"Hey, I'm trying to be a villainess here, so could you leave me alone? I'm in a bad mood."
"Miss, you just threw coffee over your fiance and now he's crying."
"He was being annoying!"
"He's the crown prince of this country!"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Milady, the Lord urges you to behave yourself today," my maid reminded me tactfully, speaking so professionally but holding so much stress in her tone-- even I could tell I needed to obey this time.
"I am always behaved," I retorted easily, "I simply act upon my heart's wishes."
Her sigh in response was not hidden in the least, but I did not respond otherwise to condemn her attitude. I was the young lady of this noble household-- but I was one to pardon these little things.
The children of the Dawnflare house are born with their lives planned out for them.
If the child was a girl, they would be engaged to the prince. If the child was a boy, they would be the prince's mentor and future knight. If the child was a boy, they would be engaged to the princess. If the child was a girl, she would become the princess' instructor in bridal lessons.
Born two years before the first prince of the kingdom, I scorned my own fate.
Sentenced to strict training since young, my etiquette was to be flawlessly presented to the king. The spouse of royalty could be nothing less than perfect.
If I were a cringey fourteen year old, I would snort right here and say 'nobody's perfect. I hate these awful frilly dresses too, yuck! Couldn't they be above my knees? I'm gonna wear pants because fuck them and fuck nobility!'
Fortunately for some of the readers here, the author isn't a cringey teenager anymore. She understands that logic, even in fiction, doesn't work that way.
Dresses are a fucking drag. They're gaudy, but not bad. I would love a pair of jeans or shorts, but that was considered insanely vulgar for this day and age. Try wearing pants in Victorian England like a special snowflake, because a modern equivalent of that would be wearing a bikini swimsuit to a shopping mall in town.
I may be a villainess and I may be a prideful bitch-- but I certainly wasn't a selfish, unreasonable brat. I hope, at least. Am I?
Tugging at the edge of my deep green dress, I swirled it twice around my fingers and curved a foot behind my ankle. Curtsying with a tender smile, I greeted his majesty.
"Avelynn Miranda Dawnflare," the king addressed me, "do raise your head. And take a seat, if you must."
My eyes glazed over my fiance, the prince, who stood firmly beside his Father.
"I've heard many unsavory matters regarding your rather-- touchy, I must say-- relationship with Luis here," the king didn't waste a moment, "if there is a matter I must address, I implore that you disregard our statuses and express yourself here."
Well... fuck.
I didn't have long to ponder. The king was watching me as I stared at my feet, considering my next move. My meager consideration wasn't enough to really understand what was considered rude and what wasn't--
Is being silent for too long impolite?
"I..." the words were stuck in my throat.
Oh no, I'm gonna cry. my father's gonna get angry at me. What am I going to do-- if I say something wrong here this could destroy my family and the whole fucking plot's gonna derail and--
who's the moron that told the king I was bullying the prince anyway? Do they have a death wish??
Ah, the prince probably told his daddy himself--
"I was just," I sniffled, curling a delicate palm on my lips and looking away slightly-- "trying to love the prince my own way," letting a tear spill from my eyes, I closed them and turned away in shame, "was I wrong?"
The room went silent.
I heard the king gulp in fear and guilt, his fingers shaking at the thought of he-- a ruler of a country and a father of two-- just made a young girl cry.
I held back choking laughter.
Thank god for cliches, the king's a fucking lolicon.
