A/N: Hello there all! Just a bit more plot set up this time around. Let me know what you think…I always enjoy your ponderings on my randomness…
Now thoroughly embarrassed, Rippa took the first possible opportunity to stare intently at the ruined satin of her shoes, as if the mud stains were the keys to the universe, or at least the way out of this one. She peeked up once, to see the bumbling idiot (excuse me, prince) embracing his parents unabashedly. Aw, that's sort of sweet, she considered. Wait, where in Helsinki did that come from? Hello, Earth to Rippa! This is the moron who KIDNAPPED you, in case you've forgotten, not to mention that he won't get it through his head that I'm not—
"…The long lost Princess." Rippa's thoughts were cut off by the turn of the discussion.
"However," the Prince frowned, "She doesn't seem to remember."
"Well now that would be difficult, taking into account the fact that I AM NOT, NOR EVER WAS, A PRINCESS." Rippa chimed in. Turning to the King and Queen, she added, "I have my family tree, your highness…es. My family, the Duchy of York, has a renowned and respected bloodline going back almost—"
"Enough," the king stated coldly, "You have disobeyed and disgraced both our kingdoms far too many times before. I would not be surprised if you paid off some poor lower-nobility to place you on their family tree. In fact, I am absolutely certain that is exactly what happened. You will go to your room, Juliet, and remain there until your wedding."
"Lower-nobility? Excuse me?! And who is this Juliet person? "
"Did I not just say enough? Dearest Prince, please escort our ward to her bedchambers. "The prince merely nodded, shaking with withheld laughter as Rippa was dragged out of the hall by two burly castle guards, hell-bent on continuing her tangent:
"Gracious, it's like you people have all gone mad! Absolutely barking! No sane person kidnaps a poor girl as she sits reading contentedly in a garden, and then throws her over a horses butt as a proposal. It's no wonder women get married so quickly-if that's the proposal, she's probably terrified of what would happen if she refused! And here you all are, camped out in Crazyville, and you all look at me like I'm the one who's out of her tree!"
The perfectly coiffed Queen, who, up until this moment had been uncharacteristically silent, gazed at the spirited young girl currently being hauled across the floor of her reception room-hair a mess, muddy, and clad in the tatters of a hideous dress-and giggled. Shifting to face her shocked husband, who had never been spoken to in quite that way, she said with a broad grin;
"You've got to admit, dear, she's got style."
