So, you'd think life is normal in a cold place? Nope. I've been here for 2.349862 hours and I am freezing my ass off. Oh, names Astlene. Yeah, yeah. Sounds like Astley, right? He's my dad. Uh-huh. Dad. Astley.
And if I'm the daughter of a pixie king… DING! DING! DING!
Yep. I'm the pixie princess of the stars. I'm gonna be queen one day. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the queen of an opposite king. I just hope he won't be evil. Killing frequently just for fun? I admit, killing is pretty amusing, but I just get tired sometimes.
"Astlene!" My mother calls. Who's my mother? Why would I tell you that? I already told you who my dad is. You can figure out the mom thing later. You know, when the author gets her hands on a copy of Endure. I hear it's the fourth book of-
"Astlene!" Daddy awaits. I walk down the corridor.
Now, don't hold it against me because I've been pixie kissing random guys. Well, not exactly pixie kissing, but yeah. Kissing. It's pretty funny too. I kiss them on the cheek, they try so hard to kiss my lips, but I know I'll just… well, I don't know what'll happen.
I might become his queen. You know, rule through him. But dad and mom are still pretty young rulers and should really hold onto their spotlight for as long as they can.
I approach the ballroom. Daddy and mom are dressed up. Like, really. Victorian age ball gown and more or less, a tuxedo.
"Yah?" I try to be informal in front of them now to get it out of my system. Daddy says to be queen of anything, I have to be able to talk my way through anything. Gracefully through anything.
"Do not… Never mind. Why are you not wearing your ball gown?" Daddy sounds so coiled. Like, sprung past spring. Huh? Oh, time travelers to the future? Yeah, thought so. Let me grab my 20-years-ago-dictionary.
He's… Stressed.
"What ball gown? Are we going to a ball?" Time to kick in the charm, "I do not recall your calling for me to attend any such ball! Therefore, I shall not attend."
"Astlene, ya gotta go. It was a royal invitation to another kind king's son's ball. He's turning 14 today and well, we thought you might like to attend."
"So, because I'm 13, I have to go to a ball? Oh! I see. You want him to be my king. I guess I'll go. But only to see what he looks like. If he's an ugly prince, I'm not being his queen."
End of it. I'm going to a freaking ball. In a poofy-ass pink lace dress.