|The Princess and the
Author: Clar the Pirate PM
One would think that a country would not entrust the choosing of their future queen to a vegetable. Not even a very special vegetable just a common, gardenvariety pea! With new! bonus materialRated: Fiction K - English - Humor - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,705 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 5 - Updated: 07-30-06 - Published: 06-24-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3004542
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: The Princess and the Pea is H. C. Andersen's story not mine; and if he wasn't dead, he'd probably hit me for what I've done to it.
One would think that a country would not entrust the choosing of their future queen to a vegetable. Not even a very special vegetable; just a common, garden-variety pea! I told them that I was a princess, a prime candidate for throne ascension, but no! In Pea They Trust. They didn't even ask me how I ended up in that storm.
anyone been so inclined to be interested in the character, the makeup
of their future ruler I would have told them I had a very good
childhood. I learnt ordinary princess things like correct hair care
and how to scream on cue. But my parents were something of liberals,
so my two sisters and I also learnt more unorthodox subjects,
hunting, horse riding, and the later very useful rock-climbing. But
there are conventions even a king and queen cannot ignore.
Sure, I may not be blue eye blonde hair gorgeous like Cinders but I resent being called ugly. And what's more I was the second sister, I wasn't supposed to talk or even think – just stand behind Petunia and … snigger.
That's why I ran away.
Could have chosen a better day for it.
was not an hour out of the palace before the storm broke, as if
entire oceans had been ripped into little pieces to be dropped on my
head. And the noise, like cannons and fireworks and houses falling
down all at once only to be replaced in the next moment by deafening
I didn't even hear the horse before I was yanked up onto it. My rescuer put his arms, his big strong arms, around me, protecting me from the storm. We talked a little, well, yelled, whatever and by the time we reached his castle we knew we should never be parted.
bringing home a drowned rat home for supper was normal princely
behaviour as we made it across the drawbridge, through the main
doors, and up the Great Staircase completely unmolestered, until we
reached the dining room.
And his mother.
get me wrong. The Queen is a lovely lady, I've said so often.
Brilliant hostess, can throw together a ball like a fairy godmother
on speed. She's just the tiniest bit obsessed with the whole
She travelled sixty-two countries and four continents looking for the one true bride of her darling son. I heard all about it over dinner."Oh, darling, do you remember that princess in Lithuamarama? Sang like a bird but had feet the size of saucepans; it was really quite alarming! You see, my dear, only the very best, the perfect princess will do for my son. Or that one in, where was it? Guardo! She was doing so well until she tripped over that frog and fell into the pond and came out dripping wet. Ha ha … haa … mmm, well …"The monologue lasted three courses and desert but luckily I was too absorbed in my prince to notice. It wasn't until bedtime I realised she meant business.
mattresses there were on that bed. Have you ever stopped to think
about how high that actually is?
The average mattress is about 20 centimetres, there were smaller pallets and larger feather ones but they averaged out around twenty. Times by 50, divide by 100 and you get 10.Ten metres above the ground I was to sleep!
And I did.
Until I rolled over and fell off. But I climbed back up. I became quite the expert at avoiding the satiny finishes, grabbing a firm grasp on the embroidered cotton, learning where the mattresses were slightly shorter giving a toe hold. The ladder was taken away when they tucked me in, but I climbed back up. Every time.
the morning, I was a quivering exhausted wreck of bruises and the
Queen sailed forth and asked how I had slept!
But it was worth it to see her expression as she examined the purple green flower blossoming on my arm.
The pea is in the Royal Museum, on a little velvet cushion in a glass case. I visit it sometimes to pay my respects, because now I am going to live happily ever after.