Disclaimer-FRIENDS isn't mine.
Note-Well, I've got some real names for some of the people! Here's the new cast list!
Main Characters
Rachel-Princess of France
Chandler-Prince of England
Monica-Rachel's servant/best friend, palace chef
Ross-Monica's brother, training to be a knight
Joey-Chandler's guard/best friend
Phoebe-Minstrel who plays in Rachel's palace
Parents of the Main Characters
Jack-Ross and Monica's father, Leonard's advisor
Judy-Ross and Monica's mother, Sandra's advisor
Frank I-Phoebe, Ursula, and Frank II's father, an artisan
Phoebe I-Phoebe, Ursula, and Frank II's mother, Rachel's governess
Charles-Chandler's father, King of England
Nora-Chandler's mother, Queen of England
Leonard-Rachel's father, King of France
Sandra-Rachel's mother, Queen of France
Betrothed to the Main Characters
Barry-Prince of Spain, Rachel's betrothed
Janice-Princess of Portugal, Chandler's betrothed
Parents of the Betrothed
Philip-Barry's father, King of Spain
Tanya-Barry's mother, Queen of Spain
Derrick-Janice's father, King of Portugal
Samantha-Janice's mother, Queen of Portugal
Siblings of the Main Characters
Ursula-Phoebe's twin, Rachel's servant
Frank II-Phoebe and Ursula's brother, his father's apprentice
Jill-Rachel's 1st sister
Amy-Rachel's 2nd sister
Mary-Joey's 1st sister
Christina-Joey's 2nd sister
Lily-Joey's 3rd sister
Melanie -Joey's 4th sister
Minda-Joey's 5th sister
Laura-Joey's 6th sister
Margaret-Joey's 7th sister
Others
Alice-Frank II's betrothed
Donald-Jill's betrothed
Paulo-The stable boy of Rachel's palace
A Friend Among The Enemy
Phoebe sat in the courtyard; her beautiful harp set up in front of her. She had just seen Monica and Rachel off on their ride.
"Thank the Lord God that I'm not a princess," Phoebe said to herself, plucking the strings to her harp in a beautiful melody. "Poor Mademoiselle Rachel, engaged for political reasons. And to such a stupid, ugly man! Her father's decision, no doubt. Men!"
Phoebe Buffay had not yet had true love come to her. She'd had her share of beaus and was fully experienced in the arts of courtship and flirtation. Once, she thought she had found her special man. His name was Lord Gary, a police officer of the highest degree. But, in the end, they had parted ways. Phoebe had set her cap fully on her head after that. It was not worth the heartache and sorrow of the aftermath.
Phoebe plucked a few more strings before giving up. She was not in the mood for music today.
She stood up and smoothed her skirt. Today, she had chosen a dress whose skirt reached to her knees, a cloth strip tied around her waist, and a shirt with a small cape attached to it. Her feet were bare, and her hair was pulled back in a messy French braid.
"I think I'll take her Highness's example and go for a ride," she said out loud to herself firmly, heading in the direction of the stables.
The stable boy, an Italian immigrant named Paulo, flashed her a grin and winked at her. Phoebe ignored him, well used to his flirting, which was most irritating at times. Today, she walked past him without a backward glance as went straight to her own horse. It was a mare, light brown in color, with one white foot and a diamond on her forehead.
"Hello, Lightning Bolt," she said, gently stroking her cream-colored mane. She adjusted the blanket on her back and managed strap on the saddle. She slipped the bridle over Lightning Bolt's head and mounted. "Open the gates, Paulo," she said, nodding to the stable boy.
"Of course, mademoiselle," he said, grinning at her again and opening Lightning Bolt's stall door.
"Thank you, Paulo," she said. She lightly kicked her horse's side. "Yah!"
Lighting Bolt whinnied loudly, before sprinting form the stable at a run.
"There's a good girl," Phoebe complimented. Lightning Bolt threw back her head, neighing happily, and dashed forward.
Phoebe threw her head back and laughed, free as a bird under the azure sky, feeling as though she was flying on angel's wings.
"Come on, Lightning Bolt, you can do better than that!" she urged in her horse's ear.
Lightning Bolt snorted in response and picked up speed.
It was that time that a man decided to cross the cobblestone street.
"Lighting Bolt!" Phoebe jerked the reigns sideways. Lightning Bolt, caught off guard, veered to the side and nearly fell, but the horse was sure-footed and regained her balance.
Phoebe dismounted angrily and stormed over to the man her horse had nearly trampled. "What are you, mad?" she yelled, anger snapping in her eyes. "Couldn't you see my horse was oncoming?" She waited for a reply, which didn't come. "What, are you deaf as well as blind?"
"I'm terribly sorry, madam," was the quiet reply.
"You are not French," she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.
His head jerked to her in surprise, and Phoebe saw his face. His hair and eyes were dark brown, almost black. His face was almost oval-shaped, and had a surprisingly innocent look to it. "How did you know?"
"I'm a very gifted woman. I can tell these things. What nationality are you?"
He mumbled something incoherent, and Phoebe's anger grew.
"Tell me what you are, now!" she exploded.
"Half-Italian and Half-English."
He waited for her to scream that an Englishman enemy had come, but she was still too angry for the interruption of her ride to take any notice that he was a citizen of their enemy country.
"Well, watch where you're going next time!"
"I'm very sorry," he apologized again. "Madam, I think something's wrong with your horse."
"Lightning Bolt?" Phoebe gasped, whirling around. Lightning Bolt was painfully lifting her foot up and down, neighing pitifully.
"Oh, my poor baby!" Phoebe said, dashing over to her injured horse.
He blinked, surprised at how panicked she was over her horse. Most girls he knew could not care less about the well-being of their rides, so long as they were well-groomed and socially adequate. It was refreshingly attractive to see such a beautiful woman in tune with nature. Why, she herself, in her simple peasant attire, looked like a wood-nymph from ancient legend. He had heard of the term 'Frenchwoman of elegance' and he was sure he had just found her.
Phoebe cut into his thoughts. She stood directly in front of him, glaring. "My horse, sir, has picked up a stone because of your ignorance."
"Perhaps, mademoiselle, your horse should have yielded to the passerby," he said.
"You impertinent little…!"
"I think I can fix it." He swerved around her and went to the horse, who was still lifting up her foot painfully. He took hold of her ankle and twisted it to see the stone lodged in her shoe. He drove his fingers into the crevices and clenched around the stone. Sweat dripped down his face as he tugged at it. Just a little further…
He went flying, landing on his back, and Lightning Bolt stumbled away, neighing. He straightened himself on the cobblestone streets, the stone held between his thumb and index finger. "There. I think your horse is fine."
"That was marvelous!" Phoebe exclaimed, all anger forgotten. "You must be a horseman!"
"No, I've just got a knack for it." He stood up, brushing dirt from his pants.
Phoebe took the lead bridle and led her mare towards him. "I can't thank you enough. This horse was a gift from my mother when I was just a child, and she's very dear to me." She patted her horse's mane affectionately. "So, what is your name, sir?"
"Joseph Tribbiani, but everyone close to me calls me Joey."
"Well, Joey, what do you say we go and eat? I know this charming little bistro not far from here, just a 10 minute's worth of walking."
"I'd love that." He followed her away down the street.
"So, what is an Englishman doing in France?" Phoebe asked, waiting with Joey for their food.
"I am to deliver a message from the palace of England in the name of Their Majesties, King Charles, Queen Nora, and Prince Chandler, to the French royal family," Joey said.
"Not everyone would believe that a message is your goal here in France."
"Are you saying…?"
"That people would believe you a spy? Of course. Anyone but I."
"And why would you not?"
"You have the aura."
"Aura?"
"Of course."
"I don't quite understand…"
"Not everyone does. You see, I have traced my heritage back and back to Rebecca, the Oracle of Mamre, and her powers I have inherited. When one lies, I can see it written all over their face."
"You mean you are a witch?"
Phoebe looked pained, as if she was remembering something dark and menacing, and she shook her head vigorously. "No. I am an Oracle, what you might called a Psyche. I can look into people's souls."
"Amazing."
"Yes, well, not everyone thinks so."
"How's that?"
But at that moment their meals were delivered, and Joey forgot about his question.
"I believe I could escort you to the palace," Phoebe said suddenly. "If you are with me, they would trust you."
"You would do that for me?"
"Of course, Joey. We can ride my mare." She started signaling the waiter.
"Let me pay for this one, Pheebs," Joey said, reaching into his money bag.
"'Pheebs'?" She gave him a strange look.
"Well, if you know my pet name, you should have one yourself."
"'Pheebs'…I like it." Phoebe smiled. "The only pet name I ever had was 'Pee-hee'. I liked it until I realized they were making fun of me."
"'Pheebs' it is, then," Joey said. He left 20 louis on the table, apparently having stocked well with French money before coming to the country, and stood up. Phoebe stood up as well.
"Shall we go?" Phoebe said.
"Let's."
"The Lady Phoebe approaches!" called a guard. "Open the gates!"
Lightning Bolt trotted onto palace ground and stopped as Phoebe pulled on the reigns. Phoebe dismounted and waited for Joey to do the same.
"Come, Joey. Their Majesties King Leonard and Queen Sandra await you."
*Dodges rotten fruit* I'm sorry for the delay!
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