you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry-a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had fin...
series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you.
chapter summary: you meet your fiancé, but each time you see him, it's as if he's a different person.
word count: 5,267
warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, abusive father/brother, pet name (dove), not proofread
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If you had a choice, you would rather be anything but a princess. It was not what you wanted. Hundreds of children would die for the opportunity to be a royal, but you? You knew that it was far from what you wanted. As a princess, you had no freedom of your own. At least, no freedom when you lived under your father's watchful eye. Ever since you were born, he'd kept a close eye on you. Nothing you did was right to him. No matter how much you studied every subject until your head felt like it would explode with the knowledge, memorized the laws of the kingdom to the point you could recite them forwards and backwards and sideways, and oh so carefully walked the line of being a normal twenty-something woman and being a working royal, it was never enough for your dear, old dad.
You weren't a particularly rebellious person. At least, not in the way you would see in the Hollywood movies. You didn't drink heavily, do drugs, go out to wild parties. You didn't have questionable friends with even more questionable morals. You didn't stay out late, didn't disappear for days on end. No, you still fit the mold of a perfect, little goody-goody. You loved wandering the gardens, helping the gardener with tending to the beautiful flowers. Your favorite spot in the palace was the library, often getting lost in the vast expanse of shelves. None of these pastimes, however, were worthy of a princess, as your father would say.
But, even when you were performing official royal duties, your father would find reason to complain. Princesses don't kneel down to talk to children. Princesses don't offer their arm to help the elderly walk. Princesses don't help grab boxes from tall shelves. Princesses don't provide commentaries and critiques to visiting foreign dignitaries. And, most of all, princesses don't speak unless spoken to. He would much rather you fade into the background, be a pretty thing to look at, than be your own person.
Which, you supposed, was why you found yourself in his office, seated across his desk from him, his advisor Arthur Harrow standing behind him, a twisted smirk on his face.
You said nothing, waiting for your father— His Royal Highness, Benjamin—or Harrow to speak. You were already in trouble, it seemed. There was no reason to make matters worse for you.
Benjamin stared at you in silence for several minutes, waiting for you to squirm. But you kept your back straight, hands clasped firmly in your lap, maintaining eye contact until he finally sighed, and said, "I don't know what to do with you anymore."
