Author's Note: Here is the first chapter of Against All Odds. I know that I put that this would be a FourTris romance and trust me it will, but unfortunately that will not come in until later chapters.

This idea was so kindly given to me by the amazing Karategirl857 and cant't thank her enough for all her help. I strongly advise you to check out her newly published story Taylor Odair's Story!

I hope you enjoy! :)


I brush my long blonde hair slowly while staring at my reflection in the giant mirror before me. I don't look like a princess, I think to myself. My eyes are a

dull bluish grey and my nose looks too small for my pale face. Princesses are supposed to be beautiful and elegant, two qualities I lack. Sighing, I lay

down the coveted golden brush and stand up from where I was perched on the velvet covered bench to the vanity. My glass slippers click and my silk

dress crinkles stiffly as I walk over to my bedroom window. As I make my way over I resist the urge to fling the slippers off and walk in my bare feet

instead. If mother saw me without shoes, though, she would blow a gasket, so I regretfully keep the cold stiff glass slippers on. From this window I can

see miles and miles of the busy city of Chicago, the city where our palace sits. As soon as I look out the large window, though, I instantly become more

depressed than I already was. Since my bedroom is on the top floor of our palace, I can see over top of the soaring golden gate that block my home

from harm and what I see overtop of the gate is not a pretty sight. Out in the distance mangled bodies lay on the blood covered streets and I can

faintly hear gun shots through the thick stone walls. The sight makes my stomach churn violently and I turn away at once. It seems unfair that my family

and I are safe in our home when just outside the gates someone is losing their life every minute of every day. Most of those who are dead died to

protect me and my heart fills with an achy feeling that I can only assume is guilt. Why am I perfectly safe in this palace when other 16 year old girls

exactly my age are dropping like flies? I am not more special than those who are out fighting this troublesome war, but for some reason I am the lucky

one. I was the one born into this royal family and I am the princess of Illinois. I almost wish that I was just a normal girl, even if it meant I was in

extreme danger from the war. If I told anyone this, they would think I am foolish, for who doesn't want to be royalty? Maybe I am foolish, because I

would give anything to be free at least for a day; I would give anything to just step outside of the place I have been cooped up all of my lifetime. When

I was a little girl, I would be given the chance to play outside in the backyard (inside the gates of course), but now with New York attacking us even

that small amount of freedom has been rebuked.

"We are protecting you, Beatrice. Now remember, true royalty never complains!" My mother, Queen Natalie, would always tell me strictly whenever I

used to beg to go outside. Now, though, I don't even bother; the answer is always the same.

A few years ago the King and Queen of New York sent over their large army for a planned attack. They had already succeeded in taking over Florida,

Oregon, California, Massachusetts, Washington, North Dakota, and Oklahoma, so it was expected, but still caused me to go into a state of shock. The

goal of the King and Queen were to take over the whole country of the United States and the next step was Illinois. For the past 3 years, my mother

and father have done whatever they could to make peace with New York, but of course they had to send out our army as an act of defense. There must

be at least 5000 soldiers surrounding our palace, to protect it from harm, for nobody wants the King and Queen to die, especially not me. But it is not

the fact that they are my parents that I don't want them to die, I don't want them to die because then I will be the new Queen and ruler of Illinois at

only 16. I know it is selfish and terrible of me to think this way, but I just cannot help it!

"Oh Beatrice, there you are! I have been looking everywhere for you, darling! You will not believe the splendid letter that the messenger just brought

over!" My mother cries, bursting through my large double doors with a grin on her face. She waves a long letter dramatically in her hand. I want to

sarcastically point out that this is the first place that she should have looked, for it is my bedroom, but since I am sure there is some rule against

sarcasm for royalty I keep my mouth shut. "King Marcus and Queen Evelyn have nicely agreed to our treaty of peace, with just one small condition!" I

gasp at my mother's words. It seems too good to be true! Finally I will be able to hear the calming sound of tweeting birds and feel the dirt and grass

on my feet! However, what my mother says next makes my joy completely disappear and instead leaves behind a surprising mountain of rage.

"The condition is that you must marry one of her 4 sons, so that at least one of them gets to rule Illinois," My mother says calmly like this is not a big

deal at all. I stare at her wide-eyed in shock and then, for the first time in many years, I am unable to control my anger.

"I am 16 years old Mother, not that you would know. I cannot marry at 16, especially not someone who I don't even love. Although I am unable to

experience the real world and see what love really is, I have heard about and dreamed about it. Now you are taking away my only chance of happiness

without caring one bit!" I yell through clenched teeth.

"Beatrice Prior! You cannot talk to your mother that way! Think of the people of Illinois. As my only child and therefore the only heir of my thrown it is

your duty to fulfill this agreement. You will be saving thousands of lives by doing this. Queen Evelyn and King Marcus' sons are perfectly decent young

men; you're lucky you get a choice at all." She replies angrily her eyes a bit wide in shock from my comment. I feel hot angry tears in the back of my

eyes and I tell my mother to leave, not wanting her to see me cry. She turns on the heal of her own pair of glass slippers and marches out of the

double doors, but not without kindly informing me that the princes are coming over tomorrow if I happen to change my mind. As soon as she leaves I

flop down on my large bed and sob in frustration. My hands are clenched tightly and I can't even think through my rage. A few long minutes later, my

cries start to quiet down and I feel much less angry. I consider again what my mother has told me and I realize that it would be extremely selfish of me

not to marry one of the princes. I was just thinking earlier about how guilty I feel for the deaths of this war and I know that I will be unable to live with

myself if I refuse this offer. Later that night, just as I am about to drift off to sleep I make my decision. I will marry one of the princes of New York.


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