Secrets of the Royal’s by Olga Klymenko

It was far from love at first sight. Princess Diana was the most beautiful of all the royal women. Her glamour and charisma attracted many, but most significantly, Prince Charles III. The young pair, some believing to be “fated,” went way back. Witnessing her older sister fall into the arms of her future husband, Diana was bound to the sidelines, craving marriage. However, it wasn’t until years later, that she made a choice that she would regret— falling into a relationship full of lies, deceit, and an extra affair. 

“Diana, I told you to wear presentable attire, and now you’re being caught in public, wearing bloody shorts,” Charles exclaimed as he took a sip from his cup, setting it down with a thud. It was only three months after they married, promising eternal love and promise. Diana shrank in her seat, blonde curls jumping with her movements. 

“I married you! I married you to listen to me. Though you even had the boldness— the audacity to leave it out of our wedding vows,” he scoffed, directing his gaze upon her puny form. “At least have the guts to eat properly”. 

Throughout the weeks of being confined in the castle, Diana found herself in solitude and loneliness. A woman, who only a few moons ago was working as a children’s teacher, was now in the eye of the public, the entertainment of England’s citizens. 

“Please Charles, I’m trying my best,” she said softly. Her fork laid still, wrapped in silk cloth. The pungent smell of the chef’s fatty filet mignons violated her nose, a request from the man of the house. 

This was far from her fairytale dream. 

“What’s so difficult about following the dress code! And even for that, you don’t even have the ability to be independent. What would the press have to say about this?” Charles raised

his voice and rammed his chair out, rushing towards the princess’ seat. Diana turned her head away from him, his breath already sliding down her neck. 

“I’ll do better,” Diana responded though he grabbed a hold of her shoulders, slamming her head onto the cold wooden table. 

“Learn to control yourself, Diana.” 

Understanding what was to happen, her eyes were red with discrete tears. Charles fumbled in unraveling the fork and stabbing the pieces of fat filled meat. She didn’t move, nor resist. She laid there, tongue limp, lips apart, letting the juice trickle down her throat. She would be throwing up, and not for the first time. 

Despite the princess spending most time with her head in the toilet bowl, and the other hours in the cooking headquarters eating, she would find time to enjoy herself. She found solace in dance, enamored by the control she had over her body as she twirled around the room. Losing herself in the elegance of the movement, she was able to retreat to a world free of harsh marriages and five course meals. 

The Queen didn’t seem to like her either, along with the rest of the royal family. It was Charles who kept updating her on the press, keeping her on her toes. 

“The newspaper came out today, look what they have to say,” he would say every Monday, throwing the paper across the table. That’s how her week would start, judgement and critique, followed by events and interviews. 

“The Queen mentioned you again, did you hear?” Charles read aloud, “She’s not like the rest of us,” he looked up chuckling. 

Diana sat in silence, swallowing hard before answering.

“Let her speak her mind but either way, I would have to disagree” the princess directed herself away from his gaze. 

“Diana, for god’s sake, even I have to agree with her. Charity work with AIDS infectants? God knows what disease courses through your veins at this very moment.” She knew what she was doing— she knew before entering the palace. Diana was a commoner, one with the people. She wasn’t a royal herself, at least not at heart. “Charles, they aren’t any different from us. I believe they mean no harm.” He scoffed and shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t want my wife around such beings. I presume I should have stuck with your sister instead. We both had a far better time together anyways unlike you, wasting time with strangers.” 

Diana slammed her serviette onto the table and declared, 

“I’ll be taking my leave now.” 

It was only until she left for a personal trip that things really began to take a turn. In the days which Diana spent in the Althorp estate, relaxing, Charles dove deeper into his affair. It was already known by his close acquaintances that he was seeing Camilla Parker Boweles—a woman whose desires were irresistible. Frequently, did the two spend dinner together before sharing a room till morning. 

“You know darling, it’s about time you came clean to her. It’s obvious that she won’t last very long,” Camilia chuckled as they rested in the sitting room, reading their own papers. Such talk wasn’t foreign for Charles. It was common for them to discuss marriage, despite Diana’s presence.

“I figured you’d bring this up,” he took a second to think. “And I suppose I would have to agree with you this time.” 

Camilia’s attention peeked 

“I plan to announce it in the afternoon of the interview, the thirtieth of this month. I doubt she’ll remain much longer here anyways,” Charles flipped the page of his magazine. “Oh look, here she is again,” he read, “Princess Diana, the future of Britain.” The two scoffed simultaneously as he threw the journal on the table. 

“What foolishness.” 


Breaking News: Prince Charles III admits to cheating on wife, Princess Diana. Files for divorce. 

In the days surrounding Charles’ disclosure of his love for Camilia, the relationship between Diana and the royal family had never been as tense as it was now. Despite her anger and embarrassment, she refused to keep out of the public eye. Frequently, would she break the royal conduct, after addressing her leave from Charles’ estate. Unafraid of judgement and critique, the princess wore “unprincipled” attire, most notably her “revenge dress” on the annual date of Charles’ confession. However, her attitude only angered the prince further, making him be viewed as a nincompoop. As a result, he took it into his own hands to permanently stop the royal family’s public image from being ruined any longer. 

“I presume you’ve done further investigation on it? Considering an entire month has passed,” Charles stated in a low tone while he sat at his office desk.

“Yes sir. We’ve collected the precise information,” the foreign man affirmed, passing a sealed envelope into his hands, “and we believe that your commands are able to be fulfilled at the present stance”. 

The prince hummed in response and sliced the packaging open with a letter opener. What was inside the envelope was confidential material. Material in regards to the planning of a mere accident. Charles had long awaited this very moment, feeling his desires come together in unity. 

“Very well then,” he looked over the papers, unaware of the grin that had settled onto his face. 

“Tell Camilia she’s welcome to celebrate,” he looked up and nodded his head to excuse the man. 

While the royal family counted off days until the thirty-first of August, the day in which Charle’s confidential information was to be utilized, Princess Diana was blinded by the freedom gifted. It was a miracle, she would think, driving by the royal estates for the last and final time. Whilst having time apart from royal affairs, the princess began to pursue a greater amount of her own passions in campaigns and charity. Frequently, she would travel to various different countries such as Spain, Germany, Austria, and France to support work in solving world issues. One day, she would give a speech to the survivors of physical abuse, another day she would raise money for single mothers, and one day, on the 31st of August, she would end up dead.