Post by stargazer97 on Oct 15, 2009 23:34:16 GMT -5
~A Royal Pain~
Description:What happens when a 16 year old Abby Adams find out she's the princess of a far away country?
Disclaimer:"A Royal Pain" is the property of Ellen Conford, and only her. (If you don't count all the editors and such.) This story is not mine, and i just wanted to show it to you guys 'cause it's awesome.
Double spaces stand for pages
Authors Note
this is a work of fiction. None of the char-
acters are real. Saxony Coburn does not exist,
and some of the "facts" about geography and
aeonautics are obviously impossible.
Narrator's Note
Disregard previous note. This is a true
story. I know, I was there.
Abby Adams
(Princess Florinda XIV of Saxony Coburn)
Chapter One
Right off the bat I have to say that no matter what
you may have read in the papers, I don't think I
was really such a terrible princess. The media really
sensationalized the whole thing.
I was not exiled from the principality of Saxony
Coburn and I don't think it's fair to blame me for
what ABC news called an "international incident."
I mean, nobody in Washington even knew wher
Saxony Coburn was until I became princess of the
place, so....
But maybe that's not the best way to start.
Maybe I should stat sixteen years ago, the day I
was born. My parents were attending the Gloxinia
Festival-
No. Nobody wants to read a long story about my
parent's trip to Europe and my premature arrival in
a tiny country where the only doctor was --
I guess the best thing to do is start the story
on the day I found out I was princess.
It was a warm, sunny day in May, the weekend
before finals and a month before my sixteenth
birthday. My friend Josh was making sympathetic
noises as I moaned about all the book I had piled
in the backseat of his car.
"I cleaned out my whole locker," I said. "You
should see it. It lookes absolutly naked. And this
is ridiculous. I know I'm not going to use all of
them over the weekend, and I'll just have to lug
them all back again., and lug them home and-
oh, Josh, why can't I ever orginize myself?"
"You'll be fine." he said calmly. "You're passing
everything. Just do a little bit every day-"
"What every day? There's only Saturday and
Sunday. Even if I start the minute I get home -- I
do this every time! I swear I won't, but I do. If only
I'd started last week, like you did."
"You might have forgotten everything by now,
like I did." He grinned. All of his books were piled
in the backseat, too. His locker was as naked as
mine.
I sighed. "This is going to be a very dismal
weekend."
Josh pulled up to the curb in front of my house.
Ususally he just swings right into the driveway, but today
there was a big black car parked infront of the
garage.
"Who's that?" he asked.
"I don't know. I hope nobody died. You want to
come in for a while?"
"Are you kidding?" He turned around. "You see
what we've got back there?" The seat was sagging
under the combined weight of two hundred pounds
of textbooks. "I shouldn't even have stopped. I
should have just slowed down and let you jump
out."
I hauled my books off the seat, piling them into
my arms till I staggered under the load.
"You want some help getting those into the house?" he
offered.
"No thanks." I grunted. "I have to learn to do
these things for myself." I straightened up and the
books nearly hit my chin. "Don't worry." I said. "I
can open the front door with my teeth."
He drove away with a wave and I truged to the
door. I glanced at the herselike car in the driveway
and begun to worry someone really had died.
I managed to open the door with one hand, and
nearly fell into the house. I kicked the door closed
behind me and the load of book suddenly exploded
from my aching arms like a volcano. As they crashed
to the floor and scattered all over the hall, I heard
my father say, "There she is now."
What's he doing home at this hour? I wondered.
My mother came from the living room into the hall,
stepping around the books and paper strewn on
the floor. What's she doing home at this hour?
Why do her eyes look so red? Why is she putting
her arm around my shoulders? Why isn't she saying,
"Don't leave you books lying around like that
Abby?"
I panicked. Sombody was dead. My parents
were both here, but where was my brother, Theodore?
"Abby dear, come in here, will you?" She led me
toward the living room.
"What's wrong?" I was shaking. "Where's Theodore?
Who's dead?"
"Nobody's dead." my father said. "There's nothing
wrong. You just have to prepare yourself for a little
shock."
"Oh, God, tell me!" I cried. "What is it?"
I sank down onto the couch, and only them did I
notice that there were two strange men standing on
either side of the fireplace, staring at me. They
looked very formal, black cutaway jackets and gray
pants. On the matle above the fireplace were two
high slik hats.
The FBI! I thought widly. Teddy's been kid-
napped. They're in disguise. They plan to infiltrate
the vicious gang of roving butlers who snatched my
brother.
"If sombody doesn't tell me what's going on this
minute," I screamed. "I'm going to scream!"
The two men bowed. "Your Highness," they said.
"Your what?" did they say, "Your Highness," or
had I heard wrong? Did they say it to me?
"Listen, the prom is over already and I wasn't
even a contender for prom queen, and anyway --"
My mother sat down beside me and took my
hand. My father sat down on the other side of me
and took my other hand.
"This is Monsieur Creanga." my father said. The
man on the right bowed again. "And this is Monseiur
Blitzen." The man on the left bowed again. They
looked like bobbing dashboard dolls. I wondered
where Donder was.
"They're emissaries from the principality of Sax-
ony Coburn. You remember what we told you about
Saxony Coburn?"
Emissaries - that didn't sound terrible. I began
to calm down a little. At least it explained the big,
black car. It didn't explain anything else.
"Yes. I remember about Saxony Coburn. That's
where I was born. During the Gloxinia Festival."
Whenever my parents tell the story of my month-
early birth, I crack up. So does everyone else who
hears the story. It was so crazy, and Saxony Coburn
sounded so quaint and corny, that the whole inci-
dent could have been the plot of an ancient Hol-
lywood musical.
It seemed that my parentd decided to have last
fling before I was born, and went on a three-week
tour of Europe two months before my mother was
scheduled to deliver.
They never planned to visit Saxony Coburn -
they'd never heard of Saxony Coburn - but the
travel agent threw it in for free, so they figured, Why
not? They wouyld arrive just in time for the Gloxinia
Festival. (the gloxinia was Saxony Coburn's national
flower.) They were told that the whole place was
so picturesque and old-world they would love
it.
The only was to get there was by goat
cart, which they were not told. The country had no
airport and no rail service, and the region approach-
ing the capital city of Dulsia (the only town in
Saxony Coburn) was mountainous and completly
unpaved.
The way my father tells it, either I did not enjoy
the trip through the rocky, one laned road, or my
mother's obstetrition was lousy at math. Within two
hours of their arrival in Saxony Coburn, just as they floats were parading past the royal palace, my mother went into labor.
"What could i do?" my father always asks. "I led
her right through the square, cut through the parade
between the floats celebrating Saxony Coburn's pat
and Saxony Coburn's presnt -which looked ex-
actly the same by the way - and brought her into
the palace.
"And we thought it was a miricle." my mother
says, "because the first person we saw as we walked
into the palace was a doctor, who had just delivered
the princess's baby. He was about to announce the
joyful news to the crowd, but when he saw my
condition, he agreed the joyful news could wait
ten minutes."
The doctor was pretty joyfull himself, according
to my father. He'd been celebrating the royal birth
with elderberry wine when my parents showed up.
So I was born in a servants' kitchen, and my
parents stayed for five days while my mother re-
cuperated and the doctor was sure it was safe for
me to travel. Unfortunatly this meant that they
missed their goat cart connection to the bus that
would take them to the train that would get them
to France and their flight home - which they alos
missed. But my father sayd I saved them a bundle
on hospital bills.
Who could forget a story like that? Now, as I sat
between them on the couch, I nodded impatiently.
"Yes, of coarse I remember."
"And you remember that you were born on the
same day that the princess was born?" my mother
asked.
I nodded, and looked up at Donder and Blitzen,
who were gazing at me like I was a long-lost relative.
"You're Highness," M. Blitzen said.
"Stop calling me -- oh no! No, you're not going
to tell me that I was switched at birth with the
princess and I'm really - and she's really -" I
broke up. I began giggeling uncontrollably.
I turned to my father. "I know you like a good
joke once in a while, but this is really your
finest hour."
I stood up and stolled over to the fireplace. "Mr. Bliten," I said. "Mr. Donder."
"Creanga, Your Highness."
"Whatever. Nice try, but it didn't work. Why don't
you reaturn the suits and car to wherever you
rented them, and maybe they won't charge you for
the whole day."
"Abby." my faher said, "this isn't a joke."
"You were terrific too, Mom. that little bit of red
around you eyelids - nice touch."
"Oh Abby!" She burst into tears.
My father cleared his throat. I looked at the expressions
on their faces, at my mother's tears, and I didn't think I
would make it back to the couch before I fainted.
"You highness, it seems there was a little mix-
up." M. Creanga began.
"This is ridiculous!" I yelled. "These things don't
really happen. Only in the movies. You are not
going to tell me that I'm really the princess of Saxony
Coburn."
"The doctor who delivered you and the princess
- that is, you and Abby Adams, the American child--"
"I'm Abby Adams." I insisted.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but Doctor
Zdenka, who delivered the two babies, died last
week, leaving a letter with his nurse which was to
be opened after his death. The letter confesses the
whole shameful episode."
"The doctor took full responsibility for the con-
fusion." M. Blitzen went on. "He suffered terrible
guilt to his dying day."
"Well I should say so!" I snapped.
"And he never took another drop of Elderberry
wine...."
I started to giggle again. "this is too much. I
mean, really. The whole bit with the elderberry
wine and everything. Now you're going to tell me
that I have to go back to Saxony Coburn and take
my rightful place as heir to the throne."
For a terrible moment ther was nothing but
silence.
M. Blitzen and M. Creanga exchanged troubled
glances. My mother and father exchanged troubled
glances.
My father cleared his throat. "That's exactly what
they're going to tell you." he said.
"You mean, I really am a princess?" I asked. "I'm
not you daughter?"
"You'll always be our daughter!" my mother
declaired, and burst into tears.
That's when I began to belive them.
Description:What happens when a 16 year old Abby Adams find out she's the princess of a far away country?
Disclaimer:"A Royal Pain" is the property of Ellen Conford, and only her. (If you don't count all the editors and such.) This story is not mine, and i just wanted to show it to you guys 'cause it's awesome.
Double spaces stand for pages
Authors Note
this is a work of fiction. None of the char-
acters are real. Saxony Coburn does not exist,
and some of the "facts" about geography and
aeonautics are obviously impossible.
Narrator's Note
Disregard previous note. This is a true
story. I know, I was there.
Abby Adams
(Princess Florinda XIV of Saxony Coburn)
Chapter One
Right off the bat I have to say that no matter what
you may have read in the papers, I don't think I
was really such a terrible princess. The media really
sensationalized the whole thing.
I was not exiled from the principality of Saxony
Coburn and I don't think it's fair to blame me for
what ABC news called an "international incident."
I mean, nobody in Washington even knew wher
Saxony Coburn was until I became princess of the
place, so....
But maybe that's not the best way to start.
Maybe I should stat sixteen years ago, the day I
was born. My parents were attending the Gloxinia
Festival-
No. Nobody wants to read a long story about my
parent's trip to Europe and my premature arrival in
a tiny country where the only doctor was --
I guess the best thing to do is start the story
on the day I found out I was princess.
It was a warm, sunny day in May, the weekend
before finals and a month before my sixteenth
birthday. My friend Josh was making sympathetic
noises as I moaned about all the book I had piled
in the backseat of his car.
"I cleaned out my whole locker," I said. "You
should see it. It lookes absolutly naked. And this
is ridiculous. I know I'm not going to use all of
them over the weekend, and I'll just have to lug
them all back again., and lug them home and-
oh, Josh, why can't I ever orginize myself?"
"You'll be fine." he said calmly. "You're passing
everything. Just do a little bit every day-"
"What every day? There's only Saturday and
Sunday. Even if I start the minute I get home -- I
do this every time! I swear I won't, but I do. If only
I'd started last week, like you did."
"You might have forgotten everything by now,
like I did." He grinned. All of his books were piled
in the backseat, too. His locker was as naked as
mine.
I sighed. "This is going to be a very dismal
weekend."
Josh pulled up to the curb in front of my house.
Ususally he just swings right into the driveway, but today
there was a big black car parked infront of the
garage.
"Who's that?" he asked.
"I don't know. I hope nobody died. You want to
come in for a while?"
"Are you kidding?" He turned around. "You see
what we've got back there?" The seat was sagging
under the combined weight of two hundred pounds
of textbooks. "I shouldn't even have stopped. I
should have just slowed down and let you jump
out."
I hauled my books off the seat, piling them into
my arms till I staggered under the load.
"You want some help getting those into the house?" he
offered.
"No thanks." I grunted. "I have to learn to do
these things for myself." I straightened up and the
books nearly hit my chin. "Don't worry." I said. "I
can open the front door with my teeth."
He drove away with a wave and I truged to the
door. I glanced at the herselike car in the driveway
and begun to worry someone really had died.
I managed to open the door with one hand, and
nearly fell into the house. I kicked the door closed
behind me and the load of book suddenly exploded
from my aching arms like a volcano. As they crashed
to the floor and scattered all over the hall, I heard
my father say, "There she is now."
What's he doing home at this hour? I wondered.
My mother came from the living room into the hall,
stepping around the books and paper strewn on
the floor. What's she doing home at this hour?
Why do her eyes look so red? Why is she putting
her arm around my shoulders? Why isn't she saying,
"Don't leave you books lying around like that
Abby?"
I panicked. Sombody was dead. My parents
were both here, but where was my brother, Theodore?
"Abby dear, come in here, will you?" She led me
toward the living room.
"What's wrong?" I was shaking. "Where's Theodore?
Who's dead?"
"Nobody's dead." my father said. "There's nothing
wrong. You just have to prepare yourself for a little
shock."
"Oh, God, tell me!" I cried. "What is it?"
I sank down onto the couch, and only them did I
notice that there were two strange men standing on
either side of the fireplace, staring at me. They
looked very formal, black cutaway jackets and gray
pants. On the matle above the fireplace were two
high slik hats.
The FBI! I thought widly. Teddy's been kid-
napped. They're in disguise. They plan to infiltrate
the vicious gang of roving butlers who snatched my
brother.
"If sombody doesn't tell me what's going on this
minute," I screamed. "I'm going to scream!"
The two men bowed. "Your Highness," they said.
"Your what?" did they say, "Your Highness," or
had I heard wrong? Did they say it to me?
"Listen, the prom is over already and I wasn't
even a contender for prom queen, and anyway --"
My mother sat down beside me and took my
hand. My father sat down on the other side of me
and took my other hand.
"This is Monsieur Creanga." my father said. The
man on the right bowed again. "And this is Monseiur
Blitzen." The man on the left bowed again. They
looked like bobbing dashboard dolls. I wondered
where Donder was.
"They're emissaries from the principality of Sax-
ony Coburn. You remember what we told you about
Saxony Coburn?"
Emissaries - that didn't sound terrible. I began
to calm down a little. At least it explained the big,
black car. It didn't explain anything else.
"Yes. I remember about Saxony Coburn. That's
where I was born. During the Gloxinia Festival."
Whenever my parents tell the story of my month-
early birth, I crack up. So does everyone else who
hears the story. It was so crazy, and Saxony Coburn
sounded so quaint and corny, that the whole inci-
dent could have been the plot of an ancient Hol-
lywood musical.
It seemed that my parentd decided to have last
fling before I was born, and went on a three-week
tour of Europe two months before my mother was
scheduled to deliver.
They never planned to visit Saxony Coburn -
they'd never heard of Saxony Coburn - but the
travel agent threw it in for free, so they figured, Why
not? They wouyld arrive just in time for the Gloxinia
Festival. (the gloxinia was Saxony Coburn's national
flower.) They were told that the whole place was
so picturesque and old-world they would love
it.
The only was to get there was by goat
cart, which they were not told. The country had no
airport and no rail service, and the region approach-
ing the capital city of Dulsia (the only town in
Saxony Coburn) was mountainous and completly
unpaved.
The way my father tells it, either I did not enjoy
the trip through the rocky, one laned road, or my
mother's obstetrition was lousy at math. Within two
hours of their arrival in Saxony Coburn, just as they floats were parading past the royal palace, my mother went into labor.
"What could i do?" my father always asks. "I led
her right through the square, cut through the parade
between the floats celebrating Saxony Coburn's pat
and Saxony Coburn's presnt -which looked ex-
actly the same by the way - and brought her into
the palace.
"And we thought it was a miricle." my mother
says, "because the first person we saw as we walked
into the palace was a doctor, who had just delivered
the princess's baby. He was about to announce the
joyful news to the crowd, but when he saw my
condition, he agreed the joyful news could wait
ten minutes."
The doctor was pretty joyfull himself, according
to my father. He'd been celebrating the royal birth
with elderberry wine when my parents showed up.
So I was born in a servants' kitchen, and my
parents stayed for five days while my mother re-
cuperated and the doctor was sure it was safe for
me to travel. Unfortunatly this meant that they
missed their goat cart connection to the bus that
would take them to the train that would get them
to France and their flight home - which they alos
missed. But my father sayd I saved them a bundle
on hospital bills.
Who could forget a story like that? Now, as I sat
between them on the couch, I nodded impatiently.
"Yes, of coarse I remember."
"And you remember that you were born on the
same day that the princess was born?" my mother
asked.
I nodded, and looked up at Donder and Blitzen,
who were gazing at me like I was a long-lost relative.
"You're Highness," M. Blitzen said.
"Stop calling me -- oh no! No, you're not going
to tell me that I was switched at birth with the
princess and I'm really - and she's really -" I
broke up. I began giggeling uncontrollably.
I turned to my father. "I know you like a good
joke once in a while, but this is really your
finest hour."
I stood up and stolled over to the fireplace. "Mr. Bliten," I said. "Mr. Donder."
"Creanga, Your Highness."
"Whatever. Nice try, but it didn't work. Why don't
you reaturn the suits and car to wherever you
rented them, and maybe they won't charge you for
the whole day."
"Abby." my faher said, "this isn't a joke."
"You were terrific too, Mom. that little bit of red
around you eyelids - nice touch."
"Oh Abby!" She burst into tears.
My father cleared his throat. I looked at the expressions
on their faces, at my mother's tears, and I didn't think I
would make it back to the couch before I fainted.
"You highness, it seems there was a little mix-
up." M. Creanga began.
"This is ridiculous!" I yelled. "These things don't
really happen. Only in the movies. You are not
going to tell me that I'm really the princess of Saxony
Coburn."
"The doctor who delivered you and the princess
- that is, you and Abby Adams, the American child--"
"I'm Abby Adams." I insisted.
"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but Doctor
Zdenka, who delivered the two babies, died last
week, leaving a letter with his nurse which was to
be opened after his death. The letter confesses the
whole shameful episode."
"The doctor took full responsibility for the con-
fusion." M. Blitzen went on. "He suffered terrible
guilt to his dying day."
"Well I should say so!" I snapped.
"And he never took another drop of Elderberry
wine...."
I started to giggle again. "this is too much. I
mean, really. The whole bit with the elderberry
wine and everything. Now you're going to tell me
that I have to go back to Saxony Coburn and take
my rightful place as heir to the throne."
For a terrible moment ther was nothing but
silence.
M. Blitzen and M. Creanga exchanged troubled
glances. My mother and father exchanged troubled
glances.
My father cleared his throat. "That's exactly what
they're going to tell you." he said.
"You mean, I really am a princess?" I asked. "I'm
not you daughter?"
"You'll always be our daughter!" my mother
declaired, and burst into tears.
That's when I began to belive them.