Maybe it's just me, Freya thought, but the last few days have gone by in a haze. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and her plan to sleep in was interrupted by a phone call from Tristan. Only, Tristan wasn't really calling her, he'd accidentally butt dialed, and since there wasn't anything of interest to eavesdrop on, she disconnected.

After tossing and turning, she finally pulled herself out of bed, not even bothering to brush the morning breath away. She fumbled her way to the living room and sat down, turning on the morning news.

JUST IN FROM MARTIERRA - THE PRINCESS IS EXPECTING!

Princess Cossette of Martierra has released an official announcement.

"My husband, Santiago de la Cruz, and I are ever so thankful for your kind words of support. These past few days have been emotional, but we have cause for celebration as we share with the world our most blessed news. We are expecting our first child. Further details will be made available at the appropriate time. We appreciate your continued support and respect towards our privacy as we slowly navigate through all the sudden and unexpected changes."

And there you have it, viewers. It seems the royal family will be gaining a new member. Will this news soften the hearts of the King and Queen? Will this baby be the unifier this family so desperately needs? Only time will tell. In the meantime, -.

Freya turned the television off, wondering how Magnus and his parents were handling the news.

She hated to think it, but there was a doubt on her part. Could the Princess be lying? she wondered.

Looking around her apartment, she realized how stale it was. White and gray seemed to be the theme with a lot of glass and chrome. She needed more variety, and she knew exactly what could add immediate pops of color: flowers.

It was early, but Pike Place Market™ would be bustling.

A quick change and clean up, and she was out the door with Jean-Paul in tow.

"Miss Sinclair, did you have a good night’s rest?"

Traffic was always light on a weekend morning, especially a Sunday with no sporting events going on.

"I did. Thank you. How about you? Did you get some rest?"

"Indeed."

"Jean-Paul, if you don't mind me asking, do you have a family? Like wife and kids?"

"Not yet. I've been busy focusing on my career and promotion that I've barely any time for dating. The life of a royal’s security detail isn't very conducive for dating. Especially a young royal who tends to travel a bit." He smiled through the rearview mirror.

"I suppose I understand. Basically, you are the equivalent of our secret service, right?"

"Yes, something like that."

"So, how long have you known and worked as Magnus' detail?"

"Well, Miss Sinclair, I've known His Royal Highness since we were both in the Naval Academy. I joined the royal detail shortly after and was quickly assigned to the Prince. I've been with him since."

"Wait. Magnus served in the Navy?"

"He did. He was very well respected in the Armada. We were both selected for the elite special operations unit where he excelled more than any other member in diving. He's a Commissioned Officer. As the Crown Prince, he'll remain in service, albeit, not actively on the ground."

"I have so much to learn about Magnus. I had no idea. So, I guess the Naval Academy is where he went to school? I mean, if it is anything like our military?"

"Yes, Miss Sinclair. That is correct."

"And here I thought he'd met Santiago in college."

"Oh, he did. Mr. de la Cruz attended the Naval Academy with us. But he sustained an injury which retired him from the military just before he was to graduate from the academy."

Freya wasn't stupid. She read between the lines. It seemed Santiago stayed long enough to give himself a pat on the back, maybe even to appease his family. She knew the likes of Santiago very well.

"How about you, Miss Sinclair? If you don't mind me asking. Do you come from a military family?"

She smiled, she liked being able to speak to Jean-Paul, "My father served in Vietnam. My grandfathers on either side served in World War I and II. Both were in the Air Force whereas my father was in the Army. My brother Will wanted to join the military, except he's color blind, and that's an automatic disqualification. Tristan never showed any interest. He had a partial athletic scholarship to a four-year university and was able to make up the difference with a few academic scholarships. It worked in his favor, and he couldn't be happier."

Jean-Paul smiled. "The men in my family have mostly started their careers via our military. There is this unspoken expectation. Even though they try to make us think it's up to us. One of my brothers put it to the test. He still gets a tough time over it."

"Yes, some families can be like that. I understand why though. At least here in the States, a military career can open opportunities which otherwise would not exist. Then we have the GI Bill, so there is certainly a benefit to serving."

"Indeed," he said.

"Jean-Paul, may I ask you a few questions? I mean, if you aren't comfortable answering, just tell me, I won't take it personally."

"Go right ahead."

"What's it like at the royal palace? And I don't mean how it looks. I already did some checking online." She laughed. "I mean, what's it like between the King and Queen? Will they be kind to me?"

Jean-Paul looked ahead on the freeway as Freya assumed he was thinking of how to reply. "The King and Queen are extremely kind people. They tend to be guarded, but it’s to be expected considering they are the monarchy. I've never witnessed them being unfair or unkind to anyone. However, you'll be arriving in the thick of some major issues this current monarchy has never faced. So, just don't take too much to heart if they aren't fully embracing of you. I don't suspect they'll treat you any different from most guests. You know, a little leery with everything going on with the Princess."

"Yes, I totally understand. I've been wondering if it is even a good time to visit. It seems so daunting to have to entertain guests with family drama."

"If there were any reason to believe the timing is off, His Royal Highness will be the first to say so. There is one thing about Prince Magnus, he's very honest."

Freya took those words to heart. It meant the world to her; however, she also knew this was a man in the employ of Magnus. Therefore, a bit biased.

They'd arrived downtown, and Jean-Paul found the market rather quickly. He pulled up to the main entrance and asked Freya to call him when she was ready.

The place was busy with deliveries. But a lot of the stands were open, especially the flower ones. She walked around looking at all the different bouquets. So many to choose from, and she had a difficult time remembering how many vases she had that could hold so many flowers.

It seemed like such a shame to only visit to pick up flowers, but the weather was awfully gloomy, and she really needed to get back to her place so she could start penciling down a plan for the studio.

She settled on three fall style bouquets and a lush celebration centerpiece, rich and aromatic, a perfect complement to a candlelight dinner with its rich hues of magenta and deep red, subtle pink, and bits of lilac. They were perfect.

Too bad she didn't have someone to enjoy a candlelight dinner and champagne with.

She phoned Jean-Paul, telling him she'd wait by the big cast bronze piggy bank. When he sounded confused, she explained how the pig was the market's mascot. The money donated to the pig was used for supporting social services in the market.

She gathered that he still wasn't sure about what she was talking about, but the main entrance was where he'd dropped her off and that was where he understood to pick her up.

As they got on the freeway, Freya received a call from Tristan.

"Hey! Did I wake you?" he asked happily.

"Are you kidding me? I'm on my way home from the market. What's up?"

"I'm warning you, mom will be calling. I just got off the phone with her. It wasn't a pleasant call. I'm officially on her crap list for having your back. I swear she's giving dad all kinds of anxiety and then she turns around and tries to blame you. Anyway, dad's fine, just wants mom to back off you. She's not having it though."

As Tristan was speaking, a call was coming through Freya's phone. It was her mother.

"Well, that's her on the other line. I probably should ignore the call."

"Don't do it, Freya. You need to stand up for yourself. Don't allow her to think she can bulldoze you."

"I'll call you back later," she said, then switched lines.

"Hello."

"Freya, this is Doris. Your mother."

"Hi, Mom."

"Listen, I'm not very happy with how you left things the other day when you were out here. We need to talk, and I really wish you'd reconsider and come home for Thanksgiving."

"Mom, I already told you I'm not going over. Sorry, but I've made up my mind. Besides, I have a few things going on which require my attention here."

She could hear her mother mumbling under her breath.

"Fine. Don't come. But I still want to address your shenanigans."

"Shenanigans? Really? Wow, Mom, you really go straight for the jugular, don't you?"

Freya adjusted the seatbelt on her chest, feeling as if it was starting to constrict her. But she knew it was the stress of speaking to her mother.

"Freya Marie Sinclair."

Oh boy, there she goes, Freya thought. Going for the full name effect. Okay, I can do this.

"Your father and I are absolutely devastated over your poor handling of this matter of that so-called prince. You really are putting your entire family in a rather compromising position. I'm sure he's a swell guy. But Freya, I'm trying to protect you. I don't want you getting hurt. Especially with all of that drama his family has going on."

"Oh, so you've been paying attention? Look, Mom. I appreciate what you are saying. However, I've been trying to establish a very clear boundary. And it has nothing to do with Magnus. You have a tendency of trying to get too involved, especially when I've asked you not to. I'm sorry, Mom. But every time you cross that line, you push me further away. And the issue with Dad. Look, I can only imagine the stress. However, you too need to take some responsibility. Your actions and your constant bickering about me to him cannot possibly be healthy. Not for him and not for you.

"I just don't understand why it is so difficult for you to get this? I'm your daughter. If you cannot support what I am doing, please, Mom, don't stand in my way. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. It is a mistake I'll have to live with. But like I said, this goes far deeper than the current situation. This goes back to my injury. This goes back to my decision to stay in the city. This goes back to you being involved with every aspect of my life until I said no more, and you simply cannot handle it."

Her voice had slowly risen, and her breathing had become more labored. "I don't mean to hurt you, Mom. But you are hurting me. Every time we have these conversations, you push me further away. I no longer feel like a member of the family. It’s like I'm some complete outcast."

Freya took a deep calming breath as she stared out the side window. "If you cannot be there for me, then I cannot have you in my life. I'm sorry it must come to this. I just need to know that my own family isn't becoming an obstacle toward my happiness."

There was silence on the other end. Freya thought her mother might have hung up on her. It would've been sad since she'd finally mustered up the courage to tell her how she felt.

However, Doris was still there. Probably taking it all in or planning her words carefully.

"Freya, I'm sorry. But I cannot sit here, and witness you run straight off a cliff."

Freya's mother's words were eerily cold and absent of emotion, she knew exactly where her mother's conversation was going.

"Do not call us to help you pick up the pieces, for there will be many. Goodbye, Freya. May your life be everything you've hoped for."

The screen on her phone went black as Freya carefully controlled her reaction. Her mother had spoken on behalf of the entire family. She knew them too well to know that her siblings wouldn't challenge their mother. Even Tristan, as much as he'd tried to support her, he would succumb to the pressure. And it wasn't fair of her to ask him to alienate the family because of her. That wasn't what she wanted.

Her life wasn't a social experiment as much as her mother treated it as such.

I cannot always follow you, but I will always follow my heart, she told herself as the tears matched the falling rain that drizzled down the side of the window, and silence overtook her.

"My King. What are we going to do if the news is real?" The Queen was worried. If Cossette truly were pregnant, it would change the entire strategy of how to deal with her.

"I'm of the mind that we continue pushing forth as we'd planned. My dear, do you still want to lead this PR nightmare? Please, do not feel pressured into doing so."

Magnus' mother sat quietly, looking out the window at nothing in particular. She was thinking; Magnus could see the wheels turning.

"Years ago, I bore witness to how a cousin and the love of his life were cast out of her family. It pained me deeply, especially since he and I were very close. At the time, I couldn’t begin to understand the reasons behind her father’s decision; all I knew was they were in love, and it seemed everyone was against them. Still, she fought for what she believed in, even if it meant losing her entire family. There was something noble and admirable in her decision.

“However, what Cossette is doing? It pains me on a level that is much more personal than the monarchy. How could I have raised a daughter who is capable of inflicting such pain on her family? For what? Greed? Power? Selfishness?

“If this pregnancy is all a farce, another manipulative tactic on her behalf, she’s leaving us with little to no option other than to cast her and that new husband of hers from our family. Albeit, the situation is very different from that of my cousin’s, I’m reminded that with the Crown comes a level of responsibility I must acknowledge above my desire to try to make this right, in the most comfortable manner possible."

Magnus stood, looking back at his mother. He couldn't face her, not with the amount of pain written all over her face. He knew little of the cousin she spoke of. He’d eloped with a Princess of Astiria. She lost her title. Everything. All for love. But what Cossette was doing was very different as his mother recognized. He supposed, in a way, she was making the connection of a Royal being shunned.

Cossette was single handily destroying their family. But he knew very well it was her strategy to push him to his limit so he would fold. His biggest weakness was his family. He'd do anything for them.

His mind wandered off to be with Freya. She brought him so much hope and happiness. One more week, he thought to himself, as he smiled, picturing her disembarking the plane, her alabaster skin in the gleaming sunlight of the island, her long dark hair flowing with the soft ocean breeze, and her slender and firm curves carrying her towards him. If he could, he'd pick her up in an embrace and kiss her soft, supple, pouty lips.

"Magnus?"

He turned to look back at his parents.

"Is everything okay, son?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"I've been calling your name, and you didn't answer." The King looked puzzled.

"I apologize, Father. My mind was elsewhere." Containing his smile was difficult.

Both his parents glanced at each other for a moment only to turn back to him. Words were not necessary, he understood the look. They knew where his thoughts had been. And it didn't bother him in the least. Magnus had no intentions of hiding his feelings for Freya. He only hoped she felt the same.

The days that followed the big baby announcement at the palace had been relatively quiet. It was nice, for a change.

Magnus worked closely with Bernard and Estella, who'd joined them to get the preparations for Freya's arrival underway. In less than twenty-four hours, she'd be at his side, and he was certain he wouldn't be able to contain himself if he didn't keep busy, which had turned out to be great for the King, as Magnus was present at almost all meetings.

The only times he was absent from his father’s presence was to help his mother with the Christmas Ball and be her companion for a few charity visits.

When the media attempted to push for more answers regarding Cossette, the Queen had remained ever so graceful and honest. "These are difficult times for our family, which in no way overshadows our duty to our country.” Her answer had remained pretty much the same.

Magnus noticed even his mother’s excitement about Freya's arrival had been somewhat piqued, as she’d personally seen to it that her apartment was properly equipped.

"What sort of foods does your friend like?" the Queen asked.

"Mother, there is no need to worry about those types of things. Freya will enjoy whatever it is we do," Magnus said, leaning in to kiss his mother’s forehead.

"I've meant to ask you. What is her opinion on this matter with your sister? I'm sure it's been overly reported outside of our kingdom."

Magnus noticed a slight pout on his mother's lips when she said that, causing him to feel bad. Cossette was her daughter, and this alienation had to be difficult.

"She doesn't really have an opinion. She's only inquired as to how we are doing, trying not to dig too deep."

"That’s good on her part." The Queen smiled. "I'm going to head out to the garden and pick out some fresh flowers to have brought up to her room. And later, I'll finalize the menu for the ball, if you care to join me? If I don't get it done today, I'll give the chef and the catering company a real fright." The Queen laughed.

"I might join you for that. Thank you, Mother."

He noticed the smile still on her face as she walked away. If even for a moment she could forget about all of their issues, it would be a small victory, just to see her at peace.

Freya hammered through all her pending work; she’d gotten a hiring agency on the lookout for a possible replacement for Tran and put together a pretty solid plan for the studio.

Marissa had been let go which worked out since Freya was leaving and a few parents wanted to sign their kids up for private lessons as soon as they heard the news.

She wasn't going to be making the same income immediately, but it was enough to help pay the bills.

Justine and Marissa had insisted on taking Freya shopping. They'd spent the entire weekend with the Black Friday crowds at the malls. It was an experience she certainly never wanted to repeat, even though she’d managed to pull together a decent wardrobe for the trip.

"Magnus! I'm so glad you picked up. I'm sorry to bother you, but I've been trying to figure out what to bring your parents, and I'm stumped! What does a person like me give a King and Queen?"

"Freya, don't fret over those details. My parents don't need anything. Besides, shouldn't you be headed to catch your flight already?"

"Yes. I just feel that arriving empty-handed isn't really nice of me, especially since they are being so gracious about me staying at the palace."

"I'll tell you what. Don't worry about picking anything up. Instead, you and I can pick up a gift for them together, and you can give it to them at Christmas."

"Oh, that's a good idea. Plus, it'll help me figure out what they like. Okay, we can do that."

"Perfect. Now get on that plane!"

"All right. We’re on our way, and I'm equal parts nervous and excited." She laughed.

"Freya," Magnus said in a more serious tone, "I can't wait to see you."

"Me, too."

Freya fell asleep listening to her audiobook. Thankfully, Eros knew to wake her up when they were an hour from landing.

She'd never traveled on a private jet before. The plane was finished in fine tan leather and the trimmings throughout were in a beautiful wood. The Royal Crest was embroidered into the headrest of every seat and on the cushions for the sofas. There were two private bedrooms with queen size beds. She'd slept in one. The entire craft was a home in the air, something she would've never imagined existed.

"Miss Sinclair, once we arrive, we'll escort you briskly to the helicopter. The air landing strip is away from the palace, and the family doesn't want to make an announcement of your arrival until you've had an opportunity to settle in," Jean-Paul carefully explained after Freya had surfaced from freshening up in the private suite.

"Okay." She smiled.

"Another thing, Miss Sinclair. It is imperative that you greet the King and Queen as Your Majesties and the Prince as His Royal Highness. Oh, and your assistant, Estella, will be waiting at the landing strip and she’ll go over your agenda on the chopper back to the palace, where you'll be received by His Royal Highness and members of the staff."

"So, the King and Queen will not be welcoming me?"

"Not immediately. His Royal Highness will make a proper introduction. But those are details I'm not privy to. Estella will have that information."

"I see."

She looked out the window and gasped at how beautiful the blue water looked from above. The island was bigger than she'd imagined. It caused her to wonder, yet again, why she'd never heard of it.

From the sky, it looked like what she'd pictured the Mediterranean to look like. There were many bluffs and cliffs, white sand beaches, and the buildings seemed mostly to be finished in white with terracotta roofs.

It was simply breathtaking.

The pilot came on the overhead speaker asking for everyone to take their seats and fasten their seatbelts as they made their final descent into Martierra. He announced the local time, three in the afternoon, and the weather, a steady fifty-two degrees Fahrenheit or thirty-seven degrees Celsius.

"I thought it would be warmer?" Freya said quietly to Jean-Paul who was sitting across from her.

"No, Miss, it is a bit chillier this time of the year. But still much warmer than other parts of Europe."

Just then, Freya heard the landing gear as the plane made its way to the runway.

Here goes nothing, she thought as she swallowed a lump in her throat. All that nervous excitement of previous days was merely nervousness now. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face the people of Magnus' country, but she couldn't turn back now.

The private flight attendant gave brief instructions, but it was clear to Freya that she needed only to follow her security details instructions as she grabbed her handbag and followed Jean-Paul and Eros to the front of the plane to exit. The other guards flanked her.

At the bottom of the stairs two cars awaited along with a young lady, perhaps a little younger than herself.

"Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair, I am Estella, and I'll be your assistant throughout your stay. On behalf of the Royal Family, I'd like to extend a warm welcome to Martierra." She smiled, extending her hand in greeting.

"Thank you, Estella," Freya said, returning the friendly gesture.

"We must quickly move to the vehicles. The men will see to it that your luggage is retrieved and delivered to your apartment. We have a helicopter waiting to take us to the palace," Estella said as she led the way to one of the vehicles.

What is it with black on black vehicles? As if they weren't a magnet for the straying eyes, Freya thought, noticing the similarities of most diplomatic vehicles.

The ride was short as they only circled a hangar and approached the waiting chopper as it’d been explained.

She'd never rode in a helicopter, and from the way Estella looked, she hadn't either. But Jean-Paul and Eros immediately sprang into action, each one grabbing either Freya or Estella by the elbow and helping them maneuver towards the chopper where they quickly got in and put on headphones.

"Thank you," she said into the mic piece.

"Upon arrival, I'll leave you with His Royal Highness Prince Magnus for a few minutes. I'll then fetch you, and we'll head over to your apartment to help you get settled in. Their Majesties will meet you in the drawing room before dinner which is served promptly at seven p.m. I'll go over more details once we are in the privacy of your apartment." She paused. "Look." She nodded her head toward the window beside Freya.

When Freya turned, she gasped. The photos she'd seen did not do the palace justice. Indeed, it was a mini version of Versailles, but not as small as most pictures had made it seem. It was breathtaking.

The helicopter landed, quickly shutting off its engines, and the propellers came to a stop.

An incredibly handsome Prince Magnus stood waiting at the end of a red carpet that had been rolled out all the way to the chopper. Just beyond him, members of the palace staff lined up.

Freya took a deep breath as Jean-Paul exited first, helping the ladies, and Eros followed.

Freya pushed her fingers through her hair, to make sure it wasn't terribly out of place, adjusted her pencil skirt, and moved toward Magnus.

His smile was so infectious she couldn't help but return the cheesy grin.

"Miss Sinclair, welcome to my home." He reached out to take her arm in his as they steadily walked toward a back entrance. They paused for a moment as he made one introduction to all the staff present and continued toward the indoors.

"How was your flight?" His gaze fell on her lips as she nervously bit down on the bottom one.

"It was great. It'll be difficult to go back to coach travel after all of this," she joked, "Everything I've laid eyes on, thus far, is absolutely breathtaking. This place? My goodness. I don't even know what to say. Stunning."

She nervously looked around, feeling the weight of eyes scrutinizing her every move. Who is this woman?

When she finally made eye contact with Magnus again, his gaze was piercing. There was something he wanted to say, she could sense it, but she didn't dare inquire at that moment. She'd ask him later.

"Thank you, Freya, for coming here and getting to know me, my family, and my country a little better."

She stopped in her tracks. "Magnus," she whispered, "I'm the one who should be thanking you. This is an experience like no other. So, if I don't get around to saying it, this has been the best time of my life."

"Better than dancing for the dance company?"

"Yes, better." She shyly smiled, causing him to reach down and caress her face.

What is he doing? She panicked. What will his staff think? But she didn't react; she went along with it, albeit, she felt a little weak in the knees.

Magnus led Freya through massive ornate wood doors into a foyer the size of her entire house and studio. The floors were an exquisite marble, carefully cared for, and the trim throughout in gold. The further they walked into the palace, the grander it became.

The opulence seemed almost excessive, but there was still a feeling of being lived in.

"I still cannot believe anyone actually lives like this," Freya blurted out. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. It's just all so beautiful. It truly is. And as old as it is supposed to be, the classic fixtures make it look like it was only recently built. Very elegant and tasteful."

"Thank you." Magnus smiled. "The entire main floor is for entertaining. There are a couple of apartments on this floor, but most of our guests stay on the third floor. The second floor is a bit more for our private use, although we keep to our wing on the fourth floor."

"What is opposite your private wing?"

"More rooms. Those will eventually be used when our family grows." He smiled warmly down at Freya, causing a tingle in every part of her body.

"I see. So, will I be on the third floor alone?"

"Not necessarily. We have a few suites that are on each floor for our security detail and assistants. Typically, our secretaries have their own homes. But Bernard and his family will be moving in for the month. With everything going on, I need him close by. My father's secretary is here as well. So, they are staying in the east wing, whereas you are staying in the west wing. Estella will be staying on the west wing as will Jean-Paul. He'll be the head of your security detail while you are here. I think it is best that way since he and Eros are most familiar with you. The other men will rotate out."

"Wow. My own security detail and assistant. Sounds like work." She giggled and said, "Just kidding. Okay, so..." she stopped mid-sentence as they approached the main room which boasted massive crystal chandeliers, art on the ceilings, and a stairwell like she'd never seen before. It was intricate and a bit confusing when she stared carefully at the layout. "My goodness. I feel as if I’ve stepped back in time. This place is more than I think I can keep up with."

"You'll have plenty of time." He smiled. "I assure you, the palace is more intimidating than those of us who actually live here." He winked.

"I sure hope so." She sighed.

He held her arm firmly as they made their way up each step. The click of her heels against the marble seemed almost too loud. She'd have to figure out how to quiet that down as she'd planned on wearing heels often based on the outfits she had.

"I'll leave you at your apartment, so you can get settled in. Estella will go over the evening's details with you, but please, do not hesitate in calling or texting me if you have any questions. Or just because."

She smiled at him, recognizing their relationship was taking on a formality that wasn’t there before. No matter how impressive it all was, there would undoubtedly be some adjusting.