Hey! I just recently came back from traveling to Paris, Ireland, and London, and this is an idea that I got when we visited the palace of Versailles. And just so you know, I don’t know much at all of the history of the people who lived there, only what I heard from the tour guide. This is a fiction story, and I don’t know enough yet to get all the facts right. And I wouldn’t know how to find the particular facts I would need for this story anyway. Maybe someday, in the future, when I’ve learned more about European history, I’ll edit this story. So please don’t flame me! If you have some suggestions, that’s fine, but please don’t get mad if my facts are wrong.

This is just a one chapter story.

14-year-old Faye Granger and her family walked slowly through the palace of Versailles in awe, listening to the history that the tour guide was reciting. Faye Granger drank up the history and the sights, thinking of stories and novels that she could write about this ancient palace.

She could picture the way it looked before it fell into disuse. She could see hundreds of carriages filled with even more rich, beautiful people pulling up through the large gates in front of the castle and rattling to a stop in front of the un-aged, life-size statue of the King on his horse, before it turned green with age. She saw the castle, shining in the sunlight, not yet aged and dirty. The Ladies and Lords stepped out of their carriages regally, dressed in their finest. She saw the royal family in their apartments, getting ready for a grand ball. The girls’ corsets were being tightened and their hair was being curled and pinned.

The tour was almost over, and the guide led them to the opera house. When they sat on the soft velvet benches directly in front of the stage, she dug through her bookbag for her beloved leather Lord of the Rings journal and immediately began to write furiously. She only barely heard the tour guide’s voice, giving even more information. Faye wrote the last few facts, and then began to write down ideas for stories. The ideas flowed from her blue ballpoint pen, seemingly never-ending.

But as she wrote, the lights became lower, and she felt as if she were alone in the grand room.

That’s not possible, she thought. Why would they all just leave me here?

She brought her head up slowly, closing her journal, clicking her pen shut, and putting them in her bag. She was totally alone, and the lights seemed to have dimmed. The sky outside the door, which had been gray and leaking rain, was suddenly blue and sunny.

What happened?

“Lady Adelaide!! Lady Adelaide, where are you?” she heard a woman’s voice yell in the corridor outside.

AdelaideNo one uses the name Adelaide these days…Adelaide was the name of the daughter of King Louis XV that the tour guide was saying had Mozart as a guest in her apartment.

“Adelaide!!”

Then a young girl, maybe no more than 17 years old, came rushing into the opera house, wearing a plain dress that would have been normal for a servant girl in the time of King Louis. She saw Faye and slowed to a walk, looking relieved.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! It’s time to get ready for the opera!”

“What?!” As soon as that single word emerged from her lips, Faye covered them again. Her French wasn’t very good, but she could understand everything that the French girl was saying, and she herself had just spoken in perfect French. She tentatively lowered her hand.

“Why are you calling me Adelaide?”

The girl looked at her like she was crazy.

“Because you are Princess Adelaide. Does that sound familiar? What about Annette? Do you recognize my name?”

Faye gasped. What is going on here?!

The girl, Annette, sighed. “Adelaide, stop playing games. I need to help you get ready! You can’t go to an opera or a ball in your day clothes!”

Faye looked down at herself and another gasp escaped her lips. She was wearing a low-cut navy blue dress with quarter-length flowing sleeves. The dress hugged her small figure, and the skirt covered matching navy blue shoes that looked like ballet slippers to Faye. The dress, like Annette’s, would have been normal for a girl in the time of King Louis. But hers looked as if it would have been worn by a royal.

Where am I?