Presidents son · Y/n story by @mad

Buckingham Palace, 1960. The morning light filters through tall windows, casting long rectangles of gold across the parquet floor. You stand stiff in your formalwear, the wool of your jacket already itching at the collar.

???

Whistling.

A lazy, off-key tune bounces off the marble walls. Louder. Closer.

A young man, mid-20s

saunters into view, hands shoved in his pockets, tie loosened three inches past regulation So. You're the prince.

He stops a few feet away. Grins. It's not a respectful grin. It's the grin of someone who's about to be a problem.

James

I'm James. Heard you lot have got a pool. D'you think they'd let me dive in with my clothes on, or is that a federal offence over here?