Status: Has been on Hiatus due to the huge rush of uni life, but now first year is over, I'm going to do my best to give you lovelies the ending you deserve! =)
Diary of a Reluctant Ruler
Glockenspiels
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Politics seem to be infamous in every country for spending hours and hours in boring roundabout debating, extending over every single policy that has ever come into contact with the law, before deciding after all, that it might be very well to leave alone and do nothing for the moment.
Adria has never been any different, though we only became a democracy very recently, so our time-period of discussion-babble is shorter than most.
Down with tyrants! Up with democracy!
I woke up early enough, dressed in a posh dark blue skirt-suit which grandmother had selected for me the night before, avoiding high heels and selecting some ballet pumps instead. I fixed my hair up, and put in some pearl studs.
Grandma and Dad met me in the hall, with the Ambassador in tow.
From there we travelled into Rous, where the Halls of Parliament stood in the centre of the city, surrounded by elegant public buildings. Inside, we were ushered to the main chambers, where the gathering of politicians already congregated.
Everyone stood as we entered, sitting again as we sat. Dad remained standing, held out a hand in an official gesture, and began to speak.
“…In Independence and Community, as is my right as King of Adria, I declare parliament to be in session,” he finished, sitting after a moment of polite applause.
After a second’s pause the Prime Minister stood up, and began to drone through a list of bills and regulations which were to be discussed over the next few weeks. I shuffled backwards in my seat so that I could lean against the back without slumping, and began to drift into an attentive-looking-yet-secretly-daydreaming-state. Being constantly in public view allows one to perfect this particular skill until it is second nature.
It didn’t take long for James to become the centre of my daydreaming. There was no denying it, I was well and truly crushing on him.
What an absurd phrase.
It doesn’t actually mean crushing silly.
*growls* I knew that, fool. I just meant from an intellectual viewpoint…
Viewpoint shmewpoint.
Caught in the middle of a waltz with said prince charming, I was interrupted by a crash from the public balcony. The heads of parliament shot up, alongside mine, to register James clutching his toe and trying to rebalance the chair he’d just knocked over.
I couldn’t help it. I burst into a fit of laughter so loud that the whole of parliament switched its eyes to me. Bright red, I hiccupped as I tried to contain it. I looked back up at the balcony to see James sitting casually on the afore-mentioned chair, watching me with a vaguely interested look.
“As I was saying,” the Prime Minister began again, “the price of glockenspiels has doubled in the last few months and therefore…”
I glared at James, but he avoided my look, watching the prime minister with rapt attention. I huffed, and turned my attention to him also. Thoughts of revenge began to swirl around my head.
Push him down the stairs.
Make him eat a worm.
Poison his food.
Bake him a cake…
Laxative in his hot chocolate.
Force him to marry me…
Stab hi- hang on, what? Marry him? That’s not a punishment you dweeb!!
Parliament had nearly finished when James entered, so thankfully, I was able to quickly accost him before he left. Ignoring Grandma’s glare as I quickly evaded politicians, I made my way to the balcony.
Damn it, he escaped.
I leant over the empty balcony to see if he had gone downstairs, but couldn’t see him.
“Ah!” I jumped, as a hand touched my shoulder.
“Jumpy much?” James asked.
“No,” I denied, avoiding his eyes.
I stepped away from the balcony, going into the corridor.
“So…” James said, leaning against one side of the door.
“So what?” I snapped, annoyed.
“So I made you look immature in front of parliament,” James said, “Sorry.”
“ ‘Sorry’ doesn’t quite cover it, does it?” I replied, immediately horrified at the fact that I had nicked my mother’s phrase.
Please God, I don’t want to become my mother.
“Well, what would?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, shuffling out of the way of a passing MP.
“How about I surprise you?”
“Fine, but good-surprise.”
“Is there a bad type of surprise?”
“Yes! The type that makes me laugh in front of the whole of parliament!”
“Point taken,” James smiled.
“Deal?”
“Deal,” James said, smiling as if he had come off better than I had.
I glared back.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Politics seem to be infamous in every country for spending hours and hours in boring roundabout debating, extending over every single policy that has ever come into contact with the law, before deciding after all, that it might be very well to leave alone and do nothing for the moment.
Adria has never been any different, though we only became a democracy very recently, so our time-period of discussion-babble is shorter than most.
Down with tyrants! Up with democracy!
I woke up early enough, dressed in a posh dark blue skirt-suit which grandmother had selected for me the night before, avoiding high heels and selecting some ballet pumps instead. I fixed my hair up, and put in some pearl studs.
Grandma and Dad met me in the hall, with the Ambassador in tow.
From there we travelled into Rous, where the Halls of Parliament stood in the centre of the city, surrounded by elegant public buildings. Inside, we were ushered to the main chambers, where the gathering of politicians already congregated.
Everyone stood as we entered, sitting again as we sat. Dad remained standing, held out a hand in an official gesture, and began to speak.
“…In Independence and Community, as is my right as King of Adria, I declare parliament to be in session,” he finished, sitting after a moment of polite applause.
After a second’s pause the Prime Minister stood up, and began to drone through a list of bills and regulations which were to be discussed over the next few weeks. I shuffled backwards in my seat so that I could lean against the back without slumping, and began to drift into an attentive-looking-yet-secretly-daydreaming-state. Being constantly in public view allows one to perfect this particular skill until it is second nature.
It didn’t take long for James to become the centre of my daydreaming. There was no denying it, I was well and truly crushing on him.
What an absurd phrase.
It doesn’t actually mean crushing silly.
*growls* I knew that, fool. I just meant from an intellectual viewpoint…
Viewpoint shmewpoint.
Caught in the middle of a waltz with said prince charming, I was interrupted by a crash from the public balcony. The heads of parliament shot up, alongside mine, to register James clutching his toe and trying to rebalance the chair he’d just knocked over.
I couldn’t help it. I burst into a fit of laughter so loud that the whole of parliament switched its eyes to me. Bright red, I hiccupped as I tried to contain it. I looked back up at the balcony to see James sitting casually on the afore-mentioned chair, watching me with a vaguely interested look.
“As I was saying,” the Prime Minister began again, “the price of glockenspiels has doubled in the last few months and therefore…”
I glared at James, but he avoided my look, watching the prime minister with rapt attention. I huffed, and turned my attention to him also. Thoughts of revenge began to swirl around my head.
Push him down the stairs.
Make him eat a worm.
Poison his food.
Bake him a cake…
Laxative in his hot chocolate.
Force him to marry me…
Stab hi- hang on, what? Marry him? That’s not a punishment you dweeb!!
Parliament had nearly finished when James entered, so thankfully, I was able to quickly accost him before he left. Ignoring Grandma’s glare as I quickly evaded politicians, I made my way to the balcony.
Damn it, he escaped.
I leant over the empty balcony to see if he had gone downstairs, but couldn’t see him.
“Ah!” I jumped, as a hand touched my shoulder.
“Jumpy much?” James asked.
“No,” I denied, avoiding his eyes.
I stepped away from the balcony, going into the corridor.
“So…” James said, leaning against one side of the door.
“So what?” I snapped, annoyed.
“So I made you look immature in front of parliament,” James said, “Sorry.”
“ ‘Sorry’ doesn’t quite cover it, does it?” I replied, immediately horrified at the fact that I had nicked my mother’s phrase.
Please God, I don’t want to become my mother.
“Well, what would?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, shuffling out of the way of a passing MP.
“How about I surprise you?”
“Fine, but good-surprise.”
“Is there a bad type of surprise?”
“Yes! The type that makes me laugh in front of the whole of parliament!”
“Point taken,” James smiled.
“Deal?”
“Deal,” James said, smiling as if he had come off better than I had.
I glared back.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hello marvellous people!I really havn't got much to say today.
No, really?!
Only that, if you read the authors note in a chapter quite a while back, you'll remember me saying that I'd "...been swept away writing a psycho story". If anyone's interested in reading it, I've published it here:
Poppy.
It kinda a long short story. If that makes sense! And I've entered it in a contest, so wish me luck!
Thanks for the wonderful comments as per usual. ^_^
Ivy, xXGreyWingsXx (c) 2008