The fanfare began, and the elaborate gold embroidered doors opened, the hinges creaking from the weight. "His Royal Highness, Prince Nicholas Ryan Fredrik the Third," stated the Royal Announcer.

A male in an expensive looking suit stepped into the room; his left hand in his pocket, his right adjusting his pink silk tie; crushing the rose petals on the blue carpet beneath his feet. He smiled at the crowd and the paparazzi, who were snapping profusely, and nearly blinding him. He went down the four steps, covered in rich, sapphire carpet.

"Thankyou all for, er, coming," he said in a slightly amused voice, smiling widely for the cameras. The young ladies in the room melted. "I think the buffet's open now," he said to the photographers, who laughed, along with the ladies who giggled demurely. The giggles and laughs were silenced when another round of fanfares began. The charismatic male stood next to the extravagant banister, waiting for his sibling.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Jasper Kinsley."

The doors opened again, and another male stepped onto the carpet, his eyebrow up, his hands in his suit pockets; the lines on his face evident as he frowned at the many faces peering curiously at him. He didn't bother to smile for the cameras as he huffily stepped down the steps, and stood next to his younger brother. He adjusted his own silk tie; his yellow.

"I see all's well, Ryan," the elder male whispered out of the corner of his mouth to his brother, who stood there, smiling and waving slightly at the cameras.

"I see you're still a prick, Jasper."

"Mother's not very pleased, you know. You've upset her thoroughly."

"Oh, speak properly, dumbass. Just because you're a prince, doesn't mean you have to talk like you're a prince from the eighteenth century. You can swear, you know."

"Within earshot of these freaking snaparazzi?" he spat, ("There we go. 'Freaking' is a good start,") finally giving in to the shouts of 'Prince Jasper! Give us a wave!' and giving small waves to the whispering crowd, who were waiting anxiously for the next sibling to arrive. Finally, another set of fanfares sounded throughout the hall, quietening the crowd; making them stare at the door.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Sara."

The males in the room straightened their bows and cleared their throats, smiling widely for the beautiful princess in the cream strapless summer dress. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back as she casually flicked some loose strands behind there. She went down the steps, and stood next to her two younger brothers, who were watching the door again anxiously.

"Jazzy, Rye, are you as pissed as I am? Nice prank, by the way, Ryan. Nice touch with the ink," she mouthed out of the corner of her mouth, winking lightly at Nicholas and smiling at the paparazzi, making her younger brother smile.

"Thanks, Sara. Jasper here thinks it was a waste of time."

"Waste of time? For a gold-digger? Never. Plus, it was a good way for mother's new—" the princess shuddered as she forced herself to say it, "—husband to showcase his, er, perfectly eloquent mouth."

"He's not her husband yet," Jasper grumbled, frowning profusely.

"Whatever, Jazzy. He as good is. Mother's not going to change her mind in one hour. Besides, at least she knows his, er, happy disposition."

Nicholas smirked widely, and even Jasper cracked a smile. Both of them couldn't help smile, reminiscing about the previous afternoon's proceedings, where the Queen's new husband had sworn his creative little mouth off when the ink of the pen in his chest pocket began to leak—even though there seemed to be no ink in the pen.

The fanfares began again, silencing the crowd, and the announcer cleared his throat, getting ready to introduce the newcomer.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Catherine Anne … His Royal Highness Prince Matthew James … Her Royal Highness Princess Sophia Lorelai …" droned the announcer, announcing and introducing each and every one of Nicholas's and Jasper's and Jasmine's brothers and sisters, all of whom were 'blessed' by having no apparent last name. They were all either Prince Nicholas or Princess Sophia or Prince Matthew—nothing else. For the meantime, anyway.

The six siblings stood next to each other, standing from youngest (Sophia) to eldest (Jasmine), twiddling their thumbs, and obviously bored and getting restless waiting for their mother and soon to be new step-father, all of whom remembering the little scenario of the afternoon before.

The six siblings twiddled their thumbs, bored, and talked amongst themselves, letting the paparazzi snap away.

All of this happening, whilst the rest of the world were watching, miles and miles away; many glued to their sets, waiting for the first glimpses of the soon to be new Royal Couple of Montagè.

"Isn't he absolutely gorgeous?"


"Come on, Lee. Isn't Prince Nicholas hot?"


"Oh, you—you—just look at him," Harriet scowled, getting off her bed and shoving a picture from the magazine of the princely Prince in Lee's face. Lee swatted the motionless image of the stupid smile.

"Oh, get OVER it, Harriet. He's a stupid, rich, emotionless git … who just happens to be a royal."

"NO!" Harriet squealed, pretending to cover the ears of the Prince Nicholas photo. "Don't listen to the evil Elliott, my sweet prince. She's a crazed madwoman, and she hasn't experienced love ever before. She doesn't know how it makes her heart feel oh so light."

Lee rolled her eyes. "Oh God."

"How it makes her soul feel like a light zephyr, and it floats in the breeze at the sound of your voice …" she began dreamily, staring languorously at the wall in front of her, covered in posters of the Royal Family.

"Erm, does that even make sense? A zephyr is a light wind, and it can't float in the breeze, because, technically, it is the breeze."

"No, no, no, the soul. The soul floats in the wind at the sound of his voice."

"Oh, you mean his drawl?"

"No. His melodious, musical, wonderful voice … the one that send a shiver all the way down to my …" and she dropped her head, making Lee follow her gaze.


Harriet sat on her bed, hugging her cushion, on which was the magazine clip out of the Montegian Prince.

"Oooh, he's so hot," she said, as she glued here eyes to the minute screen on their minute TV, watching the youngest prince amongst his six elder siblings, smiling widely for the cameras, and mouthing something to his brother, who wasn't smiling at all. "Oh, look at Prince Jasper. He's such a party pooper. Look at him, he's not even smiling. And he's talking to him," she finished dreamily.

"Harriet, Jasper and Nicholas—"

"Prince Jasper and Prince Nicholas," corrected Harriet promptly, making Lee roll her eyes in utter disdain.

"Whatever—Jasper and Nicholas are brothers, therefore, if Jasper were excited by the fact that he's talking to his brother, which I very much doubt, there would probably be something seriously wrong with Jasper. Seriously."

Harriet rolled her eyes this time. "Oh, stop your smartarse comments with me, beeyatch."

Lee stood up swiftly and grabbed a nearby cushion, took the two steps to Harriet's bed with ease, and started to pummel the squealing girl. An out-of-breath Harriet re-surfaced briefly, and used the time to grab her own pillow. She stole the cushion out of Lee's hands, leaving her utterly defenceless. Harriet cackled with glee, and initiated her own punishment. Lee started to scream with pain from the abnormally hard cushion, when the door swung open, and in the doorway stood the formidable Jennifer Harris, in her checked dressing gown on top of her pink satin pyjamas. Harriet was still pummelling Lee, but Lee's eyes went wide when she saw the 20 year old Level Captain.

"Harri … Harri … Harri, stop—"


"Harriet!" Lee screamed, stopping Harriet in her tracks. Lee nudged her head to the left, indicating the presence of the daunting figure at the door.

"What?" Harriet asked blankly, still unaware of Jennifer.

"Erm, icks-nay on the ENNIFER-JAY!"



"Wha—OH," said Harriet, as reality dawned on the girl. "OH."

"Yes, OH," snarled Jennifer, her hands on her hips, her feet half a metre apart.

Harriet immediately stood up, along with Lee, and both instantaneously brought their stiff palms to their eyebrows in a salute.

"MA'AM, WE APOLOGISE, MA'AM!" the two girls said in unison, staring at the empty space above the doorway, ultimately above Jennifer Harris—the two were avoiding the elder girl's fiery and very angry eyes.

"DO YOU TWO KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS, CADETS?" she screamed, startling Lee and Harriet, who were silent, with only the faint sounds of the ongoing television behind them ringing throughout the room, up until now.

"DO YOU?" she repeated, once again making the two jump.

"NO, MA'AM, NO!"


Neither of the girls stirred.


"Well, ma'am, what does P—Post Meridian m—mean?"


The girls' faces went blank.


"Oh, yeah, Briggy G. told us that, remember?" said Lee, smiling lightly. Briggy G was Brigadier General Rigby, who was known for his love of rap music. Which was all well, but when he started dancing to Fifty Cents' "In Da Club", everyone would raise their eyebrows at the sight of a fully-dressed man, dressed in his full peak uniform, dancing stupidly to the ragged beats.

"SILENCE!" boomed Jennifer Harris, silencing the titters of the two girls. "YOU TWO! GET TO BED! WE'LL DEAL WITH THIS IN THE MORNING WITH MAJOR KINGSTON!"


"Right." She turned around briskly, to face the gapes and open mouths of many of the new recruits to the Armed Guards, the females of whom were gripping their pictures of Prince Jasper and Matthew and Nicholas, etcetera. "AND WHAT ARE YOU ALL STARING AT? GET BACK TO BED!" she screamed, pointing her straight arm to her right, to the other dorms with the open doors. The onlookers scattered, some of whom were squealing, the majority of which promptly slamming their doors once safely in their own sanctuaries.

Level Captain Jennifer Harris (and yes, it was all capitalised) turned back to the two girls, their faltering salutes straightening up once more when she turned to face them.

"TO BED! NOW! AND TURN THAT RUBBISH OFF!" she yelled, raising her eyebrow towards the low-volumed television.

Harriet jumped to the television, grabbing the remote from the top of it, pointing it towards the TV, and pressed the off button to switch the TV off. The picture in the TV froze and went slightly blurry; it then darkened, and suddenly, the screen went dead and blank.

"TO BED!" bellowed Jennifer Harris, still fuming in her dressing gown.

Lee and Harriet jumped into their beds, covering their faces with their quilts.


Jennifer Harris switched off the lights, her silhouette illuminating in the doorway from the light of the hallway behind her. Her eyes darted from Lee's bed to Harriet's, making sure that they were in there for good. She then stalked out of the doorway, and promptly slammed the door behind her.

"Lee?" whispered Harriet after an hour. "Elliott?"

No response.





"Elliott? Are you awake?" Harriet said, throwing a pillow at Lee's bed.

Lee grumbled, making a sound like a frog when the pillow hit her. "I am now."

"Oh. Good."

Harriet silently uncovered herself, and folded the quilt immaculately over the foot of the bed. She swung her legs over one side of the bed, and silently stood up, turning on her touch lamp as she went. She began to tiptoe to the other side of the room.

"What're you doing?" asked Lee, incredulous. "Woman! Didn't you hear what Jennifer Harris said?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harriet said, rolling her eyes.

"No, not yeah, yeah!"

Harriet rolled her eyes again. She was now right in front of the TV. Harriet grasped the smooth remote in her hand, and pointed it the television. With a soft tchck, the television came to life, and a picture of a couple kneeling in a church appeared on the screen.

"Oooh! It's not finished yet!" Harriet said with glee, rubbing her hands together. "Yay!" Harriet knelt down in front of the TV, on top of a very tattered

"How the hell can you stand to watch a three hour wedding?" hissed Lee, who was squirming in her own bed, afraid that Jennifer Harris might come in here again.

Harriet suddenly squealed out aloud. "OOOOH! There he is," she sighed dreamily, placing left hand over her fisted right hand, and putting the two hands underneath her chin. She wiggled with delight, and then she walked on her knees to the television, placing her fingertips on the face of Prince Nicholas. "He is so dreamy …"

Lee rolled her eyes. "Oh, God. Spare me."

"Shut up, Lee."

Lee rolled her eyes again, and turned to face the wall. The soft glare of the television reflected on the white walls of the room. She could only slightly hear the voices emanating from the box.

"… Do you, Queen Marguerite of Montagè, take this man, Lance Martin Patrius the Fourth, to be your lawfully wedded husband – to love and to cherish, till death do you part, and as long as you both shall live?"

A dainty, soft voice replied, "I do."

"Prince Nicholas, I love you," whispered Harriet to the television.

Lee turned around. "Do you mind? We have training tomorrow, and plus, we have to see Major Kingston!"

Harriet sighed. "Oh, fine. You're just like Prince Jasper. Such a party pooper." She stood up from her position and pointed the remote, once again, to the televisions. She pressed the button, and the picture went blurry – then, it went dead.

"Goodnight," said Lee to Harriet, but she stole a glace at the digital alarm clock on her bedside table, the numbers 1 and 30 illuminating like angry red sirens. "No, wait, good morning."

"Good Morning, Lee," said Harriet, who was snuggling into her own bed. "Good night, my lovely prince," she said to the picture on her wall of the smiling prince. "Sweet dreams." And with that, Harriet blew a kiss.

"Oh, God," whined Lee. "Spare me."

"Do you, Queen Marguerite of Montagè, take this man, Lance Martin Patrius the Fourth, to be your lawfully wedded husband – to love and to cherish, till death do you part, and as long as you both shall live?"

Many people in the church dabbing the corners of their eyes. The six siblings all sat in the front of the church, dressed immaculately in their best outfits. All of them had smiles plastered onto their faces, which faded away when the paparazzi were shooed off by the Armed Guards.

"Ryan, why isn't mummy crying?" Sophia asked in German.

"Why should she be crying, ma chere Sophia?" Ryan answered in French.

"She's marrying someone else. Not daddy," replied Sophia in English, giving up practising her languages.

Prince Nicholas Ryan Fredrik the Third swallowed the lump in his throat. "Daddy's not here anymore, Princess Sophia," Ryan said in plain English.

Sophia looked at her Mary-Janes clad feet, swinging them from side to side. Her feet hardly brushed the carpeted floor of St. Matthew's Basilica. "I wish he was here," she whispered suddenly.

Nicholas looked over at his four older brothers and sisters, all of whom (particularly Jasper) were on the verge of falling asleep. He sighed.

"Me too, Princess Sophia," Ryan said in French, slapping softly on his thighs, offering a seat for the beautiful mini princess in her billowy pink chiffon dress.

Sophia stared restlessly at her mother's back, scrunching up her nose. She looked at Ryan, who was smiling at his little sister. "Okay," she whispered. She clambered off the seat, and lifted her arms up in the air for Ryan to lift her up into his lap. Ryan did so, nudging Jasper in the process and waking him up from his brief slumber.

"Is the fuck married yet?" he whispered suddenly, and stupidly, in a voice loud enough for only the siblings to hear. Matthew, who was sitting next to Jasper, smiled widely and started to snuff a laugh. He punched Jasper in the arm, who groaned lightly in pain. He punched Matthew back, and Matthew was about to retaliate, when Catherine intervened.

"Stop it, you two! You're acting a like a seven year old!" she hissed, slapping Matthew and making him stop.

Everyone looked at little Sophia, who had fallen asleep in her big brother's arms; her head resting on Ryan's right shoulder. He stared at his two elder brothers, who stared at him back.

"What?" he tried to say, but couldn't, since his mouth was full of Princess Sophia's flaming red hair. He spat the hair out noisily, stirring Sophia, who yawned softly. "Sorry, Sophia," he apologised. He turned again to his brothers. "What?" he repeated.

"Nothing," Matthew said, smiling slightly. "It's just; Sophia hates all of us except you." Jasper, Jasmine, Catherine, and Matthew nodded in agreement.

"Sophia doesn't hate you. You just don't spend enough time with her," Ryan whispered, looking down at the cherubic face in his shoulder. Every one of his siblings smiled slightly.

"She's so cute," said Catherine.

"Yeah," smiled Jasmine.

Ryan smiled too, which only lasted a couple of seconds, because the Wedding March started to play.

"… You may kiss the bride," the priest said, gesturing to the beautiful queen in her long-trained, stunningly white dress.

"I thought royals weren't supposed to wear white in their second wedding?" whispered Catherine to Jasmine, who shrugged.

"Mother didn't care. She said she liked white, and that's what she'll have."

Catherine made an "Oh" sound; and she looked at the two people in front of the church, kissing lightly. Their mother smiled widely with happiness.

"Princess Sophia," said Ryan softly in the sleeping Sophia's ear, "we now officially have a new daddy."

A/N: Once again, the names of the characters, places, events, etc., are all of my own imagination. Do not plaigiarize, or else I'll have to book you in for a session with my school librarian., and make her talk to you about NOT plagiarizing. Trust me, it's not pretty.

I decided that I'd put this chapter up, too, considering that the Prologue would pretty much be useless if I hadn't, like, done anything after it. Thanks, you guys!