The Princess and the Piece of Work

Chapter 1: A Break in Protocol

I was born in space. And before you ask, yes I've breathed real air, and yes I've felt the sun on my skin. Just because I grew up in a space station, that doesn't mean I was in complete exile, people! No one was forcing me to stay up there. My parents took frequent visits to earth for diplomatic reasons and, as the princess of Arkadia, I sometimes got to go along if I begged them hard enough. What's Arkadia, you ask? It's a colony in space with more citizens than the United States. Over fifty nations are represented in the heritage of my people, and hundreds of languages. Not many of those living on earth know about Arkadia, and those that do are the important government officials representing the countries that trade with and supply Arkadia.

My home is not a secret, just one of the many pieces of knowledge lost to time. And just as the world forgot about us, the people on Arkadia slowly began to forget about the rest of the world. Well, most of the people. From the day I was old enough to enroll in my first Earth Studies class, I wanted to see more of the ground than just the inside of the heavily protected government buildings I explored as a kid. My first tastes of Earth were short and I was always forced to stay indoors, but I was in love anyway. My first taste of non freeze-dried foods and the feeling of wind got me hooked pretty quickly. Yet, I had always imagined my first real adventure on earth as being slightly less traumatic than it was, and slightly less permanent.

"Introducing, Princess Clarke Elizabeth Griffin!" Wells Jaha announced dramatically to the empty throne room. His voice echoed around the metal walls and I flinched. "Wells, my coronation isn't for another month. Can you hold off on the theatrics?"

He grinned at me and flashed a wink.

"Aren't we supposed to be practicing? I've got to make it realistic." Wells wasn't usually a huge joking type. As a matter off fact, neither was I. It's one of the many reasons why we were best friends on top of being cousins.

"You're really excited for this, aren't you?" I observed, studying the engravings on one of the arms of my future throne. I ran my left hand over the grooves in the golden surface, searching for a tiny crack or scratch. Even the smallest unintentional chip would have been enough for me to feel like this chair was more than a symbol of untouchable power. I found nothing. The throne didn't feel like a Griffin family heirloom, it felt more like a lonely, cold, empty chair. Which it was, but still. Shouldn't I feel some....connection to it? My mom talks about me sitting on this seat the way Wells talks about his girlfriend, Emory. As my bitter annoyance grew, I could practically feel Well's concerned "Papa Jaha" face burning into my skull.

"Of course I'm excited for you." He said carefully. "Aren't you excited to be queen?" My hand stilled on the pattern of a bird in flight. The phoenix, a representation of the never-ending cycle of life, and the symbol that had been running my life since day one. I'm pretty sure mom read books about Phoenix station's politics and fancy galas to me when I was in the womb. I tried to laugh, as if the fact Wells had even asked that question was stupid. It came out sounding hollow and barely moved beyond my own ears.

"Of course. I've been training for it my entire life." I insisted. Wells looked skeptical, but he quickly found an excuse to leave the room. He wasn't much for forcing emotional confrontations, especially with me. Another reason we worked so well together. I didn't like talking about my feelings. Of course, being a princess, I was expected to hold them inside anyway. When Wells and I were freshmen, we used to watch old movies in Phoenix's private theater. Despite their two dimensional appearance, I loved those movies so much more than the films people made on the Ark.

Ark films may have had a virtual reality setting, but high school dramas made my life seem mundane by comparison. Everything the kids in those movies said was scrutinized and turned against them, or they became too obsessed with popularity to listen to reason. Their lives, during the lowest point of their separate movies, were always worse than mine. It was fantastic. And yet, it always turned around. In the end, the main character was one of the good guys again, and I was stuck back in reality. My picture perfect, high society, beautiful reality; where any one princess dress could hold more secrets than the curly haired heads of twelve Gretchen Whiners or whatever the fuck her name was. At least she got to choose what secrets she wanted to tell.