Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It's all Dick Wolf's. Tsk, tsk.

Princess. That's what she calls me. No one's ever given me such a term of endearment before. Sure, I've got the general, meaningless ones; my kindergarten teacher calling me sweetie, my grandmother saying honey because she can't remember whether my name's Alex or Mara or Danielle. No one has ever called me princess, though, and no one has ever had such a name just for me. It makes me feel so special, but I know that to her, I am.

She says it's because I deserve the best. She says if I'm the princess, she's my knight, my protector. I want to tell her I don't need one, but it's not quite true. Sometimes I do get scared, and sometimes all I want is for her to hold me, but I've never been good at asking for that, or admitting I need someone else. I've always been so self-reliant, never needing anyone else, never wanting to.

But she never needs me to tell her. She always just knows.

Sometimes I feel bad about needing her so much. I tell her she doesn't have to, but she can tell I'm lying through my teeth, and she silences my protests with gentle kisses. "It's okay," she says. "I want to."

And then I'm left to wonder if she wants to hold me or if she wants to comfort me. Or both. Maybe for her, holding me is a comfort in itself.

She tells me every night before I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up how much she loves me. Always the same words – I love you, princess. Never I love you, Alex. I asked her why once, and she said, "Your name is the most beautiful name in the entire world. It's too special to waste on the little moments, Alex." She smiled then, threading her fingers through my hair. "See how beautiful it is? Just saying your name lights up my face. But if I said it every time, it wouldn't be so special."

I can't really follow her logic, but it doesn't matter, because I hear the words she doesn't say: in everything she says, what she really means is, I love you.

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