Author's Note: Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I'm simply playing with them. They belong to Meg Cabot, the screenwriters, Disney, and the actors who gave the characters life on the screen. No disrespect is intended, and I am certainly making no money from this story.

I only know the films; I've never read the books. However, I may steal a tidbit or two from the books if I find mention of something that would work for the story from a place like Wikipedia or something. (Just wanted to establish that.)

~ I started writing this because I am a shipper of Nicholas Devereaux/Mia Thermopolis, and was sad at the lack of the pairing to be found anywhere! Therefore, I resolved to do it myself. So, yes, this is a piece featuring that pairing…but not for a few chapters at first. I hope people read this and enjoy it. (If you do, please review.) This story will be mainly from Nicholas's perspective, but not in the first person. Enjoy everyone, and don't forget to review!

Dancing with a Sparrow

~Prologue~

With his small packet of information ready to present to his mother, his aunt and his uncle, Nicholas Devereaux exited the backseat of the car after it had fully stopped. He was so excited that he did not even bother to wait for the staff to open the door for him. He was sixteen and knew what he wanted to do. The packet he brought home with him detailed everything his family would ever want to know about Culinary Schools. He wanted to be a gourmet cook in his own restaurant, and now he knew how to become just that. He was one step closer to his dreams.

Nicholas had intended to give his mother the good news when he walked through the door to his uncle's house, but his intentions were instantly shattered when he barely had time to clear the threshold before his uncle's heavy hand came down upon his shoulder, propelling him into the house. His bag was lifted from across his chest, and his packet was torn from his hands. He didn't even see where the items had gone before the sound of the front door closing echoed in his head like a judge had found him guilty of the crime of rebellion.

"Uncle, what?"

Nicholas looked to his uncle questioningly. He looked more pleased with himself than usual, and the young man found he did not really like the look of him so pleased. He wasn't simply pleased. It seemed to be a twisted pleasure.

"My boy, something wonderful has happened!"

Nicholas wondered for a moment if his uncle knew about his hope for culinary school. His bright blue eyes glowed with excitement. "Yes, it has. I've found everything that I would need to work it all out."

"Have you now?" asked his uncle, Viscount Mabrey, with an even more twisted glee openly revealed on his face. "And what plans have you devised then?" he whispered as though to a coconspirator.

"If I take a class maybe this summer I will be able to get enough experience in order to get accepted," beamed Nicholas. He never thought his uncle would take the news so well.

"I don't think you need a class in this, Nicholas," reassured his uncle as he steered him towards the parlor where he knew his wife and sister-in-law sat.

Nicholas looked up in confusion at the bigger man. He was reminded just how thin and small he was when his uncle wrapped an arm around his shoulders and crushed him against his side like they were best friends. He shifted to get more comfortable. "But, if I don't take a class, how will I get enough experience?"

Viscount Mabrey smiled down at Nicholas. "You are a lord, Nicholas. Ever since your father died," he continued, ignoring his nephew's flinch, "you are Lord Devereaux. And now, the time has come for you to fully act like it."

They had reached the parlor, and the first thing Nicholas noticed was his mother sitting on a sofa, a handkerchief clutched in her hand, while her other hand trembled as she held the newspaper. He then took in his aunt, his mother's sister, sitting straight and stone-faced. His uncle practically dragged him through the room. "But what does being a lord matter in culinary school?"

"Cooking school?" asked his uncle. Nicholas nodded. "Cooking school?" roared the other man, letting him go just long enough to push Nicholas into an armchair firmly. "What on earth do you think we were talking about since you walked in the door?"

"I…"

His uncle didn't give him a chance to finish before he strode to his sister-in-law and snatched the newspaper from her. He stormed back to Nicholas and shoved the paper at the boy. "This, my boy. Do you understand what this means?"

Nicholas numbly took the newspaper in his hands and stared half-comprehendingly at the headline.

Genovia Mourns! Crown Prince Eduarde has Died.

Nicholas continued to stare at the headline for a moment. Then, he lowered it to his lap in a daze. "Do you know what this means, Nicholas?" asked his uncle. Nicholas didn't say anything. He continued looking at the headline. "It means that you can take your place as King of Genovia once you turn twenty-one. You are eligible for the throne." Nicholas's eyes flew up to look at his uncle in disbelief. "And rest assured, my boy, with my seat in Parliament, you will be king. There is no other heir."

Nicholas could do nothing but stare at his uncle in horror. What if he didn't want to be King of Genovia? He looked back at the headline, hoping it was a bizarre joke his uncle was playing. He thought of the packet he'd brought home. He didn't want to rule. He wanted to cook. For the first time since his father died, Nicholas felt trapped in his uncle's home.

Finally, he raised his eyes again and found that he met those of his mother, from whom he had inherited his clear blue eyes. He saw a tear slide down her cheek as she gazed upon him. He let his mother cry for his lost dreams.

To be continued…

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