So, here's a short version of it -

I sat down to write another chapter for Michael's fic. But I found myself wanting to write in Mia's voice. So I decided to write the epilogue for the Spring Princess (though I still want to finish the Michael fic before the Spring one. I have a reason, I promise). And I kept thinking of Mia's future, so I just gave up on the epilogue and started writing straight out of my head. And this is what came out of it. I have no idea what to do with it, so I am posting it. Maybe it will brighten up your day - or evening - like it did mine. So enjoy.

And, as you can see, there is progress on other two PD Fics. I haven't forgotten about them, I swear.

Either way, tell me what you think. Maybe I'll write more, who knows.

Thanks for your patience. As always, I adore you all.

winter.

*The January Princess*

Monday, January 23, Genovian TV studios

Of course, my life is nothing like I always thought it would be at 22.

I am still not entirely sure whether that is a good or a bad thing. But given my father is still a prime minister, I guess I have not done much damage in my free-spirited life. You'd think mom would be happy for me, or at least supportive, since I have definitely picked the gene up for this from her. The more free-spirited thing my dad ever did was dancing polka at his and Gloria's wedding last year. And, I mean, it was free-spirited, because he only had one glass of champagne to drink (even though Lars wasn't completely sober, by the time the reception ended, I think he got this quite right).

(Of course I also have to mention that early next morning, dad came out of the honeymoon suite wearing an Armani suit – he refuses to wear Sebastiano, but Sebastiano doesn't really mind because he has Michael and René to dress on regular bases. If we only limit his regulars to males – and went straight to his office, working on a new law that requires employers to provide at least one pet for their employees in their working environment, as it is scientifically proven this reduces stress, thus leading to less sick leaves. I know this makes my dad seem like a very uncaring husband, but I have to also add that Gloria followed him less than five minutes later, as she was at the time organizing the Genovian Summer Music Festival, which was highlighted by Paramore and Mumford and Sons. And Boris Pelkowski, of course – if his crowd wasn't the biggest, it was definitely the most sophisticated. (Lana del Rey really wanted to come too, but was unable to attend due to 'personal reasons' (and I can personally vouch for that, given we speak on weekly bases), while Damien Rice was apparently back to his no touring phase. I ordered Gloria to keep sending him invitations every year until he shows up. I've seen enough of his live show that I know what my fellow Genovians are missing.)

Oh, and not to mention, I am the most popular royal 11 months running (well, for more than two years, actually, if your exclude the months in which royals babies were born), and Michael + Mia is people's favorite celebrity couple. Vigo was so worried that our moving in together while still not being married would hurt out public image, but in fact, it has only made us more popular. A perfect example of how the stereotypically rigid royals live firmly in 21st century, was one of the headlines. (He should warn us about Sebastiano's intention to help us decorate the place, though. Or pull René aside and tell him not to give us a collection of wooden figures from Madagascar that are supposed to enflame your sexual desire. I gave them to mom, and thank god I was that rational, as they must be working flawlessly, given Rocky has a baby brother now.)

If someone told me at 14, right after I learnt I was a princess, that I would be this content with my princessy life at 22, I would think there was an ecological disaster in progress, and that chemicals were attacking people's sanity. I am still amazed by how well I managed to balance the whole royal thing with my everyday life.

And if I managed that, than people really are adaptable and capable of everything. If I die tomorrow, at least I'll die knowing I left the world my influential story.

I can't believe I used to think that living in Genovia is bad. Actually, it is amazing. As long as you don't close the blinds in the bedroom before going to bed, you are awoken by warm sunrays before your alarm clock starts ringing. Which then gives you time for other things. Seriously, how many other places on earth can say the same even during winter?

"Morning, gorgeous," Michael said, still sleepily, and kissed my bare shoulder.

"Morning, not too bad yourself," I beamed.

With his eyes still half closed, he reaches over me, toward the night stand on my left, looking at the time.

"If I'm not mistaken," I told him, "you don't have to go anywhere for about another two hours."

"Yeah, well, that's the good thing about running your own company from your own office," he said, kissing my lips.

He does. Thank god for Skype, that's all I'll say. Michael flies to the States two to three times per month, discussing possible improvements to his CardioArm with his team (though lately Michael's been researching the field of prosthetics. As if he needs another Nobel Prize.)

Of course, Vigo makes sure he is not bored when he is in Genovia. With Grandmere now happily married on Frederik's farm all the way in Sweden, Michael is his favorite choice of host. Though he'd never admit it, Michael loves the role. I mean, his charms get to every woman (I should know, as Queen Elizabeth now finally likes coming to visit Genovia. Before that, she held a grudge against me, believing it was my fault that Harry married his model girlfriend, Nastassja, in Vegas (René was the officiant. For a while I was therefore assured that the marriage wasn't valid anyway, but was sadly proven wrong.). Nastassja got pregnant soon after, but about a week after their son Geoffrey was born, she filed to divorce and willingly gave Harry full custody. How she managed to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated a month later and rock the miniature bikini, I still don't know) and every male guest is thrilled to meet the youngest Nobel Prize for Medicine winner in history. Besides, it is a chance for Michael to work on his linguistic skills. How he managed to learn Italian in three months, I still have no idea. He speaks it better than René, and René is supposed to be the native speaker (though René maintains the only language he is a native speaker of, is the language of love. How he managed to be 26 and without children, while Harry is a divorced single father, is beyond me.).

Vigo is so impressed with Michael's hosting skills, he even lets him train for a pilot's license, even though prince consorts are not supposed to indulge in anything risky until there's an offspring.

Really, since Grandmere packed her favorite five bags and donated the other thousand to charity and moved to Sweden, things have been quite loose at the home of Genovian Royal Family.

As always, things heated up pretty quickly with the two of us. I rolled on top of Michael and took off my top.

That was when the bell rang, of course.

For some reason, René texts me every time he is about to hide the salami. In return, he has this super sensitive radar of the most inconvenient times to come over. Maybe it's because I gave those figures away, I don't know.

"I'm telling you, we need another apartment," Michael groaned.

"Don't be silly, he's family," I dismissed him. "Besides, you know he won't be over at our place as much once Lilly is done with that Haiti Corruption movie of hers. That's when their year-long break ends."

"You better start counting down the days to us getting another flat," Michael said.

I wrapped the sheet around me and tiptoed to the door.

"Morning, BC!" René screamed as I opened the door. Then he noticed my attire. "Well, I think it is high time we drop that Baby prefix."

"It's not a prefix," I told him for a billionth time.

"Until you major in English, BC, it is a prefix," he said, walking in past me. He brought a bunch of donuts with him, as usual. Sebastiano will need another hair implant if René keeps up with his kindness for much longer.

"Morning, René," Michael too came to the kitchen, of course his boxers completely distracting me from the whole dropping out of college thing.

Yeah, dropping out of Sarah Lawrence. That was something nobody in my family foresaw, that's for sure. It wasn't intentional, or anything, it just sort of happened. NBC offered me a lot, and I mean A LOT of money to go save baby seals with Greenpeace. Of course I agreed, earning more money for Greenpeace and giving them the much needed publicity, but about a week in, the doctor on the ship diagnosed me with pneumonia and ordered me to be sent someplace warmer. I joined my father and his wedding preparations in Genovia (he did need some help. His mother was more interested in the world pageant of the cutest lamb (she came third)). Because I still had weeks of shooting on my contract, we then filmed a series about the cat shelter in Genovia, as dad forbade me from going anywhere cold again, and the network couldn't generate enough interest in langurs. Bastards. I didn't leave Dr. Coletti's – my new shrink – office for hours. But given the new sofa he had when I next saw him, I think my dad made sure he was compensated well for those three boxes of tissues I had used.

I thought there were plenty of pet rescue shows on TV already, but everyone seemed ecstatic by the idea. Probably because shooting it in Genovia meant that Michael would appear in practically every episode. We are more into PDA than we used to be, I admit. Plus, once we had a film crew inside our apartment, paparazzi stopped bothering us. They probably realized just how boring we are. Though god knows if I was as lucky if they got a shot of those dreadful sex figures.

Anyway, when I started appearing on TV more often, I didn't really have much time to attend college anymore. I finished my third year, but only god knows when I will have time for the final year. If my pregnancy will be as troubled as mom's latest, I'll probably finish my studies while on mandatory bed rest in Genovian Royal chambers.

Actually, I doubt that. Sebastiano is so enthralled with Harry's son that I fear to even think of how he'll act around my kid, given they will be related. Well, if anything, he has already proven to be a good nanny. Geoffrey is more fashion aware that Suri Cruise, I swear.

René started making coffee while Michael and I started tasting the donuts. Of course by now I already know the blueberry one is the best, but I like to confirm my preferences every morning. I like to think that every evening I spend with Michael burns those calories. Well, of course it does. Otherwise I would be the biggest blueberry in history by now.

"So, Michael, what are you up to today?" René asked him, like he does every morning.

"Actually, I am having lunch with Philippe today. I promised him I would translate some files into Italian."

"What does he need Italian for?" René asked as I stuffed another donut into my mouth, this time the chocolate one, into my mouth.

"He just wants something from Italian to be translated into French, that's all."

René detected the change in Michael's voice, immediately glancing at me. Unfortunately, I had nothing but sprinkles around my mouth to offer.

"I don't see a reason why Genovian legislation should look up to the Italian one," René clutched his teeth. "Nothing about Italy is as good as in Genovia. Even pizzas here are better. Well, maybe shoe designers in Italy have better headquarters, but that's about it."

"It's not for work," Michael said. "It's a poem he wants to give to Gloria for their wedding anniversary."

"And he thinks if he translates it from Italian, she won't notice he got it off the internet?" I laughed.

"I guess," Michael sighed.

"Well, anyway," René took the donuts away from me before I could start my third, "BC, you better get dressed. The shooting begins at noon."

"It's not even seven," I dismissed him, reaching out for a donut. I mean, I totally didn't have the strawberry one yet.

"Sebastiano wants to try the dress on, and then hair and makeup and rehearsal," René says. "Just think of all the baby seals you are saving with being a TV star."

That thing I said about my life turning out to be so unexpected? Yeah, well, growing to love Genovia has nothing on me becoming a TV presenter. Yeah, okay, it is only in Genovia, but I am said to be the first royal to host one of the most watched TV shows in their country (though I think we are so watched primarily because René and I are the hosts, but whatever).

At first there was supposed to be only one episode of My Man Can (a gaming show in which women gamble on their partners' abilities to complete a given task, such as how many country flags out of ten your man can name, or how many chili peppers he can eat in two minutes), but it was such a hit that we are currently in our second season. I think by now the producers have started to worry about just how many couples Genovia has. Maybe the next season will also be opened to couples from Monaco (our diplomatic relations have never been as good as they are now. I think it's because Arne and Contessa Trevanni have already divorced and due to Charlene loving the clothes Sebastiano has made for little Geoffrey. Or maybe just because Grandmere is not here as much anymore.).

So here I am now, writing this in my room in the studios, still sorry to have missed out on my Michael time this morning, as I wait for Sebastiano to show up with his creation for me to wear for this week's episode. Because obviously my cousins and I do everything as a family these days, he is taking care of my attire. Even though he's now one of the most famous designers in the world (he designed all clothes Lana del Rey wore during her latest world tour, but he politely refuses to make clothes for Hayley, as, in his words, dresses don't really work for her outside the red carpet), he lives in Genovia.

I swear, my life feels like constant holiday. I have a job, I have a royal title, I am saving baby seals, and yet I feel like I am on vacation ALL THE TIME!

Of course I can't say this out loud too much. All my friends from New York are still in college, cramming, even Lana (she enjoys school so much better now that she can study fashion. She even gave up cheerleading for it). Well, just not Lilly, because no one really knows where Lilly is. After she met a woman from Haiti who came to America to have a better life after that devastating earthquake, Lilly found out just how bad life still is on Haiti despite the international efforts right after the disaster. This enraged her so bad she took a semester off, determined to film a film about how poor people of Haiti never even seen a dime of the money donated. By now, she has been in Haiti for a semester and a half, and her phone calls are seldom, at best. Nobody has seen any part of the movie-in-the-making yet. Drs. Moscovitzes have stated they would only wait until the current semester end, and then go to Haiti and drag their daughter home. I think if they truly go through with that, she will tell them a thing or two about free speech.

Oh, Sebastiano is here. The dress is still covered, but looks enormous, as always. I just hope it's not orange. I look awful in orange.

?

Broughttoyouby:::winter.