Her Majesty The Prince (Patreon)

"Were you able to watch the coronation?"

"What I could see from La Cime's rooftop terrace, anyway. What about you?"

"A friend's lover rented out his Uptown balcony for a party."

"Oh, lucky!"

"Hardly! It was elbow-to-elbow and the company wasn't that great. Honestly I should've gone with you, regardless of how I feel about La Cime's hors-d'oeuvres."

The two socialites at the next table merrily chatted away over their extravagant drinks of syrups and whipped cream stacked as high as the café would allow. Lou kept to herself and her unadorned cup, preferring her morning coffee to be black. Or at least she used to; today was the trial run of milk and sugar, in moderate amounts. On the barista's recommendation.

"Did you hear Helena got seats? Courtesy of her current admirer."

"Ugh, she would."

They clinked glasses and took a sip, sharing this moment of unified frustration in solidarity.

"But lords and ladies, Her Majesty looked incredible!" She paused. "Is she still her majesty? You know, after... everything?"

"I think so? That's what everyone at La Cime was saying. But I feel that our ruler's just got that, you know, Prince kind of air. Feels wrong not to change the title altogether. Has the Crown said anything about it?"

"Ugh, no, not yet! The whole court's still very tight-lipped about it. Even the language they used during the coronation was frustratingly vague! Maybe Her Majesty's still making up her mind about it." The socialite smirked. "I wouldn't blame her one bit, given the body she's got now!"

"Right?? Get my fainting couch ready!" Her friend made a mock fanning gesture with her hand. "Well, if an evil witch-or-whoever decided to bring chaos to my kingdom by fusing me with one of my knights, I'd count myself lucky she picked such a looker!"

"Ahaha, I know!" The socialite looked out over the city, furrowing her brow. "Did they say what happened to the other two halves? It still feels like we didn't hear the whole story about that whole incident."

"What, the knight's soul and the princess's old body? I heard they were destroyed in the fusion. Only half of each survived, is how one of the castle's servants put it."

"Huh. Well then Her Majesty must be counting her lucky stars things turned out the way they did, and not the other way around!"

"Hah, can you imagine? Maybe that was the witch-person-thing's goal all along, get rid of our strongest warrior and greatest mind with a single curse."

"Maybe. Lucky for us, we ended up with a brilliant warrior instead of an airheaded pretty face. Still, it was a very pretty face." The socialite caught Lou's gaze, and for a brief moment they made eye contact. "Heyy, kind of like yours!"

Lou shrank in her seat, abruptly stooping over to stare into her coffee, hoping to evade the lady's eyes—finding her own staring back at her instead, from the reflection in the liquid. Maybe she could still escape this conversation.

Her hopes were dashed as she heard the socialite's friend turn around in her seat. "Oh wow, you're right! Hey, you're a dead ringer for the princess, you know that? I mean, the former princess."

"I, uh," Lou muttered as her face went red. She wasn't ready to talk to upper class people. Least of all women. Least of all about this. "I... I s'pose so."

The socialite leaned forward, eyes narrowed. She held up her hands in a strange gesture, fingers interlocked around an opening, blocking out some of Lou's hair and current outfit—leaving only her face. "Dead ringer is right. Hey, did you work at the palace or something?"

"B-bodyguard," Lou blurted out, immediately regretting it. She had plenty of time to plan for this, plenty of time to prepare any number of more likely explanations in case this question ever came up! But she hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about it. She couldn't. She wasn't ready.

Both ladies looked at each other, dumbfounded, then back at Lou. Then the second lady's face lit up. "Oh! Oh," she snapped her fingers, "one of those lookalikes!"

The socialite followed suit with a big smile. "Yes! What are they called... royal decoys! For Her Majesty's protection, right?"

Lou nodded, her face burning. There. They would hopefully be satisfied with that. Then she could excuse herself and run far away from this café, hopefully never to remember this exchange ever again.

The closer of the two ladies reached over and gave Lou a friendly pat on the arm. "Oof, tough luck, eh? I'm guessing this whole thing put you out of a job. Hopefully you've got some other skills to get by on, right?"

"Oh, you know how cushy those royal jobs are," the socialite said. "She's probably set for life, right? It's not like she can do anything else with that face."

"It is a really pretty face, though."

"Oh, for sure, for sure!"

The two upper class ladies returned to their chat and their overly sweet morning drinks, much to Lou's relief. Maybe she could come back to this café, then, and not have to write it off entirely. Just as well; there were few enough places in the capital where she felt welcome. This place was nice. Quiet (for the most part), bathed in sunlight for most of the day, and with a breathtaking view over most of the city.

Lou took a sip of her coffee, then pursed her lips. Milk and sugar weren't really her thing, not even now. But that was alright. She brought the cup to her mouth and took another gulp; bigger, this time.

She'd get used to this, too.