Crooked Tiara
"You're Royal Highness. It is time to rise."
Princess Massie Elizabeth Block awoke from her slumber to the shrill sound of Lady Humphrey's nasal voice. She slid to a sitting-up position and stretched, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Her hair was frizzy but still kept its perfect curls during her sleep. Kicking her lilac duvet off of her, Massie hopped out of bed like she did when she was nothing but a foolish child. "Lady Humphrey, have you prepared my breakfast?"
She tucked her arms behind her back and gazed up towards the tall, gray-haired lady innocently. Lady Humphrey nodded with gritting teeth. She never really enjoyed her job and frequently complained to her employers about Massie. King William simply excuses his daughter with a 'Massie is an angel', which she very much is. But Lady Humphrey, the Wicked Witch, would never admit that.
"Of Course I have, Princess Massie. Could I assist you in any way?" she scowls. Massie doesn't flinch though. She simply walks to her mirror and combs through her hair with her fingers.
"No, thank you." She excuses Lady Humphrey. Before leaving, the old woman spins on her heel and holds up a hand, propped up by the other one folded across her chest.
She sticks her nose up in the air, taking the role of a snobbish assistant too seriously. "Princess, remember that we are meeting the wedding planners at 11 o'clock sharp. You will be eating at a local café."
"Please, how could I forget?" Massie groans. She is engaged-no, betrothed- to none other than Prince James Aston Webster the Third. Her arranged marriage was truly nothing more than a publicity stunt for their parents' royal arses. She was the Princess of Letsi, a small country on the tip of Scotland. They were hoping that in gaining relations with the English, they will be able to gain more land. Which they would, but Massie's heart certainly wasn't in it.
…
A large white hat was atop her head. It winged out far and a flourish of fake lavender flowers decorates the top. She wore a posh dress of the same shade and white high heels. She didn't attempt to conceal her identity, it was useless. And besides, she was just a princess. No one made that big of a deal about it. Now if she were a queen, the circumstances would be different.
She stood in the lobby of the café, pursing her lips as she analyzed a menu. Suddenly, a gentleman about her age approached, wearing a button down shirt and tweed pants. His dirty blonde hair was gently swept to the side in a faux-hawk sort of way that looked perfect on him. Warm caramel eyes greeted her as he took her hand and brought it up to his lips, pecking it chivalrously. "Right this way, Madame."
He led her down a long corridor to a private room with a table that seemed straight out of her tea-room. She nods and takes a seat, one that he pulled out for her. He disappeared back down the corridor before arriving again with a steaming kettle of tea and a few containers with vanilla, sugar and other various products. He set it down and began to pour, chuckling lightly. "I s'pose you're the Princess, right?"
Massie shifted in her seat and picked up her cup gently. "I haven't a clue why that is something to ponder," she rattles. "Of course I'm the princess. "
Grinning at her reaction, he swiped the seat next to her. "Well you certainly don't get out much. And the only time you do, you're just planning your wedding to that James guy."
"Prince James Astor Webster the Third." She corrected pointedly. He simply rolled his eyes.
"Whatever." He continued. "It's an arranged marriage. You can't possibly say you like him any more than a friend."
"I don't have to say it!" she snapped. "Who cares if it's arranged? It's been my destiny to marry him since the day I was born. Don't think everything will just change because of your opinion!"
He laughed. "Cool down, Princess. We wouldn't want your tiara getting crooked, now would we?"
Cheeks burning, she grimly stared at her tea. After a bitter silence he lifted her chin up and stared her right in the eye. Before she knew it, he was gingerly pushing a strand of hair out of her face and planting his lips on hers. When they separated, he kept his face just inches from hers. "Now tell me, Princess, does he kiss you like that?"
She cringed in her seat, when in reality she was anything but revolted. Abruptly, he stood and pulled out chairs for the women filing into the room. Landon Dorsey, the lead organizer, sat next to her, along with two other women she didn't know.
Let's get this over with.
…
They unsheathed her new dress from the plastic liner like the sword of a warrior preparing for battle. At the sight, she felt her head tilt at the sight of it, analyzing it. It was a poufy dress, its shape resembling that of a cupcake. It looked like glitter was thrown onto it carelessly and the meshy fabric under layering was itching her by just looking at it. Drawing in a deep breath, Princess Massie retained her composure. "Well go on," Landon urged. "Try it on!"
After she changed into the marvelous gown, she examined herself with a critical eye. It didn't quite hug her hips the right way and it kept sliding down, revealing the slightest bit of cleavage. But the others overlooked this and applauded her. "Oh, simply Magnificent! You look wonderful, Ms. Massie!"
She frowned at her reflection but shrugged it off. This wasn't really her wedding anyway. But it will be broadcasted all over the world, her thoughts snidely remarked.
Instead of stating her opinion on the matter, she flashes a bright smile and twirls with an extra squeal of excitement.
…
Casually relaxing into the park bench, Massie closed her eyes. She just finished reading another Charles Dickens novel and was ready for rest. But if the 19 year old thought she would get any rest, boy was she mistaken.
Just her luck, the blonde waiter slid into the seat next to her. "Why hello, Princess, what are you doing here on this fine afternoon?"
She sighed and reluctantly answered. "Reading. What are you doing here? Stalking me?"
"You're a Princess, isn't everyone stalking you?"
Glancing around, she shook her head. "Doesn't seem like it."
He smirked. "Are you sure about that?" She was about to ask what he meant when he stood on the bench and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey look who's here! None other than-"
Massie slapped her hand over his mouth and yanked him back into the seat. "Don't do that."
"Or else…?" he challenged. Punching him lightly on the shoulder she folded her arms across her chest.
"Or else, I'll invite you to my wedding. Front row. "
Throwing his head back in laughter, he admitted sheepishly, "That would be awful."
"I hope so."
…
She is in the library of her Castle, its mahogany paneled walls mocking her. Massie is only just now trying to write her vows for James but the blonde boy keeps entering her mind. He was irritating, frustrating, and annoying but so clever, witty and handsome at the same time. Intoxicating but repelling. All sorts of opposites combined to make one big Massie-Magnet.
As she tapped her pen against the wrinkled paper, she pondered what she saw in James. Well, she didn't have to see anything in him. They were getting married, whether she likes it or not.
…
"Derrick Harrington" he replies, slurping a strand of spaghetti. They were at a local Italian restaurant, a chance meeting gone wrong. Or rather, he saw her and decided to ask her to dinner. She had finally asked his name. "And you are?"
She rolls her eyes but answers with "Massie Block."
His smirk goes from ear to ear. "Well, I don't know why a girl like Massie Block is getting married to a shmuck like James."
Massie slaps him playfully on the arm. "He isn't a shmuck! He's polite, sweet, caring-"
"Yeah, yeah. Perfect. Blah, blah, blah. How boring is that?"
She smiles, knowing that she is truly, indefinitely falling for Derrick Harrington.
…
The church bells are ringing and she's counting down the moments. Suddenly, the doors are thrown open and she is being shoved out. A red aisle leads the way, dotted with white petals. She forced a smile for the hundreds of people filling the church. This is it, she blinks away tears. These are the last few moments you have before you're eternally bound down to a young man you don't even love. No more Derrick Harrington. You have to forget the past two weeks you spent with him. You aren't in love with him; you're in love with James. Prince James Aston Webster the Third. You will be with him until the end of time because that is just the way things are. This isn't your wedding. This is theirs. Your parents. Do this for them. Throw your life away for them.
Suddenly, tears are streaming down her cheeks. Thank god for waterproof makeup, it's like the women getting her ready knew she would cry. Obviously they thought it would be for a different reason though. Hundreds of observers watch her, hundreds of gazes fixed on her veil. Imagining what she looked like underneath.
Finally, she reaches the stage. She walks up two steps with grace and takes her position. James is standing across from her, beaming like Prince Charming. He takes a step forward and eases the veil out of her eyes. She forces yet another weak smile. The Preacher continues with the ceremony and Massie barely listening. Reciting her vows like a pro, she is prepared to finish this wedding.
"If anyone objects the union of Prince James Aston Webster the Third and Princess Massie Elizabeth Block, please speak now" he commanded. Massie waits for Derrick to burst through the doors and cry out in protest, to say all of the things he's been telling her for the past two weeks since they met. Her eyes water again, but no one seems to care. Seconds (although they feel like minutes) pass and the Preacher sighed in relief. "Your Highness, you may now kiss the bride."
James leans in and pecks her on the lips swiftly, then picking her up bridal-style (as it should be) and carrying her down the aisle. Massie sees them cheering for them but her ears are numb. Deaf. She doesn't want to believe that this was it. That her Prince Charming didn't come to save her, to sweep her off her feet.
Princess Massie is too old for Fairy Tales.
So when they are driven away on a horse-drawn carriage, she allows her Tiara to stay crooked on her head.
That Crooked Tiara is the only thing left to remind her of Derrick Harrington-a love that never was.
Okay guys, I'm sorry this is so crappy. Like seriously..
But Rachel ( keep. calm. and. sparkle.), this is Dedicated to you because I obviously got you for the Exchange! I had something else originally…but then you told us about the arranged marriage and thus 'Crooked Tiara' was born! Lol I hope you liked it anyway!
And this is also a birthday present, because I was going to write one and then I got distracted, so this contributes to that too! This is Massington, although it doesn't really end well… awkward..
xoxo,
Natalie:D