Chapter Text
The Berkeley quad was filled with sunshine and excitement, black robes and laughter as the graduating class took photos and celebrated with family and friends and teachers. For Chris, it was bittersweet.
He finished his Literature BA with a 3.75 grade point average, which was higher than he’d expected and would have looked decent to the Doctoral Committee. Probably. But none of that mattered anymore.
Instead, he was looking at starting right over, studying Political Science, maybe at a European university this time. After all, he couldn’t lead a small nation without a working knowledge of government, no matter how many advisors they supplied him with. He had plenty of options: Oxford, Cambridge, or maybe a university in Turin or Nice or Grenoble, for closer proximity to Genovia.
He did not pore over descriptions and photos and glowing alumni testimonials for the University of Copenhagen. He did not daydream about days of studying in that beautiful library, with kisses to the back of his neck, of Zach sweeping him off to dinner and then bed, making his research go that much slower, making him care a little less about his supposed timeline. Repeatedly. Piningly. He couldn’t go that route.
When he’d told Dr. Greenwood about his decision, his advisor had pressed his lips together.
“This isn’t what you want,” Bruce had said. It wasn’t another question, another advisor’s double-check. After four years, he knew Chris pretty damn well.
“I have to do what’s best for everyone,” he’d muttered in answer.
“What about what’s best for you? Are you really going to give up your own life for other people’s sake?” Bruce had leaned forward over his desk, “Chris, in the original fairytale, the mermaid throws herself with her human legs into the sea and drowns in despair and regret. Sometimes, just sometimes, the Disney version might be the better one.”
But it wouldn’t be like the Disney version either. No one was going to die. There just wasn’t going to be a happy fluffy love story, an ever after, the boat wasn’t going to sail off, the prince didn’t rescue anyone. That’s just the way it was. Fantasy stories ended that way. Real life didn’t.
Now he was here in the green of the quad with all his smiling classmates, diploma in hand, and he should be thrilled and happy to have finished.
“Boys, get together, I want another picture of just the two of you!” his mom called out.
He and Cho posed for numerous shots with each other, the sun so warm that Chris unzipped his robes to his suit beneath and parked his mortarboard on Luca’s head once the photos were done.
After making nice with a few people he’d more than likely never see again, he turned around to look for his family, and was only a little bit surprised to find another addition to it.
“Oh Christopher, my dear!” she came forward for her usual air-kisses to his cheeks, “I am so proud of you!”
“Thanks, Aunt Clarisse.”
“You looked so smart and handsome up there,” she fussed over his suit, then gestured to someone behind her, “I have someone you ought to have met at your Proclamation, dear, I’m not sure if you did.”
“We did meet, Grandma. Maybe in a roundabout way.”
She looked a bit different in a smart pink dress and jacket, this time with her hair down around her shoulders, but the same large brown eyes; it was the pretty girl from his ball so many months ago.
“Yes, I remember. It’s Mia, right? Just Mia.” Chris acknowledged, smiling at her. Then he did a double-take as she and Aunt Clarisse exchanged a secret look, and he finally made the obvious connection. “Mia. Amelia. Shit, you were—oh my god.”
“Hey,” she put a hand out to forestall him, “It’s no biggie. I’m still just Mia, remember?” She looped her arm in his elbow. “Walk with me?”
He followed blankly, feeling stupid and out of his depth with two left feet yet again.
“I thought about going here before Stanford accepted me,” she told him, looking around the quad, “My best friend Lilly did, though.”
“Lilly,” Chris pondered, “Lilly Moscovitz?”
“Yeah! You know her?”
“Yeah, we were in Existential Philosophy together last year. I haven’t seen her in a while, actually.”
“Oh, she graduated early. She’s doing her PhD at Brown now.”
“That’s no surprise, she’s smart as hell.”
“Yeah, she really is.”
They walked in silence for a bit, and Chris prompted, “So.”
“So,” she parroted, “I know things have been kind of too real, lately.”
Chris snorted, “I guess. In a weird, totally not entrenched in any normal reality sort of way.”
“Been there, done that,” she laughed.
“I don’t know,” he said, thinking back, “I feel like most of it was a dream. One that didn’t end with any ride off into the sunset or—”
“A prince kissing his princess?” she smiled, and he blinked at her warily. She made a face. “Geez, ew, you’re like my cousin. But,” she took a deep breath, “I saw something a few months ago that made me realize, maybe I took the wrong path after all.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Was there a witch’s cottage?” She looked blank, and he elaborated, “There’s always a witch’s cottage down the wrong path in the woods, you know, and it’s all warm and inviting and there’s candy to lure in the little… never mind.”
“Not exactly,” she hedged. “But, what I did see was people trying to do the right thing for everyone else, but the wrong thing for themselves. And I realized, maybe I was doing the same thing. The wrong thing for me.”
“Okay,” Chris wasn’t sure what she’s getting at. “What was that, exactly? If I can ask.”
She looked out along the green lawns and milling graduates. “There’s this idea out there that a princess must always have a prince. Or want one. Or never be a whole person without one. There are even countries that have archaic laws on the books that say so. And you know what?” she looked back up at him. “I think I’ve figured out that isn’t always the case.”
He considered for a minute. There were all sorts of reasons why that was the case in a monarchy, the need for blood succession and all that. But modern times meant marriage wasn’t always absolutely necessary anymore. Hell, if he and Zach had ever—he cut that line of thought off. It didn’t do any good to imagine things that would never become a reality. “I suppose. I wouldn’t judge if you did, though. Want someone.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t either,” she insisted, stopping to face him. “How do you feel about it? About Genovia?”
He sighed, looking away. “I… I like it. It’s simple and the people are great. It’s maybe a little old-fashioned, but…”
“You like it,” she confirmed, “But you don’t love it.”
He frowned down at her, perplexed by the distinction.
“Grandma says you have the soul of a teacher, that you really wanted to be a professor and study fairytales. That’s what you love.”
“I… I did.”
She nodded, “Then do you really, truly want to be King of Genovia? There’s nothing else at all that you would choose to do?”
He searched her eyes; big, warm and brown, remarkably like… He swallowed and dropped his gaze to his shoes, starting to shake his head, “Mia—”
“Because if you don’t,” she said, “You’re totally off the hook.”
He snapped up to her eyes again. “What?”
“I’m coming back,” she drew herself up proudly. “Barring any… challengers… to the throne, Grandma is willing to rescind my abdication.”
“Seriously?”
“For realzies.”
“So you’re…” he darted his tongue across his lips, “You’re Princess Amelia, again.”
She spread her hands, “Yup.”
“Oh thank god!” he grinned with relief, picking her up in a bear hug and spinning her around.
She laughed as he set her down, clearing her throat, and he looked around, quickly making note of Joe holding back a younger, far more concerned guard by the collar of his jacket. Chris sent the men an apologetic wince, to which Joe simply shook his head with a wave.
“Relax, Joe knows you’re cool,” she told him jovially. “So now that’s out of the way, I was kind of hoping we might get more than one happily ever after out of this.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, wondering where this could possibly go from here. She merely directed his attention around to another stand of the old trees in the bustling quad, sheltering someone that made Chris’ breath catch in his throat.
Leaning casually against an aged tree trunk was Zach, hands pocketed and ankles crossed, immaculate and dashing in suit-and-tie.
“It belongs to the imperfection of everything human that man can only attain his desire by passing through its opposite.” Zach pushed off from the tree to stride up to him.
“Ugh,” Chris shook his head, responding with no bite behind his words, “I really need to make you read Sartre.”
The smugness left Zach’s face for utter tenderness, “God, I’ve missed you.”
Swallowing, Chris looked down at the short grass between them. Truth be told, he’d missed Zach too. Desperately. He’d finished his last semester feeling like something was missing, like there was a huge empty void lurking in front of every step. Working at the Bite, he would look for Zach fighting with the mop bucket or cleaning the grease trap or some other disgusting task unbefitting of royalty. He’d be studying in the library and remember the tangle of their fingers under the table. Even with the paps continuing to follow him around, he always imagined Zach beside him, telling him to just keep his head down and let it be, get to where he was going.
He’d spent so long imagining Zach that facing him now, in the flesh, was almost unreal. But just off the green was Soren, who smiled at Chris with a respectful nod, and Anton, who grinned widely and waved. “So, you came to graduation,” he said. It was a coward’s response.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss everything you’ve worked so hard for,” Zach replied with a twitch to his lips. “You taught me a lot without that degree, Professor. Despite my numerous attempts to distract you.”
Chris shook his head, unsure what to say. He couldn’t wrap his head around all that was happening, but being a professor… he’d all but given up on that dream.
Zach glanced over Chris’ shoulder to where Mia had melted away to stand with Aunt Clarisse. “I heard a rumor that you might not have a terribly pressing obligation any longer.”
“You heard that, huh?”
“Yes,” Zach chewed his bottom lip, “And, um, I happen to know of an excellent university where a scholarly sort of guy could, maybe, continue his post-graduate studies. Do great research on some very famous authors of fairytales. Maybe even get hands-on in the first editions and manuscripts of various local museums and libraries. With express permissions of the Patron, of course.”
“Oh yeah?” His heart flip-flopped.
Zach set glittering eyes back at him, “Oh, and the off-campus accommodations would be second to none.”
Chris let his smile stretch, “How’s the food?”
“You know,” Zach shuffled his feet, “Pretty standard, really. Lots of sandwiches.”
Chris couldn’t help but drop his eyes again as his emotions see-sawed between hope and fear. Zach’s shoes were polished to a mirror sheen, his cuffs breaking perfectly over them. A strong hand lifted to block his view, two fingertips tenderly bringing his chin back up in a way that was so achingly familiar and had always led to a kiss he couldn’t refuse. He drew a breath in and held it, closing his eyes.
“Chris,” Zach sighed, thumb caressing his chin, “I can hardly ask you to give up your dreams for me. But I wake up every morning from mine, from searching for one I had once. I think you must sleeping, and I wonder if you ever dream of faraway kingdoms and princes and castles anymore. I wake up there every day without you, and I’m lost.”
“You are channeling some def-con one level sap, there, pal,” he muttered with a headshake, though his heart wouldn’t quit thundering in his chest.
“Yeah, well, riding up on my steed and sweeping you off to my palace didn’t work, I’m willing to try anything,” Zach grinned beguilingly, “You have so much going for you. You can do anything you want. I’m probably an asshole for giving you one more thing, but…”
He drew his hand back from Chris’ face to unfold the rest of his fingers. In his palm sat the platinum heirloom ring. “I want you to be happy. I want to see you become a professor, and teach the whole world what I’ve learned from you. I want…” he paused to take a careful breath, “I want the privilege of watching you get there, of having you in my life. If it takes time, or if you want to go to some other school far away to study, then I’ll sit in my tower and wait, my sweet prince. Forever, if you ask me to.”
Chris swallowed as he looked the ring that had once fit his finger. You don’t have to wear it, Zach’s words came back to him, as they did over and over again on lonely nights, I’ll never love anyone like you. “Forever is a long time.”
“I’ve learned a surprising amount of patience,” Zach replied. “Sometimes it pays off.”
Chris looked over at his family, all not-so-covertly watching them from a distance. Little Luca threw his mortarboard into the air again and again, with all the care of a six year old, chasing it down when a breeze took it and putting grass stains on his best clothes. Aunt Clarisse stood with Mia, smiling at Joseph, always nearby; his parents stood together, looking proud and content and accepting. There was room, suddenly, to breathe. To think and to consider the best options for everyone, including himself.
“Promise me something,’ he prompted.
“Anything I can give you,” Zach whispered.
“When you get a vacation from running a country, we’ll go somewhere no one knows us—or maybe we’ll just go home, to my parents’. And we’ll go to the grocery store ourselves and watch bad movies and eat pizza and frozen tater tots, and just remember to be regular people sometimes.”
“As you wish.”
THE END