Chapter Twenty-Three

With the household help preoccupied with Princess Ella and Prince Sebastian's two young children, Alexandra took it upon herself to clean up after their costume ball. A thankless task it was, throwing away pounds of spoiled food. She wished she could have done something else with the rotted meat instead, but alas, it was done. 


She faced another thankless task in tending to her Arabian mare, Princess Jasmine. Jasmine wasn't a docile sort, despite her name. Rather, she was feisty and assertive and knew exactly how to make her feelings known. 



However, she seemed to take well to Alexandra -- and, it seemed, only to Alexandra. In a strange way, they were kindred spirits. 


Meanwhile, in the entertainment room, Anastasia was reacquainting herself with her lost friend. They were dancing together, playing together, laughing together. For awhile they were the only two Sims that existed.

There was the time when Anastasia was a little girl, and she protested being sent away to Smuggsworth by locking herself in the bathroom with Lucky for more than four hours. Finally one of the royal guards broke the door and discovered her sitting there, lumped with the strange doll cradled in her arms, her tears drying on the doll's cloth. She was retrieved and brought to the queen. 

"Where have you been, Anastasia?" Queen Catarina asked with exasperation. "The limo has been waiting for four hours and you're not even dressed!"
Anastasia fixed a defiant stare at her mother and said nothing.
"For goodness sakes, child, will you stop fidgeting!" shouted the queen, noticing Anastasia twirling her hair around her finger and shifting. "It's unladylike."
As much as Alexandra's tomboyishness frustrated Queen Catarina, it's quite possible that Anastasia's shyness frustrated her just as much or maybe even a little more.
"Pierre!" called Queen Catarina to the family's butler, "get her dressed and ready to go, the limo is waiting."



Back to the present day, and Anastasia got the leftover vial of metamorphium from her sister and promptly handed it to Lucky.







After the metamorphium worked its magic, Lucian, the aspiring vintner, came into existence.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The relationship between Queen Catarina and her twin daughters had begun to crumble as soon as they'd turned teen. Indeed, the very night they became teenagers, she engaged in a knock-down, drag-out fight with Alexandra ... because she deigned to wear dress pants and a tuxedo shirt at a formal dinner.


So Alexandra ran away, and didn't come home that night. She went to her favorite camping spot in the mountains of Hidden Springs. 




The next day, she sent them to Smuggsworth Prep School to, in her words, 'become proper princesses.' 


Fast forward five years and they were now home, still under orders from their mother to become 'proper princesses,' particularly with her marriage ultimatum.
Except now, they were utterly refusing to conform to their mother's definition of the term.
Alexandra had enlisted in the military, and was attending flight school in order to become an astronaut.
Anastasia was studying architecture and design and engaged in a massive project to build an essential shrine to the Vanderburg family legacy.
So now it was, they were dressed in costumes of their own choosing, allowing themselves to express themselves in dress at a costume ball.



At the ball, Anastasia met a handsome Scandinavian prince called Rolf.



Rolf was kind and sweet, but would he stand up to the scrutiny that was the palace press corps? And what about her mother? Would he pass muster with her? These were questions she asked herself, and she wanted to know more of the answers in the coming days. 


Alexandra, dressed as a pirate, scanned the room.



While Anastasia was occupied with Rolf, Patrick came from behind and handed her some flowers.
"Oh, wow, Patrick, thank you so much!"



Princess Ella sat down at the dinner table with Alexandra.
"So, who was that?" she asked conspiratorially. "The guy that gave you the flowers."
"Oh, that's my friend Patrick."
"Patrick?"
"Yeah. It's kind of hard to explain."
Ella chuckled. "Hard to explain? Well, at least try."
"You promise not to tell anyone?"
Ella nodded. "This place is full of secrets. One more isn't going to hurt."
Alexandra hesitated as she told Ella about the imaginary friends she and her twin sister had created. Anastasia had lost hers, but Alexandra's returned the night her father died. Her IF had been instrumental in helping her get over the loss, so when a fan of the show sent her a vial of the experimental elixir to make them real, she decided to give it a shot.
"You can't say you're not a Vanderburg, Alexandra," Ella concluded with a disbelieving chuckle. "So, to comply with your mother's order, you're going to marry Patrick?"
"I've known him my whole life," she said, "why not?"
"But you created him!" Ella whispered.
"I know," Alexandra grinned. "It just makes sense. When my father died, a piece of me died with him. I was a mess, still am in some ways, but I'm much better now. And I owe it all to Patrick."
Ella shook her head with disbelief. She thought her family had been nuts, what with her stepmother making her a maid in her own house and her awful stepsister treating her like a speck of dirt to be swept up and tossed aside. But these Vanderburgs were a piece of work. What had she married into?

Chapter Twenty-One

"I don't know what I'm going to do," muttered Queen Catarina in disbelief while in conference with the Crown Prince and Princess. "If it's not Alexandra running roughshod all over me to enlist in the army and attend the flight academy, it's Anastasia building the damned Taj Mahal across the street."
"I've seen her drawings," Prince Sebastian said, "she's very talented."
"They're grown up women now," Princess Ella said, "making grown up decisions."
"Yes, well, since they're so grown up, this ultimatum I've got for them still stands. Three simdays have already passed since I gave them the ultimatum, and they need to be married within ten. That means they've got seven simdays left. Their ball is tonight."
"You should be proud of them," Princess Ella said, "they've turned into smart, strong women. Like yourself."
Surprisingly, Queen Catarina turned reflective and wistful. "When I had my daughters after Francisca disappeared, the aim was to turn them into proper princesses. I paid for their excellent Smuggsworth educations, even had tutors come here before they enrolled. And they repay me, their mother, by willfully disobeying me constantly!"
"Mother," Prince Sebastian whispered, "calm down."
"Do you think they'll make your deadline?" asked Princess Ella.
"Well," Queen Catarina replied, "since neither of them seems to show any remote interest in marriage but are instead engaged in silliness, I have my doubts."



Meanwhile, steady progress continued on Anastasia's magnum opus, the family crypt. A huge marble fountain was added, along with a fence around it. 
She'd often come here to collect her thoughts, even while the builders continued to work feverishly to meet her specifications and deadline. If this was going to be her father's final resting place, Anastasia thought, it better be worthy of the man he was. 



Her mood had also been helped by the fact that she'd relocated Lucky, old bite marks and all. At Smuggsworth, she'd be in the room she shared with her sister with Lucky in one arm and her art pad in the other. 


Alexandra had diaper duty while her brother and sister-in-law were asleep. The toddler who was now second-in-line to the throne held on to his aunt for dear life. She wondered if the monarchy would even last by the time he would come to rule. But all he was concerned about now was his nap. 

Chapter Twenty

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this stuff," Alexandra chuckled to herself as she and her twin sister, Anastasia, came upon the gypsy caravan.
"Relax, Alex, it'll be fun."
"What is it?"
"Fortune teller."
Alexandra shook her head. "Oh, I've seen the psychics on the TV, it's a bunch of hogwash."

"You go in first while I'll wait out here."

Alexandra ran into the wagon while Anastasia waited outside.

Many thoughts raced through Anastasia's head about how her life had changed since she and Alexandra went under the knife for life-altering plastic surgery. Opportunities had opened for them that they likewise would not have seen. A modeling contract sat on her desk, but she was going to postpone it in order to finish work on the family crypt. Alexandra had enlisted in the military, which now required her to keep up a grueling fitness regimen, making it very unlikely that she would ever regain her excess weight.
Of course, in the midst of all that, their beloved father had passed away suddenly.

Alexandra returned from the caravan after three hours. "So?" Anastasia asked while going in. "What did she say?"
Alexandra shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno, I guess, things were going to get better within ten days. I wasn't paying attention, really."
As she walked into the caravan, Anastasia laughed. "You'll get it."

The next morning, Anastasia took Alexandra inside the crypt, which was a work in progress. "Wow!" Alexandra exclaimed, looking around, "this is incredible. You designed this?"

"Uh-huh," Anastasia replied gleefully. "That over there is where dad is going to be. And I've reserved two spots over there just for us, but that's going to be a long time yet."

"I found Lucky."
Alexandra's mouth flew open. "No way!"
"Yeah, really, I did."
"Where was he? I know you were looking for him."
"I don't know. I checked my backpack this morning and there he was."

"I left him at the reception hall after Sebastian's wedding. I thought he was gone forever. But last night the psychic told me where he was, and I found him!"
"Ana, I'm really happy that you found Lucky! I know you'd been looking for him." "Yeah," Anastasia said silently, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "I'd missed him."

Alexandra paused for a moment. "But -- I have to tell you something too. Patches came back the night dad died."
"Wow."
"Remember when we were little girls, when we packed our dolls in our bags for Smuggsworth, and mom thought we had thrown them away?"
"Yeah."
"Our dolls will never leave us again. Ever." The twins' air-tight pact, made as children, was still intact now that they were young women. 

Chapter Nineteen

Alexandra spent long hours inside the basement below the garage.  Her father, Prince Renauld, had ordered it built years earlier when his daughters were children. At the time, Queen Catarina was not happy about it.
He furnished it with chemistry tables, books, art supplies, even a time machine, having envisioned it as a 'special place' for his daughters to 'hang out.' 
Now, though, Princess Alexandra was in here trying to discern the formula to turn imaginary friends real. 
"Now I know," Alexandra wondered, "that one of these compounds is the metamorphium.  I can't seem to remember the instructions for making it."

It all seemed so easy when they were children and had these strange-looking dolls to keep them company while their busy parents performed their diplomatic duties in the commonwealth.  The dolls had been gifts from their overseas relatives, and the girls seldom traveled anywhere without them.  Even when, as children, their mother sent them away to boarding school, the dolls went along, too.

And then, as teenagers, when they'd run away together into the woods.

 

After blowing herself up on more than one occasion, somehow Alexandra figured it out.

 

Alexandra waited until everyone else in the household -- including her baby nephew and niece -- had gone to bed. And it was now or never.

 

"Here goes, Patches."
"What is it?" it asked.
"Just drink it, you'll like it..."

Patches took a few gulps of liquid...

Alexandra watched as the transformation was taking place before her very eyes.

 

The transformation was complete. Patches was now Patrick.

Chapter Eighteen

The royal princesses Ella and Anastasia were downstairs in the entertainment room, snacking on some of the fine candies leftover from the last party.
"Is something bothering you?" asked Ella, leaning forward with some concern.
Anastasia picked at the candies until she found one she liked, then stuck it in her mouth. "My mother -- she's just --"
"Do you have a problem with your mother?"
"We've had several problems with our mother." Ella could see that Anastasia was sobbing even through her eye mask. "She doesn't 'get' us, you know?"
Ella nodded. "Hey, at least your mother didn't make you sleep in a storage closet and work as a maid like my stepmother did."
"She did that?"
"Yes," Ella said sadly.
"If I told you something, promise not to tell anyone."
Ella nodded again.
"I've started construction on the family crypt."
Her eyes widening, Ella dropped her hands in the candy bowl. "Is that what you were drawing?"
Anastasia didn't say anything, but she shook her head yes. "I got partial funding from the historical society. Since mother cut off access to our money, I have to figure out how to get the rest, though."



Later that morning, Queen Catarina confronted Anastasia about the construction project across the street. "How are you paying for this, Anastasia?" Queen Catarina demanded. "Answer me!"
"You know, mother, if you hadn't frozen our accounts, then I wouldn't have had to go elsewhere to finance it."
"Tell me how you're paying for this!"
"Is it any of your concern? It's not your project, so --"
"I am your mother, Anastasia! And I am the queen. I deserve to know everything that is happening in this household."



"It's none of your business, mother, really. I don't care anymore what you think. I'm going to finish my project, and you're not going to say another word about it."

Chapter Seventeen

The palace put out a press release announcing the birth of Princess Eleanor Francisca Vanderburg, daughter of Crown Prince Sebastian and Crown Princess Ella. Prince Sebastian had insisted on the middle name, to honor his sister. 



With the twins getting all the publicity, it was easy to forget Crown Princess Ella was the future queen. But future queen she was, and she was happy to cede the limelight -- and the tabloid ink -- to her sisters-in-law. She and her husband, Crown Prince Sebastian, were, after all, raising two very young children now.
Her preparations to take the throne included courses in Vanderburg family history, diplomacy, and government; learning the Vanderburg anthem and pledge; and daily meetings with the Queen's personal stylist, Arianna.
Every now and again, though, Crown Prince Sebastian and the woman he'd chosen to rule at his side would have the stage to themselves. He'd tell her what was going on, and she'd have her opinions about the situation.
"So -- what do you think?" he asked her the next morning over waffles.
"About what?"
"About all this -- you know -- the TV show -- and all this."
Ella shrugged. "It is what it is. The girls are having fun with it, I say let them. I know their mother is upset with it though."
Prince Sebastian changed the subject. "My mother has issued them an ultimatum. They are to marry within 2 sim weeks or forfeit their inheritances."
"Hmm," noted Ella. "I have my doubts they'd comply. After all, they don't seem at all interested in marriage. Not that it's a bad thing, of course. They're young girls yet. They haven't even found themselves."
"Well," noted Prince Sebastian, "apparently Alexandra has, she's enlisted in the military. My mother is none too pleased about that."
"The military? Really? Interesting."
"Anastasia is the one who told me. I promised her I'd support her any way I could."



Anastasia was proud of herself. On a breezy Hidden Springs day, one that betrayed the coming winter chill, she had broken ground on her personal pet project, something that meant more to her than anything she'd ever done. Something large, grandiose, and lasting. Something she knew would make her father proud of her.
Anastasia had begun construction on the family crypt.
Talks about this project had started just before Prince Renauld's funeral, but Anastasia was only now able to secure funding for it, and thus able to begin the project.
Anastasia had had a tougher time dealing with Prince Renauld's death than her sister. She had put on a brave face for the public but in private she was crumbling, drowning in a mess of insecurities, martinis, and self-doubt. So, beginning construction on the crypt was cathartic for her. It provided a measure of closure.



The crypt was her baby, her idea, her grand tribute to her father and all the other Vanderburgs that had come before her. She was a proud princess, proud of the centuries of noble lineage on both sides of her family, and as the last of this current generation of Vanderburgs, had appointed herself as the keeper of the flame.
She didn't care if her mother was upset with her for doing it. And she knew she would be. But, she didn't care anymore.
She was quite familiar with the story of her namesake, the Russian princess who had been killed along with her family in the Bolshevik Revolution. However, a romantic story had emerged that she had survived and was living in France, which was the basis for several movie plots.
As far as this Anastasia went, the modeling contract that she had been offered remained at her desk. She could wait. This was far more important. 


The spot of ground she had chosen was beginning to look a lot like a construction site.
It was right across from the royal palace, giving the family easy access to everything. 




The blueprint Anastasia had drawn up was, indeed, grand. It was to have a fountain in the middle, with the main crypt building surrounding it, complete with a historical museum. How she was going to enact her plans, however, was going to be a mystery, with Queen Catarina freezing access to her personal funds.