Luna had been staring at herself in the bathroom mirror for twenty minutes, trying not to throw up. The fancy dress they'd put her in was too tight across the ribs, the shoes pinched her toes, and she'd already sweated through the expensive silk. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Five minutes until Victoria arrives," the maid called through the door.
Luna splashed more cold water on her face, smearing the carefully applied makeup. "Great," she muttered, "just great." She'd been up since 3 AM, too anxious to sleep, watching cooking shows on her phone until the battery died. Now she was running on coffee and fear, and she could feel Alexander's concern pressing against her mind like a headache.
When she finally emerged, Victoria was already waiting, looking like she'd stepped out of a magazine despite the ungodly hour. She took one look at Luna's face and sighed.
"Sit," she commanded, pulling out a makeup kit. "And try not to cry. Your mascara isn't waterproof."
"Sorry," Luna whispered, sinking into a chair. "I just... I haven't eaten, and everything's too tight, and I keep thinking about how I used to serve coffee to these Council members, and now they're supposed to listen to me? I mean, Lord Bennett still calls me 'girl' because he never bothered to learn my name, and—"
"Breathe." Victoria's voice was gentler than Luna expected. She started fixing Luna's makeup with surprising tenderness. "You think I wasn't terrified when I married James? I threw up in a potted plant right before my first Council meeting."
Luna blinked. "You did?"
"Ruined my mother's favorite orchid." A small smile touched Victoria's lips. "The thing about these people? They're all just as scared as you are. They're just better at hiding it." She stepped back, examining her work. "There. Now about the dress..."
"It's too tight," Luna admitted. "I can barely breathe."
Victoria rummaged through a garment bag. "Here. This one's softer, more forgiving. And it has pockets."
"Pockets?" Luna perked up for the first time that morning.
"Sarah's influence. She insisted all her dresses have them. Used to smuggle snacks into meetings." Victoria helped Luna change, her movements efficient but kind. "You remind me of her sometimes. She didn't fit their mold either."
Luna smoothed her hands over the new dress – dark blue, simple but elegant. "Everyone loved her though, right?"
"Everyone loved who they thought she was." Victoria pinned Luna's hair back from her face. "The real Sarah? She had anxiety attacks before every public appearance. She stress-ate chocolate in her closet. She once threw up on the Prime Minister's shoes." She met Luna's eyes in the mirror. "Being royal doesn't make you perfect. It just makes you visible."
A knock interrupted them. Alexander entered, looking almost as tired as Luna felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, poorly concealed, and his tie was slightly crooked. He stopped short when he saw them.
"You look..." he started, then seemed to run out of words.
"Like she's about to pass out," Victoria finished dryly. "When did she last eat?"
Alexander's concern sharpened through their bond. "Luna?"
"I'm fine," she said automatically, then reconsidered at their matching skeptical looks. "Okay, maybe I'm not fine. Maybe I'm terrified and nauseous and this whole thing feels like a really elaborate anxiety dream."
To her surprise, Alexander crossed to the small kitchenette in her chambers and started rummaging through cupboards. He emerged with a protein bar and an apple.
"Eat," he said, pressing them into her hands. "Sarah used to get like this too. Low blood sugar makes everything worse."
Luna took a small bite of the apple. "Did she really throw up on the Prime Minister?"
Alexander's laugh was sudden and real. "God, yes. Christmas party, three years ago. He was wearing white shoes too." He sat heavily on the couch, loosening his tie. "I haven't slept. Keep thinking about everything that could go wrong today."
"Very inspiring, Your Majesty," Victoria drawled, but there was affection in her tone. "I'll give you two a moment. Try not to let her cry again – I just fixed her makeup."
Once they were alone, Luna found herself relaxing slightly. "You look terrible," she told him, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean—"
"I look exactly as terrible as I feel." He patted the couch beside him. "Come here."
Luna sat, careful not to wrinkle her dress. After a moment's hesitation, she offered him half the protein bar. They ate in companionable silence, both too nervous for real food.
"I got you something," he said finally, pulling a small box from his pocket. "It was Sarah's, but..." He opened it to reveal a simple silver necklace with a moonstone pendant. "She used to say it was like having a piece of the moon with her. For courage."
Luna touched it gently. "It's beautiful."
"She wore it to that Christmas party," he said, his voice rough with memory. "Even covered in Prime Minister vomit, she managed to look elegant." He fastened it around Luna's neck, his fingers lingering. "You don't have to be perfect. Just be you."
"What if me isn't enough?"
"Then we'll figure it out together." He squeezed her hand. "Besides, I put an emergency granola bar in your dress pocket. You know, just in case you need to throw up on Lord Bennett."
Luna's startled laugh eased some of the tension in her chest. When they walked into the Council chamber together, she was still terrified. But she had pockets full of snacks, a piece of the moon around her neck, and Alexander's steady presence beside her.
She caught Maya's eye as her friend served coffee, saw the subtle thumbs-up, and felt something settle in her chest. These people had always seen her as beneath them. Maybe it was time to show them what it meant to rise from the bottom.
"The first item on today's agenda," Alexander began, but Luna cut him off.
"Actually," she said, her voice shaky but clear, "I'd like to discuss the working conditions of palace staff first." She pulled the granola bar from her pocket and set it on the table. "And maybe we could all use some breakfast. It's been a long morning."
The look Alexander gave her was worth every second of anxiety. It wasn't quite love – they weren't there yet – but it was respect. Sometimes that was an even better place to start.