Not a Typical Princess (Princess Diana's Daughter)

Chapter 3: To Dance or To Fight

In the morning, the princess was with the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall. Most people referred to her father as Prince Charles still and sometimes the Prince of Wales. Even though the Duchess of Cornwall had the title of Princess of Wales, no one called her by that, especially around Princess Gwendoline. While the princess looked like her mother, Gwendoline knew Camilla better than she ever had or would ever know the late Lady Diana. The title of Princess of Wales was off limits unless they wanted backlash when it came to Charles and Camilla's relationship.

In the evening, Gwendoline dressed in one of the old party dresses she had, which was too tight on her chest and backside. She had received her mother's and her grandmother's busty figures. She pulled the dress around to get it in better place, but it was no use. The dress kept riding up. For the evening, it was going to be fine, as long as no one caught her camera. The last thing Gwendoline wanted was her panties showing up on the front of tabloids.

At the club, which had been rented out for the night, it was packed. Bodies pushed up against each other, and the line for the bar was unbearable. Her hope was to get in and get out, but that obviously wasn't happening. She wasn't able to find the birthday boy. Positive side was that no one was sober enough to recognize who she was. Gwendoline made another round of the club in search of him, but it was no luck.

When her mobile started to vibrate, Gwen glanced down and found it was Margo. She immediately answered, "Hello." The princess pushed through the crowd.

"Gwen?" Margo's Scottish accent was thick. "Where are you? What is that horrible music?"

"Compared to bagpipes."

"What? I can't hear you."

"Hold on." Gwendoline got out of the club. The cool April hit her as the door slammed behind her into the alley. With the main street just five feet away, Gwen hovered by the door and in the shadows. All up and along this street were clubs and bars. Tourists lounged around, trying to get a feel of the city. Thankfully, it wasn't summer, or even this alley would've been crawling with tourists. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yep. Where are you?" Margo asked.

"At a birthday party." The music blasted out, shaking the brick building.

"For that bloke?"

"Yes."

"Was he flirting with you? Do I need to come fight him?"

"I didn't even see him. I can assume that some girls got to him first, and they are giving him a very special birthday present." Gwen's eyes glanced to the street, where someone ran past. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Oh, all the fun things."

"Oh, really?" Gwen smiled. "What kind of fun things?"

"I have three essays this weekend, so I decided to do one every day. Of course, then I got distracted by telly, and now, I'm drinking because I can't get back on track. I have no idea what to write about when it comes to the state terrorism. It's all been said and done," Margo explained.

"What about the telly? You watching Graham Norton?" Gwen wondered.

"No. Mock the Week."

Gwen laughed. "Are they making fun of my family again?"

"No. They went after the prime minister today."

"That never gets old."

"Careful now," Margo warned. "People might think that you're turning Scottish."

"You guys should've gotten out when you could've."

"But then I would've never met you. So anyway-- how does this sound?..." Margo continued to yap.