So, this story came from a dream I had. However, unlike Stephenie I won't make a gazillion dollars off it. Such is life.

First things first- I only write HEA, but how I get there is half the fun... for me anyway. I always finish what I start. I don't have a posting schedule as I obviously can't follow them. If you don't like the story, don't read and definitely don't review as a GR and try to tear me apart. Notice I said try. I have thick skin and I've been around a while. I do this because I love it and I see so many talented authors pulling their stories or leaving the fandom all together because of bullies. I am not that kind of author. I'm not going anywhere. I will post as I get my chapters written and back from my beta.

Which brings me to Sarcastic Bimbo or as I like to refer to her 'the other part of my brain'. Also thanks to my prereader, Mandy, who not only wore me down with her whining for advance chapters but has been making me listen to her whining since Mom and Dad brought her home from the hospital. Thanks, Sis.

Fic rec: What Have We Done? by Ladylibre. You have got to read this fic! Like close out this window right now and go read. It is one of the most unique plots I have ever read. And Bella and Edward are secondary characters in this one and I didn't like I was going to love it but I do. Denise gives canon Rose a humanity that I have never seen before. It is my favorite Rose ever. I mean it, GO READ NOW! Tell her BitterHarpy sent you.

Let's get on with it, shall we?

The American Princess

His Royal Highness, Prince Edward Anthony Masen Cullen's POV

"Why do you have to go?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Lady Kathryn Denali of Wellington and let my eyes roam down her sun kissed body and smirked. "You know I have to get out of here before any paparazzi can get a shot of me. I am not supposed to be here. The King would have a coronary."

She fell back against the bed with a decidedly unladylike huff.

"I don't see what he has against me. I'm from a wealthy family, I was brought up with the finest nannies and tutors that money can buy and I've a title for God's sake. There is no one in this country that is more suited for you, than I."

I leaned over and kissed her upturned nose. "I think it's your lack of morals he objects to." I laughed.

"But do you object to them, Your Highness?" she asked, her voice lowering with sultriness as she grabbed my ass.

"No objections here." I extracted myself from her and gave her a kiss.

"When can I see you again?" she asked.

"I've that trip to America on Monday. So maybe week after that. I'll text you when I get my schedule." I informed her, putting on my watch and slipping my wallet and phone into my back pockets.

"I'll miss you," she pouted.

I smiled at her. "I shall miss you, too. And I will talk to my father, again. I don't see why he must be so picky. He's the one that wants me to be married and produce heirs. Sometimes, I wish I was my brother and sister. They don't have all this pressure on them to be king." I sighed.

She wrapped her arms around me.

"You will be a great king and come hell or high water, I will be your queen," she assured me.

I turned around in her arms and kissed her one last time. "From your lips to my father's ear." I glanced at my watch. "I really must be on my way. See you next week sometime."

I slipped out the back door to the garage where my car was parked and hidden from prying eyes. This life was riddled with privilege but also with a lot of exhausting responsibility. I wasn't trying to complain as I was honored to have the opportunities to serve my country as a member of the royal family. We had the power to make things—good things—happen for our people. Oh, I knew we were basically just figureheads but people looked up to us and I didn't want to let anyone down. Especially my parents. HRH

Carlisle and Esme Cullen, the King and Queen of England.

They are wonderful parents to me and my siblings, of that I have no complaints. They were supportive, demonstrative and very interested in all our interests and successes. They didn't even fuss much about our failures. But even with all that, the Crown and the duty that goes with it, must come first. And I was the oldest male which meant my duty was to marry–suitably–and produce heirs. I have known this since I was old enough to comprehend what my title was. I yearned for things to be as simple for me as they were for Rosalie and Jasper. As long as they conducted themselves accordingly, no one cared much what they did. So, my sister volunteered with children's charities while attending University and my brother had a doctorate in Mental Behaviors while his wife, Alice, owned an upscale boutique on Bond Street in London. They had two daughters; Grace and Alivia.

I made my way quietly into Buckingham Palace. There was a flurry of activity as the servants prepared the house for the day. Cook Cope was in the kitchen making our breakfast and she slapped my hand when I grabbed a piece of bacon as I went by, though she was grinning the entire time. I was her favorite and had been since I was a young boy.

I had almost made it to my room when my private butler stopped me in the hall.

"His Majesty requests an audience with Your Highness," Marcus drawled out, his voice monotonous as always.

I stifled my groan and forced a smile. "I'll be but just a moment, Marcus."

"Now, sire," he demanded respectfully. Always respectfully. Like I had a choice in the matter.

"Of course. Please, lead the way..." I waved him ahead of me. "…to my execution." I muttered under my breath.

I followed him from the wing holding the private apartments over to the throne room, where my father liked to remind me that he was, in fact, my king. Like I wasn't already aware of that.

Sure enough, my father was sitting on the throne with my mother by his side. She was smiling gently, but her eyes were darting back and forth between us which she only did when things were going to get a bit ugly.

"Mother." I crossed the room to greet her with a kiss on her cheek, breathing in the Chanel No. 5 she always wore. She placed her hand on my cheek and smiled affectionately.

"Father." I acknowledged, though not as nicely as I did my mother.

"Edward. Nice of you to join us this lovely morning."

"It wasn't exactly like I had a choice," I replied.

"Would you like to divulge your whereabouts last night?" he asked.

I cocked my head to the side and appeared as if I was thinking. "No, not really."

"That wasn't a request."

"I was with Kathryn." I admitted.

Mother gasped. "Edward, what if someone had seen you?"

"Then I guess it would be all over the Daily Mail by now."

"Being flippant does not become you, Edward," my father rebuked. "Nothing can come of this; do you understand me? She is not princess material and she never will be. You must move on and find another, more suitable, candidate to be your wife."

"And if I refuse to do this?" I asked.

Father tensed his jaw. "Let me make myself perfectly clear, Edward. I forbid you to pursue The Lady Kathryn Denali of Wellington. It will not happen as long as I am king and unfortunately for you, I am as fit as a fiddle according to Dr. Gerandy. Find someone else—anyone else—or I will find a wife for you."

"You can't do that! It's not the 1700's, Father. I am perfectly capable of finding a mate on my own!"

My father clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! You hear that, Esme? Hopefully, we will be throwing a royal wedding before the year is out!"

She didn't look as delighted at his forced enthusiasm as he did. She glanced at me sympathetically.

"Is that all, Father?" I asked.

"Yes. Go forth and find a princess."

I bit back a growl.

"Can you accompany me to breakfast, Edward? Your father has a few things to finish up before joining us," my mother asked softly.

I extended my arm to her and she gently took it.

We walked a bit in silence.

"I know you think he is being too hard on you. You have more responsibilities than your siblings. The curse of being the oldest. I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault. It's just the way things are."

"Do you love Lady Kathryn?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her as she doesn't normally pry into my affairs. That's my father's area of expertise.

"I am quite fond of her but I don't know if I love her. Not that it matters. It's not like I can pursue it enough to find out."

She stopped me and once again put her hand to my cheek. "Of course, it matters. Whomever you pick to be your wife will one day rule at your side. But, more importantly, she will rule your heart. My hope for you and Rosalie is that one day you both will find your soulmates–like I have with your father. Like your brother has with Alice. I hate that things must be like this. I want you to be happy, Sweetheart."

I once again leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I know, Mum."

We made it to the dining room and settled in along with the madness. Jasper, Alice and their two daughters, along with Rosalie and her attitude and myself and Mother rounded out the group. We decided not to wait on Father as the food would most certainly be cold by the time he extracted himself from his office. Grace and Alivia kept it lively as they most often did. Once we were done eating, we all went our separate ways. I had to pack for my trip to America. I could have someone do it for me, but I found solace in doing as much as I was allowed to by myself. It gave me a sense of independence though I didn't actually have any.

I know - poor little rich prince has such a hard life.

I packed my two suitcases and rang Marcus to see what time I was supposed to depart, as he was accompanying me, though he was hardly good company. He informed me that our plane would depart at 8 a.m. sharp the next morning.

I spent the rest of the day finishing up odds and ends as I would be away for the better part of a week. I made some time for my nieces as we played in the courtyard. I ate dinner with the family as we discussed our upcoming schedule. I was in bed by nine sharp after a quick call to Kathryn to let her know of next week's plans. I didn't tell her about my meeting with Father. I would have to inform her of that after my trip.

The next day met me with an overcast sky and light drizzle. We took one of our town cars to the private airfield and after a brief wait, Marcus and I boarded my family's plane. I settled in with a book I've been wanting to read and my phone loaded with Debussy for when my eyes tired of small print on white paper. Marcus busied himself with paperwork.

As the plane took off, I looked out over my homeland and wondered once more to myself if any of this was even worth it.