New York Royalty

By: PrinceOfNewYork

Chapter One: And Bless the Newsies

Summary: In the world people are viewed in several different ways. Some are leaders, some are followers, some are somewhere in the middle, and some just get power through possessions. The concept of royalty can take on more than just one form.

Disclaimer: Most of these guys are mine, except for the few that ain't. And, if ya don't know which ones those are then you better go watch Newsies again.

A/N: Alright, this is my first shot at a Newsie fic, but I've been messin' with this character for over a year now, and it's about time she had her story put down (before I completely forget it all!) Thanks a bunch to all of ya who read this!

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Her eyes gazed around the room… what a wonder to be twelve years old at Christmas time! The tree simply glittered and sparkled with tinsel, and bright red, blue and green bulbs. Oh, and the angel on the top! It was the perfect scene on a Christmas Eve. There was brilliant greenery draped over the tops of the picture windows, and around the large portraits on the walls. Three stockings were hung over the warm fire place as the smell of burning wood mixed very well with the sweet scent of gingerbread and hot cocoa. The record player played a classical version of The Coventry Carol adding to the majestic setting inside the house.

"Princess!" her mother called. "Would you like a gingerbread cookie?" The girl nodded and took one of the smiling men from the platter. She took of his left arm and popped it into her mouth, smiling now herself.

"Thank you," the young girl said.

"You're very welcome," the woman said. Her mother was very beautiful, or so the young Princess always thought. Her hair was often tied back into a bun in the back of her head, as was the style of the time. Her cheek bones were high, and her eyes were just the right size. Her features were all very soft, and her smile was the most beautiful part of her. The young Princess thought her no mere woman, her mother was an angel.

"Amanda," her husband, the Princess' father beckoned. Amanda set down the cookies and went to her husband to help him with the last few bulbs. It was a family tradition to decorate the tree on Christmas Eve.

The young Princess didn't find her father near as attractive as her mother. He had a rather spooky smile in her mind; it always looked as though it weren't a sincere smile. His eyes were too large, as well as his forehead and nose. His features, as opposed to her mother were sharp and oversized.

The couple stepped back, standing on either side of their daughter, who had just finished the ginger bread man, and gazed at the tree. "What do you think Princess?" Amanda asked as she tucked her daughter's hair behind her ears. The Princess never let anyone play with, touch, or style her hair, except for her mother.

The Princess tilted her head right, then left in almost a comical matter that made her parents exchange a smile. The girl the smiled, "Wonderful," she agreed.

"I think so too," Nigel said smiling at his daughter then looking back to his wife. Amanda had moved over to a table in the entry way where she had set the ginger bread cookies and was going to take them back into the kitchen. Directly above her was mistletoe. Her husband walked over to her quietly and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around he gave her a quick kiss. After which Amanda blushes, and the princess giggled. As her mother had told her earlier that day, 'The trick of the mistletoe is to not to try and catch others; it's to make it so that you get caught.'

"And now someone ought to get to bed before St. Nicholas passes us by," Nigel said looking back to his giggling daughter.

"Mmhmm, I thought I heard jingle bells not too long ago…" Amanda said smiling at her daughter. The young Princess, being no more than twelve after all, smiled up at her mother then dashed towards the stairs.

The girl quickly brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and slipped out of the blue frilly dress and into a snow white nightgown with lace and a little blue bow at the front of the collar.

She climbed into her bed just as her mother walked in the room. "Shall we say our prayers?" Amanda asked.

The Princess nodded and put her hands together and closed her eyes, as did her mother, and began to say a prayer. "Bless mama, and papa, and all the people who help papa keep New York safe." She opened her right eye to gaze at her mother tentatively. The woman, her head still bowed in prayer didn't see her daughter do this, so the young Princess closed her eyes once more and added very quickly, "And please bless the newsies. Amen."

Her mother opened her eyes and sighed looking at her daughter with a look of dismay. "You know we don't talk bout those children at home, it upsets your father."

"It only upsets him because he doesn't like them… why doesn't papa like the news boys?"

"Well… because their young versions of thieves. Crooks, and criminals even murderers are the careers those boys are destined for. This is why your father puts them in the refuge, in the hope that they may yet guide them to a useful and productive life.

To the young Princess, whenever her mother described the refuge to her, it seemed like a prison. She never did fancy the idea of sending those boys to prison. They were children, like her, just with less money, weren't they?

"Now, it's time for young Princesses to go to bed." Amanda said with a smile as she tucked her daughter in. She leaned over and kissed the girl on her forehead. "Good night Princess, sleep well." She switched off the lamp sitting on the table, and left the room closing the door after her.

The Princess lay in the dark room, gazing up at the ceiling, thinking about Christmas, the newsies, and her father. Her thoughts soon drifted to her name, and she knew that come the next morning all of her presents would be marked Princess, the only thing her parents ever called her. 'I'm twelve now…' she thought to herself, 'maybe my parents should call me by my real name.' But before she could think anymore about it, she had fallen asleep.

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