Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫
YOU hated the dress.
It was a bright pink ball gown, donned with accents of shiny, heavy silver. With a sweetheart neckline and a massive, uncomfortable skirt, it was everything you despised in a dress. You felt heavy, not to mention suffocated in the tight bodice which tugged all of your extra skin inside it. Every time you took a step, you felt as if you were moments away from having all your organs squeezed up towards your throat. It was not ideal, to put it bluntly.
Regardless, you stood behind the closed door which led to the ballroom, waiting for your name to be announced.
No matter how many times you did the night-before ball, it never failed to make you hate other Royals.
Frankly, you didn't even like Raymond; He had been less of a Father and more of a power-hungry tyrant — he was not a father figure to you, but simply a man in power whom you had to obey.
Yet, no matter how much you disliked him, you wanted him to love you; a child's nature, perhaps — you wanted the same sense of pride to appear in his eyes when he looked at you as it did with Ryan.
But some hopes often remained just that; hopes. Nothing more.
That is what crossed your mind as you heard the words over the loudspeakers, "And now presenting, Her Royal Highness, The Crown Princess of Pretopia, Princess Y/N Ashbourne!"
And then you took a deep breath before pushing the gigantic doors open.
Immediately, you saw the red-carpet clad staircase which you were meant to descend. One step forward, and all eyes were on you. You could see hundreds of familiar faces in the crowd below, and even some new ones you didn't recognize. The place was packed, which was impressive considering how large the space was. Then again, it was your eighteenth birthday; it made sense that there would be more guests for this occasion.
Your Father stood in the front, at the bottom, waiting for you to walk down. His facial expression was blank —not a single ounce of emotion — as per usual. While everyone else was clapping and cheering for you, your Father was stood quietly, the crown which you had come to hate placed atop his balding head.
You resisted the urge to frown.
Instead, you smiled. The traditional, Princess smile which made your whole face light up and made every male in the room stare at you in awe. At first glance, anyone would think the smile was real. But if they bothered to look into your eyes, the pain behind them would become evident, and suddenly your whole face would seem sad, even with the smile on your lips.
But nobody was interested enough in your eyes to take notice, and that was the devastating part of being a Royal.
So, with a grin tugging at your lips, you began to descend the staircase. Each step you took was heavier than the last, but you knew it would end soon. You just had to survive until midnight exactly, and then you could go to bed. No big deal, just a few more hours.
You mentally groaned.
Finally, once you reached the bottom of the staircase, you were greeted by your dear Father. As he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, he whispered into your ear, "Why didn't you smile wider? Do better next time."
Choosing not to take his words to heart, since he criticized you almost every single day, you simply replied with, "Yes, Father. I understand."
"Good. Now, go mingle with the guests. There are some Princes you might be interested in," Your Father mumbled, nudging you forward, "try not to scare them off."
You gritted your teeth together, but managed to control the anger and the fake smile remained on your face. You nodded, and began taking steps towards the table with all the Royals your age. He made you so angry sometimes, it was hard for you to think straight; but it would be fine. You would be Queen soon, you reminded yourself. Then he wouldn't be able to dissect and pick apart every one of your movements.
You stopped walking when hearing the announcer call out, "And now presenting, His Royal Highness, Prince Ryan Ashbourne of Pretopia!"
You had never whipped around faster in your life; not to see your brother, but to see your Father's reaction to him. You knew what you would see would end up hurting you, but you didn't care. Your eyes would still end up falling on to your Father's prideful expression every time your brother's name was taken.
And then you watched Ryan, a smile on his face as he ran his fingers through his golden locks, causing all the females in the room to simultaneously blush. Ever the handsome, charming prince.
He began walking down the stairs.
Smiling, waving, and winking at every woman he came across; that was your brother. He could smile much better than you, obviously. Back then, you wondered how he could enjoy these events when all they did were deprive you of your sleep. He claimed he liked the attention, and judging by the wide smile on his face, you could tell that he was not lying.
But you couldn't care less about Ryan.
Rather you were more interested in your Father's blatant favoritism towards him. You loved Ryan with all your heart, but there were obvious times where you were jealous of him, of the way he so easily gained your Father's approval whilst you'd always had to work for it.
Like today.
As you watched him walk down the stairs, you knew it was best if you looked away, that simply watching him would make your heart hurt; but you still stared intensely as he arrived at the bottom and began making conversation with everyone.
Whilst he made everyone around him laugh, you stared.
But when your Father threw an arm around him and looked at him with nothing but pride and joy in his eyes...
