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Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David, 1894 - 1972

HRH the Prince of Wales, later King Edward VIII and still later Duke of Windsor. Eldest son of King George V and Queen Mary. Elder brother of Prince Albert, Duke of York (Bertie); Princess Mary, Viscountess Lascelles; Prince Henry (Harry); Prince George (Georgie); and Prince John (Johnnie, deceased). Abdicated the throne after less than a year of being king to marry the common-born American divorcee, Wallis Simpson. They became the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and lived a life of style but little substance in exile. David was succeeded by Bertie (as George VI) and was an uncle to the present Queen Elizabeth II.

In the What If? storyline @ One Last Dance

Cheerio, everybody! I won't bother introducing myself, as I doubt there is a single person alive who doesn't know who I am. Yes, that's right: I'm the Prince of Wales! Not a bad gig, if I do say so myself. But for the time being you can call me David. Yes, I am aware my actual first name is Edward, and that's what I'm called in the press and on picture postcards, but friends and family know me as David so that's that. On to the momentous news at hand: not only have a I got myself a wife, I've also got myself a daughter (my darling Kate--the prettiest princess you've ever seen)! So now the King can't think me completely useless, as I've accomplished this one task with flying colours--well, perhaps my accomplishment is not SO grand, as my wife and I have our ups-and-down, although things are looking promising. I'm trying to make the best of this, you know--it wasn't MY idea. Perhaps I should tell you a bit about her? Well, now she's Alexandra Alice Augusta Victoria Olga (you think THAT's bad, I'm Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David), but you and I know her best as the Grand Duchess Olga, the eldest daughter of Czar Nicholas II. She's a lovely girl--blonde, blue-eyed, and a pretty smile. Yes, she is a bit moody; and yes, she's a bookworm, and shy; but she's sharp as a tack and rather amusing when she has a mind to be. With her I've discovered that a man's relationship with a woman can be an intellectual partnership: what an epiphany. Alas, she is not willing to have another child just yet, I'm so utterly besotted with Kate I would like a few more, perhaps a son, although there would be the risk of the dreaded bleeding disease, hemophilia. Ironic, really. The disease started in royal families with my great-grandmother, old Queen Victoria, and now with my Russian wife it has possibly returned to where it started, the British Royal House (took a detour through the Houses of Hesse and Romanov).

I can't help but remark upon her family—they are certainly much more affectionate and "together" than my own family, which is decidedly cold. My mother, Queen Mary, is the epitome of regality; doting on children isn't her "cup of tea," as it were. The King, well, we're all terrified of him. Excecpt my sister, Mary. I think he actually likes her. Gruff and strict, he's not the sort of chap one would really want for a father, although Czar Nicky seems to like him a great deal. They're cousins, you know, and my father and father-in-law look a great deal alike, although Nicky's certainly a much more agreeable sort. Mother and Aunt Alix seem to dislike each other and are both rather frosty, which doesn't help matters. My sisters- and brother-in-law are an. . . interesting bunch. There's the sophisticated Tatiana, who married Christo; a nice chap, but rather the exact opposite of the regal and stately Tatiana. The poor fellow's madly in love with her, and she ignores him whenever possible. I think the only two things they have in common are their children, Sandra and Michael.

Then there's Marie, who's pretty, cheerful and kind. Always has something nice to say. My best friend, Dickie Mountbatten, has got it bad for her, always has. Don't let the fact that he recently married someone else fool you! When he was not more than a boy he vowed to marry her one day. Poor chap, you can imagine how he felt when Marie married someone else a few years back, and a commoner no less-—Dickie was a wreck. But Marie's happy--if he really loves her so damn much, shouldn't that count for something? Marie's children, Natalia and Nicholas, are adorable little things, and Natalia seems awfully fond of me. Not that I can blame her. Uncle David is quite the fellow, after all.

Little Anastasia, the youngest sister, well, bloody hell, how does one describe HER? Yes, she is riotously entertaining, and nice when she feels so inclined, but God help the poor soul that gets on her bad side! I know this from experience. You see, she was briefly infatuated with me (and again, who can blame her, eh?) and wrote a love poem in my honour. Terribly amusing. Well, I behaved like a cad and read it aloud when I found it. I really didn't think it would upset her so much. She LIKES being the centre of attention! Now she loathes me. She seems to have gotten over it, at least, and has become engaged to the Crown Prince of Belgium, much to Harry's disappointment.

With Alexei, my fellow Heir, things are decidedly better. I like him a great deal, and he's given me his blessing of sorts in regards to my marriage to his sister--assuming I treat her right, which I fully intend to do. I'm a married man now, and I ought to act like it. That, and I certainly don't want or need to give the King any further excuse to think I'm a hopeless, miserable excuse for a son and heir. What does he know anyway?



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