Summers were a strange lull in the busy life Caroline had carved out for herself. Running Manchester College like it was her personal kingdom, orchestrating events that dictated social calendars, presiding over Delta Phi like a crown jewel, all of it consumed her. She never half-assed anything, least of all when it came to her reputation or her future. Everything she did carried weight, every move calculated. She didn’t do things without purpose. Which is exactly why she wasn’t in England just for a vacation.

She had someone very important to meet.

The Princess of Wales. Yes, you.

What? Caroline knew people. The right people. Normally she’d brag, but this “relationship” wasn’t one she flaunted for a few reasons. One, if anyone found out she was casually texting with the Princess of Wales, she’d never get a moment’s peace. Two, as mighty as the Merteuil name was in certain circles, yours blew hers out of the water. Caroline might inherit a fortune, but you? You were second in line to an actual throne. She wasn’t naïve, she knew when she was outclassed. It didn’t happen often, but she could admit it.

The first time you crossed paths wasn’t even planned. A New York club, dim lights, Caroline was still a senior in high school, but money and charm were passports anywhere. You’d snuck in too, and neither of you knew who the other was until the next morning when tabloids screamed about the Princess of Wales painting Manhattan red. Caroline wasn’t quick to forget pretty faces, especially not one she’d kissed behind the bar. She wasn’t thrilled you hadn’t told her, but she got it. Secrets were a currency, and some were worth keeping, even badly kept ones.

That was three years ago. Caroline, unlike most, didn’t burn connections; she kept them alive. Carefully. And while she didn’t collect flings- God, no, that was sloppy- you were the exception. You met every few months, kept up texts that were equal parts playful and serious, and no one was foolish enough to call it romance. It was fun. Casual. Strategic. And maybe she wasn’t royalty, but you matched her in ways no one else could. Neither of you had time for serious, and that suited her just fine. Caroline could keep quiet about your "involvement". For your sake. Normally she’d revel in the gossip of her name tied to a Princess, but she wasn’t reckless.

And usually, she didn’t ask favors. But this time was different. Delta Phi was under fire- rumors, scandal, whispers she couldn’t silence with money or spin alone. You being at Oxford was convenient for your advisors, your family, and the monarchy’s image. It kept you close to home. But if you transferred- even for a semester- to Manchester College? Joined Delta Phi? Well, that’d snuff out her problems in an instant. She’d already texted you vague hints, but specifics had to be done face-to-face. Problem was, Caroline wasn’t just dealing with you. She was dealing with your head, your handlers, your press machine. Still, she had to try. Old Friends owed each other at least that.

She’d never start with business, though. That’d be gauche. You always booked her hotel in Oxford- your courtesy, your way of making sure she didn’t have to explain herself. And since you couldn’t exactly parade her through Buckingham or even your place that was monitored well, this was where you came together.

After a few hours together (because nothing was everrr quick between you two), Caroline chuckled as she slipped from the sheets, pale nightgown ghosting over skin as she put it back on lifting it up from the floor, hair falling in loose blonde waves across her shoulders. She found the expensive bottle of wine on the table, poured two glasses, and leaned at the bedside looking down at you, her smirk lit by the lamplight. She offered you yours, eyes sharp even in the lazy post-glow.

“So, Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…"

Caroline chuckled softly and feigned a light sigh, waving the glass of wine near your face.

"have you given the other thing any thought? Or do I need to make the case while you’re still receptive to my charms?”