The year is 1960. Princess Josephine Anna Maria Price of America has her whole life laid out before her eyes. She is the heir apparent to the Imperial throne of the largest superpower the world has ever seen, stretching across six of the seven conti...
I finished tying up my dress for the ball. This ball was special. It was for my fifteenth birthday when I was to be officially an adult in court. It does not allow me to act a fool and away from my parent's limitations, but I have been deemed mature enough to make major decisions for myself, pursue my own marital path, hire my own personal advisors, and so on. It is a day I have dreamt of for years.
I believe my mother is quite jealous of me as her adulthood ball was not held until she was eighteen, because she was so immature, at least in writing. When she was a little girl she would ransack the kitchen with the other noble children, slack on her duties and torment the guards. Amongst other things, my grandmother refused to grant her greater autonomy until she was eighteen.
I was wearing a gorgeous dress, designed in Spain, which was royal blue with a silver tiara and frilly sleeves. It was created by that Spanish designer... Isabella Perez was it? The one who designed my hair in Madrid for the King's Ball. She has quite the talent, I'll give her that.
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A.N: A good idea of what Josephine's ball gown looks like.
I finished curling my hair, assuring Conroy and the governess that I can handle such a small task for myself. I must begin to assert that I am not helpless and can do things for myself. Especially if I were to rule America one day, though unlikely because of my brother I cannot seem like a puppet. Someone who is easily controlled.
"Princess! You're meant to be introduced in five minutes!" Conroy called through the door.
"I'm coming out Conroy!" I shot back.
I slipped my tiny feet into the shoes I was provided with the dress. They were comfortable enough for me to survive the night. Sometimes the shoes I'm given are so small or so clumsy, I have to be as vigilant as a samurai not to mess up! I turned and walked towards the door and walked into the hallway.
"Finally your highness, we must get to the ballroom!" Conroy said, wiping sweat from his brow.
We sped hurriedly down to the ballroom and arrived a mere minute before I was to be introduced. I was behind Duchess Madison of Oregon, who was a bumbling six-year-old. I do remember when I was six. When the only thing a girl had to worry about was providing enough imaginary tea for her stuffed animals, what a splendid, easy time. She stood with her father, Duke Bertram of Oregon, who was a tall imposing man I will say. Then again, I was barely five feet tall, if I was even five feet tall, so most men were tall, imposing and intimidating. Hopefully I get taller in the next few years.
"Duchess Madison and Duke Bertram of Oregon!" The Herald announced.
The pair entered the ballroom together. I also remember when I was really young when my father and I would enter ballrooms together. It was something that we would bond over. Despite the rough patches in our relationship, we always found a way to remain close. Unlike my mother, who seemed to act like... well... an immature brat. Oh, sorry, I meant an immature and paranoid brat.
