Author's note: Thank you for reviewing this story. I am terrible at counting and so there are 5 chapters. Anyway, I'm glad you have enjoyed it and please review my cheesy little epilogue.

Epilogue

Magda didn't ordinarily spend a Saturday in the office, working from the somewhat more distinguishable comforts of home when she had to, but this weekend was an exception. They were launching a 2-billion dollar project to combat the rise in maternal death in the East and Africa, and she had to finalise the materials before the launch on Monday. She'd been brazen enough to ask the project managers to come in, so as a consolation she brought coffee and pastries and laid them out on the conference room table. it also helped that the project managers were her friends.

First to enter was her closest friend, Inga, whom she had known since she took up her role in the organisation.

"Morning," she watched her friend remove her coat.

"Did you ask Adrian to come in?"

"Uhu," she laid out the plans in a line across the large conference table.

"I'm surprised he agreed," Inga started laying them out too, "I mean, with the wedding and all that."

Magda paused for a moment, then recalled, "Oh I forgot about that. God, he does really love them, doesn't he?"

"He's a Genovian," Inga answered, as if that were explanation enough, "And a huge royalist."

"Ugh," Magda took an aggressive bite out of one of the pastries.

"Have you ever told him about your brother?"

Magda groaned, "No way. We'd never get any work done. I mean really. Can you imagine; 'My brother's the Royal Head of Security-' 'Really? What colour of panties does the princess wear?' No thanks. It's unhealthy."

Inga laughed.

"What's so funny at this time in the morning?"

Adrian had appeared at the conference room door, looking disgruntled.

"Your love of Genovia. Actually, your love of the royal family in particular," she answered.

He removed his jacket to reveal a green t-shirt with bold blue writing, which read 'Made in Genovia' across the chest. Magda cringed.

"For a doctor you're pretty stupid," Inga laughed.

"It's the wedding of the 21st century," he stalked towards the T.V., "And if I have to be here, then we're watching it."

"Please can we not," Magda thrust a note pad into his hand, "Please."

"No," the T.V, used to far more serious fayre, erupted with images of the lined streets of Pyrus. "I was going home this weekend," he said, half-joking as he pointed to a gap in the crowd on the screen, "See, they saved me a space."

They worked quietly, reviewing their own areas, as the preamble to the wedding played out in the background.

"Oh there she is," he said suddenly, forcing both women in the room to turn.

It was not the bride but the queen, pretty but not scene-stealing in a silk olive green coat and dress. As always, when Magda glimpsed Queen Clarisse on television, she sought out her brother's face not far away. He wasn't there though and instead the man with the glasses was driving her limo. She shrugged it off. She'd lost interest really, now she'd met her and known her for the normal woman she was.

"Isn't she so gorgeous?"

"You know, no one would know you were crazy until you started talking about her like she's your beloved old aunty when you literally don't know her," Inga laughed.

"She is," he muttered defensively, dropping all pretence of work by letting the pen clatter on to the table, "That's unusual."

He said this so one of them would ask, "What is?"

Magda shot Inga a desperate look, to which her friend gave an indulgent grin.

"No Colonel Romerro."

Magda's head snapped up but she realised quickly and tried to feign mild curiosity, "Who?"

"Bald guy, goatee, handsome," he motioned to his chin, "Always wears black. He's the Queen's Head of Security and…"

"And?"

Magda ignored Inga's confused look.

Adrian smiled secretively, "And apparently a lot more than that, if the gossip is anything to go by."

"Adrian, do you have the projected figures for Sub-Saharan Africa?" Inga interrupted, thrusting her hand out.

He handed them over, "He's usually always with the queen," he simply continued, ignorant to Inga's attempts to distract him, "But not today. Just odd. Lots of gossip and conjecture about them in the press. I follow a blog about them."

"There's a blog?"

Magda was genuinely dumbfounded.

"Uhu," he grinned, "I'll give you the add-"

She held up a hand, "No, thanks. You're alright."

He smiled, "Well I'd be all for it. She deserves some happiness, I say. I mean, it's no rumour that her husband couldn't keep it in his pant-"

"Have you ever considered that these are actual, real people?"

He startled and looked up from the document he'd been reading.

"Yes Magda," he answered, "I have."

"And yet you talk about them like they're not-"

"Guys," Inga interrupted, "Look at the screen."

The princess was dashing down the aisle, right past her brother, and then the T.V. cut to still images of the Genovian Tourism logo with admittedly stunning images of the millionaire's playground.

Adrian moved out of his chair and was almost nose to nose with the television, "What the hell?"

They all stood watching until the transmission kicked in again. And Magda was happy to see Amelia walk down the aisle herself this time. Granted she'd only met the girl once but she didn't strike her as the type who'd enjoyed an arranged marriage.

It was a real victory for feminism everywhere when one of the oldest nations in Europe voted to scrap a totally misogynistic law. Adrian was inches away form the T.V., a stupid grin on his face.

Inga nudged her, "You alright?"

She smiled, "'Course. Just, you know…it's stupid that I got so defensive."

There was a lull in the proceedings on T.V. and then the queen, not wearing a mic, seemed to move to speak to her brother.

"Is it true?"

Inga asked but Magda didn't have time to answer.

She wouldn't have believed if it hadn't been playing out in front of her, or if Adrian hadn't let out a squeal of delight as Magda's oldest brother took up the queen's hand in his own.

She blinked once, twice and the image was still there. The image of them walking down the aisle, of his calm smile, of her radiant one.

Then she watched her brother get married, in front of a huge international audience, to the queen in whose Japanese room she'd once slept.

"No way! No way!"

Adrian kept whispering it, making it harder for her to hear the vows.

"Shhh," she scolded, "I can't hear."

"What does it matter-"

"Shhhhh!"

As she hissed this her phone started to ring, vibrating its way across the table.

'Rita' showed up on the screen. She pressed the decline button. Two seconds later it rang again.

"You should answer that," Inga warned, "You know what she'll-"

"You told me to 'Shhhhh'?" Adrian grumbled, "Look, they're kissing!"

She felt faint.

"Answer your phone," Inga insisted.

As she did so, the phone was still inches away from her ear when her sister screamed, "He just married her!"

"I know Rita," she muttered, "Can we discuss this later?"

There was a silence that was full of anger, then her sister whispered; "You knew."

"No," she muttered feebly, "I didn't."

"Yes you did," Rita accused, "I can tell from the way you're not saying anything. Plus he tells you everything."

"That's ridiculous," Magda said but she knew her sister was right.

"He's our brother and you didn't-"

"Keep your voice down!"

But it was too late, Adrian already knew and was giving her a look somewhere between astonished admiration and brutal jealousy.

"I have to go Rita, I'll phone you later."

"I will kill-"

But she hung up before she heard just who her sister planned to kill.

"Your brother?"

"Oh boy," Inga breathed.

"Uhu," Magda answered, "Yep. Oldest brother."

"And you never said?"

He seemed more bruised by the fact than he should be.

"No, because…" Magda shrugged, "Because you blog about him, apparently."

Adrian shrugged, "I suppose so. Still though…does this mean you get to go to the party?"

She pointed at her brother, emerging from the church, "I don't know. I don't get the impression this was planned, do you?"

Adrian shrugged, clearly dejected, "I suppose not. Listen, I really got to go…"

She nodded, "Got to blog?"

He was already scooping up his coat.

"Yep."

"Adrian I –"

He turned, "The fact that you lied to me will be forgiven because the queen just got MARRIED! Married! I'll hate on you for this later, okay?"

Inga sidled towards her, "You okay?"

"Yes," she smiled at her friend, "You should go too."

"Are you sure?"

She waved her hand, "I promise."

As she watched Inga go, her phone vibrated across the table again.

This time - a text message, from Joe.

'It only took us 34 years, 10 months, and 17 days. Should I tell Rita now?'

Her fingers made light work of her reply.

'Oh she already knows.'

His rejoinder buzzed through a second later.

'Think you could make it across the border for the party? My wife asked, not me. She says you can have your room.'

She smiled, flicked off the T.V. and picked up her coat.

So total fluff. What did you think of the final installment?