Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer!

This is a new story idea, but don't think it means I'm neglecting Showdown! (I'll get the next chapter of that up as soon as I can!)

Anyway, let me know what you think of this and if it's worth continuing with.

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Chapter 1 – Once upon a Millionth Time

Once upon a time—or should that be for the millionth time upon a time?—there was a princess, or rather a girl who lived in a castle. It's always easy to get the two mixed up. Princesses, by the rule of fairytales, are considered to be beautiful, well-mannered and above all else, be unable to do anything for themselves. Well, two out of three isn't bad.

Our princess, or rather, girl who lives in a castle, was called Bella. She was a pretty girl, with brunette locks and large, brown eyes. At this point in time, she was sat in the dining hall, opposite her father.

"What do you think about that?" shouted King Charles from the other end of the long table. It was completely impractical for them to sit at opposite ends, but it was seen as good manners to face someone whilst eating, rather than sitting next to them and turning ones head.

Bella heard little of what her father had said, mostly because he was far enough away that a cell phone was needed, but this was once upon a time—or a millionth time upon a time—and cell phones hadn't been invented. People had to make do with tin cans and shouting.

"What?!" Bella shouted back. She looked down at the food in front of her and pushed away the plate. It was meat-based, and she was a devote vegetarian. It was the only thing she believed in.

"I said, 'What do you think about that?'"

"I'm sorry, what?!" Bella shouted again. From the distance, her father looked like an ant...or close to one.

"What?!" shouted King Charles back, his friends called him Charlie.

Bella sighed and stood up, realising that they were going to get nowhere. She was also extremely intelligent, which was rare in royalty—especially when much inbreeding took place to keep the majesty in the family. King Charles had married an ordinary girl, against his father's wishes, and said ordinary girl had left the village as soon as Bella was born. That was seventeen years before the current shouting match.

As soon as Bella started to walk, the shuffling sound of feet caught up to her. Attached to those feet were legs, a torso, arms and a head—all belonging to Mike Newton. He was currently playing the role of the waiter. He ran past Bella and grabbed the chair next to King Charles, who looked startled by the display. Mike then pulled the chair back for Bella. She might have been breaking one rule, but that didn't mean she had to break all of them.

Mike Newton bowed and moved back into the shadows, as though he wasn't even there in the first place.

"As I was saying," said the King, "You are now a young woman, and it is becoming on you."

Bella blushed and looked down at her hands. She wasn't used to compliments, and when she did get them, she was very modest about them. It was a rule.

Charles continued, "But what would be more becoming, my lovely, would be if you were to get married."

Bella's head shot up so she was looking at her father in the eyes. He had a light smile on his own face. Bella tried to straighten out her features, and eventually settled for a look of mild horror as opposed to complete horror, both of which are very hard to distinguish. Her hands were also shaking in her lap and a gasp from the shadows made both Bella and King Charles turn.

Mike had fallen to the ground, but he'd done it in a way that wouldn't dirty his clothing and probably didn't hurt when he fell. He was now unconscious from what Bella could see, and she saw no reason to check if he was okay.

"Anyway, dearest Bella, I think this is a very important subject and I've arranged a ball."

King Charles took Bella's increased shock and open mouth differently to what Bella had hoped for.

"Don't worry, my lovely, I've arranged it all,"—by that he meant the maids, the cook, the servants and Bella's grandmother had arranged it—"I've chosen the bachelors myself,"—he really had—"And I think you will be impressed, my dear."

Bella dropped her head into her hands and started crying. King Charles smiled.

"I knew you'd think it was wonderful, my lovely," he said, before snapping his fingers, scraping his chair ceremoniously against the stone floor and sweeping out of the room, his robes following a few seconds later.

Bella lifted her head. Her alabaster complexion was now tainted with red blotches and the remnants of drying tears. She un-balled her fists and stood up, knowing that all crises were best dealt with in ones bedroom.

Mike Newton remained on the floor, where he woke a few hours later, unattended but none the worse for wear. It was expected that servants would be left to deal with their own injuries. He picked himself up and scurried off, forgetting the news that had caused him to faint. He had a memory like a goldfish did Mike.

Back in her bedroom, Bella was lying on her bed, staring at a self-portrait. Her father had commissioned for it to be painted on her sixteenth birthday, and it looked just like her—except for the higher cheekbones, fuller hair and the fact that 'painted Bella' was larger in the chest-regions.

She sat up suddenly, looking at her youthful face and carefree nature—although how she saw that from a painting, we'll never know.

How I wish I could be that girl again, she thought. Now she was faced with the biggest dilemma of her life. She was to get married and the thought filled her with dread. She liked her life how it was, sewing tapestries, going out in her father's coach and secretly, visiting a peasant boy.

Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she thought of that. She would never be able to look him in the face if she married another. But suddenly, with our Bella being extremely intelligent, an idea came to her. She didn't know where it came from, but the important thing was that it was here now, and she had it.

A smile stretched her lips and she wiped her eyes with the cloth of her dress. It was a white dress that had faded to a slight grey colour, like all white clothes do when they are washed—unless there is whitening washing powder, which has yet to be invented. When Bella stood up, the dress reached her ankles and it was fairly plain. It was the perfect thing to wear to visit her beloved, because no-one would notice her, not if she wasn't wearing a crown or a fancy dress or being taken around the village in a carriage.

There was a knock on the door that caused Bella to jump and touch her chest. Her heart was beating erratically.

"Who is it?" she asked politely, although there weren't many people who it could be.

"Jessica, Miss," said the voice. Bella let out a deep breath.

"What is it, Jessica?" asked Bella.

"Clean linens, Miss, and I thought that maybe you might want to talk about...the...um...arrangements, Miss."

Bella opened the door and said, "Put them on the dresser."

"Yes, Miss."

"And please stop calling me Miss," she said. She'd known Jessica since she was a small child, and didn't like how her friend had started addressing her so formally.

"Yes, M—I mean, yes, Bella." Bella sighed and walked over to the window.

The window looked over the forests, with its green, lush trees and meadows full of spring grass. Bella wished that she was walking through those forests right now. She always found that the air was a better anti-depressant than anything the apothecary could provide for her—although she did find herself visiting the apothecary often, but for much different reasons.

"The bed is made, M-Bella," said Jessica after a few moments, snapping Bella out of her haze.

"Oh, thank you," she replied and went back over to the bed, where she sat.

Jessica stood looking nervous, until Bella told her to sit down and relax. She did this instantly.

"How do you feel?" asked Jessica.

Bella raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine."

"Pardon me for saying, Miss, I mean, Bella, but that does not seem to be the case."

Bella opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "It is up to me to decide what the case is, Jessica, not you."

"Sorry, Miss, I know my place." Jessica suddenly looked like a puppy that had been kicked. Bella sighed.

"I didn't mean it like that. Sorry, I'm just anxious. I don't want to go to this ball, and I don't want to get married. I'm fine how I am."

"But that is what you're supposed to do. You're a princess. You're life is about getting married and going around in carriages and looking pretty in big dresses."

"Well, maybe I don't want to be a princess then," snapped Bella. "Maybe I want to be an ordinary girl."

Jessica gasped and gestured the sign of 'the lord almighty' before she looked at Bella again.

"I don't want to go telling you how to live your life, Miss—"

"—Bella," interrupted Bella.

"Bella," corrected Jessica. "I don't mean to go telling you, like, but shouldn't you listen to your father and marry someone? There is some really handsome looking..."

What happened next was something Bella wished didn't, but like everyone, she suffered from a sudden case of verbal diarrhoea.

"I don't care if there are any nice men there because I already have—I mean I'm not interested."

She hadn't fooled Jessica, and she wished for once she was having this talk with Mike.

"You mean you...You haven't...That isn't how a princess is supposed to...I...Sorry, Miss."

Bella's scowl lasted for a further thirty seconds before she thought of a solution to the problem she had just created.

"Right, well, don't go telling no-one," she said simply.

"I won't, Miss."

"Bella," she corrected again.

"I won't, Miss Bella." Bella sighed and watched the form of Jessica leave the room. She was back where she started—sitting on the bed, looking at her portrait that was like a reflection, almost.

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A/N: Yes. It was completely irrational and strange. R&R!!!