UNROYAL - a christmas short story [COMPLETE]

Chapter One: An Obscure Country

My name is Hollyn Smith, and my life is literally a Hallmark not-so-original movie. Except I'm not as pretty as those actresses, and I'm not adorable when I breech set-in-stone traditional social etiquette. And the guy literally never falls for me (specifically the prince, with emphasis on the part where he's unrealistically disguised as an unreasonably attractive normal guy).

I'm a mess, okay? And it isn't an endearing mess either.

When did my life take a turn toward Hallmark Channel? Well, it all started on an airplane to a small European country that nobody had ever heard of (Usnaria, anyone)? I wanted to go to London for Christmas, but apparently flights to this unheard of (fake?) country were a lotcheaper. And online reviews said it was a little like Great Britain. They even had British accents.

See, this is already a Hallmark movie.

So...right, the plane ride.

My phone died in the middle of Elf, and there was still 3 hours left until touchdown. Mom and Dad were intently watching The Office together. Apparently their phones had longer battery lives.

I glanced at the seat pocket in front of me. In it was this weird magazine that I'd never even heard of. The cover displayed a stock image of a perfectly decorated Christmas tree with glowing lights, evenly spaced golden ornaments, and delicate lace snowflakes. Reading it was better than sitting there for 3 hours. (I could never sleep on planes, so that wasn't an option.)

I picked up the magazine and flipped it open to the first page. On it was a family that I actually recognized a little. I think they were in some sort of news article I read or maybe it was a fashion magazine someone at school told me.

"A ROYAL CHRISTMAS: HOW DOES THE ROYAL FAMILY CELEBRATE?"

Of course the magazine put that headline in the boldest font possible. Underneath the headline, the king and queen sat in chairs, and the rest of the family stood behind: 3 princes (one single, which was heavily emphasized in the article), 2 princesses (the taken princes' wives), and five hopelessly adorable granddaughters. I sighed. They all looked so happy.

Three grueling hours later, the plane landed.

###

Even though my parents and I were dead tired after the flight (and my frizzy brown hair was out of control), we had reservations at a tea room place. As I sipped the tea (probably butchering all etiquette), I hoped it had caffeine in it.

Jet lag wasn't a joke.

My parents were reading some tourist books on the country while they sipped their tea. I took the time to look around the secluded little tea room. There was only one table in this room, which made the experience even more unique. I guessed that having separate rooms for each table was some sort of Usnarian thing.

A half hour later, I had the entire room memorized, from its interesting green walls, even worse brown carpet (who puts carpet in a tea room?), and wooden table from the 70's. And I may or may not have had way too much tea to drink.

Soon, my bladder felt like a full water balloon. My stomach felt hard, and pain burst through my abdomen whenever I moved. But I was kind of scared to ask the waitress where the bathroom was because she was definitely judging us for our lack of tea-drinking skills. She also told us when we sat down that we weren't allowed near the back room, and what if the bathroom was there? Why it was closed off, I had no idea, but that's beside the point.

Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. "Excuse me, ma'am, where's the restroom?" That sounded dignified enough, didn't it? Not that it mattered much to me in the moment. I thought I would explode then and there.

"Right over there, through the next room, and at the back," she said in her pristine accent.

"Thanks." I then proceeded to walk very fast for a girl with disproportionally short legs. I half ran through the next room. In the process, I totally forgot to look where I was going, and burst into the first bathroom I saw.

I. Had. To. Pee. So. Bad.

I looked up and saw a MAN in a black suit. Just around the corner some guy was washing his hands.

My eyes widened and I froze. Oh my gosh I'd just walked into the MEN's bathroom.

And my bladder was still about to burst.

"Sorry." It just sorta came out in a weird blend of an American and British accent. Never had I wanted to melt more. I also figured this needed some sort of explanation so I didn't seem like a complete creep, but the guy in the suit was giving me a really weird look. "Sorry," I said again. "I wasn't paying attention cause I really had to pee...and I'm making this worse—" I got the heck out of there and went into the women's bathroom.

And. There. Was. A. Line.

Thankfully there was only one person in front of me—a woman wearing all black (weirdly like the guy in the other bathroom). The other two stalls were full.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I'm going to have to ask you to wait in the hall," the woman said. I blinked, which literally sent spasms to my water-balloon bladder, and I hobbled into the hallway.

As I waited, I literally had to cross my legs and assume the "two-year-old who can't hold it" position. I wasn't going to embarrass myself further by peeing myself here.

Oh please let them come out soon.

I was dying and it was a slow, painful death.

Finally, the woman who told me to get out opened the door. She looked strangely at my leg arrangement, then nodded to someone in the restroom.

And a freaking princess appeared.

________

Want to read more? The story is available now through Kindle Vella! 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKJX981C/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=unroyal&qid=1666788316&qu=eyJxc2MiOiIyLjE0IiwicXNhIjoiMC4wMCIsInFzcCI6IjAuMDAifQ%3D%3D&s=falkor&sr=1-1