AN: So I just kind of decided to write this on a whim. In the last two weeks, I read all ten books of the Princess Diaries series (I'd already read the first seven a few years ago, so I reread them and then bought and read the last three). Also, I was fascinated with the royal wedding and thought how interesting it would be to see Mia get married. So… here we are! I hope ya'll like it.
Tuesday, July 12th
Royal Genovian Bedchamber
I think I'm going to throw up.
You know, I thought I could do this. I really could. How many people get married every day? Like, tons. If everyone else can, I can too, right?
Well, let's rephrase that question. How many people get married IN FRONT OF MILLIONS OF PEOPLE? How many people's marriages are STATE FUNCTIONS?
Let me tell you – not many.
Not that I'm so misunderstood or anything. Lots of royals get married and it's a big deal. I don't think anything will ever top William and Kate's wedding – sorry, Catherine. Grandmère snaps at me every time I say Kate. Um, sorry Grandmère, but no one calls her Catherine except for the Queen. And Grandmère, of course. But that's just because Grandmère and the Queen are new best friends, due to Genovia being a constitutional monarchy just like England now. I guess the Queen used to view Genovia as being old-fashioned when we were still an absolute monarchy. Go figure.
Anyway, I guess I always knew that my wedding would be like this. Not that I ever really thought about my wedding the way other girls do – I knew that one day I would marry Michael but I never really thought about what the actual wedding would be like. Maybe it's because deep down inside I knew it would be some kind of nightmare like this.
Vigo, the royal Genovian event planner, and Grandmère are basically planning the whole thing. I thought that would be a good thing, because, well, I'm not good at event-planning and I thought it would be less stressful this way. Then Mom was like, "Uh, Mia, are you sure that you don't want to give any input? This is your wedding, after all – you only get one" and then I realized, um, HELLO, Grandmère and I do NOT have the same taste at all and if I wanted this wedding to be at all some kind of representation of me I would have to get involved somehow.
There are a few things that I have no control of, unfortunately – like the fact that my wedding is going to be TELEVISED. That's right; there will be cameras inside the chapel that I get married in, broadcast to the entire world.
I tried to get out of this one big time. I've sacrificed a lot of my private life for the sake of this throne and one thing I was not willing to do was have my WEDDING CEREMONY televised to the world. "When Albert II of Monaco married Charlene, that wasn't on TV," I pointed out to Grandmère. I knew this to be true because I'd attended the wedding.
Grandmère just looked at me smugly. "Well, Amelia, the televising of a wedding is done by the demand of the people. They're not going to put a wedding on TV if no one is interested in watching. But for you – well, the people wouldn't miss your wedding for the world!"
"But whyyy-yyyy?" I whined, knowing exactly that I sounded like I was six-years-old.
Grandmère gave me a Look. "Amelia, you do not realize your popularity. Although you are the princess of Genovia, you are seen as America's own princess. You lived there for the first twenty-two years of your life, eight of those which you were in the public eye. You have always been very popular. Naturally, people want to watch this happy day in your life as you become another man's woman."
Normally I would have argued about how no woman is a man's property because a woman doesn't need a man to be happy (even Grandmère always says a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle!) but I was too annoyed at having lost the fight. I guess she was right – I couldn't deny the people to see my wedding if they really wanted to, right?
Although, really, I could see the embarrassment of the Genovian royal family already – planning this elaborate wedding and televising it for the world to see and having only, like, a million people watch it. That would be so embarrassing, since the average episode of American Idol gets like twenty million viewers.
Whatever, though. If Grandmère wants to embarrass the family, be my guest. I'll just say that I was against the idea.
Because, really, I can't imagine people in America watching my wedding the way they watched William and Kate's – sorry, Catherine. I mean, people woke up at five in the morning to watch it! In California, people just didn't even sleep! I know this because Tina Hakim Baba lives in California (she's going to medical school at UC Davis) and she told me how she drank five cups of coffee just so she could stay up all night to watch it.
I was at the wedding (of course… not to sound braggy. I mean, it's not like I got to go to the reception or anything, which only had 300 people there. That would be something to brag about. I did get to go to the Queen's luncheon, though) and I remember calling my mom after the ceremony and following procession, because I figured she would be awake by then, and as soon as she answered, she was like, "Omigod! Kate looked gorgeous! And I saw you, honey! Three times! They showed you walking in with your father and Grandmère, and then sitting down, and again when Kate was walking up the aisle! You should really be careful about when you pick at your false eyelashes in public, though –"
I barely processed any of this. I was like, "Uh, what?"
Then Mom was like, "The wedding was so beautiful, Mia, I cried!"
"Wait, back up," I said, finally absorbing all this information. "You watched it?"
"Of course I watched it," Mom said all obviously, like Duh, why wouldn't I?
"But… you woke up at six in the morning for it?"
"Five," she corrected, "So I could watch the arrivals and everything."
"But… WHY!" I yelled.
"Calm down, Mia," Mom said, all annoyed. "I watched Diana's wedding, too. Everyone watched the wedding."
At the time I thought she was crazy. Really, people were that interested in a royal wedding? Royals that they didn't know and that didn't actually have any political power? In fact, I thought most people would be like Lilly and boycott the wedding, since they were using taxpayers' money to hire security and transportation and all that for it.
Although… I guess they had to use taxpayers' money for the security and everything partly because so many taxpayers were there. But whatever.
Anyway, a few days later I found out that two billion people watched the wedding. TWO BILLION! That's A THIRD OF THE WORLD!
Oops, gotta go. Time for more wedding planning. Do I even DO anything else anymore?
Tuesday, July 12th, 11 p.m.
Royal Genovian Bedchamber
In approximately eleven days, I will be sharing this room with MICHAEL!
The thought is so exciting it almost makes all this wedding stuff worth it.
Okay, fine, it is worth it.
The thing is, though, is that if I weren't royal, I'd already be living with Michael. I mean, we've been dating for, like, ever. Minus that two year or so break when I was in high school. But since then, we've been GREAT! Sarah Lawrence, where I went to school, is pretty close to New York City so we didn't have to do the long distance thing, and Michael knew that when I graduated I'd be moving to Genovia full-time, which meant he knew he would be, too.
Isn't that sweet!
So Michael's been living in this apartment two miles from the palace in downtown Genovia for the last three years, which is annoying because it would be so much easier if he just lived WITH me, but, of course, I'm a princess, so he can't. The royal Genovian family has an image to upkeep, you see, so I can't go shacking up with a man I'm not married to.
Right, because it doesn't matter that I'm the out-of-wedlock product of a fling my dad had in college. Some image.
In any case, Grandmère says that Michael and I have our whole lives to spend together in a palace and that's it's healthier for couples to live apart before marriage. She says I should enjoy being independent from Michael.
Independent? Really? It's not like I'm some savvy twenty-five-year-old college grad living in my own apartment in Chicago with some high-powered, pro-female career or something. No, I'm a twenty-five-year-old college grad PRINCESS living in a huge palace with her grandmother, father, servants, and ladies-in-waiting. Hardly independence. Michael could totally be living in the palace, just in a different wing or something.
But whatever. What's done is done. It's not like he can't afford it. Michael's a millionaire in his own right, due to being the founder, president, and CEO of his company, Pavlov Surgical, in which he invented the CardioArm. And shortly he will be moving into the palace – into MY ROOM!
Today the wedding planning was boring. Most everything has been decided on, since it's less than two weeks away (oh God oh God oh God). The flowers were a whole spectacle – Vigo thought that the color scheme should be blue, green, and white, as those are the Genovian colors as represented in our flag. Grandmère, however, said that those colors just did not go for a wedding and instead wanted to go for blue and white flowers while saving green for the dresses of the bridesmaids. I told her I didn't like the blue and white color scheme, as it made me think of sailors, and Grandmère gave me the dirtiest look. Vigo, however, agreed with me (well, about not liking blue and white – I doubt it's because of the sailor thing) and we managed to convince her to do green and white, on the condition that the green was a dark green.
That had probably been the most dramatic part of planning – well, and when I forced Grandmère to add a vegetarian option for the reception. She just kept saying, "But you're the only one who will eat it," to which can I just say, HELLO, it's MY WEDDING, shouldn't it be what I WANT! If I want a vegetarian meal, I should get a vegetarian meal!
So anyway, other than that it's been smooth sailing. Of course, it's also been so stressful that I'll probably die before I turn forty, but, hey, that's the life of a royal, right?
It's starting to get to the exciting stuff. Well, I guess.
No, I am excited for my wedding, really, I am – I just can't get over the fact that it's TELEVISED!
Wednesday, July 13th
I'm kind of not supposed to be here but whatever. I'm getting married in T-minus ten days and I'm a princess and I can do whatever I want!
Okay, that's not true, and I promise I'm not six, even though I kind of act like it sometimes. I just had to get out of that palace. Francois, my Genovian bodyguard, is here with me, naturally. He and Michael get along very well, thankfully. They're talking about some stupid boy thing in the kitchen right now.
It is wedding central at the palace. Everyone is running around and making sure that everything is still going smoothly. Grandmère booked all the rooms in three of the four hotels in Genovia as soon as Michael and I chose our date (I wish I could say it was just us that made this decision, but of course it wasn't – Grandmère, my dad, and Vigo had a say as well, so that my wedding didn't conflict with anything else important going on. Imagine that, my wedding inconveniencing others!) so that all the celebrities and out-of-towners attending the wedding would have somewhere to stay.
I thought that was extreme, for her to book the hotels six months in advance. All Grandmère said was, "People will be coming from all over to watch you get married, Amelia, and not all of them will have been invited." At the time I had no idea what she was talking about. Did wedding crashers really try to crash royal weddings? I mean, if they can get in, then kudos! But would there be so many of them that they'll fill up all the hotels in Genovia?
I sincerely thought that this was what Grandmère was talking about so for weeks I kept telling the security to keep an extra eye out for wedding crashers because apparently there were a lot to be expected. Finally, my dad had pulled me aside, looking irritated, and said, "Mia, what are you talking about? Wedding crashers?"
Poor dad. He's always out of the loop, I thought to myself at the time. "Dad," I said patiently, "Grandmère told me that people are coming from all over the world and you know we only invited 2,500 guests" (God, I am such a princess – JUST 2,500!).
Dad just nodded slowly. "Yes, Mia…" he said, as if I had more to say.
I just shrugged. "Well, if there are people that are coming that weren't invited, I'm just trying to let security know."
Dad stared at me for a full minute before he started to laugh. "Oh, Mia – your grandmother wasn't saying that people are coming to crash the wedding. People are coming to watch."
I didn't get it.
"Mia, you were at William and Catherine's wedding," Dad said. "Remember all those people? That stood in the streets and watched as they rode to the Abbey and were able to watch the ceremony on screens outside?"
"Well, yeah," I said, still confused. "But I don't get –"
Then I understood, and the following was my reaction:
OH MY GOD.
GRANDMÈRE MEANT THAT PEOPLE WERE COMING FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD TO WATCH ME GET MARRIED!
REGULAR PEOPLE THAT DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!
Needless to say that made me more nervous and dumbfounded. People really did that sort of thing?
But anyway, I figured Grandmère was exaggerating how many people would be there so I didn't think much of it after that day.
Until today, of course, when Grandmère smugly informed me that all the hotels in Genovia were booked (surprise, seeing as how three of them have been booked for six months), as well as all the hotels on Monaco and EVEN A BUNCH IN FRANCE AND ITALY!
And it's ALL FOR MY WEDDING!
As I stared at Grandmère, speechless, she just said, "Yes, it's true! People are booking hotels as far away as Monaco so they can come to Genovia and watch you get married!"
I wanted to throw up.
Which is why, instead, I came here and smelled Michael's neck and felt better.
But not completely better. It's very nerve-racking. I knew this thing would be televised, but I never thought people would be coming to watch…
Michael just walked in with some iced tea for me. "Hey, I haven't seen you write in your journal in years," he said, sitting down next to me.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures."
He just laughed. Now he's reading over my shoulder. "Oh, this is about what your grandmother said?" he said. "About all the booked hotels and people that are coming to watch us get married?"
I stared at him incredulously. "You say that as if you're asking me what I want to buy at the grocery store. THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT A TIME FOR GROCERY STORE TONES, MICHAEL!"
He laughed again. "But really, Mia, you're acting like you're so surprised."
"Um. I am."
"Why? You knew your wedding would be like this. All royal weddings are like this, yours even more so because of how popular you are."
I just grumbled. "I definitely did not know random people would be coming just to watch me get married."
"Really?" said Michael in surprise. "I did."
"You did!" I exclaimed, shocked.
"Well," said Michael. "Yeah. I mean, people do that at royal weddings."
"Um, yeah," I said, "Like Diana of Wales. I'm no Princess Diana."
"They did that at the wedding in Monaco you went to," he pointed out. "And, really, who cares about the royals in Monaco except the people of Monaco?"
He had a point. "Well, yeah…"
"So if people are camping out over night to watch them get married, I'm sure people will be camping out for a week to watch us," he said.
I frowned. This was stupid. I didn't WANT people from all over the world to watch me get married. What is it about me that would make someone want to do that? I'm just a princess. Who, okay, brought democracy to Genovia as well as published three romance novels since graduating from high school and is consistently voted as one of the most popular young royals next to William and Harry – but STILL! It's not like I invented the CardioArm and made millions on my own; I just inherited millions. And, okay, I make royalties from my books, but definitely not millions, even if I am a princess. It still doesn't compare to what Michael's done.
Maybe they're coming to watch Michael.
He just read that over my shoulder and laughed. "I'm sure," he said.
"You never know," I said. "When I was in England for William and Kate's – SORRY CATHERINE'S – wedding, there were people holding up signs that said stuff like, It's not too late to marry me, Wills! Of course, security took those ones away, but not before I saw a couple."
Michael chuckled. "Well, even if that happens, that's not why ALL the people are coming to watch. Ninety-nine percent of them are for you."
An idea suddenly hatched in my brain. "Let's elope!"
Michael just looked at me with amusement. "What?"
"No, I'm serious!" I was suddenly very excited. "We could just elope! My mom and Mr. G did that when Grandmère planned that ridiculous wedding for them! They just didn't show up and eloped in Mexico! Come on, let's go!"
He just shook his head, laughing. "Mia, you know we can't do that."
I did. But I'd hoped he wouldn't.
"Come on…" I tried.
"Do you think I invented the CardioArm and went away to Japan for nearly two years, allowing you to date that pansy J.P., in order to prove myself worthy to you, only for us to elope and forever lose the respect of not just your royal family but the royal community all over the world?" Michael shook his head again. "I don't think so. Besides, Mia, you know that it's different with you and your mom. You're a princess and have a duty to your people. You mom doesn't. Your grandmother was out of line to plan that wedding for her, but she's justified in this, obviously. I know she's annoying about it, but you know that this isn't just something she decided to do. It's your royal obligation."
God. He is always right.