Royal Rebellions By xNimC.pdf

Royal Rebellions By xNimC

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6683803/1/

Chapter 1- This Is Not Happening

You are a criminal, Bella Swan.

This is what I am thinking as I frantically drive down the damp streets of Forks.

My wide brown eyes are wrought with paranoia as I repeatedly glance in the

rearview mirror for any sign of flashing red and blue lights. Thankfully, there is

nothing but the paved road passing beneath my wheels.

I take a deep breath and keep my eyes on the empty road in front of me,

continually telling myself that it's okay. No one saw. There was no one around.

Besides, it isn't really hit-and-run if you hit a parked car… right?

I mean, who the hell squeezes a shiny silver Volvo into a small ass space in

between two larger vehicles? How do you expect the red Chevy behind you to get

out, or the blue van in front of you? Way to be considerate of others, asshole.

See, my crime record is pretty freakin' clean. This is the first time that I have

done something that would be considered breaking the law. Actually, I'm not

even sure if it is breaking the law. I don't know what it is, that's exactly how

inexperienced I am when it comes to crimes.

I'm innocent, really. I had parked civilly right outside of the adorable bookstore in

Port Angeles. Once I got out, I saw the fancy Volvo squeezed into the space in

between my red truck and a creepy looking van. You know, the kind of van you

would expect a kidnapper to be lurking in. There was also another car right

behind mine.

So I thought to myself, what the fuck? How in the hell am I supposed to get out

of that without hitting anything?

I almost stayed behind to see who exactly the Volvo belonged to, just so that I

could smack them around for their stupidity, but my dad was expecting me.

Bummer.

I had gotten into my truck and attempted to get out of the space but I ended up

pressing on the gas just a little bit too hard, thus causing my truck to heave

forward and leave a big ass dent in the back of the Volvo. Its car alarm went off

and I almost had a heart attack.

Then, I bolted.

So, clearly, it wasn't my fault. It was the Volvo's fault for being in the most

retarded place. Frankly, I'm glad I left a dent in the Volvo's ass. That would teach

the idiot driver a lesson…

By the time I reach my dad's little restaurant in Forks, where he is the chef, I

have talked myself out of feeling guilty. I feel good again.

That is, until I see the paparazzi.

Paparazzi? In Forks? What the hell…

I have to pull up a good twenty feet away from the restaurant because the crowd

of paparazzi with their flashing lights is an intimidating sight. That could only

mean that there would be a celebrity in there, but what would a celeb be doing in

shitty little Forks?

I climb out of my truck and walk over to the nearest pedestrian, a middle aged

woman craning her neck to see more of the chaos.

"Hey, what's going on over there?" I ask her.

"It's the king," she says excitedly, eyes lighting up.

"The king?" I echo in disbelief. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"No one knows," she replies, her gaze locked on the crowd by the doors. There

are Secret Service guards trying to keep it under control. "But he was eating in

the restaurant."

I am speechless, completely baffled as to why King Carlisle Cullen would be

eating in my dad's little eatery. It makes absolutely no sense.

The United States of America has always had a royal family, where the members,

the Cullens, are more celebrities than they are political figures. They don't do

much except sit on their asses and, if they aren't sitting on their asses, throwing

fancy balls with all of the country's elites. The President, Albert Greene, usually

made the political decisions, but he was really bad at it. Like really, really bad at

it.

The Cullens have been royalty since the beginning of the USA's history, and ever

since day one they have been absolutely useless. Now, in 2010, they are just as

useless as they had been back in the day.

Carlisle and Esme, the king and queen, seem like perfectly nice people. The only

thing that pisses me off is that they don't even try to fix the issues in the country.

Now, I actually hate politics. It bores me to tears. But I still feel like the royal

family, having the prestige that they do, should step in and tell the president to

grow some balls and do something with the power that he has.

I'm not sure if it's that easy, but still. If I were part of the royal family, I'd punch

the president in the face and be able to get away with it.

The paparazzi suddenly go crazy as the doors to the restaurant open and King

Carlisle comes out, looking amazing in his sharp suit and flanked by at least four

Secret Service guards. The scene is crazy as reporters, most of them from

Seattle, shove tape recorders and cameras in his face. He keeps completely calm

as he is led over to a shiny black car with tinted windows.

Even after he leaves, the paps and reporters linger, a few of them making their

way inside.

I wonder if my dad is okay, and I'm also dying for details, so I jog forward and

push myself through the crowd.

My dad's quaint little Italian restaurant is almost unrecognizable because of all

the people that definitely don't look like they belong. Most of them are journalists

and reporters from news stations, and I push my way past them to head into the

kitchen.

My dad, Charlie, looks flushed with excitement as he speaks to a few reporters.

"It was a complete surprise, totally unexpected," he's saying. "One second I'm

making cannelloni for Mrs. Thorn, and the next thing I know a Secret Service

guard comes in and says the king is here!"

I am watching all this in shock when I suddenly have a tape recorder pushed in

my face.

"Bella Swan?" I am confronted by a reporter, a blonde chick with frighteningly

white teeth. "You're Charlie Swan's daughter, yes? So, tell me, what's it like

knowing you get to live in the manor?"

"Um, what?" I stutter. What she is saying has barely registered with me, and

once it does I don't want to believe it.

"The Cullens, you get to live with the Cullens!" she says, obviously more excited

than I am. "How does it feel?"

My mind is spinning. I can't quite comprehend what's going on. People are

talking, this reporter is annoying the shit out of me, and it's all so chaotic that I

feel sick to my stomach.

For the first time, I notice the cameraman right in front of me.

Holy fuck, I'm live!

"Well?" the reporter presses. She shoves the recorder so close to my mouth that

I almost swallow it. "What do you say?"

"I say… I say I'm gonna be sick." I glance down at her shiny pumps. "You don't

value those shoes, do you?" I know that my unnaturally pale complexion will

scare her into believing me.

The reporter blinks at me and then suddenly she's gone, leaving me to watch as

my dad is continuing his interview with the other reporter.

"… It's amazing," he's saying. "This is going to be a big deal for both me and my

daughter. It's going to change our lives."

What is he talking about? I am starting to freak out just as my dad is done

talking to Channel 4 News, and he finally turns to me.

"Bella!" he says, walking over to me. "Where have you been, kiddo?"

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Oh man, I don't even know where to begin," he says, and his eyes are bright

with liveliness. He looks ten years younger. "The king stopped by, God knows

why, and ordered the special. Next thing I know, he's ordering almost everything

on the menu. You know what the best part is? He comes in here and asks me if I

want to work in the manor! The Cullens' manor, Bells!"

I can't breathe. It's slowly starting to sink in, and I don't think I like it at all.

"What did you tell him?" I ask, and although my voice is barely audible, I know

he hears me.

"I said yes! We move in next week. Isn't that great, Bella?"

He pulls me into a hug and I am frozen.

Oh. My. God.

This is not happening to me.

Somebody pinch me so I can wake up from this nightmare.

Unfortunately, I don't wake up from the nightmare. I get more cameras shoved in

my face, more reporters harassing me, and more nausea in my stomach.

No one leaves me the fuck alone until I throw up on live television.

I hadn't thrown a tantrum since I was eight and if someone told me I'd throw one

at the age of eighteen, I wouldn't believe them.

My dad and I never fight. We're pretty close and it has been that way ever since

my mother passed away when I was three. He is my rock, my father, and my

friend.

So it almost ruins things between us when he decides that we'd be moving into

Cullen Manor. At first I think he has said yes because he's excited. After all,

people do stupid shit when they're all keyed up up about something.

Boy, was I wrong.

We argue. We scream at each other. I tell him I hate him and then start crying

because that is a lie. We talk and he explains that it would be good for us. We'd

be getting paid for our services and once we got enough money we would leave.

Who am I kidding? Charlie wouldn't want to leave. This is the manor we're talking

about. This is the royal family. Kings and queens and princes and balls and all

that other fairytale bullshit. Except, we wouldn't really be a part of it. We'd be like

slaves.

Fine, not really slaves since supposedly the Cullens treat the staff really well.

Supposedly.

But I have no choice but to join him. I am a high school graduate with not

enough money to afford college. My dad's excuse is that the money from his

being one of the palace's chefs and me being a maid of some kind would go

towards my education.

How can I say no to that?

Before I know it, I am towing luggage into the back of my truck and wiping tears

away as I say goodbye to Forks.

It is with a heavy heart that I get out of my truck in front of Cullen Manor. It was

either my truck or my dad's old Subaru. I didn't have the heart to part with my

trusty old Chevy.

The Cullens' palace/mansion/manor is… gargantuan.

The second I climb out of my truck, I am floored. It's even more intimidating in

person, because of course I have seen pictures of it in all the tabloids and

newspapers.

It is absolutely ancient, but it has been renovated a little over the years so that it

won't collapse when the wind blows or something. It looks like a cross between a

castle and a mansion, not big enough to be a castle but way larger than any old

mansion. It is straight out of some seventeenth century English romance novel,

with its towering brick walls, narrow windows, peaked roofs, and massive gardens

out front. The pathways weave through the gardens and stretch on towards the

front doors. Not only are there beautiful gardens and perfectly cut hedges out

front, but there is also a massive fountain with statues that squirt water out of

one thing or another.

Since the building is located almost in the middle of nowhere, I don't feel like I

am in Washington State anymore. I feel like I am in England or France or some

other place where old novels take place.

It doesn't feel like reality.

I can hear horses neighing, except I don't see any. There are Secret Service

guards standing at the doors, sunglasses on even in the cloudy weather, backs

straight, black suits pressed perfectly.

"Miss, your keys?"

I turn to see a man who looks like a bellhop from some fancy hotel, except his

uniform is a dark purple and his hat isn't nearly as offensive.

"My keys?" I repeat, confused.

He nods, his face serious. "Yes."

"… Can I ask why?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, unamused. "So I can park it, miss."

"Park it where?"

"Bella, just give the man the keys," Charlie says tiredly. He is straightening his

clothes out; why he is dressed in one of his best suits, I don't know.

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