Disclaimer: Princess Protection Program and its characters belong to the Disney Channel and are borrowed here for the purposes of free entertainment. (September 2009)

Tagline: If one girl can make a difference, two can save the world.

PROLOGUE: Trust

"What's a pal, Dad?"

The neighbors cooed at the lovely, dark-haired child with the huge dark brown eyes and the petite frame, but the child took no note. She only had eyes for her father. She followed him around the yard, jogging to keep up with his long stride. Her long dark curls were pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in cranberry-colored corduroys and a pink T-shirt. She brushed at his pant leg and this time Joe Mason heard his daughter's question.

"Daaaad! What's a pal?"

Carter was always inquisitive. The adults towered over her head, but she felt completely at ease at this backyard barbecue. She felt completely at ease because she was standing beside the hero she adored the most in the world.

Mason wrinkled his forehead, realizing the question sprang from a phone call he'd had with a college buddy. He hadn't been aware she was paying attention. Carter had walked into the kitchen during the tail end of his conversation as he'd been saying, "Yeah. That sounds great. Later, pal." Mason grinned at his daughter. At three years old, everything was still very new to her. "It means buddy or chum," he explained carefully. "It means you hang out and do stuff together. It means you trust, no matter what, you're always there for each other."

Carter's mouth formed into a large O at this answer. She took another huge bite of her burger. Mustard squirted out the sides of the bun and dripped to the plate she was currently hugging with the side of her arm. Both hands were absorbed in tackling the beef patty and its bun. The young girl's face held a look of determination. When her dad got a burger, she had insisted on getting a burger too, undaunted by the fact that the burger was almost the size of her head. And when he squirted mustard on it, she also wanted mustard. Not to mention a whole dill pickle. The pickle was devoured first and the burger was rapidly heading towards the same fate.

She had an eyebrow cocked and her lips were frowning even as she chewed heartily on her food. Mason knew his daughter, so he waited, the corners of his mouth twitching. He could almost see the light bulb click on over her head. The chewing halted. Carter's face burst into a smile. "That's like me 'n' you, Dad!"

Mason grinned. In the girl's excitement at this discovery, the paper plate flipped completely out of her arms and fell to the grass below, spattering Carter's face and the front of her shirt in the process. Despite this mishap, she didn't relinquish her hold on her burger. Mason grabbed a few napkins and knelt to gently wipe the mustard juice from her face. "Yeah." He laughed and gave her a peck on the forehead. "It's you and me, pal."

"You 'n' me, Dad," Carter's baby voice returned. "Always? Pwomise? Shake on it?"

It was all Mason could do to keep from bending over in laughter. He held his breath and took the hand that was offered. At last, he composed himself enough to say. "I promise. Always."

Over the years, the handshake grew into a complex secret combination of motions, but the words and the sentiment behind them never changed.

THREE YEARS LATER...

The Kingdom of Costa Luna, Palace Grounds

She wanted to follow.

The eyes looking at her were brown, like her own, but brighter. The smile in the boy's chubby face was infectious. He raised his arm and waved.

Her pink lips curled up in answer to the wave of that beckoning finger. The finger paused and then covered over that mischievous smirk he wore as if hiding a secret.

She had to follow.

Before she knew it, she had taken a step, followed by another, until she had reached the crumbling palace wall. Now, standing by the stone wall, she could no longer see that grinning face, but she heard a laugh. Heading towards the musical sound, she followed the worn sandy-colored stones to the right. At last, she came to a gap where the surrounding vegetation had broken through the wall completely. She pushed aside a few prickly green vines, tossed the few tendrils of copper brown hair that had escaped from their yellow ribbons away from her forehead, and peered through the opening.

Now, she had a clearer view of the dark-haired boy. At first, it seemed he had forgotten her. He was looking off gravely into the distance at something that had caught his attention in the trees. But once he looked her way again, he perked up, and nodded to her. He had moved a few feet back from the wall. The front of his red shirt was moving! No, that wasn't it. Something underneath the shirt was squirming. She heard whimpering.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

She watched in fascination as the boy tugged at the top of his shirt, opening a few buttons, and a fuzzy head poked out the front and barked. The boy's grin grew bigger and he took several steps back onto a small dirt path, stopped and waited for her.

Oh, how she wanted to follow! She was at the point of gathering up her skirts to squeeze her way through the gap, and over the dusty stones, when the worried cry came on the breeze.

"Princesa!"

Her shoulders drooped. Her absence had been discovered. Maybe if she pretended not to hear.

Another call reached her ears. "Mija! Mija!"

Not only had her absence been discovered, but her own mother was coming in search of her.

The boy hadn't heard the cries. He beckoned once more, impatiently this time.

"Princesa Rosalinda, ven acá." The tone was urgent, and not a request. Pulling herself away from the wall, Rosalinda saw her mother standing on the hill above and looking very rigid. From the posture, she knew her mother would take no excuses. Rosalinda needed to come right away.

The boy heard as well and his grin faded. He started to turn away, and then paused to look back at her uncertainly.

Taking a final look through the gap, Rosalinda shrugged apologetically. No matter how lovely a day, wandering outside alone all the way to the perimeter of the palace is not a good thing to do. It is even worse when you are the princess, late for your lessons, and only have six years to your name.

The boy shrugged back. He turned and hurried up the path towards the trees, taking that adorable, cuddly bundle with him.

With a sigh, the princess ran up the hill to her mother, expecting to get every bit of the scolding she deserved. She wasn't prepared to be wrapped in a warm embrace or to hear the relieved sigh her mother let out. "Lo siento. ¿Estás enojada, mamá?" Rosalinda questioned. The wet tears that Rosalinda felt on her mother's cheek answered the query. Her mother was shaking not with fury, but fear.

The princess frowned in confusion. The silence made her tense. "I was trying to make a new friend," Rosalinda explained, switching to English, for this was the lesson for which she was late. Perhaps it would cheer her mother to know she was doing well with it. Her instructor said if she kept practicing she would be able to speak English without a notable accent.

"That boy was not a true friend, mija!" answered the Queen with vehemence, releasing Rosalinda's shoulders, but clutching her hands. "Look there!"

Rosalinda turned and gazed down the hill. From this elevation, she could see over the wall and her eyes could follow the path the boy had taken. In fact, she could still make out his retreating back. Just as the boy's form was about to disappear into the trees, she caught a glimpse of them. Other forms, shadows in the forest, and she knew from the way her mother had cried that they had been waiting for her. Suddenly, she realized the boy's grin had only been a lure to draw her away from the safety of the palace courtyards. Young as she was, she already knew the stories of young children carried off by villains, never to return to their homes. Even now, the royal guardsman could be heard scouring the woods after the intruders.

"You must be careful, mija. Always careful. Remember, you are the princess of Costa Luna. A princess can never be certain who can be trusted, can never know who her true friends are. You can trust me and your papa, but you must always be on your guard. Never forget."

She shivered at her mother's words. It was the first time she had ever felt the threat of danger come into her young life, and it was not to be the last.

Chapter 1: Shattered

Lake Monroe, Louisiana

USA

The sound of a purring engine reverberated through the house like a tiny earthquake.

Carter jerked awake, her covers falling to the floor as she kicked them aside. An impending sense of doom washed over her. She took a deep breath, suddenly wide awake, and listened. The unsettling noise faded away into the distance.

Now, it was too quiet. She had fallen asleep clutching her plush bear, listening to the loud shouts, stomping feet, and angry voices downstairs. She pulled the sheets over her head to muffle the noises.

Her parents were arguing again. It had been happening more frequently lately. Often, when she walked into the room they would fall strangely silent. Carter missed the banter and lightheartedness of bygone years. She missed the laughter. At dinnertime, the conversation now focused on Carter. How was her day at school? When was that field trip coming up?

As much as she always had basked in attention from her parents, these times were different. There was something forced about the questions and false about the smiles. It did not escape her attention that her parents did not address each other directly. Neither did the averted looks nor the sullen timbres of their voices. Carter had always been quick to read body language and the book she had been reading most often lately was unhappiness. Carter felt the pressure to keep dinnertime at some level of normality. She pretended nothing had changed. Last night the pressure had overwhelmed her and she gave up trying.

It was the dress that made her snap. For kindergarten and first grade picture day, her mother had dressed Carter in an elaborate dress. It was one with ribbons and bows and long skirts. Sometimes, there were even sequins. The dress material, always an impossibly pastel color, stained easily making recess time an elementary student's waking nightmare. Tights inevitably accompanied the dresses and itched terribly. In a dress, climbing trees or making mud pies definitely became a huge no-no. This year the second-grader protested the very first mention of a dress. "No!"

"Carter, for the last time, you'll be so pretty."

"No, I won't wear it!"

"But it's a beautiful dress and Picture Day is this week…"

"I don't wanna wear a dress!" Carter wailed.

"You'll look like a princess!"

"I don't wanna look like a princess. I wanna look like me. I like being me. Not some dumb princess."

"Would you wear the dress please? For me?"

Carter's arms crossed her chest stubbornly. "I won't wear the dress. And I don't like you!"

He had stayed out of it until now. "Hold on," her dad interjected. "It's just pictures. She dresses herself now. Why don't we just let her wear what she wants? And listen, pal, don't shout at your mother like that, okay?"

"Okay."

Silence fell upon the table.

Her father had managed to subdue the disagreement, but Carter had lost her appetite.

She poked her fork into the meatball on her plate. "May I be excused?" Frown lines appeared on her mother's face, but her dad nodded. Carter pushed her chair back from the table and escaped to the confines of her room, avoiding the kitchen and the living areas for the rest of the night. She kept herself as busy as possible and tried to ignore the battlefront that was her home.

This morning was different. Dead silence reigned over the entire house and the creaking floorboards felt out of place when Carter headed down the stairs only to find an empty kitchen. Dressed for school, Carter sported a pair of jeans and a purple t-shirt with a huge sunflower on the front.

No breakfast today, huh? On Monday mornings, the smell of her mother's cooking customarily pervaded the kitchen. The absence of the smells of bacon and eggs added to the disturbing silence of the house. Carter grabbed the old standby cereal container from the cupboard and a carton of milk from the fridge. She breakfasted on Cheerios, peanut butter on bread, and orange juice.

She knew it the moment he appeared at the door. Something was wrong.

"Where's Mom?"

Her dad simply shrugged, taking one step inside the doorway to further reveal the empty space behind him.

Confused, Carter quirked an eyebrow. "When is she coming back?"

Her dad stared at her for a long moment. Something was very wrong.

"She's not." He turned away quickly and went out the door. She felt the breeze as the door slammed in his wake.

Carter clenched her fists. A lump formed in her throat and the corners of her eyes began to sting. She sniffed to keep back the tears that threatened to fall. Tears would make it real. And it couldn't be real.

It had to be some mistake. Her mother's apron still hung from its peg. The lace doilies and scented candles still adorned the tabletop, the latter wafting out the odors of pumpkin spice and cinnamon.

She ran to her parents' room and called out at the top of her lungs. "Mom! Mom! Mommy!" Because this was a joke and at any moment her mother would pop out of the closet and apologize for scaring her. Doubt trickled into her voice. "Mom? This isn't funny."

The sound of the motor of her dad's truck revving made her jump and run back to the kitchen and out the door, climbing down the steps just in time to see her dad driving away. Even more disturbing, the space where her mother's car typically parked was vacant. Tire indentations in the muddy gravel proclaimed its absence.

Carter's heart froze in her chest.

Her car wasn't here.

She wasn't here.

She wasn't here.

Carter felt betrayed and alone and afraid. For the briefest of moments, a new fear clutched at her heart and caused her to hold her breath.

Maybe her dad wasn't coming back either.

She took a breath and let it out again, forcing the fear away. "He always comes back. Always." She breathed out a determined sigh. "He promised."

The honking of the yellow school bus to signal its arrival sent Carter flying back into the house.

When the bus pulled up in the lane, Carter reappeared. She climbed onto the bus, toting her backpack and sat stoically in a seat. Because somehow, the world kept spinning even when an earthquake has shaken its very foundations and broken everything inside.

She hated it when she lost control.

Bull was mostly harmless. Sure, he was at great sports, but when it came to planning, his thought process was rather slow. Someone must have put him up to this stunt, because the boy wouldn't think up something like this on his own. The entire school knew how gullible he could be. The boy had a weakness. He liked looking tough in front of his friends. He was a follower, not a leader.

None of that mattered today. When he approached her in the hallway, she should have kept on walking. When he launched the first taunt, she should have confronted the smirking group that stood watching from the bank of lockers at the end of the hall.

The fact was not lost on Carter that no one passing in the hall stopped to defend her.

He was in her face now, and the second verbal barb he threw hit and cut deep. Her whole body tensed. She felt her fist clench and felt it connect with his face. The surprised gasps from the students in the hall were not louder than hers.

Bull toppled back and sprawled on the tiled floor.

The rumor mill had spun all summer and into the new school year, twisting the story of the Mason's family breakup into an ugly and pale imitation of the truth. This year Carter had become one of the quiet ones; the sad-eyed girl who chose to sit closer to the rear of the classroom. No one had expected her to be a fighter.

Pain started to spread across the knuckles of her hand. It didn't match the pain she was feeling inside. "Take it back!" Carter said, between gritted teeth. "Take back what you said. Take it back!" she shouted.

The words had hurt her. She wanted him to take them back. She wanted the hurting to stop.

Stunned, Bull was writhing on the floor of the hall, cupping his nose with his hand, grunting infrequently, but saying nothing at all. His so-called friends, the instigators of this entire situation, had split at the first sign of trouble.

A hand clapped over Carter's shoulder. Carter turned and raised her head to stare into the face of a frowning faculty member. The next words she heard didn't surprise her.

"Principal's office. Now!"

Carter glared at the floor as her father settled into the seat to the left of her. Her hands played with the black strap of her yellow backpack. It was bulging with her textbooks and workbooks, resting on the floor to the right, awaiting the drive home.

School policy stated that Carter's actions resulted in mandatory suspension. The counselor had bandied around words like "provocation," and "first offense" all of which added up to the fact that Carter would be able to return to school on Monday.

"What happened, Carter?"

She flinched upon hearing her name. Carter shut her eyes, trying to shield herself from seeing the disappointment in her dad's eyes that she clearly heard in his voice. She tried to think of how to begin, but the words escaped her. He didn't really need the blow by blow details. Moments ago, he had heard the story from her principal and the school counselor inside the office.

Apparently, he hadn't heard enough to be satisfied. "You really punched that boy?"

Here was the opportunity to explain her side of things. Half a dozen words sprang to Carter's tongue, but her mouth felt dry. She choked out one syllable. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Her second attempt at speech fared better. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"He said that she…she hated and that you…that we…" Carter sputtered, stumbling over the words. Carter's mind went over the insults again; her mind focusing on the one that had hurt the worst. Words always hurt the most when they seem to ring true. "He said we weren't a family anymore."

"Do you believe that?"

Dark brown eyes brooded seriously. Carter released the hold on her backpack and crossed her arms over her chest.

He spoke again. "Listen to me. We are a family. We will always be a family. Nothing can ever change that. We don't stop being a family. Not even after—"

"What happened," Carter cut him off. She wasn't ready to talk about her.

"When someone says something, no matter what it is. No matter how stupid, how hurtful, never retaliate in anger. When you lose your temper, you can end up losing much more than that and you always pay the consequences." He shifted the subject and stood up, facing her. "Listen, I've been busy lately, but I'm doing the best that I can. I'll be making some changes. We need a fresh start. You got to be with me on this. We'll be honest with each other. No lies. Got it?"

Carter stood also, pulling her backpack up onto her shoulder. "Got it."

Late Monday afternoon, Carter stepped off the school bus and ran inside.

Her backpack fell to the floor as Carter stood looking around in confusion. For months, nothing had changed. It was as if the normal ebb and flow of life had been suspended in a bubble. Her mother was gone, but everything belonging to her had remained unchanged.

Not anymore.

The frills and the lace and the pink tablecloths were gone. No doilies. No candles. Carter sniffed the air. Even the familiar scent had evaporated.

The apron peg was empty.

For a moment, it felt like she was being abandoned all over again.

Carter blinked and looked again. Repeatedly, the difference struck her. It was like her mother had been erased from existence.

Carter's hands balled up into fists as she stared at the boxes piled in the middle of the room.

Was this what her father meant when he said they needed a fresh start? Was this what he wanted?

Slowly, she made a decision. Running to her room, she immediately snatched her storybooks from the bookshelf, grabbed her plastic tea set, and threw these items on the bed. Then, she opened her closet and grabbed the party dresses her mother had so meticulously kept for her. She pulled open drawers, slid lids off shoe boxes, and ransacked her shelves in order to add items to the growing pile on her bed. She ran frantically back and forth in this wild activity and when she finished she was panting. Carter paused to catch her breath. Finally, she pulled out a giant cardboard box and with a few sweeps, pushed the mountain on her bed into the box.

Without a second look, she closed the box. Blowing out a puff of air, she sat down to rest on her bed. She scanned her work. Now, her room mirrored the rest of the house. The traces, the painful reminders were gone.

As if they had faded from existence. As if she no longer existed.

The tomboy dragged the box down the hall into the living room and left it in the middle of the floor.

Then, she waited, anxious and tense, on the couch.

When her dad finally entered the room and spotted the box, he froze in his tracks.

Slowly, he stepped over to it and examined it. His eyes met hers in a questioning gaze that required no words.

Are you sure?

Carter opened her mouth, but no coherent response came to her tongue. She simply nodded quickly.

It was all the confirmation he needed. Mason picked up the box, and whisked it away to join the other items already banished from sight.

Several minutes later, Carter joined him in the kitchen.

Water flowed from the sink as he washed his hands. He turned off the tap and began wiping his palms dry with a towel. "So, what do you want for dinner?" His tone was bright. She appreciated his effort to cheer things up.

Carter cast a doubtful look at the stove. For the first time in months, a smile lit up her face. Though cooking had always been her mother's forte, her father was still king of the grill. She smiled up at her dad. With all the exuberance and enthusiasm of her former three-year old self, she said, "Burgers!"

For the first time in ages, Mason laughed. "Burgers, it is!"

After dinner, her dad was sitting on the porch steps. She climbed down next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arm around her. "It's just you and me, pal," he said at last.

Other words remained unspoken as if they had silently agreed never to speak that name willingly; to never evoke the painful memory again.

"You and me, Dad," Carter whispered. It was a wonderful night. The crickets were chirping incessantly. The waves sloshed against the dock. Dewdrops formed on the grass. Life was flowing forward.

They were still a family.

Maybe things could start to be normal again.

A buzzing sound interrupted the comfortable silence. The sound issued from her father's watch. She watched him curiously as he frowned and silenced it.

Mason cleared his throat. "Pal, I think it's about time to tell you about what I really do."

A/N: Time to explore the backgrounds of Rosie and Carter's lives, how their friendship develops, and how they become agents for the Princess Protection Program. It's a prequel/story expansion/sequel all in one. This idea wouldn't let me go and I'm thrilled to share it with you, readers. I love feedback, reviews, comments etc and I freely admit these encourage me to write. I accept anonymous ones too. Hope you enjoy the adventure!