Chapter 1 of The Princess in Shining Armor!!!!!! :D

 

 ONE

“Desponie,” My mother, Queen Iris’s gentle voice with an Irish accent, cut into my lesson of “How to Deal with an Unruly Peasant”.

“Your Father would like to speak with you,” she says. I let out a sigh of exasperation as I tug on my red Dutch braid. I always insist that my hair be braided because it will be out of my face.

“Oh, great,” I groan softly, but I know my mother heard me. She has ears like a bat. Lately, my father has been wanting to have “conversations” (really, they are more like squabbles,) on how I should be more mannered, pretty, punctual, poised, and responsible. And that all of those things can be taught to me at that fancy etiquette school he keeps reminding me about. I don’t want to go. I would rather stay here or better yet, learn swords and shields. My mother laughed.   

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” she says, trying to put a positive spin on the squabbles, as she always does. I shrug, stand up, and start walking with her to the throne room which is eight floors down from where my sister’s and my bed chambers are. I walk into the throne room and see my father, King William sitting atop his throne, which is the largest throne in there. I hold up my green peasant dress and curtsy to him. I like to wear peasant dresses much better than I like to wear frilly princess dresses. They make my skin itch and the corset makes it hard to breathe. My father sighs as he always does when beginning our conversations.

“Desponie, you are now eighteen. Eligible for ruling our kingdom, but before you can do that, you desperately need to brush up on your manners,”. I grumble in frustration under my breath. He always says that I need something to make me better. The past week, manners has been his favorite criticism.

“I have been working on it,” I remind him. I hear a small gasp to the left of where I’m standing. I turn and see my little sister standing in the corner. She was wearing her pink princess dress (she has a fondness for them. She’s more girly than I am.) and she no doubt heard Father’s voice and came to investigate. She got our fathers light blonde hair and azure eyes and English accent and milky white skin. Our father is from England, but he went to Ireland on holiday and met my mother and she was a princess in a small Irish kingdom. I got her red curly hair and her bright green eyes and Irish accent, her pale complexion.   

“Yes, you have been working on it. But it doesn’t seem to show, does it?” My father replies. On the           inside, I swear I scream every fowl name I know at him. But I can’t do that out loud. One of my tendences is that I have a very short fuse and a big temper, the one thing I inherited from my father. “You must try harder, Desponie. How could you rule this kingdom one day if you don’t?” My cheeks turn beet red, the color only my father can bring to my face.

“Why does that matter? It’s not like you have any manners,”. the second it was out, I wish I would not have said that, but it was too late. My father’s face turned as red as mine did. He pointed to the door.

“Penelope, Desponie, get out!” He shouted. My sister flees the room as she cries and I curtsy before I leave the room.

 

“Penelope, come on out of there,” I say as I approach her frilly princess bed. I hear her softly crying underneath the bed. But at the sound of my voice, she came to the edge of the darkness where I can just make her out. Tears are still flooding from her blue eyes as she stares into my soothing green eyes. Penelope’s just nine- years- old and she has always looked up to me. She hates it when Father gets cross.

“What was he mad about this time?” she sniffled. I smirk.

“My manners,” I reply. Penelope sighs.

“I wish he wouldn’t get so mad all of the time,” she wails. I wrap my arms around her and pull her out from under her bed.

“I know you do. But it’s all okay. He wasn’t mad at you, he was just mad at me,” I say as I rock her back and forth in my arms. She smiles up at me as she wipes her tears away.

“I saw the head of guard’s son in the corridor today,” she tells me, swooning at the thought of the head of guard’s handsome son. I chuckle at her boy craziness. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” she sighs and fans herself.

“Yes, he is handsome. But I don’t care much for him,” I say, a pink tinge coming to my cheeks. Penelope stares at me in astonishment.

“How? He’s beautiful,” she says.

“I know, but I care about a boy with more than just looks,” I tell her as I run my hand through her hair. She always likes it down in curls which I have never understood. They always get in my face if I wear my hair like that. Just then, Mother came into Penelope’s room.

“Desponie, your father wants to speak with you. Penelope, you will stay here,” I nod as kiss Penelope’s temple and walk out of her bedroom and head down to the throne room. I walk in and curtsy once again. My father looks into my eyes, but I can’t tell what’s coming. He doesn’t keep me waiting, though.

“Desponie, you will be attending the etiquette school. You leave tomorrow morning.”