Amelia Saunders married Prince George of Wales in 2010, in a lavish ceremony in London, after being in a relationship with the heir to the heir since 2002, during their second year at the University of St. Andrews.
Now she is a Duchess, and even th...
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The clock strikes seven, announcing to dear Vicky her birthday, which had seemed more gloomy than any other she would ever have in her life, was coming to an end. She was really nine, and that was a thought she never thought she would have. Time was flying by it seemed.
Victoria had had a good birthday, she had face timed her godparents early in the morning, after having had muffins for her special birthday breakfast, and soon after her grandparents arrived, with a beautiful doll Vicky was sure to treasure for years to come; they left just some hours later. Great-grammy had sent a bouquet of flowers and a pair of the most beautiful ballet slippers, and being away in Windsor the young princess was instructed to immediately call her great grandmother and thank her for the lovely present; Elizabeth was happy to hear from her dearest granddaughter after such turbulent times.
Grandpa Wales and Milla came soon after midday, with arms full of presents, to which the Duchess of Clarence seemed a little bothered; her children might be princes and princesses, but she didn't want them to be detached from reality, and having arms full of presents every birthday wasn't something every child was accustomed to. They had tea in the drawing room and sang her happy birthday before they too left.
But now, after having had supper with her brother, sister and parents, Vicky remembered what a few of her classmates were saying a few classes back. The thought had never crossed her mind, but it did seem odd now that they called Grandpa Wales the same as the country.
"You have thirty minutes, sweet."
Vicky nodded but kept her gaze locked on the big windows facing the back gardens. The Duchess noticed that just before realising the TV was still on while her daughter didn't seem to be paying any attention to what was happening.
"Something the matter, sweet?"
The Duchess had just been able to put to bed little Freddy, who even after a year and a half from his birth still didn't seem to be wanting to sleep unless he was being held by one of his parents; little Lissy on the other hand had been fast asleep just after being given her bath. So she had time to sit down next to her daughter on the sofa and talk.
"Am I different, mummy?"
"Different?"
"Yes. Why do everyone keeps looking at me strange after we come back from a holiday? And why does Grandpa Wales has the same name as the country?"
Amelia really wasn't sure what she should say. Of course she knew one day her daughter would find out about her position as future Queen, but Georgie himself had only found out when he was twelve, so Amelia just assumed the same would happen with her daughter. But Vicky had always been clever, and at only nine she was already asking questions, questions Amelia, even after eleven years as a working royal, just didn't know how to even begin to form a coherent answer.
