American Royals

American Royals Plot Summary

Introduction

# Crown of Thorns: The Price of Power in American Royalty In the marble halls of Washington Palace, where George Washington's descendants have ruled America for eleven generations, Princess Beatrice stands at her dying father's bedside. The king's final words echo through the sterile hospital room like a death sentence: marry quickly to secure the succession, or watch the monarchy crumble. At twenty-six, Beatrice has never chosen anything for herself—every decision calculated, every moment scrutinized by a nation that sees her as a symbol rather than a woman. But as cancer devours the king and political vultures circle the throne, she faces an impossible choice between the crown she was born to wear and the forbidden love that could destroy everything her family has built. The weight of the Imperial Crown has never felt heavier. In the shadows of the palace, secrets multiply like cracks in ancient stone. Her brother Jefferson hides his relationship with Nina Gonzalez, a commoner whose very existence threatens royal protocol. Her sister Samantha burns with jealousy over an arranged engagement that steals the man she loves. And in the darkest corners of the court, Daphne Deighton plots her return to power, willing to destroy anyone who stands between her and a throne she believes she deserves. The American dynasty that survived revolution and war now faces its greatest threat from within—the human heart's refusal to bow before duty's demands.

Chapter 1: Royal Hearts in Conflict: Love Versus Duty

The engagement ring felt like a shackle around Princess Beatrice's finger as she stood before the bathroom mirror, practicing her smile for tomorrow's press conference. Theodore Eaton—Teddy to his friends—waited in the sitting room, probably rehearsing his own lines about love at first sight and fairy tale endings. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. Her phone buzzed with a text from Connor Markham, her personal guard and the man who haunted her dreams. Three words that made her chest tighten: "I can't watch." She knew what he meant. Tomorrow she would announce her engagement to Teddy, and Connor would stand at attention in his dress uniform, his face a mask of professional composure while his heart shattered in silence. The irony wasn't lost on her. Connor, with his working-class background and rough edges, represented everything the palace would never approve of—and everything her soul craved. Their stolen moments in empty corridors had become the only real parts of her carefully orchestrated life. When he kissed her in the palace gardens three months ago, she had tasted freedom for the first time. But freedom was a luxury princesses couldn't afford. Her father's cancer was spreading, eating away at the king's strength with each passing day. The succession needed to be secured before his death threw the monarchy into chaos. Teddy Eaton, with his impeccable bloodline and political connections, was the perfect choice on paper. That he felt nothing for her beyond polite affection was irrelevant. The press conference went exactly as planned. Beatrice smiled and spoke of destiny and knowing when you've found "the one." Teddy played his part flawlessly, the devoted aristocrat honored to serve his future queen. The cameras captured every staged moment of their supposed romance while Connor stood guard by the door, his gray eyes carefully averted. Later, in the palace gardens where winter had stripped the trees bare, Connor found her smoking—a habit she'd picked up to calm her nerves. The confrontation was inevitable, brutal in its honesty. He dropped to one knee in the frozen garden, pulling out a black Sharpie to trace a ring around her finger where the diamond had been. "Marry me," he said, his voice rough with desperation. "Run away with me. Choose love over duty for once in your life." Beatrice closed her eyes against the sight of him kneeling before her like a knight from some medieval romance. The ink ring felt warmer than the diamond that would replace it. "You know I can't," she whispered, the words tearing from her throat like pieces of her soul. Connor rose to his feet with military precision, his face hardening into the mask he wore on duty. "Then I resign. I won't watch you marry him. I won't stand guard while you live a lie." The garden fell silent except for the distant hum of traffic beyond the palace walls. When Connor walked away, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path, Beatrice slipped her engagement ring back over the fading ink mark. The diamond felt heavier than ever, cold as the winter air that cut through her coat and settled in her bones.

Chapter 2: The King's Secret: A Dynasty in Crisis

King George IV coughed into his handkerchief, the sound echoing through his private study like a death knell. The morning light streaming through the bulletproof windows seemed dimmer somehow, as if even the sun understood the weight of what he was about to tell his eldest daughter. The royal physician had been blunt: stage four lung cancer, spreading fast, perhaps months to live. Beatrice sat across from him, her spine straight and hands folded in her lap—the perfect posture drilled into her since childhood. But her father could see the fear in her eyes, the way her fingers trembled despite her composure. At fifty-eight, he had ruled America for twenty-three years, guiding the nation through economic crises and foreign wars. Now his greatest battle was against his own failing body. "The Crown cannot be left vulnerable," he said, his voice carrying the authority of eleven generations of American kings. "You must marry before I die. The succession must be secured." The photo album in her lap—pictures from her birth, her christening, her first steps—suddenly felt like a memorial. Beatrice had always known she would be queen someday, but someday was supposed to be decades away. Not now. Not when she was barely twenty-six and drowning in her own heartbreak. "Theodore Eaton would be ideal," the king continued, sliding a leather portfolio across the mahogany desk. "The Eatons are old American nobility. He's educated, presentable, and his family's reputation is spotless. Most importantly, he understands duty." Inside the portfolio were photographs and dossiers of eligible bachelors, but Teddy's image dominated the collection. His aristocratic features were handsome in that bland, unthreatening way that made him politically palatable. The background check was thorough: Harvard Law, impeccable social connections, no scandals or embarrassing relatives. Perfect husband material for a future queen. Beatrice thought of Connor's proposal in the garden, of the life they could never have. She thought of the millions of Americans who would look to her for guidance, for strength, for the continuity that only the Crown could provide. The weight of duty settled on her shoulders like a lead cloak, pressing down until she could barely breathe. "I understand," she said, and meant it. The girl who had dreamed of love was gone, replaced by the future queen who would sacrifice everything for her people. Her father's relief was palpable, but it came at the cost of her own soul. That night, she found her sister Samantha in the palace kitchens, making macaroni and cheese from a box shaped like tiny crowns and princesses. They sat on the marble counter like children, sharing their grief and their fears. For the first time in years, the Washington sisters were truly sisters again, united by the terrible knowledge that their father was dying and everything was about to change. "Do you even want to be queen?" Sam asked, her voice small in the vast kitchen. "Wanting has nothing to do with it," Beatrice replied, but her voice broke on the words. She was twenty-six years old, and her life was already over. All that remained was the performance.

Chapter 3: Forbidden Desires: Guards, Princes, and Impossible Love

Prince Jefferson Washington had always been the charming one, the spare heir who could afford to smile and joke while his sister bore the weight of future kingship. But charm couldn't protect him from the media firestorm that erupted when photographers caught him kissing Nina Gonzalez outside her college dormitory. The pictures were everywhere within hours: the prince and the commoner, America's golden boy and the daughter of a palace staff member. Nina stared at her reflection in her dorm room mirror, watching her life implode in real time. The internet had made her the most hated girl in America overnight. The comments were vicious, attacking her background, her appearance, her audacity in dating a prince. She'd been hiding for days, ignoring Jefferson's calls and her best friend Samantha's texts, surviving on vending machine snacks and bottled water. Their love story had begun innocently enough. Nina had grown up in the palace as Samantha's best friend, moving through the royal corridors like a shadow—present but invisible, trusted but never truly belonging to that glittering world. She was brilliant, studying international relations at Georgetown, with plans to work in diplomacy or foreign aid. The last thing she wanted was to become tabloid fodder. But Jefferson had seen something in her that went beyond her sharp mind and quick wit. When he kissed her that first time, drunk on champagne and possibility at a palace party, it felt like coming home. For six months, they'd managed to keep their relationship secret, stealing moments between his royal duties and her classes. Nina had even started to believe that love might be enough to bridge the gap between their worlds. The media attention shattered that illusion. Photographers camped outside her dormitory, reporters called her professors for quotes, and social media exploded with speculation about the "social climber" who had ensnared a prince. The palace's official response was carefully neutral, but Nina could read between the lines. She was a problem to be managed, not a future princess to be celebrated. When Samantha finally cornered her on campus, their friendship exploded in a shower of resentments and accusations. Years of inequality, of Nina feeling like a charity case, of Sam's thoughtless privilege—it all came pouring out in Nina's cramped dorm room. "It hasn't always been easy, being your best friend," Nina said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. "A friendship is supposed to be equal, and absolutely nothing about our friendship has ever been equal." Sam left without another word, her face flushed with hurt and anger. Another relationship sacrificed on the altar of the Washington name, another casualty of the impossible distance between royalty and everyone else. That evening, Jefferson found Nina packing her belongings into cardboard boxes. She was transferring to another university, somewhere the photographers couldn't find her, somewhere she could disappear into blessed anonymity. Their argument on her dorm room balcony felt like watching a fairy tale burn, all their dreams of love conquering all reduced to ash and bitter words.

Chapter 4: Palace Intrigue: Manipulation and Media Wars

Daphne Deighton's manicured fingers flew across her phone screen, typing out the anonymous tip that would destroy Nina Gonzalez's life. The photos from outside the dorm were already uploaded, ready to send to every gossip blog in the country. She felt no guilt—only the cold satisfaction of a chess master making the winning move. Beautiful, calculating, and utterly ruthless, Daphne had spent three years as Prince Jefferson's girlfriend before their relationship crumbled in spectacular fashion. She'd been America's sweetheart, the girl who would someday wear a crown, until she found Jefferson in bed with another woman at his graduation party. The betrayal had cut deep, but not as deep as his phone call the next morning, ending their relationship with rehearsed words about being young and needing space. Now she watched from the sidelines as Nina claimed what Daphne considered rightfully hers. The commoner's very existence was an insult to everything Daphne had worked for, every sacrifice she'd made to position herself as the perfect princess-in-waiting. If Jefferson wanted to slum it with palace staff, Daphne would make sure America saw exactly what kind of girl he'd chosen. The media campaign was surgical in its precision. Anonymous tips led photographers to Nina's dormitory, unflattering photos appeared in gossip magazines, and comment sections filled with vitriol about the "gold-digger" who dared reach above her station. Daphne played the sympathetic ex-girlfriend, offering carefully worded quotes about wishing Jefferson happiness while subtly implying that Nina was using him for social advancement. But Daphne's most dangerous secret lay in a hospital room across town. Himari Mariko, once Daphne's closest friend, lay in a coma after a mysterious fall at a palace party eight months ago. Only Daphne knew the truth: that she had drugged Himari's drink to prevent her from exposing Daphne's affair with Ethan Beckett, Jefferson's best friend. The guilt gnawed at her during her weekly visits to the hospital, but not enough to confess. "I never meant for this to happen," she whispered to Himari's unconscious form, painting the girl's nails the deep red of Va-Va-Voom polish. It was a ritual now, this one-sided conversation with the friend she'd destroyed. "You didn't leave me many options." The machines beeped their mechanical rhythm, the only response Himari would ever give. Daphne had learned to live with the silence, just as she'd learned to live with the knowledge that she would do it all again if necessary. Love was war, and in war, there were always casualties. At Ceron's salon, surrounded by the black-and-white elegance that marked Washington's elite, Daphne's mother Rebecca smiled approvingly as she flipped through magazines filled with unflattering photos of Nina. "Good work," she said, her voice carrying the satisfaction of a general whose battle plan was succeeding. "But if you can't get through to the prince, try another approach." The plan was elegant in its cruelty, and it would unfold at Princess Beatrice's engagement party.

Chapter 5: The Breaking Point: Defiance and Its Consequences

The engagement party glittered with false promises and hidden daggers. The palace ballroom overflowed with white roses and American nobility, all gathered to celebrate what they believed was a love match between Princess Beatrice and Theodore Eaton. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow light over the assembled guests while photographers captured every smile, every gesture, every carefully orchestrated moment of royal happiness. Beatrice moved through the crowd like a beautiful automaton, accepting congratulations for a marriage that felt like a death sentence. Beside her, Teddy played the perfect fiancé, his own heartbreak hidden behind aristocratic breeding and a politician's smile. Only Princess Samantha saw the emptiness in her sister's eyes, the way she flinched when well-wishers mentioned the wedding. In the palace bathroom, Nina confronted Daphne in a scene that crackled with years of suppressed animosity. Daphne's mask finally slipped, revealing the calculating predator beneath the perfect exterior. She confessed to orchestrating Nina's media persecution, her voice dripping with aristocratic disdain as she explained why a commoner could never truly belong in their world. "You think this is some fairy tale where love conquers all?" Daphne laughed, touching up her lipstick in the gilded mirror. "This is the real world, Nina. Princes don't marry the help." The confrontation shattered Nina's remaining illusions about royal life. When she found Jefferson later that evening, their argument on the moonlit balcony felt like watching a fairy tale burn. She accused him of being blind to Daphne's manipulations, while he defended his ex-girlfriend with a loyalty that cut Nina deeper than any blade. "She's not the monster you think she is," Jefferson said, his voice tight with frustration. "Daphne understands this world in ways you never will." "Then maybe you should marry her instead," Nina shot back, pulling off the promise ring he'd given her and throwing it at his feet. The small diamond skittered across the marble balcony, disappearing into the shadows like their relationship. Meanwhile, Beatrice made her own devastating choice. Her reunion with Connor in the palace gift room had rekindled hope that love might triumph over duty. His resignation letter lay crumpled on the floor between them as they kissed with the desperation of the doomed, tasting goodbye in every touch. But as she prepared to tell her father about calling off the engagement, the weight of his illness and the Crown's demands crashed down upon her. The conversation in his study became a battleground between heart and heritage, duty and desire. "I can't marry Teddy," she said, her voice breaking. "I love someone else." The king's face went white, then red, then white again. When she mentioned Connor's name, his shock triggered a massive heart attack. As EMTs rushed the king to the hospital, Beatrice realized that her moment of defiance might have cost her father his life and her family their throne.

Chapter 6: Death of a King: The Weight of Succession

St. Stephen's Hospital became a fortress of grief and waiting. The royal family huddled in sterile rooms while their father fought for his life, machines monitoring every labored breath. The irony was not lost on them: the man who had dedicated his life to serving others now lay helpless while the nation held its breath. Beatrice sat vigil by her father's bedside, his final words echoing in her mind like a prayer and a curse. When he woke briefly from his coma, his voice was barely a whisper, but his message was clear. He spoke of duty and sacrifice, of the loneliness that came with the crown, and of his pride in the daughter who would carry on their family's legacy. "The Crown is not a burden, Beatrice," he said, his weathered hand gripping hers with surprising strength. "It's a privilege. The greatest privilege in the world. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." His blessing came wrapped in chains of obligation, a reminder that personal happiness was a luxury queens could not afford. He had given up his own dreams for the throne, just as his father had before him, stretching back through eleven generations of American kings. Now it was her turn to make the same sacrifice. The king's death came quietly in the pre-dawn hours, slipping away between one heartbeat and the next. But his passing triggered a transformation that had been centuries in the making. As church bells tolled across the capital and flags dropped to half-mast, Beatrice felt the weight of history settling on her shoulders like a mantle of lead. The moment she rose from her father's deathbed, she was no longer a princess torn between love and duty. She had become Queen Beatrice Regina, the first woman to rule America in its 250-year history. The crown that had once seemed like a distant burden now pressed against her temples with crushing reality. Outside the hospital, thousands of mourners gathered in spontaneous tribute to their fallen king. When Beatrice emerged to address them, her composure never wavered despite the tears streaming down her face. She sank into a deep curtsy before her people, a gesture of humility that would define her reign. "My father taught me that service is the highest calling," she said, her voice carrying across the silent crowd. "I pledge to serve you as he did, with all my heart and all my strength, for as long as God grants me breath." In that moment, she chose duty over desire, crown over Connor, and the needs of millions over the wants of one. The girl who had dreamed of love was gone forever, replaced by a queen who would rule alone.

Chapter 7: Coronation: The Ultimate Sacrifice

The coronation of Queen Beatrice Regina marked the end of one era and the beginning of another. Westminster Cathedral had never looked more magnificent, its soaring arches draped in cloth of gold and crimson silk. Heads of state from around the world filled the ancient pews while television cameras broadcast the ceremony to billions of viewers. As Beatrice knelt before the altar where eleven kings had been crowned before her, the weight of the Imperial State Crown seemed to anchor her to the earth itself. The ruby at its center, called Heart's Blood, caught the light like a drop of sacrifice made manifest. The Archbishop's words washed over her like a benediction and a binding, sealing her fate with holy oil and sacred vows. Her siblings knelt beside her, their own futures forever altered by her ascension. Princess Samantha, now heir presumptive, faced the prospect of her own eventual queenship with a mixture of terror and determination. Prince Jefferson, freed from the direct line of succession, found himself with choices his sister would never have. Theodore Eaton stood among the assembled nobility, no longer a fiancé but a friend who understood the price of duty. Their engagement had ended quietly after the king's death, dissolved by mutual agreement and genuine affection. He would find love elsewhere, marry for happiness rather than politics, and live the life Beatrice could only dream of. Connor Markham stood among the guards lining the cathedral walls, his face a mask of professional composure that hid a broken heart. He had chosen to remain in service to the Crown, even knowing that the woman he loved was now forever beyond his reach. Their love story had become another casualty of royal duty, buried beneath the weight of constitutional law and political necessity. As the crown settled on her head, Beatrice felt the last vestiges of her old self slip away. She was no longer a woman who could choose her own path, no longer free to love where her heart led. She had become something larger and lonelier: a symbol, an institution, a living embodiment of the nation's hopes and dreams. When she rose from the coronation throne, Queen Beatrice carried with her the hopes of a nation and the ghosts of every dream she had been forced to abandon. The girl who had once kissed a guard in the palace gardens was gone, replaced by a monarch who would rule with wisdom born of sacrifice.

Chapter 8: Long Live the Queen: Duty's Final Victory

Queen Beatrice's first year on the throne passed in a blur of state dinners and constitutional crises, each day bringing new challenges that demanded the full weight of her attention. The girl who had once dreamed of love had become a woman who found purpose in service, her personal desires sublimated into the greater good of the realm. The palace walls that had once felt like a prison now seemed like a sanctuary, protecting her from a world that demanded everything and gave back only the cold comfort of duty fulfilled. She ruled alone, as she had always known she would, surrounded by advisors and courtiers but ultimately isolated by the very power she wielded. Connor remained in her service, their relationship transformed into something both more and less than it had been. He was her most trusted guard, the man who would die to protect her, but he could never again be the man who held her heart. They spoke in careful formalities now, their love buried beneath layers of protocol and professional distance. Her siblings found their own paths in the shadow of her reign. Samantha embraced her role as heir presumptive, preparing for a crown she hoped never to wear. Jefferson married for love, choosing a duchess who understood the weight of royal duty without sacrificing her own happiness. Even Daphne Deighton found redemption of sorts, channeling her ambition into charitable work that honored Himari's memory. The monarchy endured, as it always had, sustained by the sacrifices of those who wore its crown. Each generation learned anew that power came with a price, that duty demanded everything, and that love was a luxury only subjects could afford. In the quiet moments between state functions and royal obligations, Queen Beatrice sometimes touched the faded ink mark on her finger where Connor had once drawn a ring with a Sharpie. The mark had long since washed away, but the memory remained—a reminder of the woman she had been before the crown claimed her completely.

Summary

Queen Beatrice's story stands as a testament to the brutal mathematics of monarchy, where personal desires must always be weighed against the needs of millions. Her transformation from conflicted princess to resolute queen illustrates the ancient truth that power demands sacrifice, and that those who wear crowns must often surrender their hearts to serve their people. The American monarchy, born from revolution and sustained by tradition, continues its march through history on the backs of those willing to bear its crushing weight. In the end, the crown proves itself the most demanding master of all. It strips away illusions, destroys fairy tale endings, and leaves only the stark choice between duty and desire. Those who choose duty may find themselves ruling nations, but they rule them alone, surrounded by subjects but forever isolated by the very power they wield. The throne room may glitter with gold and precious stones, but it remains, ultimately, the loneliest place in the kingdom. Love becomes a memory, sacrifice becomes a sacrament, and the price of power is paid in the currency of the human heart.

About Author

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Katharine McGee

McGee delves into the allure of royalty and social dynamics through speculative and historical settings. Her "American Royals" series reimagines an alternate reality with an American royal family, while "A Queen’s Game" explores political alliances among European nobility in the 19th century. These narratives reflect her fascination with the intricate relationships and power plays that define royal life. For readers, McGee's works offer engaging, character-driven plots with a blend of romance and intrigue, often set against glamorous backdrops, thereby providing both escapism and a reflection on societal hierarchies.\n\nThroughout her career, McGee has crafted a distinctive writing style marked by its frothy, soapy tone, praised for its entertainment value. She began her career in editorial roles at HarperCollins and Alloy Entertainment, where she worked on series like "The Vampire Diaries" and "Pretty Little Liars". This experience informed her method of combining drama with accessible prose, engaging young adult audiences. Her debut novel, "The Thousandth Floor", launched a trilogy that established her ability to blend futuristic elements with personal drama. McGee's books appeal to those who relish complex interpersonal dynamics and the enchantment of royal life, making her a notable figure in young adult fiction.\n\nIn the world of young adult literature, McGee has made a significant impact, with the "American Royals" series earning a spot on the "New York Times" bestseller list. Her academic background in English and French literature at Princeton, coupled with an MBA from Stanford, has equipped her with a unique perspective on storytelling and market dynamics. This combination of literary insight and business acumen allows McGee to create works that resonate with a broad audience, solidifying her status as a prominent author in the genre.

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