The Princess and the Pauper

Chapter 1

"Sit still," Mother commanded, overseeing the painter as he copied my figure into a canvas.

"You already know how much I hate this, why must you continue to make me do this every year?" I groaned. Yes, I know, not very 'princess' like.

"It's tradition to get a painting every year, Isabella. You know this, and you not liking it is not going to change anything," Mother's temper was starting to reveal itself. I could hear the faint deep breath as she tried to calm herself. We had company, of course she couldn't explode.

"Don't worry, Princess. I have almost finished," the Italian accent rolled off his tongue as Lorenzo Rossi, our hired painter, reassured me.

"Finally, some good news," I mumbled. I had already been scolded multiple times for my relentless attitude, but that never stopped me from adding a comment or a pinch of sarcasm here and there.

I continued to hold my pose, which wasn't hard, for the fact that I was just sitting there, until Lorenzo finished.

Lorenzo was a young boy, about my age, that I probably would have went to school with if I hadn't been a princess. He's a common guest at our palace; Mother always loves a new painting, and Lorenzo has always enjoyed painting the gardens surrounding the castle itself.

While Lorenzo is cute, and has an obvious crush on me, it's against royal law for me, the princess, to get into a relationship for anyone classified "unworthy" or "unfit" for my hand. My significant other must be a prince, and cannot come from one of the many corrupted societies.

The rules for my love life are almost never ending. He must be high class. He must fit the part. Must be able to grow facial hair, while never letting it grow to long.

The thing with being the princess of the strongest, most united, and civilized kingdoms, is that everything is controlled. My outfits are picked out, days are planned for me, and there scripts for whenever I am broadcast on television. Though I myself am not aloud to watch one myself, my television appearance is one of the most important things Mother's secretory works for. I myself couldn't care less about what my hair looked like or how elegant my phrases were on television, but apparently everyone else does.

The painting didn't take to long to finish, but the few minutes felt like eternity as my bones longed to be up moving once more.

Not one moment to soon, Lorenzo announced he was done, finally allowing me to stand, and view the painting.

"While the process is terrible, your work never seems to displease me, Lorenzo," I complemented, admiring the blend of colors.

"Anything to please you, Princess," Lorenzo stated, looking from the painting to my eyes. I smiled back to him before noticing Mother's look of disapproval.

"That would be enough, Lorenzo. Please return to the other activities you have taken on here, I need to have a conversation with my daughter," Mother's voice rung. My smiled disappeared, so did the sparked in Lorenzo's eyes.

"Of course, your majesty," Lorenzo bowed before taking off for the door, "and happy birthday, Princess."

"Thank you, Lorenzo," I said sweetly as he closed the door behind him. He was the only one to actually wish me a happy birthday, as my parents only viewed it as a reason to stack more classes on me to 'prepare' me for being queen.

"What have I told you," Mother's voice echoed once more.

"Oh, please, Mother. I was being polite, unlike yourself. For someone so worried about what everyone thinks of her, I'd figured you'd already know about manners," I stated, rolling my eyes.