Bertie and the Prince
A/N: this is a story I wrote for a school assignment, and loved it and thought I should upload it here so I can broaden my writing subjects, coz up til now, i've only written Gossip Girl FanFictions. Wow, thats a big change from Fairytales!! Anyway, this is a modern-day story of Cinderella. Review and let me know what you think, because maybe I should just stick to doing Gossip Girl FanFics. Enough of my rambling! xx edie
Bertie opened her eyes. The room surrounding her was all blurry; she couldn't see anything clearly. Pulling herself upright, she scanned the room for an exit, as she was becoming a bit claustrophobic in the small room. She finally located a large wooden door and walked over to it. Pulling at the door, Bertie realised that this room wasn't familiar at all! With a final tug, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit stone hallway.
Looking out into the hallway, Bertie was absolutely certain that she had never been here before, and that made her even more nervous.
Taking a candle from a holder on the wall, she made her way down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the cold, stone floor.
After walking for what seemed like forever, Bertie came to a dead end. She turned a full circle, searching for a way out. An archway led away to the right, so Bertie followed it, weaving through the stone pillars that lined the hall.
Suddenly, a dark shadow leapt out from behind a pillar, making Bertie shriek with fear and drop the candle she was holding.
"Alberta! Where were you? The fireplaces need sweeping again, and after that the shoes need cleaning. You've got a long day ahead of you, girl. At this rate, you'll be working into the night!" the figure screeched.
Bertie crouched down and picked up the candle, holding it up to reveal the ugliest lady she'd ever seen.
"Ew! No way!" Bertie protested. "Do it yourself!"
A look of fierce rage overcame the lady, and she screamed and charged at Bertie. With one swift move, Bertie pushed the lady away.
"You're insane, girl. Just like your mother! How dare you fight your Stepmother. I am of noble blood. And you, poor Alberta, whom nobody wants, are nought but a common servant girl!" the lady spat, then suddenly crumpled to the ground, and lay there, not moving.
"Whatever," Bertie muttered, stepping over the lady and continuing down the dingy tunnel.
All of a sudden, the tunnel was flooded with light.
Blinded by the brightness, Bertie blew out her candle and stumbled on.
Laughter rang out from the end of the tunnel, and intrigued by what was awaiting her, she stepped out into the light.
Five exquisitely dressed people were sitting around a small white table in a beautiful and green garden. They were laughing merrily and talking to one another.
The young man sitting in the middle of the table looked up and saw Bertie awkwardly standing by the entrance and snickered at the plain clothes that Bertie was wearing.
One of the beautiful, golden haired girls followed the gentleman's gaze and clapped her hands with glee.
"Oh Alberta! I don't believe I've introduced you to our guests!" she pointed towards the older man, "This is His Royal Highness, King Christian II, and his wife, Her Royal Highness, Queen Germaine." She acknowledged the older woman with a nod of her golden head. "And this is His Majesty, Prince Rohan XIV."
At the mention of his name, the Prince turned away from Bertie, and faced the high garden wall that surrounded the garden.
"Um…Hi. I'm… Alberta," Bertie mumbled, unsure of whom she was anymore.
"Alberta's my stepsister." The girl smiled at her guests.
"Oh, Clare. You do have such a lovely mansion. Do tell me the history of it." At the Queen's words, all attention snapped back to Clare and her companion.
"Well, yes. It is quite splendid. Rebecca and I…"
Bertie walked over to the edge of the garden where she could eavesdrop on their conversation without looking too suspicious.
"Oh that reminds me. RoRo is holding a ball this evening, and we would love it if you ladies could attend," The Queen announced.
"Oh yes. You can count on my presence," Clare smiled. "Rebecca? Shall you attend also?"
"Of course." Rebecca replied.
"Your stepsister, oh dear, I do believe I have forgotten her name. Never mind, she is also welcome to attend."
"Oh please, Mother. Not her. She's so… common," the Prince sniffed.
"Oh come now, RoRo. We must always be gracious and help the less fortunate," the Queen scolded.
"Um…FYI, just because you get to walk around all day with your big Gold Crown and jewels and stuff, but I'm a person too, you know. And there's no way I'm going to your poncy ball either. Which you probably would like, because as far as you're concerned, the only people worth talking to are the rich and famous. And I may not be rich or famous, but I still am worth talking to." And with that Bertie turned on her heel and strode out the Garden Gate as the Royals began to snickers.
As soon as she passed through the gate, a young man sprang away from the wall and approached Bertie.
"Golly! That was surreal! You just put the Queen of England back into her box. You've certainly got guts, girl."
"Thanks…I guess." Bertie was confused. Who was this young man who had listened to her brief conversation with the Royals? "Who are you?"
"The names Charles. But my friends call me Charlie. I certainly know who you are; Alberta!"
"Don't call me that, OK? It really annoys me. Nobody ever calls me that, they all call me Bertie, but now I woke up and everything's all different and, well, old. and they're all treating me like an unwanted piece of mould and I don't know who they are, and I'm so confused!" Bertie ranted, not stopping for a breath.
"Gosh! You do have a mouth on you!" Charlie exclaimed.
"Charlie, I was wondering…would you mind answering some questions for me?" Bertie asked, timidly.
"Of course. Ask away." Charlie sat down on a log.
"Well…Oh, where am I?"
"Croydon, in England."
"When is it?"
"May 11, 1506."
"Whoa."
"Where are you from?" Charlie asked a question of his own.
"Melbourne, Australia. When I left it was…May 11, 2006. So that means…that I'm 500 years in the past."
Bertie staggered, and slowly sat down on a rock. She was really starting to freak out now.
"Who's that insanely ugly woman who lives in that house? She mentioned something about a stepmother."
"That would be your Stepmother, Olive Stevenson."
"And who are those two blonde girls?"
"Rebecca and Clare Stevenson, your stepsisters."
"And who am I?"
"Alberta Marlene Johnson, the servant of the house."
"And why am I a servant?"
"It's a long story. When your father passed away, your stepmother could not afford to hire help, so she decided to make you work as a servant, and so cut her costs."
"No way. This sounds exactly like…Cinderella," Bertie whispered softly.
"Oh yes, that is what they call you, because you're always working in the fireplace."
"This is not happening. This is so not happening." Bertie felt faint, as if she were about to be sick. "So that means…I'm Cinderella. But that means I'm going to have to marry that awful Prince. Ew. He's so up himself. As if I'm going to marry him. I'm only 20, for God's sake."
"Bertie? Can you keep a secret?" Charlie asked almost silently.
"Sure. Spill." Bertie leaned forward, straining to here Charlie speak.
"The Prince, he's not a prince at all. I'm the Prince. Some strange fellows kidnapped me at the hospital, and they put Rohan in my place. So, he's not the real prince," Charlie finished lamely.
Bertie's bright green eyes opened as wide as a golf ball as she stared at Charlie in amazement. Suddenly, an idea began to form in her mind.
"Charlie… I've got an idea. Do you want to be the rightful king of England?"
"Well, I do suppose so."
"Right. I go to the ball tonight and sneak you in. Then I present the Prince with a problem only the royal family knows…"
And how do you know that?" Charlie enquired.
"From an assignment I did years ago. I don't remember the answer, but if we can work it so that the King and Queen will be there, they will know the answer, so that when Rohan gets it wrong, and you get it right, the King and Queen will have to accept that you are the true Prince. But if I'm going to have to go to this stupid ball, then I'm doing it my way."
"Yes, ma'am!" Charlie exclaimed, excited by the prospect of one day becoming king.
"Good. I'll meet you here at 7.00pm. Dress well and don't be late."
And with that Bertie was off. There was so much to do in so little time!
When Bertie met Charlie at the Garden Gate at 7.0pm that evening, she was wearing a black cloak over a black chiffon dress that floated with every step. On her feet were black high-heeled shoes, which were terribly uncomfortable, but hey, no pain, no gain!
Bertie's long black hair was swept up into a messy bun, with tendrils of hair escaping from the front.
Charlie was wearing black jodhpurs, knee-length black riding boots, a crisp white shirt that was tucked in at the front, and a long black cloak similar to Bertie's draped around his shoulders.
"Ready?" Bertie asked.
"Ready."
They were going to have to make it to the ball on foot, and as Bertie had absolutely no idea where they were headed, she was completely relying on Charlie's sense of direction.
They finally made it to the ball, and entered the hall, which was dimly lit, by the thousands of candles that were hung of the wall.
There was not a minute to waste.
There was a nagging feeling inside of Bertie telling her that she must be home at midnight, and when she says home, she means her own place and her own time.
Dragging Charlie along with her, Bertie searched high and low for the King and Queen.
When she finally located them, she strode over to them.
"Your Highnesses, would you awfully mind if I had a word with you and your handsome family?" she asked.
The Queen, always one for flattery, giggled and said "Of course. Please excuse me while I go and find Rohan."
Bertie made polite small talk with the King about the weather (which she knew nothing about), the tennis (which she knew nothing about) and politics (which she knew nothing about) until the return of the Queen, who was dragging her stuck-up son behind her.
Bertie clapped her hands loudly and the entire room was silent.
"Ladies and Gentlemen." Bertie's voice echoed throughout the giant hall. "I am about to ask a question which could change this country for ever."
Bertie asked the question, which is so sacred that it is forbidden to write or even speak of it (but that would all change in the 21st Century).
The entire halls focus was on Rohan as he answered, the wrong answer.
The King and Queen squealed in horror.
"It cannot be so! My boy, my only son! You will never become King now! But there is no other! No one could possibly know the answer, for only those of Royal Blood know!" the King proclaimed.
"Your Highness, I might possess the answer you seek," Charlie interrupted.
Taking a deep breath, he uttered the words that would change his life forever.
As soon as he had spoken, the room burst into applause.
Bertie looked up at the large Grandfather Clock on the wall. It was five to twelve.
She quickly gave Charlie a hug and wished him all the best, then disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but one of her uncomfortable black shoes behind.
Charlie thought briefly of trying to find her, but knew it would be a hopeless mission.
But Bertie was never forgotten, oh no, not even close.
Because I was there. I recorded everything that happened in that short period of time when I was in the presence of Bertie. And her story, my story, was told from person to person, lies weaving in between the truth, until it was unknown what was true and what was fake.
But I assure you, that this is the true story of how Cinderella came back to right a wrong.