If what I recall from watching the court jesters is correct, then it is usually assumed that a princess is one who "stands out" because of her beauty, kindness, and ability to sweep almost any man off his feet. I think it is safe to say I do not fit the criteria in that area.
My proper title is Princess Cameron Ann Morgan, daughter of the king and queen of the Gallagher Kingdom. Our kingdom is best known for its numerous scholars, nobles, artists, and strategists. Many come from afar to see if they have the aptitude for our high reputation. Today is one of those days where a surplus come, mostly because today is the day where the kingdom officially mourns for my father, Mathew Morgan, also known as, my father.
He went on a trip by sea ten years ago, but never came back. While the captain of the navy insisted reluctantly that all evidence points to the fact that the ship was ravaged by pirates, my mother refused to believe so. It was only when our trade ships began disappearing that she finally agreed to accept his death.
Looking at myself in the body-length mirror in my room, I wrinkled my nose at how plain I looked, wondering what my father would think if he saw me like this.
"He'd wonder why you were thinking about yourself at all, considering you don't usually make an effort to dress yourself up," a female voice chuckled behind me.
I sighed. "Not everybody naturally stands out in a crowd of well-dressed aristocrats quite like you, Macey."
My older step-sister smiled and walked towards me, every step making the folds of her dark grey dress shimmer and radiate the grace and beauty of a proper lady. There would be no doubt that by the time comes, she would receive a husband with ease. Very few people take notice of me, much less when she is around.
Macey wrinkled her nose as she rubbed the fabric of my black mourning dress against her fingers. "Although anyone would be quite embarrassed by the quality of this dress," she commented with disdain.
I plucked the folds of my dress from her. "This dress is fine for me."
She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Her eyes, however, were full of comments that I believe were the same with every article of clothing I chose. I could tell she never meant to hurt my feelings, only that it was a habit of hers. Another habit I am usually quite annoyed by.
After a few moments, I spoke up. "We should be going down. Mother cannot handle the useless sympathies by herself."
I didn't mean to sound so bitter, but no one else in the kingdom could ever love my father the way my mother and I did. He used to tell me stories where a princess refuses to live out her supposed destiny of sitting on a throne all day while everybody else does all the fun of protecting their kingdom. He also had a friend who came every Saturday, Joe Solomon, who would teach me things my tutor never even went close to touching, such as how to wield an actual sword and how a ship works while my mother would roll her eyes in fake disgust.
Needless to say, both these happy nights and Joe Solomon disappeared when my father went missing. However, I still practiced the sword techniques with the thin-bladed sword Solomon gave me for my fourth birthday, which no one else knew about. I found this ironic since my father was actually killed by pirates, which is why I never told anyone about my late night practices.
Going down the stairwell, I tried to conjure the grace I knew must have been in me somewhere, because were not all young ladies born to act like, well, young ladies? Macey must have sensed my struggle, as she linked her arms around my right one and gave me a small smile. "At least you did your hair is not a disaster," she whispered.
I shook my head and smiled back. Although she somehow attains all the attention in the room, I have to admit that Macey always helped me, even if I did not want to be helped. Together, we held our heads high to join the mourning.