Princess on the Run

Chapter 3

"Believe you can, and you're halfway there."

-Theodore Roosevelt

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The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a gentle glow over the palace. Inside her dimly lit chambers, Isabella sat cross-legged on her bed, her royal gown replaced with a simple dress more suited to a commoner. Opposite her, sat Mary.

"Alright, Bella," she began, her voice steady but soft. "The first thing you need to learn is how to blend in. You must move, speak, and act like a commoner. This won't be easy, but we'll take it step by step."

Isabella nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement.

Mary smiled encouragingly. "We'll start with your posture. As a princess, you're used to standing tall and graceful. But commoners don't have the luxury of perfect posture all the time. They slouch, they bend under the weight of their work. Try to relax your shoulders and slouch a bit."

Isabella took a few minutes, trying to sink her words into her mind. She then slowly shifted in her seat, trying to mimic Mary's instructions. She rolled her shoulders forward and let her back curve slightly, but it felt unnatural, like she was trying to fold herself into a shape she wasn't meant to fit. "This hurts." She groaned, trying to keep the position.

Mary watched her with a critical eye. "Well, you didn't expect it to be a piece of cake now did you? That's a good start. Try to loosen up a bit. Imagine you've been working all day and you're tired. Let your body show that."

With a sigh, Isabella closed her eyes and imagined herself in the bustling market square, carrying heavy baskets and running errands. She let the imagined weariness seep into her bones, her posture relaxing a little more convincingly.

"Much better," Mary said, her tone approving. "Now that you've gotten the hang of it, let's move on to how you walk. You're used to gliding elegantly, but commoners don't move like that. Their steps are more hurried, sometimes uneven. Try walking across the room with a bit more haste and less grace."

Isabella rose from the bed and began to pace the room. Her first few steps were awkward, her body instinctively resisting the idea of moving in such a manner. She stumbled slightly, her frustration evident.

"Don't worry, Bella," Mary reassured her. "It's all part of the process. Take it slow and focus on the rhythm."

Isabella nodded, biting her lip in concentration. She tried again, this time putting more effort into her steps, making them uneven and hurried. It still felt strange, but there was a slight improvement. After a few more stumbles, she managed to cross the room in the way Mary had taught her.

Mary clapped her hands softly. "That's better! Keep practicing, and it'll start to feel more natural."

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The next evening, Mary sat on the floor across from Isabella, who was practicing her speech.

"Commoners don't speak with the same formality we do, Bella," she explained patiently. "They use simpler language, contractions, and slang. Let's try some basic phrases."

Isabella nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. She repeated after Mary, stumbling over the informal words. "I ain't got no time for that," she said, wincing at how awkward and unnatural it sounded coming from her lips.

Mary couldn't help but laugh, her amusement lighting up her face. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away, trying to regain her composure. Isabella, feeling the sting of embarrassment, swatted Mary's hand, her frown deepening.