One day my father took me to the park. I was about five years old so I don't remember much. I do remember that I was pretending to be a princess. A little boy, about the same age as me, I think, came up to me and said he was a prince. He asked me to marry him, of course I said yes. What little girl doesn't dream or marrying a prince. We said I do under a little tree and he had me write my full name on a slip of paper. His family must have been visiting France, because I never saw him again.
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The sun is bright, it's making it very hard to get the lighting for my landscape painting just right. I groan in frustration. The French Alps are beautiful, but the sun is against me today. Maybe I'll go into town and try to paint the small main street. I only have a few more days left to complete my final project. Papa was kind enough to let me stay the week to paint my hometown, but I have to be finished by Saturday so I can catch the Sunday train to Paris.
I reach my quaint town. The memories flood back as I walk down main street. The little café that me and Papa would go to. Old Mr. Romeire's shoe shop, the cheese and bread store, all the little things that make home, home. I truly love this place. I set down my stool and easel. The stroke of a wet paint brush, the white canvas turning colourful, it is the most satisficing thing in the world. Art is my life, always has been, always shall be.
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The sun has begun to set. My painting of main street turned out quiet nicely. Tomorrow I will take another crack at the Alps. The paintings are for my final project at the Paris College of Art. It's my last year there and I want my professeur to be impressed. He has been such a great teacher. I'm going to miss college life, but I have dreams to make it big in the artist industry.
I hike up the little hill leading to my childhood house. In the evening sun it glows a rainbow of colours. All the windows of the little cottage have been replaced with one of a kind stain glass murals, just like a Catholic Church. Papa made a fortune when he was around my age making new stain glass windows for multiple Churches across Europe. Once I was born, he settled down in this tiny town to raise me. Now he makes glass art for tourists and locals.
I open the door of our little cottage. It's small, sure, but its home. Papa rushes to the entrée. If you looked at me and Papa, you would be able to tell that I was his daughter. We both have the same sharp jawline, shy smiles, sun kisses sprawled across our noses, and soft hazel eyes that sparkle only artists have. The only difference is that my hair is red as fire, while Papa's is a chestnut brown. The hair is a gift from my mother, how dreadful.
"Amelia, I am so glad your here, we have visitors who wish to speak with you." Papa says rapidly.
What! I was not expecting visitors, who could be here. Papa leads me to the kitchen. Two men with short hair and serious faces are sitting at the dining table. They both are wearing a crisp navy blue uniform with gold trim. Whoever these men are, they look important. I sit across from the younger looking one.
"You are Amelia Rose Reiger, correct?" The older one asks in English.
"Yes, that is me, who are you and why are you here to meet with me." I reply in English. I am fluent in both languages. Although we live in France, Papa was born in England, we live here because it was easier for Papa to make money. And I was born here making me a citizen of France, and Papa wanted me to have some connection to my mother. Somedays I wish we lived in England.
"We are from the kingdom of Arienast. The Queen has ordered us to find the young women that her son married eighteen years ago at a park in this here town. In our country that marriage is viewed as valid. The Queen asks that you come to the castle and try to bond with the Prince, she has high hopes that you two will agree to finalize the marriage you started years ago."
"Hold on, how do you know that this girl your prince married was me and not some girl visiting that has the same name as me."
The guard pulls out a slip of paper with my name written on it in very messily. I start to say that that could be any five year old's handwriting, but the guard pulls out a photograph of five year old me holding hands with a little boy.
"We would like if you could come to the palace for a few months and see if you would like to become the princess. We will let you two talk this over."
I let out a choked laugh. This is insane. It's like something out of a story.
"Amelia," Papa switches back to French. "What do you think."
"I think that this is BS. Who sends guards to someone's house 18 years after meeting them for a hour at a park to tell them that the little kid marriage they pretended is viewed as real and they have to go to their castle and try to bond with them!"
"I think it could benefit you"
I stare at Papa like he has two heads. Is he seriously considering what the guards are saying.
"I mean, the boy is a prince, if you did get married, you'd be a princess."
"Who said I wanted to be married or a princess!"
"Even if you don't hit it off you could always come back here, or maybe the royal family will see your art skills and give you a job. Or you might find true love at the palace?"
"I'm in college, I have to get my degree. I have to graduate Papa."
"If you were able to graduate, would you go with these men to their kingdom to meet the prince? And before you say 'what if they are rapists?' I googled their country and royal seal and they are not traffickers'. Trust me, Petit."
I turn to the men, "I will agree to this arrangement, if I can finish collage. I graduate in three weeks. You can take me to your prince once I have a degree in hand."
The men step outside to make a phone call to the queen. When they come back all they say is to be packed and ready to go when its graduation day.
I can't believe this is happening to me.
thank you if your reading this i am so grateful, i really hope that you read this till the end of the story. also this is the longest chapter ive ever written, next person POV is the prince, cant wait to write that! Byeeeeee my awesome people
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The Prince The Artist The Maid The Guard.
RomanceA young French girl "married" a young boy at the playground when they were both 5. Years latter she finds out that he is a prince and their marriage is viewed as valid in his country. She is suddenly whisked away to a grand palace and to a ton of ro...
