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She sang.

Her voice was quiet, like a lullaby, but sweet and tender. She rocked back and forth, the small child resting in her lap. She brushed her fingers through the child's fine blonde hair. 

"Mama?" the child whispered.

She stopped singing. "Yes, my love?"

"When will we go to the park?"

"Oh, honey," she says, clicking her tongue. "You are a princess. You don't go to the park."

"Why can't Rosalina or Daisy be princess?"

The mother laughed lightly. "They're not meant to be princess."

"How come?"

"Well, for one, you're my daughter and heir to the throne." The child looked at her in confusion. The mother laughed once more. "Rosalina doesn't have a strong enough back-bone to be queen. And Daisy wants it too much. That's why you're perfect, Peach. You are brave and strong, but you are kind and warm. You'll be able to fight for your people while caring for them at the same time."

"But what if I can't?"

She smiles softly. "Oh, but you will, darling."

Peach frowned and rested her head back on her mothers chest. The mother resumed singing, as if she had never been interrupted in the first place. The child was soon asleep.

Acorn Plains- Book One (COMPLETED)Where stories live. Discover now