Shout ins:
Metalhead13: Thanks for the suggestions. :) Yeah, Nick rocks. :)
Padfoot Black: I'm gonna miss the concert! (Loud sob) It's horrible, I know! Oh, well. I'll just have to go to the next one, I guess. (Cries) Anyway, thank you for reviewing ONCE AGAIN!
sb14: Here's the next bit...hope you like it. :D Thanks.
...: I think you're right about the French. (Sigh) I'm sorry. Thanks for the correction! :) My French is extremely limited and I know I mess up a lot. So, that was my fault for not correcting the translator.
Gina: I'm so jealous! You met Rob? Lol, that's great. If a girl said that about me and him, I'd die of happiness. Actually, that song in the last chapter wasn't Rooney (I kinda wrote it) but it had been my first intention to include a Rooney song. Oh, well, even the best of intentions don't always live up to their name. Whatever THAT means. Thank you! (And I'm sure you and Rob looked great together...aww...sniffs...)
MissEmmy: Thank you for liking the song. My best friend (who has got to be my absolute toughest critic) said it was good and that like...made my month. I was thinking of sending it to Rooney (or their fan mail, rather). But I won't. Because that would be prove me a geek. (Which I am.) My French is extremely poor. I haven't had much instruction, yet. But I'm getting better, thank goodness! :D Really, an online translator does wonders! Thank you for reviewing. Here's more story...Oh, and which Lilly part made you laugh? I went back over it after I read your last review and I was just wondering. Humor is very important to me and I like to know what drives laughter. :)
imaginelet: It's okay that you didn't review Five! I still love you! (Huggles) Here's more and yes, more about the "consort" business...
Daydreamer-022: I'll be keeping my eye out for those stories. So you better post them, missy! Thank you! Have a new chapter and a brownie. Yum.
myinnocenteyes: Thank you. And here you go! :)
Elly-Belly: I'm flattered. But seriously, IT WAS THE TRANSLATOR. I am only beginning.
Thanks for you super-cool review...;)
NessNess: You're only twelve? (Or did I miss something?) The caliber of your work is pretty amazing. I'm thoroughly impressed. Thank you for your cute reviews! I'd love to know what you think of this new chapter! (Many hugs)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Princess Diaries. I am making no money. This is just a nice little story to keep us all sane until Ms. Cabot releases her next brilliant novel.
DEDICATION: To Margaret Rose-who not only inspired much of this chapter but was kind enough to allow me to share some of her ideas about Michael and Mia's potential fame and the ideas behind "consort lessons." If you haven't read "Better than Perfect," drop everything and do so. It's an amazingly complex story and full of enough original twists and turns to keep you guessing. It is without Mary-Sue problems, grammar/spelling difficulties, and possesses a poise I long for. I would even dare to argue her story is bordering on being better than the original Cabot series. I know, I know. Blasphemy. Read "Better than Perfect," though. You'll see what I mean.
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Michael's POV
Mia was saying something. "So, um, she wants to meet you!" she came off brightly but still looked a little uncertain.
"Oh, uh, ok. Is there a particular reason?" I tried to crack a smile, "She gonna fire me?"
"No, no. No! No. Uh, no. (laugh) Uh heh, no. (cough) N-no..."
Oh, great.
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Mia's POV
It was gonna be fine. I mean, what was the big deal? It's not like I'm the first princess to ever have a boyfriend who's not a prince, not royal, and not Genovian. Although, come to think of it, I can't think of any princesses with boyfriends. I can't even think of any princesses! Except Sleeping Beauty. But she ended up with the prince in the end. And Elizabeth the II. But her husband is nobility and she's a queen now and doesn't have any horrible grandmothers overseeing her love life. Whatever.
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Lars POV
Michael was nervous. He must have retied his tie six times before Mia was ready to go.
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Mia's POV
I stepped into my high heels and turned around. Michael was slicking his hair back with a comb.
"Oh, you don't have to do that!" I said quickly.
He looked confused.
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Michael's POV
Before I realized what was happening, Mia had plucked the comb out of my hand and was running her fingers through my hair.
"Mia, what are you doing?"
She pushed a strand back and let go. "Leave it the way it is. I like it better in your eyes," she told me, meeting my eyes then. A dark blush swallowed her cheeks and she turned her head.
I caught Lars swallowing a smirk. Even her body-guard thinks I'm a push-over. I'm not. I'm really not. I just...like it when Mia tells me what to do.
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Lilly's POV
In my brother's haste to leave, he didn't pick up the Times off the door mat. What is WITH him?
I thumbed through the Sports, Education, and Lifestyle sections. And there it was. A honkin' big picture of me on the front of "Spotlight." Not bad. "Lilly Moscovitz: Royal Pal-An exclusive interview with the supreme confidante of Princess Amelia." Supreme confidante...I could get used to that.
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Michael's POV
It's not like I've never been inside the Plaza before. I was there for Steve's bot mitzvah. But this was different.
For one thing, the concierge bowed to me. I guess he thought I was some Genovian noble or something. Yeah, right.
I wished I had worn a jacket. I felt sort of half-dressed with my untucked white Oxford and slacks. At lt least, Mom made me wear black instead of khaki.
Then four managers convened on us at once. Was there anything we needed? Would her Majesty want luncheon in a private room or on the terrace? Her Royal Highness was looking exquisite this afternoon.
Mia seemed almost used to the attention. But I noticed she didn't stop being Mia. She looked slightly bewildered by the managers, shook her head quickly at the offer of help, said she'd ask, and thanked them, blushing. Mia has never been stuck up. I've always liked that. So unlike La-...
Mia was pulling on my sleeve. The queen wanted to see us right away. I started to feel nervous again.
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Mia's POV
Lars slapped Michael lightly on the back as we faced the door to Grandmère's suite. At least my bodyguard likes my boyfriend.
The door swung open and I was prepared for what I saw..My tall, thin grandmother, her hair pulled up into a tight French bun, her tattooed eyeliner looking unusually dark. This made her eyes seem even larger and scarier than normal. In her hand, she clutched a Sidecar, and at her feet, hairless, boneless Rommel whined to be picked up.
I love animals, but seriously, I would not pick up that dog for all the Greenpeace donations in the world.
It donned on me that although I was prepared, Michael might not have been. I snuck a glance at his face. His eyebrows were slightly raised but other than that, I caught now sign of distress. So far, so good.
I kissed my grandmother's wrinkled cheeks and swallowed a cough from the cigarettes she reeked of.
Grandmère gave Michael a brief once-over and sniffed. "Pfuit!" she said, and led us in.
Michael seemed a little unsure and waited for me to sit down before following.
"Something to drink? Amelia? Michael?"
My boyfriend's head shot up. I think it shocked him to learn she knew his name. I think it shocked me. In my hearing, she had only ever referred to him as "that boy."
"Uh...Mia?" he looked quickly at me.
"Une Perrier," I answered automatically. I have stopped trying to tell my grandmother I want tap water. She refuses to let me drink it. So mineral water it is.
Grandmère snapped her fingers in Sebastiano's face. He started for the drink cart and then stopped to ask, "Le jeune époux entretiendrait-il une boisson ?"
Michael's eyes darkened as he fought to understand, "I uh..."
"Sebastiano, il ne parle pas français."(Sebastiano, he does not speak French.)
My grandmother snorted and I felt Michael shift in his seat, uncomfortably. I patted his knee reassuringly.
Sebastiano graciously switched to his stilted English, "And would the young consort care for a drink?"
"A coke?"
The Genovian nodded and began filling glasses. As he handed them to us, I watched Grandmère fixate on Michael and his reply, "Uh, thank you, that's great, thanks." Which I thought was an especially polite response considering he never had any consort lessons. And then...it donned on me. Please somebody assassinate me.
I didn't have long to dwell on these horrific thoughts since the moment Sebastiano finished passing out our drinks and the queen had her Sidecar, she started in, "So you think yourself worthy of Amelia's affections, do you?"
Michael choked, "Uh...no?"
Grandmère smiled thinly, "Good."
"Here it comes," I thought.
"Do you know what kind of obligations a royal prince consort of Genovia holds?"
"No," Michael seemed to slowly be catching on to the intimidation tactics my grandmother adores and was returning her cold stare with one of his own. And believe me, when I say cold...I mean icy.
"Allow me to enlighten you." And then she proceeded to outline the list I was forced to glue into my diary, detailing consort protocol.
"The consort will ask the princess's permission before leaving the room."
Michael glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and I could tell he was trying really hard not to start laughing.
Grandmère continued, "The consort will wait for the princess to finish speaking before speaking himself."
More furtive looks at me and suppressed laughter. What I want to know is, how is a couple supposed to fight if he can't even interrupt her?
"The consort will wait for the princess to lift her fork before lifting his own at mealtimes."
Michael was chewing on the side of his lip, his eyes never leaving my grandmother's.
"The consort will not sit until the princess has been seated." When the queen's back turned for a moment, Michael mouthed, "Score!" to me. He had waited until I sat down. I told you he was consort material! He's a natural.
"The consort will rise the moment the princess rises."
Uh oh. I remembered the next one. How embarrassing.
"The consort will not engage in any sort of risk-taking behavior, such as racing–either car or boat–mountain climbing, sky-diving, et cetera–until such time as an heir has been provided."
I looked at Michael's once again serious face. I was waiting for him to laugh or make some silent joke but he didn't. His eyes got all dark again and he looked at me. Like he was trying to decide something. I felt sort of naked when he looked like that at me. Like...he could see everything, knew everything about me, in that one tiny second of time. He smiled like he was trying to lighten the mood but I suddenly realized how serious Michael was. He was serious about being my consort! About marrying me and producing heirs and...
"The consort will give up his right, in the event of annulment or divorce, to custody of any children born during the marriage."
I winced. That sounded so...cold. Michael didn't flinch, didn't move an eyelash.
"The consort will give up the citizenship of his native country in favor of citizenship of Genovia."
Michael frowned at that one but didn't say anything.
"Do you still wish to carry on this way with my granddaughter?"
There was an unhesitating answer, "Yes."
"You will have to learn French."
"Sure."
"You will be required to study Genovian law and history."
"Fine."
"You must take dancing lessons."
"Okay."
Grandmère's face was slowing starting to drain of its color, "You cannot do this."
"Watch me."
"We will see."
And we would.
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a/n: Next chapter coming soon! :) Please review and let me know how you thought this went. I don't like it as much but I feel it's a necessary step in the right direction.
TEASER for next chapter:
"Mr. Moscovitz, is it true you plan to move to Genovia?"
"Michael, are a vegetarian?"
"Your highness, over here!"
"Hey, Princess! You and your boyfriend give us a smile!"
"Michael, is it true Princess Amelia is having your love child?"
"Your highness, is it true you're planning to join your boyfriend's band?"
"There are rumors about a record deal for Skinner Box! Any comments?"
I let myself be pulled through the crowd of paparazzi and flashing bulbs, Mia's hand in mine. Have to admit, it felt weird with all the press there but not...bad. Just different. Mia tugged on my arm right before we entered the building and turning, I put my arms around her and posed for Tiger Beat and the New York Sun. What can I say? I lead a charmed life.