A lot of things annoy me. My family, my strict schedule, my life in general. Most of all, though, what annoys me is idiots. Idiots who don't understand the word no. I mean, you'd think it's one of those things you learn after a while. It doesn't mean "why don't you stand here so I can think about it some more?" It means leave and don't ask that question again. In this instance, unfortunately, my parents were the idiots.
"No, no, no no no no," I sing. "Look, I have a lot of homework to do before class today, and I don't have time for this. My answer is no, and that's final." Laying down the law. Just like I was raised.
My parents glance at each other, as if to say you want to take this one? Mother, as usual, takes the reigns. She is the only one who has any actual willpower and is just as stubborn as me. In other words, Dad is a pushover.
"We're not asking much, dear. Just that you meet with a few of your suitors and maybe go on a date or two," Mother pleads.
"A few of my suitors, you say? Now wouldn't that be the whole freakin' male population of Leda? Yeah, let me just clear my schedules for a few hundred thousand dates," I snap back.
Oh, did I not mention? I have suitors.
"You know what I meant! Royal suitors. Distinguished families. I'll give you the rest of the week to think this over and come back to me with what's hopefully a better answer. I know you're still a teenager, but you're also a royal. Your father and I expect you to act like one."
Oh, did I not mention that, too? I'm a royal.
"Yes. Thank you, mother," I say. My answer is not going to change, but I would give her the satisfaction of thinking it might to spare myself any more argument today. Mother and father walk hand-in-hand out the door, leaving me to my studies. I sigh and spin around in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Thinking I was alone, I was startled by the servant who spoke up.
"Sorry, Princess. You have not yet dismissed me. Would you like me to stay?"
"No, Sebastian. I'm good. Thanks."
Ohhhhh, I'm really slacking off on mentioning things. Important part of the story, though: I'm a princess, too. Yay.
Don't go thinking it's all perfect and grand, now. I mean, yes, I live in a palace. Yes, I have maids and servants and never have to lift a finger. But let's get one thing clear. I never asked for any of this. If I had had my way, I would've grown up rolling down grassy hillsides and making PB&Js for every meal, not waltzing in ballrooms and eating from silver platters. It would've been: Lucy Halton, the plain, ordinary, exceptionally un-royal teenage girl. That, however, was not me.
Obviously, I'm not stupid. I'm lucky to be where I am. I'm thankful for where I live and what I eat and so on. I'm just saying I look better wearing a baseball cap than a crown.
I open my history textbook, read a couple of lines, and then slam it shut. I already know literally everything about Leda's history, and I certainly have had enough of lecturing today. Instead, I grab my favorite normal book and head down to the gardens. I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt, along with my very dirty sneakers and worn-down baseball cap. Perfect princess attire, if you ask me. I am "highly encouraged", by the parentals (or to address them properly, the King and Queen) to uphold a royal dress code of fancy-schmancy gowns and unbearably tall heels, and normally I do, but I've had enough royal crap for today.
I find a nice tree, climb up onto sturdy branch, and settle in. Usually, if I'm in a tree, guards won't find me when they do sweeps of the grounds, which is happening, like, all the time. Of course, my presence in the garden is completely authorized (as if that would stop me), but I like to avoid the bowing and how-do-you-do spiel.
I try to focus on my book, but my mind keeps wandering back to the suitor thing. I will have to get married. Eventually. I'm only seventeen now, so it will happen within the next few years. The thing is that I've met most all the royal suitors and distinguished families. Royal suitors are the princes from other kingdoms. Marrying one would be, as Father puts it, a "politically-beneficial union." As I put it, it'd be an alliance. It would also mean marrying a royal snob, probably ten years older than me and speaking in an indecipherable accent. As far as distinguished families go, many live in the palace itself. The sons are polite enough. I've danced with most all of them at dinner parties and social events, fawning over me and what an honor it would be to court me, the princess. Well, let me be the first to tell you. Marrying a princess and marrying me are two different things. Two very, very different things. The quicker a suitor learns that, the better off he is.
I look down from my tree to see a boy, probably about my age, walking into the palace with all of his belongings. People from the outside villages are hired all the time, so the palace is practically overflowing with staff. I like it, though. More normal people to talk to. I see him fumble with all the baggage in his hands, trip up the stairs, and stumble into the Center Hall.
Just as the gates to the grounds close, the Clock Tower strikes two, meaning that I am, once again, late to my afternoon classes. I hastily jump down from my branch and take off running. Skipping the stairs three at a time, I burst into the Center Hall like a bull in a china shop, garnering many wild stares. Those stares, however, recognizing that I am the cause of the disturbance, slowly melt into amused, though not at all surprised, demeanors. I am very often late, and I am very often sprinting through the palace halls for any number of reasons. I bound up the stairs at take the corner at top speed. Before I can register there is a new obstacle in my path, I slam right into it. I trip over my own feet as I stumble backwards, but quickly feel strong hands grip my elbows. The obstacle, which I now see is a boy, has dropped all of his bags to keep me from tumbling back over the railing. I rock back again, but then come to a halt, meeting his eyes for the first time.
"Wow. I'm so sorry. I totally just ran into you, and you totally just kept me from dying," I say.
"I'm fine," he laughs. "Are- are you okay? You were kind of going full speed there."
"Late for class. Again. Here let me help you, considering you dropped all your bags for me," I say as I begin to gather his things in my arms. "I can help you take these to your room if you want. Which way?"
"No— you don't— have to do that. Really." He blushes, then continues, "I actually don't know where my room is. I just got here."
As he reaches to take his bags from me, I pull them away out of his reach. "Well, perfect. I can show you the way."
I begin walking us down the hall towards the servants corridors. He was, by the way, going in the completely opposite direction. I'm such a hero. Arriving at his door, he sets down his luggage and pulls his key out of his back pocket. The door swings open, revealing the standard servant's room. I set down the bags next to a twin sized bed and a work desk, along with a dresser and a personal bathroom. And also. . .
"A window!" I shriek, running to his cleanly cut hole in the wall.
He looks at me like I'm the weirdest person he has ever met, which might not be too far off. "Yeah. I guess that is cool. You. . . really like windows or something?"
Do I like windows? Are you kidding me?! How many of my foiled escape plans and succeeding punishments could have been avoided if I could have just Rapunzeled myself out of my room after hours? All of them. My room, though granted much nicer than this one, has no windows, no daylight, and no escape route. Theres a better reason for why I like to see the sky at night, though. Oddly enough, I even think about telling him, but then I laugh at myself.
"My room doesn't have any. Plain, solid walls all around. I guess I'd just like to see the stars." I stare out the window for a few more seconds before snapping back into myself. He's still staring at me, but this time it's like he's looking for something. I wonder if he'll find it.
"Er— I think I have to go. My lessons are probably over by now."
His eyes widen as he comes back to reality, "Oh, yeah. Sorry for keeping you."
"No, no. Thank you. This is a better excuse than my last," I add. He smiles. I like that.
"I'll see you around, right?" he asks, all seriousness returning. And then it hits me. I realize why he's been so nice. So normal. No one is ever normal around me.
"I would imagine so," I answer, with a sad smile. I turn and walk out. For once in my life, I was Lucy Halton— the plain, ordinary, exceptionally un-royal teenage girl. To him, at least. And for some reason, even though it didn't last, that felt good.