Chapter Text
I walked up to Martin Charteris’ office and took a deep breath to steady myself before knocking on the door.
“Come in.” He called. He stood when I opened the door and walked inside. “Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I sat down silently and he sat back down at his desk. I had to take another deep breath before speaking.
“Normally, it would be protocol for me to go to Michael Adeane to ask for something like this.” I began. “But in this instance, I feel more comfortable asking you. I know I don’t have to fear you judging me. And I also know you won’t go running to Tommy Lascelles with this.”
“Ma’am, what is it that you need?” Martin asked, looking concerned.
“I would like you to find me a therapist.” I requested awkwardly.
“Oh, um, of course.” He replied, the concern in his eyes growing. He looked like he wanted to ask questions, but knew it wasn’t his place.
“Martin, if you have something to say, just say it.” I told him, after a few moments of awkward silence.
“Are-,” he sighed. “Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not alright.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
I felt tears forming in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but one fell down my cheek. Martin handed me a handkerchief, and I wiped my face.
“Any specifications about the therapist?” He asked softly.
“Someone discreet.” I instructed, trying and failing to sound authoritative. “And preferably not too stuffy.”
“I’ll get right on it.” He told me.
“Thank you.”
I stood up and so did he.
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”
I had intended to leave, but instead, I walked around his desk and hugged him, starting to cry. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself cry like this. I shouldn’t be letting myself cry at all, especially not in front of a member of the staff.
“I’m sorry.” I sobbed into his jacket.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I feel like there’s something wrong with me.” I confessed.
“It’s alright.” He comforted me. “I’m going to get you help.”
I cried in his arms for a moment longer before letting go. I made sure to completely compose myself before leaving his office. I couldn’t let anyone know what was really going on with me. To the rest of the world, I was simply the crown. And the crown was all I could let them see.
*****
I went back to my room feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, at least slightly. I wasn’t entirely sure that therapy would help, but I was hopeful. Or I was until Philip came home, anyway.
“How was your day?” He asked me as he walked into my bedroom.
“It was alright.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “I talked to Martin Charteris today. I asked him if he could find me a therapist and he agreed.”
I had been debating whether or not I should tell him about my conversation with Martin. I was worried that he might not be supportive, but I had ultimately decided that he should know the truth. I regretted that decision almost as soon as the words left my mouth.
“Why?” Philip demanded. “What the hell do you need a therapist for? You’re fine.”
“I’m fine?” I raised my voice slightly. “Philip, I don’t even feel like a human being anymore. How can you stand there and tell me that I’m fine?”
“Because you are.” He argued. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you’re just heartless. That’s not something a therapist can fix.”
I was stunned. I had feared his judgement, but I hadn’t expected him to react like this. He almost sounded angry. I didn’t understand it. What gave him the right to be mad at me for getting a therapist when he didn’t know the first thing about my mental health? It’s not like he was ever around me.
“Look, I feel like I need help.” I told him. “I’m not asking you to understand it, but I am asking you to be supportive.”
“Why would I support this?”
“Because you love me. And you should want me to be in a good mental state.”
“I don’t want to hear about your mental state.” He snapped back. “This is all just a bunch of attention seeking bullshit. I don’t know what you’re aiming to accomplish with this. If you want me to feel sorry for you, I don’t. I do not have a single shred of sympathy for you. And don’t try to say it’s because of the pressures of being queen either. If you’re too weak to bear the weight of the crown, that’s on you.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes as he spoke. I tried to hold them back, but they fell anyway.
“I don’t want attention.” I replied. “I just want to get better.”
“That’s what everyone said my mother was doing when she abandoned me.” Philip retorted.
“I’m not your mother.” I pointed out. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
For a few moments, we stood there in silence.
“I don’t know who you are anymore.” He remarked eventually. “Because the woman I married never would’ve considered going to therapy for a second.”
“I’m not the woman you married anymore.” I admitted. “I am no one. But I want to be someone again. I know there’s still a human being inside of me. And I want to find her.”