The Unwanted Princess

The Royal Invitation

Dearest Princess Elara,

It is with great honor that we extend to thee the esteemed invitation to assume the role of princess to the British throne. Countless maidens have endeavored to capture the heart of our beloved son, yet it is with unwavering confidence that we have chosen thee to stand by his side during his coronation and to join him in wedlock thereafter.

With our sincerest regards,

The Royal Family of Britain

"Holy shit." That was, of course, the first thought that crossed my mind as I read this letter aloud to my parents. Proper ladies do not curse, so my informalities were internalized, replaced by a tight smile and surprised eyes.

My mother flushed a vibrant shade of pink as she rejoiced at the news, but my father wore a permanent scowl that made my skin crawl. Neither saw eye to eye on most things, but my mother always seems to get her way. Sometimes, I didn't know If I wanted to be her or be the exact opposite.

She has the pale skin and straight blond hair that everyone adores. It is the standard to have an invisible waist and perfectly masked wrinkles. She is considered a saint for marrying my dark-skinned, bald father from Swahili. According to the daily news articles, the only perk about marrying him was his large stature of 6'3" and muscular frame. Other than that, she supposedly did him a favor by "tainting" her perfect bloodline to uplift his.

Considering I share this darker skin with my father, it would do me good to look like my mother, but at times I loathe her so much the thought disgusts me.

"Isn't this wonderful!" my mother clasped her hands together and beamed, "My daughter, the princess of Britain. How splendid it sounds. What is that boy's last name again? Oh yes, Elara Riley. Brilliant if I say so myself."

My father was not amused, "I think our name is just fine."

"It will do fine as a maiden's name," her voice lowered. Her attention quickly returned to me at the other end of the table, "Now we must go shopping! Get a proper fitting and some fine silk."

"Yes, yes. All in due time," I responded awkwardly, "We can gossip over this some other time. Why don't we just enjoy our dinner?"

"Quite a fine idea if you ask me," my father grumbled.

I didn't even wish to attend the Maiden's Selection Ball that night, but my mother insisted that I should at least make an effort to secure a husband. I was of an age where if I did not find a proper husband myself, I would soon be married off by my own parents regardless. So perhaps this was a blessing in wolf's clothing, as I would be marrying into the royal family, gaining the status my parents so desperately craved.

We were a small kingdom, scarcely known to the vast and opulent riches beyond. Our castle was quaint compared to those other maidens I competed against. I doubted the Royal family even knew where my kingdom resided. If they did, I was sure they would have chosen one of the other fine ladies at the ball.

Although I find our kingdom to be rich with culture and life, it is still a desolate land of few. When my mother wed my father, our nations combined. It led to a melting pot of cultures and traditions all sprouting here. I can go to Diwali one day and a Sabolai Festival the next.

Even still, the only thing Eldoria is really known for are its trading routes of textiles, spices, and luxury goods. Strategic ports and overland routes connected us to neighboring kingdoms and distant lands for minerals and timber as well.

I was named awfully after my kingdom, Eldoria. Gods, how I loathed it. Introductions were the bane of my existence as I spoke as if I were a walking oxymoron.