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05 March 2010 @ 10:13 pm
New Story, The Princess Diaries, First Chapter  
Title: A Little Princess
Author: raining_slash
Beta: abundantfear
Rating: Over all, PG-13.
Spoilers: All books.
Warnings: Some language and sexual references.
Summary: WIP. Twenty years into the future, what’s life like for Mia? And more interestingly, what’s life like for her children?
Disclaimer & Author’s Notes: Meg Cabot owns most of the characters and places in this fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.



Author’s Note: This story assumes that PD10 took place in 2008. The story itself is set in 2028. There are spoilers from PD10, if you haven’t read it yet you should probably clear off.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Meg Cabot’s. Don’t sue.


“For now, I guess I’ll settle for what I’ve got. Because it’s actually a lot, now that I think about it.” – HRH Amelia Renaldo

Volume One: The Uninvited Beginning

Friday, August 28th, Royal Bedchamber, Genovia

Thank God for Grandpere. That’s all I can say. Seriously, it’s about time someone was on my side. You know, apart from old Grandmere Clarisse who Dad totally doesn’t listen to.

But, whatever.

Maybe Grandpere can talk him into considering my human rights which are obviously being grossly violated right now. I am seriously THIS close to calling Aunt Lilly. She wouldn’t stand for this. Oh no, making people leave their country to go to some American school for four years because their father thinks you need to be more well rounded and adjusted to different ways of life and that you need to learn your own insignificance in this big world.


Aunt Lilly would not stand for this. She’d publicly humiliate him on her show, which is like the most watched talk-show in the world since Oprah retired (about fifteen years too late according to Grandmere Clarisse). Whatever, Dad. I so am well rounded. I am totally friends with French and Italian people. Oh yeah, AND HALF MY RELATIVES ARE FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY AND ARE JEWISH!!!!! I mean, I am like, the most well rounded person in Genovia. Along with my sister, Emily, and my brother, Nicholas. But I am totally older than them and Nicky is still mastering speech, so I win.
And I am extremely aware of my own insignificance. Let’s review, shall we:

• I am heir to the throne of a small principality. Which might be deemed a good thing if not for the fact that the reigning monarch (since Grandpere abdicated three years ago so he could spend all his time playing golf and taking day trips to France), is the most popular royal EVER. No, seriously. Princess Diana, Queen Elizabeth the First … they have nothing on my mother. Everyone loves her. Because she’s totally saved the environment and gives heaps of money to charity and spends like, weeks at a time in Africa helping to build schools and water wells and stuff. So, obviously I am aware of my own insignificance when I must constantly be thrust under the light that is my mother’s aura.
• Whilst I am not hideous, I am clearly some kind of physical freak of nature. I mean, my mother is way beautiful and elegant, and Dad is a total hottie – even if he is like forty-one or whatever. But somehow, I have managed to inherit neither my mother’s graceful elegance, nor my father’s hotness. Which is totally unfair as both Emily and Nicholas got my mother’s grey eyes, and my dad’s dark hair. But me, I’m just a tall, skinny, light-haired, dark-eyed, flat-chested, big nosed (something I did inherit from Dad, though it looks totally fine on him because he’s a man and all burly and stuff) freak. So yeah, more insignificance.
• I am horrible at everything. The only thing I can do is converse in four different languages (French, Italian, American (Grandmere Clarisse says my English isn’t English at all, but a bastardized version known as American) and German.
• I have never been kissed. Despite the throne and the inheritance and the fact that I’ve had FOURTEEN YEARS to work at it.

I do not need to be taught my own insignificance by leaving my native land and spending four years in an American high school. Especially one in New York City. I mean, my God. Last month, when Dad told me we were going, I didn’t actually believe him. I thought it was just Mom having one of her wig outs or something. She really misses living in New York. But, I mean, it’s not possible for her to live there. She has too many responsibilities here. So I didn’t think it was actually going to happen. I didn’t think that Dad meant we were just going to go without her. And now Marie, my lady in waiting, keeps trying to pack my stuff up into suitcases but I keep pulling them out again.

This is a disaster.

More Friday, Royal Bedchamber




I just googled the school they want to send me to. SOMEONE WAS SHOT THIS MORNING ONLY FIVE BLOCKS FROM IT!!!!!!!!!!

I hate him.

I’m calling Aunt Lilly.

Even More Friday, Royal Genovian Rose Garden

I am seriously crying so badly right now, the royal guard is going to find me any second because of the noise. But I won’t go back in there with those DESPOTS. I’ll sleep out here if I have to. I don’t care. It’s summer. And there aren’t that many bugs on account of the birds that come at this time of year. So, HA! to them.

But I can’t believe it!!!!! This is so unfair! I should have a say in what I do with my life, I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m never speaking to them again. And I know that kids say that all time, but I really mean it. I’ll be like The Nile in the dry season; virtually non-existent.

God, it was so horrible!

I need to breathe. I just need to breathe and write it all down.


In. Out. In. Out.


So, after my previous entry, I called up Aunt Lilly on her work number. I had to go through like, two receptionists at the studio and four assistants until I finally got her. It was like 11PM New York time, but I knew she’d be in the studio because she’s a total insomniac and has such an insatiable greed for the truth via ground breaking journalism, that she can’t go to sleep at night without breaking at least one exclusive news story. Mom says that Aunt Lilly is neurotic and suffers from a rare and concentrated form of Asperger’s Syndrome. But apparently Aunt Lilly is unaware of this and talking about it in televised interviews to the Genovian populace is not appropriate.

Anyway, our conversation went like this:

Aunt Lilly: (exasperated) Boris. I swear to God, if you call-
Me: Aunt Lilly? Is that you?
Aunt Lilly: What? Belle, is that you?
Me: Yeah. Who’s Boris?
Aunt Lilly: (distractedly) No one. Bart! Get that press release on the hostiles in Cuba, now! Listen squirt, I’m busy. Email me if you want to talk.
Me: (close to tears) Oh no! This is important, Aunt Lilly! I need your help.
Aunt Lilly: (voice slightly softened) What’s happened? Has Clarisse finally died?
Me: What? No. It’s Dad. He’s sending me away to an American high school. Some place called Trinity or whatever.
Aunt Lilly: (exasperated again) Is that all? (distracted again) Well, really Bells. What do you expect? Cuba! Cuba Bart! That’s Columbia you great imbecile! Are you suffering from Broca’s aphasia? It’s extremely important for your development that you spend time away from Genovia. You need to be in a place where you aren’t treated like some kind of deity, a place where you will be capable of seeing the world for what it truly is. A cesspool. You need perspective. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. See ya, squirt.

Then she hung up. That was a complete bust. I should have known she’d be on Dad’s side. They did come from the same womb after all.

Anyway. I was even more upset after that conversation because that meant no one was in my corner except Grandpere. And whilst Dad will listen to Grandpere – unlike Grandmere Clarisse – he’s never been intimidated by him in his life. It was time for some dramatic action. There was only one person who could manipulate Dad: Mom. So I went off to her and Dad’s room where I knew she’d be sleeping off her jet lag after coming back from a summit in South Africa with Bono and some UN people. And sure enough, there she was, all curled up under the blankets with Tilly (the fattest cat you will ever see in your life because Mom’s a bit obsessive compulsive about animals and their food intake. Tilly weighs twenty pounds. Dad reckons Mom had a cat when she was a girl that was even fatter than Tilly. Only he said that I shouldn’t bring it up with Mom because she loved that cat more than life itself) asleep at the foot of the bed.

I stomped into the room and Mom woke up from the sound and all the natural light I’d let in the room. I pulled the fat quilt up off the bed and snuck in next to her. Then I proceeded to cry. Mom put her arms around me and hugged me and asked me what was wrong but that only made me cry more. Mom started getting really worried then. I could tell because she sat up and started taking my temperature with the back of her hand and stuff.

I suppose I can understand why she got freaked out. It was pretty horrible crying. You know the ugly kind where snot runs down your nose and your body practically convulses. Plus, when we kids get upset, we don’t normally go to Mom. Not because we don’t love her or because we think she won’t care. But because she’s always busy - ever since Grandpere abdicated. She’s always abroad or in parliament because the current Prime Minister is hopeless or entertaining foreign dignitaries or something. And when she’s home and not working, it’s normally only for like a week at a time, and the first two days of that week are spent sleeping, and then the next day she spends with Dad (I asked her once what she did with Dad all day, and she went all starry eyed and said she just smelt his neck. My mom is weird. Though, now that I think about it that was probably code for … sex. Ew!) and then the next day she spends with Grandmere Clarisse and Grandpere and sometimes with Aunt Tina and Aunt Lilly if they’re over. So, in the end that leaves about three days for us kids. Which might sound bad, but those three days are always the best, and they make up for her being away and we’re never upset when she’s around so, basically, she hardly ever sees us cry.

When we are upset, we go to Dad. And that normally works ‘cause Dad is really, really smart and he knows how everybody thinks and he has this really calming voice. Like, all he has to do is tell you everything’s going to be alright, and well, you believe it. But this time I couldn’t do that, could I? Because Dad was the one causing the crying.

So. I’m lying there, crying like a baby rhinoceros would, and Mom’s freaking out because she thinks I’m sick or something, when Dad walks in. He doesn’t freak out or anything, ‘cause Dad’s not that kind of person. The freaking out kind, I mean. Mom says she’s only seen Dad freak out once. When she was eighteen and some guy called Jay or something said something rude about her to the press a few days after she finished high school and Dad went psycho and punched him six times (Lars, the Head of Security (who used to be Mom’s bodyguard), said later that he could’ve stopped Dad after the third punch but that this guy really deserved to be punched – especially by my dad).

So anyway, Mom and I are hunched up under the covers, a crying, freaky, mess with Tilly hissing at us because I accidentally kicked her and Dad just goes, “What’s happened?”


His ignorance to the pain he was causing me was the last straw. I scrunched up my face and pointed at him accusingly, “You’re what’s wrong!”

Mom let go of me then. “What do you mean? Michael, what’s going on?”

“Do you know what he’s doing? What he’s planning?” I spat out.

Tilly jumped off the bed in disgust and flicked her tail, a sure sign that if anyone came near her in the next hour they’d get the stuffing scratched out of them. Dad though, finally caught on. He turned to Mom. “I told her about Trinity. She didn’t take it as well as you’d hoped.”

I spun around to Mom with my mouth agape. “YOU KNEW?"

She had the grace to look guilty. “Your father and I thought it would be best. This environment is not a good one for-”


“Foreign land?” Dad snorted. “We go there once a year.”

“NOT FOR EDUCATION!” I turned to Mom. “I seriously can’t believe you would do this to me. You’re always going on about how horrible high school was and how everyone treated you like crap!”

“Well …” she shrugged. “That need you have to event drama in your life? You got that from me and well it really wasn’t that bad. I wouldn’t be the person I am now if it weren’t-”


I instantly regretted that little rant though because Mom’s face went into this weird sort of shock and I knew she was about to cry. I didn’t get a chance to see it though because Dad grabbed me by the arm and pulled me from their bedroom.

I shouldn’t have said that to Mom, and I know it. But can you really blame me? I mean, they’re asking me – no, telling me – to leave everything I know and love behind in favor of an existence that even they’d claimed to despise. So that’s why when Dad looked down at me with his eyes all full of anger and disappointment and he told me that I was never to talk to Mom like that again and that I was going to Trinity whether I liked it or not and that we we’re leaving Sunday morning, I just glared at him and stalked off.

And so now, here I am.

Hating my parents.

I really am part-American.


1.) Nicholas
2.) Emily
3.) Grandpere
4.) Uncle Rocky
5.) Tilly
6.) Aunt Lilly
7.) Grandma Thermopolis/Frank/Grandma Moscovitz/Grandpa Moscovitz
8.) Camille/Amelie/Pierre (my best friends)
9.) Aunt Tina (who I’m not actually related to, but whatever)
10.) Lars
11.) Grandmere Clarisse
12.) Daniel Radcliffe
13.) King William/Prince Harry (off the vodka)
14.) Hannah (Aunt Lilly’s illegitimate child with that Brazilian soccer player, Ramon Riveria)
15,000.) Judith Gershner (that bitchy NASA scientist that called Dad a hack and Mom a slut)
160,000.) The concierge at the Hilton in Tokyo, who wouldn’t let me up because I was wearing sweat pants.
17,000,000.) Mom
18,000,000,000.) Dad

And I refuse to feel even a little bit bad. They brought it on themselves.

Saturday, August 29th, Pierre Clement’s Bedroom, Clement Family Estate, Genovia

Pierre and Amelie are happy for me. They think it’s exciting. They think my parents are fabulous. I think they are on crack. Only Camille saw the evil treachery of it all. She’s been crying for like, three hours. This makes me feel better. To know I’ll be missed. I pointed this out to Pierre and Amelie, but they were all, “Of course we’re going to miss you. But I’m sure you’ll come back over the summer and you are going to reign one day, and then you’ll be here all the time.”

They so don’t get it.

Amelie’s mom did bring around some nice Bouillabaisse for me though – as like a parting gift. Only Pierre’s spoodle, Louis the Seventeenth, got into it. And he didn’t like the taste as much as the smell apparently ‘cause he vomited it back into the dish.

Pierre wants me to take photos of American girls because apparently they are sluttier over there and this will make up for his father taking away his German porn magazine (which actually had some very interesting articles). I told him to buy another magazine off E-bay as I will be taking no pictures because come Monday, I will be The Nile. He just shook his head at me and gave me his copy of Meridian 4.0.

I have to say goodbye to them now because I have to go home and finish packing.

My life is over.

Later Saturday, Royal Bedchamber

I am all packed but I’m avoiding Mom and Dad so I went to the one place I knew neither of them would go: Grandmere Clarisse’s room. She was getting botox injections right then so she couldn’t speak. But after Sebastiano left she was being very abusive about Mom and Dad and this made me feel much better. She said that she’s often felt that Dad bears a striking resemblance to Il Duce and that Mom has extremely misguided appreciations for the American lifestyle. She has promised to pressure them into changing their minds. Even when I’m actually in America.

It was starting to get late and I was really hungry but I couldn’t go to dinner because they would be there. Arnaud, the head butler, had already summoned me to dinner twice but I just keep scowling at him and pointing to the door for him to leave. I thought I’d just wait ‘til everyone goes to bed and then I’d sneak down.

Emily is really excited about going. She’s only nine though and so she makes and breaks friends as if they were episodes of a sitcom. Plus, she doesn’t have to go to a SCHOOL. She still gets to be home-schooled like a normal royal. Nicky’s excited too because you can’t get McDonald’s in Genovia. But Americans live off it. Nicky loves Happy Meals. It’s all he’ll eat when we are in France.

So anyway, Grandmere prattled on about Mom and Dad as she downed a Sidecar, trying hard not to spill it ‘cause her face was so stiff. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for Grandmere to be getting all this botox all the time. Her skin doesn’t really have any elasticity on account of her being about one thousand years old. But she’s like, the vainest person in the world.

“Ah, that is better,” she said, while looking in the mirror and drinking her Sidecar, admiring her new brick-like look. At least she’s stopped smoking now. After the “lung-cancer rubbish” (her words, not mine) incident.

“Grandmere, are you coming with us to New York?”

She snorted. “Certainly not. Vile place. Besides, with your mother as busy as she will be, adding in all these trips to New York to see you all on top of her normal schedule, I will be needed here to entertain the dignitaries.”

I held back a snort of my own. Grandmere Clarisse was not allowed alone with any of the dignitaries. It was more likely that Grandpere was going to semi come out of retirement and fill in for Mom. I mean, I love Grandmere Clarisse. She’s so funny and she always has good schemes. But I wouldn’t trust her with anyone of political importance.

“Whatever,” I said.

She gave me the evil eye. “You are just like your mother.”

I wish, Grandmere. I wish.

“Do not roll your eyes at me or I won’t help you.”

I made my face as passive as I could.

“Good. Now, the first thing you need to do is stop all this drama. Make them think you are accepting the decision. Because the problem is not your father, as you may have presumed. It is your mother.” She sat down on her little settee, rather gingerly ‘cause she’s a million years old, and continued in her raspy voice. “Your father is a stubborn man, but he’ll do anything for Mia. You change your mother’s mind about this nonsense, and you will change his.” Grandmere leant forward and pointed a wrinkly (because she’s a billion years old) finger at me. “And you will not change your mother’s mind if you keep being petulant. She will just think you need the change more.”

“I dunno, Grandmere.” The stuff about being petulant made sense. Though I wouldn’t have put such a word to my distress, but whatever. The other stuff though, about using Mom to get to Dad, didn’t really make sense. I’d seen Dad say no to Mom plenty of times. Like when she wanted to turn the East Wing into an animal shelter, and Dad said that it would be better if she just built a new animal shelter in the village. Or when she wanted to give a million euros to Marston Hefner (I still don’t know why), and Dad said she should give it to Amnesty International instead. Or when she went shopping with Lana (her friend from school) in Monaco and they brought these skimpy bikinis (which isn’t horrifying at all. Not) and she wanted to wear one to the Annual Genovian New Years on the Beach Party, and he told her that no one was seeing her in that but him.

So, yeah. I wasn’t buying that.

“Pfuit!” was Grandmere’s reply when I brought this up. “You will trust me. I know this man. I know what he has done for her.”

“What has he done for her?”

Grandmere said nothing and I was going to push her for more when Arnaud came back and he was flanked by Dad, who looked very cross.

“Clarisse,” Dad said, his brow furrowed. “Belle needs to come downstairs for dinner.”

Grandmere didn’t look at him but gazed at me significantly. “Very well, we are done here. Go, Belle.”

So I sighed and walked downstairs to dinner. I didn’t say anything to them. But I didn’t stomp back to my room afterwards. Hopefully Grandmere’s plan works.

Sunday, August 30st, Royal Genovian Jet, Runway, Genovia

It is ridiculously early. I am going to be so tired when I go to school on Tuesday. Seriously, for a smart man my dad can be really dense sometimes. I mean, hasn’t he heard of jetlag? I’m not even going to have time to settle in to the apartment. And why do we have to stay in an apartment? I don’t care if it is a two storey, five bedroom, three bathroom apartment with a balcony. I like to live in houses (or palaces, as it were) not floors.

I’m having trouble writing clearly because Nicky’s passed out on my lap. I mean, he’s a SMALL CHILD. He should not be woken at ridiculously early hours and made to leave his native land in favor of AMERICA. I’m seriously considering writing a letter to the UN.

I was going to refuse to look at Mom when she was saying goodbye to us, but then I remembered what Grandmere said. I hope step two of her plan is easier to carry out than this one of not being petulant. Anyway, I kind of felt bad for Mom. She was trying really hard not to cry. Especially because Emily was beside herself. She’s still crying a bit now. Luckily Nicky doesn’t really get it. He will later though, when we arrive in New York and he realises that Mom isn’t coming with us and that we’ve moved out of the palace without her. He is going to scream his little lungs off.

I have more immediate concerns though. The pilot is new. And he looked awfully young to me to be an experienced pilot. Not to mention the fact he seems to be rather impatient. We’re still waiting for Paolo, my bodyguard, and Dad to get on.

Mom and Dad are probably saying goodbye. It’s always like this. Obviously no one told the new pilot. Mom never wants to let Dad go. It’s kind of sweet, really. How she starts crying and clenching his clothes and sometimes starts talking about him meeting better women and leaving her for them because she’s not going to be there to scare them off (or have Goren, her bodyguard, do it for her). And then Dad is always like, “Never”. And I mainly just feel like the world sucks because why can’t someone love me like that? Someone like Zac Efron. You know, when he was my age. Seriously though, it’s been like ten minutes. I better look out the window to make sure Lars isn’t holding Paolo up by threatening him with castration if anything happens to us. Like, I’m sure he got it the first time. Poor guy.


No, Paolo’s coming on now.

Mom’s just crying really badly. I should probably be more sensitive to seeing one of my parents cry. If it were Dad I probably would be, in all honesty. But not Mom. Amelie said she saw her mom cry once and it scared her loads. But my mom cries a lot. Like, once a week. One time when I was six I fell down the stairs and broke my wrist and Mom cried more than I did. After the doctor braced my wrist, he had to give Mom a sedative. Dad thought it was hilarious. And she always cries at movies. Even the ones with happy endings. And she cries whenever Aunt Tina reads one of her tragic romance stories and then calls Mom to say that it was nice but unrealistic because love isn’t real, it’s an illusion. Aunt Tina hates romance novels because Aunt Tina has had a broken heart for ten years now. And then there was that time that she cried in front of J.K. Rowling because she never wrote anymore Harry Potter books. Dad laughed then too. He wasn’t laughing now though. Possibly because Mom was gripping him so tightly she was probably cutting off all the blood to the lower half of his body. Mom is scarily strong. I once saw her carry Tilly, Nicholas and Emily, all at once. That’s like … a lot.


She’s still going. Her head is practically attached to his neck.

And Lars is trying to ply her off Dad now.


She hasn’t been this bad since she went to Tokyo two years ago for three months and they weren’t going to be able to see each other once in that time.



Lars got her off.

America here we come.

Can you feel the excitement?


to be continued.


Author’s Notes: The list of “People I love …” is originally from PD7. Mia’s quote is from PD1. Thanks to my beta, Kristin, who rocks my world.

Next Chapter
Current Mood: curiouscurious
Current Music: Tonight - Lykke Li
AbundantFear: Brandon Routhabundantfear on March 5th, 2010 11:38 am (UTC)
I love that I made you read this kiddie series. How awesome is it? I love this story too! Hurrah! :-)
Caitlyn Darcy: Mr. Darcyraining_slash on March 5th, 2010 11:50 am (UTC)
Re: Eee!
Yes, 'Hurrah!' for kiddie books!

Thank you for all your support with this story. I pretty much wrote it just for you. I think you'll like where I plan on taking it too. Hopefully.

I'll email you tomorrow with 'Parade'. I wrote it ages ago for a girl who used to review my stories, but I don't know if she'll even remember me on account of my massive hiatus. It's a little dark, the story. Nice and angsty. I think you'll like it.

And I also wrote a Farscape story but I want to figure out where I'm taking it before I send it to you.

I've been a busy beaver. :-P
(Anonymous) on March 7th, 2010 11:37 pm (UTC)
Re: Eee!
This is really good! Will you be updating?
Caitlyn Darcy: Rob & Kristenraining_slash on March 8th, 2010 06:00 am (UTC)
Re: Eee!
I must certainly will be updating! I'm glad you liked it and thank you very much for reviewing. :-)
Trrrrrraceychrasy on March 11th, 2010 12:58 pm (UTC)
Wow, it's been forever since I've read PD, but you've done a really good job. Mia's daughter is just as melodromatic as I thought ;) Looking forward to the next part! :D
Caitlyn Darcy: Jackie Burkhartraining_slash on March 11th, 2010 02:19 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much reviewing, I'm glad you liked it. :-)
(Anonymous) on March 16th, 2010 07:46 pm (UTC)
This is sooo good! When will the next update beee?

Caitlyn Darcy: Claire Standishraining_slash on March 17th, 2010 07:56 am (UTC)
Re: Update!!!!
Very soon! Thank you so much for reviewing! :-)
(Anonymous) on March 25th, 2010 11:19 am (UTC)
Hey, your story is awesome! I think you really write very well because you can picture persons, situations and first of all, feelings and emotions very naturally in not so many words. You got the right tone for the characters. You should definitely write more and more and more and one day i hope to read something with your own characters. But that's what writing and literature eventually is - create the wolds what readers can enjoy and live along. And about this fanfic, you should update. Soon. Very soon. Very-very soon! Right this minute. Just kidding, but you've got the point:)
Caitlyn Darcy: Lucy Pevensieraining_slash on March 25th, 2010 01:39 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much for your lovely review and kind words! There will be an update shortly. :-)
(Anonymous) on April 1st, 2010 07:48 pm (UTC)
Its almost been a month ;-(
Caitlyn Darcy: Mia Renaldoraining_slash on April 6th, 2010 03:10 pm (UTC)
I'm very sorry to keep you waiting! Here is volume two: http://raining-slash.livejournal.com/8253.html#cutid1
Something Hinky This Way Comes: Glee - Tinacafpows on July 14th, 2010 02:36 pm (UTC)
I like this a lot! :D Good job!
Something Hinky This Way Comes: NCIS - Abby Bluecafpows on July 14th, 2010 02:37 pm (UTC)
I like this a lot! Good job!
Ariellunar47 on December 14th, 2010 09:24 am (UTC)
this is totally the best thing I've read in a long time. Great job!