The Prince and the Pauper embellished

This is not you're average fairy-story.

Once, there was a kingdom. A long time ago, true, but still, it was a very cool kingdom. The king was very rich, and so he had lots of jewels and gold and silver decorating the interior of the Palace, while the outside was a kind, white-washed sort of silvery colour. It was gorgeous.
While the King and Queen were greatly respected, their son, Richy, wasn't. He was too spoiled, even when he was in his twenties, and liked everything to be done his way. He also hated the common folk, who would always stay clear of his tantrums, and him, so he thought that they thought he was superior, and fancied himself a few more cuts above the others than he should have really been allowed.
But his silly parents hardly ever told him off, because they were so kind, and he became very possessive and aggressive.
But there was a problem - he was so darn handsome! He had very dark, rich, thick hair, which fell past his ears, and dark eyes too, which seemed very questioning and intelligent. He had very soft, comforting features on his better days, and even though he would fly into childish rages, he still would look cute and quite funny, his eyes lit up in eager intelligence.
All the girls would sit around warm fires in the winter, or in the cool shade of the public apple orchard in the summer, and talk about how they would win Richy, with his looks, and Richy with his money, and try to calm him down in his rages. In fact, these little chats would turn into three-hour-long discussions, all about Prince Richy, and ended in someone going "That was my idea!" or "No! You won't get him with THAT!", and in the end, they would break up into little groups and whisper about the girl who 'thought he was gonna geddim'.
Only one girl thought thee monthly gossip-meetings were ridiculous. Whenever they were set, she would slip away quietly and indulge in a hand-written book in a special alleyway next to the bakers. He would take pity on the twenty-year-old loner, and give her odd bits of fresh food, like a loaf that went wrong, or the cupcakes that burnt around the edges and were not good enough to sell.
The girl's name was Mary. She was a very cute little girl, and grew up to be a very sensible young woman, in her teen years, but she also hated the way her society was, and wished she would detach from her life there. She began to worry about teasing, and would try to be invisible, blending into the background until she was as common as a servant picking it's way around the shops to buy some tomatoes.
Mary soon became ugly. Her lips were so taut they began to stretch until she had two pink lines as a mouth, her face was pale because she would hide in the alleyway so often, her eyes were very focused, and all the reading was straining them, and the frown-lines and the grimace-lines were settling into her skin, making her permanently squinty, twitchy, unhealthy and overall ugly.
Other girls were born ugly, and the girls of the Kingdom didn't mind about your looks until you got married, and when the men began seeking you out, and the girls tried to back stab you.
Anyway, Mary was always invited to have a chat, and her ugly face would go deeper and squinter, and she would bite her lip, and say "NO! I have... something..."
And she would run away.

The Prince once overheard Mary saying "No! I can't talk about... he won't... I hate.... I have something....", and thought it was horrible someone would not want to talk about him. So he walked after her, ghosting and laughing silently. Mary was so shaken she didn't notice.
When Mary turned the corner, Richy stopped, and watched as she slipped into the alley-way. He wanted to see her face.
When he crept into a quiet, secure spot in the alleyway, he whipped out a pad and an ink-bottle, and a quill, and began to sketch Mary's face. He was a brilliant artist, and so he captured Mary to a tee. When he finished, he crept out and surveyed the picture.
He saw a once-beautiful face, contorted and twisted into obvious ugliness, and grimaced. He was horrified that it was HIM who made her be ugly, the society the girl lived in. But he wanted to ridicule, so he trudged home,and pinned the picture up on the castle doors. Then, he went to spread the rumors.
After a few days, Mary popped her head around the door of her bedroom, and her parents, who were both talking in hushed voices, stopped abruptly. Her little sister peeked out of her room and stared with an unnerving interest at Mary. When she looked out the window, her three friends were looking worried and scared, and glanced at the front door of Mary's continuously.
Mary did her usual business, and was very worried to see everyone so jumpy and quiet around her. When she went to her secret alleyway, the baker gave her a whole loaf and a cupcake without looking at her, and saying "Wait a minute... I'll tell you the behaviour she uses in a minute."
What also clanged around in Mary's head, was that the girls all held another meeting, and didn't invite Mary. Mary had ALWAYS been invited, whether she liked it or not. Mary was stunned.

The Prince was staring out of his window, and smelt the air of mystery in the village. He glanced at the sketch he had drawn a few days ago, of Mary, and grinned. Then, the door of his room opened, and his father, in sweeping robes, was glaring with a level stare at Richy.
"Why," the King asked slowly, "Have you spread rumors, shown a shy girls face to the world, and then told the kingdom to hush?"
Richy grimaced.
"I thought it was funny."
"You're marrying her," The king said angrily, and slammed the door behind him.
Richy fell back onto his bed, and yelled "WHY?"

"WHAT?" Mary spluttered, Ginger beer spraying out her nose, "The PRINCE, and me?"
Her Mother nodded, and began to mop up the mess. It was in the kitchen, where Mary's mother broke the news as softly as possible, but Mary was still sick with confusion.
"How?" she asked, tears spurting down her cheeks, "Did Dad say yes?"
Her mother nodded.
"The King told me what I already knew," her mother explained, "That the Prince stuck a picture of you on the Palace doors, and then told the servants rumors that you had committed... adultery... and... hurt your friends..."
Mary cried harder.

It wasn't as bad. The marriage was very smooth, and when Mary had her first child, Richy softened to fatherhood. Being a Mum worked wonders on Mary, and she began to loose her wrinkles, her lines and her pinched expression. Soon, she was very beautiful, very confident and very popular with the guys of her age - All wondering how to get the common girl back onto common turf!
But those girls who had moaned for Richy to be theirs - they languished with the best guys they could get, and wished very hard they were elusive and ugly, just like Mary - but too late. They had passed that time, and made do with normal men.

Happy ending, a tiny bit more modern then you would expect but there you go.

The re-written account of the three billy-goats-gruff

Hi. My name is Larchina, and I am a troll. A pretty troll, mind you. I am not ugly like the rest of my type. I have more softer, kinder features. I am a model.
Before my blooming industry came up, I lived under a bridge. That's fine, mind you. LOTS of trolls live under bridges. I am here to tell you about my encounter with the billy-goats.
It's true. There is a written statement that plainly says that I was the troll who encountered the three billy-goats.
So, now you are wondering 'But you're a girl!'
True. But then one of the billy-goats is a girl too.
What happened was:

I was under my bridge, in the small corner where I would keep my bed-sheets and mattress hidden. A few metres away, there was a thick and swollen river, it's water just inches near my campy-stove.
I lived under a rather rickety bridge, where, right in the middle, there was a gaping hole. One one side was long, juicy, succulent grass, perfect for three hungry, pig-like goats to eat. On the other side, however, the three billy-goats had basically cleaned the whole area. It was dry, and dusty, and when it rained, all the water would create a huge puddle, and the bits that didn't turn into mud decided to make all the little tiny roots of grass into wet, coarse strands.
Now, I was angry about those three goats. A few years ago, the staggered around, half-starving, begging me for one of my sides of great-tasting grass to munch on.
"Just a temporary adjustment," the three of them said. They said, "A few months at the most."
Those dumb 'months' turned to years. So, they mowed away all my beautiful grass on one side, and then the began nagging me about the other side.
"Please," the would grunt, nodding their heads in a ridiculous way.
I only slightly liked one of them. She is the lady, Genny. The middle one. Her older brother, Jack, is a nerd, and is also very slow in come-backs, but for some reason, surprisingly strong. The youngest one, though, is a quick-witted, scanty-legged runt. Gerald. Ugh, I hated those two. In fact, I hate all three now.
Well, what happened was, I was under my bridge, and it was dawn. I was packing my bed-stuff away, when a really loud, clip-clop woke me to my senses. It was actually very loud.
I looked up, and Gerald was grinning at me, and brayed "Hey! I found some awesome grass on the other side of the bridge. And I found a piece of planking board!" And, to my horror, he dragged a piece of wood into my sight!
"Get it out!" I cried, and I climbed into the other side of the bridge. Gerald was relentlessly tugging and the wood, pushing and pulling until it just touched the other side of the bridge, and he back to cautiously walk across it.
I saw red. I imagined my beautiful, green meadow, with delicate strands of emerald grass being chomped to non-existence. My gorgeous butter-cups and daises being munched away. So I grabbed the end of the plank and flung it as hard as I could.
Gerald flipped over, and landed on the side of the bridge he had started on, on his back. He stared at me angrily.
"YOU IDIOT!" he yelled at me, "THAT SO HURT!" and he flounced off, the piece of plank only just balancing. I was about to fling the board off once and for all, but a hoof slammed on top.
"Stop."
Genny looked at me with her grey eyes.
I stared back, wondering why she was staring at me so angrily.
"Hi," I said casually, trying with all my might to throw the plank into the surging river below.
"Get off."
"NO! That grass is just for show!"
"Well, I WANT it."
"You can't have it."
"Tough!" Genny was getting angrier. She began to thrash about, and shouted "YOU JUST HAVE TO MAKE US STARVE, DON'T YOU?"
"WELL, YOU SAID IT WAS JUST A TEMPORARY ARRANGEMENT!" I shouted back.
Sighing angrily, Genny knew she was beaten. I felt very strong... until dreaded Jack blocked my view of Genny's sulky face.
"GET OFF!" he roared, "THIS SPOT IS NOW OURS!"
I screamed at him, no words forming inside my mouth. I just screamed, trollish squeals echoing around.
As I screamed, my energy weakened, and all of a sudden, with a frightful jerk, the wood was righted and I tipped into the raging river.
I saw the three goats gaily leaping about, and then running onto my lawn, perfectly preserved. I fell into a faint.

*

When I woke, I was lying on the banks of the river, with another troll looking down on me. I sat up immediately. She was gorgeous, and everyone knew her. She was a top model.
"Hey beauty," she said, "You 'right?"

*

After a few court-conducts, I won my lawn back, and some money to fix it up again. It took a while. Those goats were stuck in prison for a bit, and now they are out, on a pretty much short-cut lawn. But they published a book. The book was named The tale of the three-billy-goats gruff. I was angry that they had to change everything. They know the lawyers are pouncing on them soon. I have money by the buckets-fulls you know.
I am still sad. I can't believe people still find me an angry, goat-eating thing, and I find that is just getting wilder over time.
Oh my.
I hate those silly, stupid goats.
Time for tea!
Bye,
Larchina.

Hey, NurseryRhymes here. I got an appointment with Larchina, she spilt her heart out, and now her story is out.