‘Crown Princess’ is what they all called you. ‘The future of the kingdom’ is what you were supposed to be. Instead what this meant, is being held forever to a life of rules and expectations you had no desire to follow in this life or the next.

But unfortunately, rebelling could only get you so far.

You still were dragged to every royal ball and banquet; shown off for thousands to see. No one cared about your dreams or goals; all they cared was that one day you would marry to someone of their choosing, and produce an heir to become the next king. That was all you were. A vessel, a prisoner. All because of that stupid fucking title and the blood that ran through your veins.

But you were not the only one. The Crowned Prince of the neighbouring kingdom, Keegan Russ, the most insufferable human being you’d ever met. The first royal ball you’d ever attended at 7 years old, he was there. Being equal in rank and similar roles, you’d tried to find friendship and comfort. You quickly realised he was not one you wanted to associate with, and as time went on, the irritation became hatred, and the hatred became intense and unadulterated.

Just to be in the same room as each other was intolerable and torture. So, you avoided each other. For the last couple years, to maintain the ‘peace’, you sat as far away as you could from each other at dining tables. Every word shared was thinly veiled with kindness, but said with as much hostility as possible. If you were ever given the chance, you would’ve spiked his food with rat poison. He most likely would’ve done the same.

Then your father decided to ruin your life, and at 19 you were both wedded. The wedding was extravagant and beautiful. If only you’d wanted it.

After it, you sat at the dinner table across from Keegan, still in your wedding attire. You were both silent for a good 15 minutes, until his mouth opened and he said, “Maybe if you weren’t murdering me with your eyes, I would say you look nice.”