Rebecca Simpson is a self-preservationist, plain and simple. Her upbringing had made it so. In the world she was born into, you have to do whatever is necessary to survive, otherwise you're left out to the wolves.

Her father, Stewart Simpson, British aristocrat, shameless social climber, would not hesitate to throw his daughter in front of a moving train for a shot at the big leagues. And her mother, Eliza, is his devoted follower.

Rebecca is certain that they would have ignored her existence if it weren't for the fact that being a happy family is good for the brand.

In fact, she expects that she would probably have been thrown out on the street at the nearest opportunity... or worse. Her father is a powerful man, and he can make her life very difficult if he saw fit.

So, it was in Rebecca's best interest to always do as her father said. She hasn't stood up for herself since she was 12 years old. She hadn't had a rebellious teenage phase; that was verbally beaten out of her and ended as soon as it started.

When the Duchess of Gloucester, soon to be de-facto queen of England, came knocking on their door, asking for the help of the Simpson family, Rebecca already knew her parents would do anything she asked.

She just hadn't predicted that she herself would be involved.

"Rebecca, is it?" The tall woman asked her, her attention for the first time turning to the silent young woman in the corner.

"Yes." Stewart Simpson replied for her, eagerly, looking like an excitable puppy, "Isn't she beautiful?"

Rebecca resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes. It was obvious what her father was doing. It had recently been revealed that the Duchess had a son, who would one day be the king of England. Apparently, 'father-in-law to the King' would look nice on Mr Simpson's extensive resumé.

"Yes. You are." Alexandra said, making a point to look at Rebecca only, "And you're at university?"

"Yes, ma'am." Rebecca's father interrupted again, causing the Duchess to fix her piercing golden gaze onto him.

"Does your daughter have a speech problem, or do you just believe her to be incapable of simple conversation?" She asked calmly, though venom laces her words.

"I-I..I"

"You what, Stewart?" Alexandra prompted, one eyebrow raised, "Do close your mouth, or I fear your face will be stuck looking like a confused guppy."

Rebecca barely held back a laugh, and had to cough to hide her amusement. The Duchess noticed though, and gave her a cheeky smirk when her parents weren't looking at her.

"Yes, your highness, I'm at St Andrew's." Rebecca finally spoke, feeling more confident since her father had been reprimanded.

"Ah, Scotland's finest." The Duchess nodded approvingly, "Very good choice. Do you enjoy it?"

Rebecca didn't even think about it, she knew what her father would want her to say, so she said it, "I'm doing very well."

"I didn't ask if you were doing well. I asked if you were enjoying it."

This made Rebecca freeze. She had never been asked her opinion on something before. It made her brain short-circuit a bit.

"I...I'm not." She said truthfully after careful contemplation.

"She's just being silly, ma'am, she loves it, she's top of her class." Her father tried to make excuses, fumbling to explain away his disappointment.

"Stewart, with no respect whatsoever, I don't give a damn how well she's doing. I'm sure Rebecca is a genius. But genius can only thrive in the correct environment. So, shut your snivelling mouth or leave us alone."

Rebecca's father seethed. In fact, Rebecca could virtually see steam coming out of his red ears.

Without so much as a second thought, Alexandra turned back to Rebecca and continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.

"What about it do you not like?" She asked, sipping on the tea brought to her by the Simpson family maid, Tilly.

"I suppose... the pressure." Rebecca admitted, feeling sheepish, "everyone there has an important future. You're at university with the future leaders on the country. Politicians, writers, humanitarians. People who are expected to change the world."

"You don't think you'll change the world?" Alexandra asked , genuine concern on her face.

Rebecca sighed, "I hope I will... but I don't want it to be expected of me. I'd be so afraid of letting everyone down."

The Duchess had ended up asking her what she liked, if anything, about St Andrew's. To which Rebecca had replied with, "The contrast. It's so different to being at home."

Not two days later a prospectus arrived for the top university in Wales.

Two weeks after that, Rebecca was starting the second term of her third year at a university over 400 miles from where she began her degree.

Her job was to monitor, at first. Alexandra had gotten news that her son was seeing someone, and since Arthur was now on the fast track to become king, she had assured Rebecca that she just needed to see if this girl was suitable.

But when this news became public knowledge, and Grace's face was being plastered on every tabloid in the country, Rebecca took on more of a hands-on role. Alexandra felt it necessary for Rebecca to get to know Grace, to see how she was handling things.

"How are your studies?" Alexandra asked when she accepted Rebecca's call.

Luckily it wasn't a video call, so she couldn't see Rebecca's confused expression. Why would the future queen of England care about her degree?

"Miss Simpson, I may have asked you to keep an eye on my son but that doesn't mean it should be your main priority. That position belongs to your future." Alexandra told her, somehow answering the question that Rebecca hadn't uttered.

"Oh. Um. It's good. I'm feeling a lot more motivated than I had before I came here." Rebecca answered, before adding, "Grace has really helped too."

"Oh?" The older lady asked, intrigue clearly in her voice.

"Yeah, she's quite a hard worker. Most of our hang outs are at the library. Gives me a lot of time to study."

"I'm glad. She seems like quite a good influence."

"She is..." Rebecca paused, "Grace is lovely, Alexandra. Arthur seems really happy. They look amazing together."

"I'm sure they do. She's a very beautiful young woman, and she must be intelligent." Alexandra mused. "How is she coping with... everything?"

"Oh, you mean being exposed to the media?" Rebecca said, then sighed, "Honestly... not phenomenally."

"Tell me more."

"As soon as I met her, I knew she liked to keep to herself. She was very quiet, and she chose her words carefully. In fact, I spent most of my time talking to Elina."

"Elina?"

"Grace's best friend. Oh, Alexandra, she's wonderful. Funny and gorgeous, and she's so positive. I love speaking to her."

"Rebecca, focus, we can talk about your crush another time."

Crush?

"Uh... right. Yes... I don't think Grace is handling it well. The scrutiny... it's clearly quite personal for her. She seems quite insecure."

"Insecure?" Alexandra repeated, intrigued, "Interesting."

At the time, Rebecca wasn't sure what was so interesting about a 21 year old girl being bullied by the media. But she figured there was a reason for that statement, and she ignored it.

Three strong knocks on the door pull Rebecca from her reverie.

"Coming!" She calls, rushing over to the door.

She stumbles over to it, her hand falling onto the handle and swinging it open, revealing her unexpected guest.

She shrinks slightly, the look in the visitor's eyes giving her all the information she needs to explain their visit.

With a sigh, she speaks, "Hello, Arthur."

"Rebecca. What the hell have you done?"