, just in case I had to run away, and jeans or dresses don't make that too easy. You can never go wrong with a hoodie.

I pick up a few, but know as soon as I can put them on, I'll have to take them off because there's no way my grandmother will allow me to see my mother for the first time since I was twelve, wearing leggings and a zip up.

Even so I can't bring myself to put on a dress, so I find a grey jumpsuit and matching blazer with grey heels that has been set out as one of a few options for me. They're probably meant for some simple dinner in the castle but it'll do. If I wasn't having to wear it, it would be beautiful. The pattern of leaves in darker grey extends from my waist downwards to my toes.

The material passes over my legs as I pull it on but I can't reach all the way to zip it up along my back. Without tucking my feet into my heels, I duck my head out of the wardrobe to ask for Zoë's help when I find Asher sitting alone on my bed. The maid must have been because the cushions that I threw onto the floor last night in my restless sleep are arranged on the bed again.

'Where's everyone gone?' I ask, holding my chest to keep the fabric from falling down and embarrassing me.

'Your grandmother came to see where you were, she's taking the triplets to pick out some jewelry for Percy's coronation.' He tells me, 'Something about a bracelet, or a necklace or something.'

I grin, walking over to where his glum figure is sitting, 'Are you upset that my grandma isn't giving you pretty things?'

I pout but he just rolls his eyes and extends his wrist where a brand new watch rests. I feel like I recognise it from somewhere but I can't place it. I can't place it until Asher reminds me of it's previous owner.

'It was Christopher's, your grandmother said you wouldn't mind. I thought it'd be like having part of Chris with you at the coronation.' He tells me gently, as if this news could cause an emotional disturbance, 'I can take it off if you want, it was a stupid idea anyway, I'm sorry.'

'No.' I cut him off, holding one of his hands to stop him from tugging at the watch to get it off, 'It's a sweet idea. Thanks.'

He smiles and for a second lets my hand rest on his wrist. He then frowns, looking down at where the fabric has slipped off my shoulders and is pooling around my waist, only held up around my chest by my hands.

'Need some help?' He asks and I nod, turning around quickly so that he can't see the blood that rushes to my cheeks in embarrassment. I wiggle, trying to get the sleeves back up onto my shoulders and desperately failing. Asher just laughs, 'Cut it out. Stay still a minute.'

I let my body still and Asher takes the sides of my outfit, pulling them slowly up my arms to rest on my shoulders. Then his hands move down, skimming my waist to pick up the zip delicately between his fingers. It starts at the very base of my back and he manages to leave tingles across every inch of skin he touches as he zips it up.

I have to focus hard on part of the wall to stop myself from shivering. Once he's finished his hands move from my neck back down and one of them rests on my hip, so lightly that I have to double check I'm not mistaken. I look down and my hair flows onto the back of his hand.

'All done.' He says, voice low and hoarse as he talks quietly to keep the peace.

I put one of my hands on top of his, moving it up slightly to touch the watch, noticing how perfectly it fits around his wrist. If I didn't know better, I would've said it was made for him. The action pulls him a little closer to me, so that I can feel his front pressed against my back.

'What made you think of it? The watch, I mean.' I ask as the winter sun reflects the light up onto my face.

'My aunt wears my mother's wedding ring on her right hand. She says it reminds her of her family, even though she never really knew them all that well. I thought I could do the same for you, if it helps.' He shrugs and I can feel the movement of his muscles on my shoulder.

'That's the first real thing you've told me about your mother.' I tell him, waiting for his outburst of defensive anger, but it doesn't come. Instead, he just nods, his hair catching in mine.

'I suppose you're right.' He confirms solemnly, 'First and last.'

I shake my head lightly, knowing that I only have a week left with this boy and I'm never going to learn anything more about him. As if he notices this, he clears his throat and his hand becomes ever so slightly tighter on my hip.

'The first Christmas after my parents went missing, I thought my mother had come back, you know.' I don't move because I'm worried it'll cause him to clam up again, 'They disappeared in August, and we found her wedding ring on Christmas day.'

'Where was it?' I ask.

'It was one of the presents.' Asher tells me, 'Ursula thought that it was her way of telling us she was safe, but the police says it must have been someone who was involved with their disappearance just trying to fuck with us. She hasn't taken it off since, as if someone in the street might recognise it or something.'

I pause, 'Ash, do you think your mother is alive?'

He takes a deep breath, and then shakes his head but I don't believe him, 'I know she's not. She loved that wedding ring, she wouldn't have given it up. Plus she's strong as anything, no one could have kept her quiet this whole time. My father, maybe not. If either of them is alive, it'll be my dad.'

'Just let my father help, he won't mind.' I say turning around without realising what a compromising situation this will put us in, 'He's already offered.'

Asher looks down at the little space between us and then back at me, a look of defeat already on his face as if he knows the answer, 'It's okay. I don't think I'd want to know if they're alive. It'd probably hurt too much, honestly. The waiting looks worse.'

'Looks?' I question curiously.

'The way you wait for Charlie.' He tells me, 'I've seen you walking around here, looking at photographs of him. You look at Chris' pictures differently. At least you know Chris isn't staying away optionally, it's final. I don't know how you can stand to wait this long for somebody.'

'You get used to it.' I shrug, playing away the longing for my brother.

'No you don't.' He reminds me, not believing my lie for one second, 'Am I ever going to see you again?' He asks before his brain can stop him.

'What do you mean?' I frown, tucking one of his little curls away from his glasses, 'We're going to meet my mother together, you're coming with me.'

'When I go home.' He corrects himself, and I can't say I hadn't thought about it at all, 'I mean, will you come to England to see Emilio, or better yet, I come stay for summer vacation?' He half laughs at his own suggestion as if it's entirely ridiculous.

'Emilio's moving here.' I tell him and he swallows, knowing that he was the only loose tie I had to our old life in London, 'I haven't figured it out yet.'

We stand for a moment, both of us so still that I wonder if I have finally figured out how to freeze a moment and capture it forever. The sun is illuminating Asher's eyes and I realise that the hatred I used to see in them is missing. They're not dark brown, they're hazel and I suddenly understand why everyone is so captivated by them.

Without asking if it's okay, Asher's hand moves from my hip round to my back to meet the other and he pulls me gently up against him into a hug. One arm of mine finds itself curled over his shoulder and hanging by his back whilst the other rests beside his neck gently so that the ends of his hair tickle the tips of my fingers.

'If you do something particularly spectacular in the agency I could probably award you with a medal or something.' I tell his shoulder and he chuckles but doesn't let go of me still.

'I think taking care of you is going to be the biggest task of my career, maybe I can get a medal for that instead.' He tells me, hinting at my tendency to want to be overly independent and usually get myself into trouble.

'I'll have a word with the king, I've heard I'm a particular favourite of his.' I smile, for the first time noticing that Asher's hand is holding my shoulders still so that I can't move anywhere.

'I'll just have to watch you on TV and stuff for all your grand parties. And of course, you've got your big engagement coming up.' He tries to sound light hearted but I can hear the pain in his voice like heavy lead.

'I'll come back.' I say, unsure whether or not this is true, but anything to get his mind away from the betrothal, 'I've gotta rub my royalty in the faces of Phineas, Lennox and Cade, don't I?' I chuckle, also reminding myself of the winter wonderland, 'Did you and Cade make up?'

'We didn't kiss and hug if that's what you're asking.' He laughs and I hear the difference in his happiness when it's right next to my ear, 'But we're fine, the guy's been there for me for forever. I couldn't get rid of him if I tried.'

'I'm sorry I almost got in the way of that.' I mumble because it's painfully obvious that Asher has not benefited from being around me at all, 'In fact, I think there's a lot I need to apologise for.'

'Hey, don't sweat it.' He smiles, 'I got a free holiday, didn't I?'

'I'm serious.' I say, leaning away from him. For a second he looks quite hurt by this but he's too busy trying to stop me from pushing my apology, 'I've pulled you away from Christmas with your aunt, and winter wonderland with your friends-'

'Actually that was Loki's fault.' Asher says, putting both hands on my arms to steady my babbling, 'And what is with this role reversal? I'm cracking jokes and you're worrying about me. I'm thinking I like this Marzia.'

'So you like it when I'm stressed? You know that's pretty messed up, I'm just trying to be nice, I'm worried about you-'

'Marzia, just don't be so dramatic for once.' He smiles down at me, his hands on either of my shoulders, 'You know that the exterior you put up isn't fooling me at all.'

'What exterior?' I ask, trying to let myself seem as strong as possible, which only seems to prove his point.

'Z, you've got to let me in at some point, you might as well do it sooner rather than later.' He says, and his hands cups my chin to make me look at him, 'Admit it.'

I roll my eyes but with the movement, my face ends up right in front of his. I stay there a second, in the bubble of warmth that I feel around Asher. He blinks slowly, and my brain flashed back to this same memory in his bedroom.

Oh God, what if someone walks in again?

In panic, I jump backwards, remembering this awkwardness from when we got this close on the train. The triplets caught us then, secrecy really isn't on our side. From downstairs there is a loud fanfare that echoes through the halls into my room.

'That must mean your mother's here.' Asher says and his voice is so hoarse that it sounds like he's never spoken before. I nod, not able to find any words, 'Okay, I'll just go make sure that you're okay to come down.'

'What in case there's a sharp shooter waiting for me on the stairs? I mock him and almost immediately I feel the uneasiness melt away.

He rolls his eyes and shoves my shoulder so that I almost lose my footing and go stumbling into the bedpost. An hour ago I would've been mad at him, but now I can't help but let my lips curl up in a smile and try to hide the laughter that's so easily bubbling.

Asher notices my reaction and can do nothing else but copy. The smile on his face melts into laughter in seconds and just as tears are seeping from our eyes in amusement, my grandmother pokes her head around the door to ask whether or not I would actually like to see my mother after all this time.

'I'll be down in a second, I just need to grab my jacket, there's cameras downstairs right?' I ask, confirming what my grandfather told me this morning.

'Unfortunately, so. The children will be here in a few minutes with their father to avoid the cameras, so hurry yourself.' She tells me, then scoffs, 'Marzia, you're not even wearing shoes yet, what have you been doing this whole time?'

She disappears, unaware of the implication of her sentence. With flaming cheeks and the smell of Asher that seems to linger in the air around me, I dart into the wardrobe and pull the grey heels and the matching blazer onto me and hurry outside. It's just occurred to me that my mother is really here, just downstairs.

I'm glad that the awkwardness is gone when I return, Asher is still mopping at his tears as I walk quickly past him and down the stairs towards the mother that I've seen on a webcam every week since I was twelve. I don't know how she's going to look when she's not two dimensional, and god knows what she's going to think of me.

There's a commotion downstairs that can only be my mother already being noisy and bossing people around. You wondered where I got it from? Well, you found her.

By the time I round the corner, my mother is embracing my grandfather but with the air of royalty still completely sewn into her DNA. Her diamond wedding ring from her new husband is visible from here and I remember how much I used to hate the thing as a child. Her pearls stay rooted around her neck the way they always did.

Her bouncy bright blonde hair is so clearly dyed, but maybe only to me since I used to sit and pull out her grey hairs sometimes when she was around. Her face hasn't had any botox, but maybe the amount of times she pursed her lips in disappointment has left her skin permanently tight. She's still beautiful.

I understand completely why my father fell in love with her all those years ago when I wasn't even a concept yet. She's got flaws and you can tell them pretty clearly from a five minute conversation with her. But she's intoxicating, she's got a way of making you feel special even when you know you're not. It worked on me as a kid.

She looks up at me. I guess we're going to find out if she still has the same effect on me six years on.

'My daughter!' She exclaims and my dad rolls his eyes.

'Our daughter.' He grumbles.

My mother shoots him a look to signal 'not now' and glides her way over to me, even in the sky high cream heels that she has strapped to her feet. Her dress is cream with grey detailing, the flip opposite to mine, almost as if my grandmother planned it. I shoot her a look just in case she did have something to do with this.

'Marzia, oh! Look at you, you're a young woman!' She beams, given that she can't force me into clothes over Skype and so this is the first time she's seen me all princessy since I was a kid.

She's a pain in the ass, don't get me wrong, but I can't describe the feeling I get when she hugs me, tightly as if forgetting her royal training she had the moment she was seen in public with my father.

In the hug, I'm not a princess, and she's not the jilted ex-wife of the crown prince that the tabloids claim her to be. She's just my mum and I'm just her kid, and we're holding each other with everything we couldn't say all those years we were apart.

From the way she's hugging me, I can see my father, slotted behind her blonde waves, smiling as if everything he has left in the world is just there in front of him. My mother left him, and he doesn't cry about it anymore. But there is never going to be a time when my father doesn't miss the hell out of his ex-wife.

'Oh darling, you look so beautiful!' She says, and I'm beginning to think that everyone says that out of formality, rather than actually thinking it.

'You sound nothing like my mother.' I squint, as her stick thin arms straighten the jacket around my shoulders and move my hair away from my face. She moves my face from side to side to inspect me the way I know she's been dying to for years.

'You're so big!' She beams, and then her smile falters slightly and she tilts her head condescendingly at me, 'Although you could stand to lose a couple of pounds, five maximum.'

'Ah, there she is.' I say and give her a last quick cuddle, watching as my father shakes his head. Asher is smiling at the reunion, and I wish he would stop looking at me with affection, it's freaking me out.

'Did the cameras get all they needed?' My grandfather asks as his head of security approaches where we're standing. I completely forgot they were there, and I'm a little concerned about how often I might have been looking at Asher given yesterday's photograph.

The head of security nods and assures me that all press have been removed ready for another arrival.

A slightly smaller arrival.

'Are you ready to meet your brother and sister?' She asks me.

I know in her mind she thinks I'm only meeting Tegean and Ansel for the first time, considering I had two years with Adanna before they took her away. But even though I would tickle Adanna until she screamed and chse her around the house for hours and she'd never tire, none of that exists, except in my memory.

To me, I am not meeting Adanna again for the first time, but to Adanna I am a stranger. She doesn't remember those times, she will never be able to access the memories of the two of us even though I wanted her to, so badly. She loves me, of course she does, all three of them do. I'm their sister.

But I'm two dimensional, and so is their love for me.

Adanna used to love giraffes, there was a show where a little girl would slide down the giraffe's neck and I used to wizz her down the banister and pretend she was that little girl. Apparently now she likes deer's, especially the one from Bambi. I bought her a giraffe necklace for christmas last year, I bet she didn't understand why.

The door opens and in comes two small figures holding hands, as well as a small, very tired infant being carried by a man. I try to calm the uneasy feeling I get whenever I'm around my stepfather, and focus instead on the things he has brought me. Things named Adanna, Tegean and Ansel Wilquette.

Adanna is first by my side. She might not remember me as a physical memory but she's seen my smiling face every week since she was born, maybe she thinks this is normal for siblings. She's not allowed to talk about me, so I can't imagine that anyone has told her any different.

She's not shy at all, quickly coming to smile up at me, with her hair in bunches and the dimples in her cheeks that show she's truly pleased to see me. Her hair is crazy curly and she's dragging alongside her the sidekick that she's more than happy to lovingly boss around, Tegean who is more beautiful than I could've imagined.

Tegean is the exact same as Adanna, they've both inherited our mother's good looks but unlike me, they also got her green eyes and blonde hair. I can tell my mother is finally enjoying having little girls that don't mind being dressed up because they're wearing identical pale pink dresses, with slippers and bows in their hair.

'Can I give you a hug?' Adanna asks.

I almost can't stop a cry of relief that even though she doesn't know me anywhere other than a webcam, she still seems to love me. I kneel down and she's considerably taller than I thought she would be. I don't know what I expected, she's not exactly two anymore, she just seemed shorter on camera.

She wraps her arms around me but Tegean still holds onto her with a fist that hasn't yet lost all of it's puppy fat. Adanna leans down to face her straight up and smiles at her baby sister, the way I recognise Charlie would do with me.

'Tiggy, let's hug her together. Ready?' Adanna asks and Tegean nods.

Slowly Adanna coaches Tegean into giving me a hug and as soon as I have them both in my arms I decide now is the time that I can't hold back tears. I hold them so tightly that I'm worried about hurting them, but their little bodies don't seem to mind. In fact, Tegean seems to have gotten over her fear of me and is cuddling me.

'Honey?' My mother says and I look up to see the little boy that she's holding.

I stand up. Tegean stays holding onto my leg and Adanna is watching as if she somehow understands what this must feel like. Maybe she does, in some very small way I suppose.

The little boy is wiggling because he so clearly wants the explore the massive new world that's suddenly available to him but I know that he's still wobbly on his legs and he can only make out a few words, so all I get when I pull him into my arms is a wonky smile and a squeal that I hope isn't out of protest.

I kneel back down because I know the sight of his sisters will soothe him. Adanna rests her hand on my back as she leans down, something she won't have thought twice about, but something that means the world to me. For the first time, I can really look at who Ansel is, the very small person that lives in this little body.

The little body that looks exactly like my brothers.

'He looks exactly like Chris and Charlie, doesn't he?' I breathe, looking at the way that he somehow inherited blue eyes even though both his parents have green. I would be tempted to make a joke about my mother's fidelity however I don't think it would be taken well by anyone in the room.

'Actually, we've always thought he looks most like you.' My mother says. She won't kneel or bend down, it's not ladylike, but she's rubbing Tegean's hair and looking at her remaining children fondly, 'His favourite bedtime story is Where The Wild Things Are.'

'That was Chris' favourite when he was a kid.' I confirm, knowing why she was bothering to tell me this.

He's already squirming so I stand him up on my thighs and watch at how he enjoys the new line of vision he has. His sisters still stand around me and they're cooing the way that children do at children that are smaller than them.

'Ansel, do you want to show Zia how you can walk?' Adanna asks and looks at me to ask if she can take him before doing so. I nod and hold out the baby, wondering whether or not he recognises me, or understands the situation whatsoever.

'He's really good at walking.' Tegean tells me, 'And he can say my name now too. Ansel Ansel, can you say Tiggy? Say Tiggy.'

'Tiggy.' Adanna urges him. Ansel manages to slobber out a mumble that Tegean takes as her name and she claps in agreement. Adanna sets him down a few feet from me and lets him hold her hands to steady himself, 'Are you going to walk to Zia? You ready?'

On wobbly legs, Ansel begins to make his way over to me. Tegean has her hands outstretched and clapping occasionally to remind him of the direction he's aiming for. I can tell from their smiling faces and innocent eyes that they don't remember what happened to Chris, they don't remember the pain.

I suddenly feel so thankful for their little ages. Tegean and Adanna are whole people now, with feelings and opinions and favourite things. They've grown up without me, but they've grown up safe and that's all that kept me going those first few months I was gone. I smile, feeling free. I did it, I kept them safe.

By the time Ansel flops into my arms after his fumbled walk towards me, all of the parents and grandparents and siblings are gathered around me, clapping him. I hold him close to my body even though I know he'll get fussy and Adanna strokes his head. Tegean I think is still a little weary around me, but it'll go.

I stand up, the little boy kicking his legs at their lack of relationship to the ground. He begins to whinge and so I reluctantly pass him over to my mother's awaiting arms. Soothing instantly, he turns to rubbing his finger on one of the pearls of my mother's necklace where she holds him tightly.

'Marzia.' Lars is standing next to my mother with his arm around her. If I didn't know him better, I'd say he was just being affectionate towards his wife. But I do know him, and this isn't romantic, this is possessive.

He just wants to make fully sure that both my father and I know that my mother is not a part of our family anymore, but his and only his. He's been this way ever since he first showed up and I can't say I'm happy that their marriage has lasted. I do have to remind myself that my siblings are worth it, even through a screen.

'Lars.' I say with as much conviction as I can, 'It's good to see you.'

'Thank you for hosting us at your home, we appreciate the invitation.' He says even though every member of my family can tell that he's talking out of his arse, 'You too, Percy and Myron.'

Lars nods over to my father and grandfather and my grandmother very subtly rolls her eyes at her lack of thanks, even though this castle would fall apart without her influence. Lars won't thank her, he's the definition of misogyny even if my grandmother tells me I'm not allowed to say that about my step-father.

'How was your journey?' I ask my mother, watching as she gets uncomfortable, the way she always does when the family are together. I've not seen this move in years, but it's exactly the same as when I was a child and I know the way to steer her out of it.

'Long, the children are very tired and it's upset them greatly.' Lars cuts in, looking down at his son in my mother's arms.

Sometimes, only rarely, but sometimes, I wish that Lars had never existed. Or, he existed long enough to give me these siblings, and afterwards he had run away and no one could remember him. I think what a wonderful life I could have with my mother if it wasn't for this man.

'Lars, the children are fine-' My mother attempts to calm him down.

'There are bedrooms available for you if you require, where the children can sleep?' My grandmother says in her soothing voice but even that doesn't calm him down. Adanna is chattering away with Tegean about how she's not tired and refusing to go to bed this early in the day.

'We're staying in a hotel.' Lars says, with his jaw locked and his chin jutted out.

My heart sinks. I look down at the little girls beside me. My hand is wound in Adanna's who is swinging it absentmindedly, unaware to the fact that half of her genetics come from one of the worst men I've ever met in my life. Some of those men have been trying to kill me, and Lars is still worse.

Tegean is clinging to her father's legs in a way that I'm sure she's learnt to do for attention, given that she's been able to walk for years. He pulls her onto his hip and I watch as he turns her slightly away from me as if just looking at me will hurt them. He's never liked us spending time together, he thinks I'm dangerous.

I'll be the first to tell you that I'm not Lars' biggest fan, but that he's not wrong about.

I could live a thousand years without any murdering incidents and he would still be unhappy about his children sharing half my genes. I'm sure he's hoping that whoever wants to kill me will do it quickly so his family can be left alone. He didn't sign up for a life of being constantly afraid, and neither did his children.

He's unreasonable to a fault, narcissistic and hates me more than the people trying to kill me. But all he's doing is trying to protect his children and I can't help but wonder if my father feels this passionate about protecting me.

I won't ever say my father does not love me, or that Chris' death was the fault of his title, and by extension, him. But I can't help but wish things were different. If my father was a boring accountant like Lars maybe I wouldn't have lost my mother, and my brothers and anything I ever held dear.

I wouldn't have met Emilio, and I wouldn't have the girls and Ansel. The feeling makes me feel unbelievably guilty and I can't find any part of me to argue with Lars about where he and his children are staying. I sure wouldn't want to stay with my wife's ex husband and his entire family either.

Surprisingly, I find myself understanding Lars for the first time in my life.

'Which one?' I ask, trying my best not to scoop up my siblings and run away from him.

'It's in the city centre, Triple Spring Resort and Spa.' My mother tells me, wondering if she heard me right.

I know my father would love to jump in and criticise Lars, but he's holding back. As are my grandparents, they're all watching to see how I'm going to react to Lars' statement. I smile, and bend down to Adanna.

'You're going to love it there, I stayed there once when I was little, they've got a kids pool which has got slides and spraying water, it's so much fun.' I tell her and she smiles, her hand warm and soft in mine and a look of surprise on her face. She's way smarter than her parents give her credit for.

'Will you come and play there with us?' She asks, 'Ansel just got new swimming trunks with turtles on them.'

I smile and nod at her, realising that if anyone in my family was ever destined to be a politician, it would be Adanna. She's manipulative, but there's not a spiteful bone in her body, she just understands feelings, even if she doesn't understand their context. She's been managing my mother and Lars since she learnt her first word.

'Of course I will.' I tell her and she tilts her head at her father, a slight raise in her eyebrow as if daring him to challenge her. Of course he won't, this little girl has him wrapped around her finger and I can see how easily.

'But for now, I think they need their sleep, wouldn't you agree, Bon?' Lars says, with Tegean falling asleep on his shoulder. The time distance between here and Belgium where they live isn't far, but the kids have never travelled before and I can imagine it must have wiped them.

'How about they go for a sleep at the hotel until this afternoon and then we all go for dinner together?' I suggest diplomatically, 'Would that suit you Lars?'

The tug in my chest reminds me that they would be gone again, but I calm it with the reminder that they will only be ten minutes away in a car, and not hours like they were this morning.

'That's a very good idea, Marzia.' My mother nods, 'But Lars, if you wouldn't mind taking the children back to the hotel alone, I think my daughter and I have some time to catch up on.'

Lars doesn't look too thrilled about the idea of leaving his wife alone with her ex-husband and the family he despises, but after a few strict instructions from my mother about letting her know that they are safe and how to put Ansel down, Lars takes the children into a car waiting for them.

I'm grateful that my mother wants to spend some time with me away from Lars. Part of me hopes she's going to tell me of her plans to leave him but I know this is unrealistic. Asher is standing silently beside my father and we watch as the sleek limo pulls away from the castle. Security guards are fighting away the press with the cameras at the gates.

'Bonnie, could I interest you in some afternoon tea?' My grandmother asks while my mother readjusts her dress from where holding Ansel has crumpled it slightly.

She smiles, hiding the sadness in her voice, 'Thank you very much Thelma, but if it's alright with Percy and Marzia, I think I'd like us to visit my son.'

*

'I forgot how cold Alania gets in December.' I say as we stand in the memorial garden.

My mother stays to one side of me, and my father to the other. We're standing far back enough to make sure that we don't accidentally step on my brother where he rests in the ground. We ought to be careful in case any press sees us. To the right of us is Charlie's 'grave' but we ignore it entirely, this moment is between us and Chris.

Of course the press can't get the feeling that we favour one brother over the other, but only one of the two is actually dead and deserves our mourning.

His headstone is beautiful, I remember at the time the press had a running poll as to who was going to design the headstone, and what it would say on it. I have seen pictures, but this is the first time I have ever stood in front of my brother's grave and seen the carvings of his name.

The stone lettering reads, 'Gone from our sight, and that is all,' in Alanian.

Because of the explosion at Chris' funeral, we didn't get to stay around long enough to see his body be lowered into the ground, but just driving through the streets to the hospital and then the airport, there were people wailing in the streets. My brother touched the hearts of many people and many people suffered the day he was buried.

The memorial for my two brothers doesn't stand in a normal graveyard, but instead in the royal graveyard, just close to the beach where Chris, Charlie and I learnt to swim. I like to think we placed it there on purpose, but actually this graveyard holds my great grandfather and his father and father after that.

Most countries that still have a royal family don't have a mass graveyard like this for their deceased relatives, but apparently Alania's history includes a lot of mourning that people felt should be private.

Every year on the anniversary of Christopher's funeral, and Charlie's supposed death, the yard is opened to the public for people to come and mourn his loss. Every year there are thousands and thousands of flowers laid in front of the gates, so much so that it takes a few months to clear them all after the remembrance has finished.

Already, even though the anniversary is a few weeks away, there are candles and flowers dotted around and photos of Chris from when he was a boy. Now the resemblance of Ansel to my older brother is astounding, and resonates with me more than it did earlier.

It bugs me that the celebration of Chris' life doesn't actually occur on his birthday, but rather on the day of his funeral, with the false memory of Charlie hanging over our family. I have to admit, while I love my last remaining older brother, I feel resentment everytime Chris is overlooked for his younger brother.

'Why are you angry?' My father's voice comes from beside me and I look at him.

He gestures down to my hands where they have balled up so tightly that my nails have caused deep red marks in my palms. I blink at the cuts, having not even noticed that I was doing it. My father takes one of my hands and after a pause, my mother takes the other.

The difference in the feeling is comforting. My mother's hands are manicured and soft and her grip on me is soothing. My father's hand is rough and callous but reminds me of the strength that has kept me going ever since my brother was laid to rest here.

'Are you cold?' My mum asks, noticing how goosebumps have sprung up all over my skin.

'No, I'm fine.' I tell her, unsure why I have the bumps since the woolen scarf and cashmere jacket my grandmother handed me as I left is keeping me quite toasty, 'I bet Chris is though.'

'He's not down there Z, he's not cold anymore.' My father says quietly, 'Christopher was never just one person, he was an entire country. He's not in this grave.'

'It's warm in heaven, I'll bet you.' My mother chimes in, 'And he's up there with your great grandfather, and Sterling. And Pebbles too.'

I manage a laugh that I didn't expect, 'I think of all the dead people Chris would want to see in heaven, our bunny rabbit from when he was eight wouldn't be high on the list.'

'Maybe, but he's had plenty of time to see everyone again. He's just watching us now instead.' My dad says. I'm very aware that both he and mum are treating me like a child but I don't mind it so much.

Despite the damp ground and the punishment I'll probably receive for dirtying my coat, I kneel down and lean my head towards the headstone, putting both of my hands where I expect my brother's head rests.

'I'll be with you soon.' I whisper, 'Wait for me.'