Princess Daciana

A tantrum...

A tantrum saved the life of the last heir of Whitespire princess Daciana.

It was indeed indecorous yet it kept Daciana alive.

Everything changed that dreadful night where the royal family was to attend that year's annual ball.

Daciana loathed royal balls and didn't fail to hide her resentment, she spoke about it all day and her mother had just enough of her banter sending her to her room as punishment but that was all Daciana wanted to be home alone and read the books she sneaked from the library,

Apparently princesses weren't permitted to read books that involved science or sports only etiquette or tea parties so Daciana had to hide them in her gown and hid them in her secret compartment she built in her room.

The royal ball was an important night it was one shot to get Prince Eric charms working with the princess of Loria but that very night of joy turned into a nightmare of agony.

Princess Daciana, the black sheep of the family, had four siblings who at times she wished she could slit their throats and trample on their spine regardless she loved them very very much.

And that very night when the news reached the palace she was shattered she lost them all.

It was a massacre.

The royal family had traveled along different paths, different carriages with enough men to go to war yet every one was killed and there was barely a scratch on the warriors.

Princess Daciana couldn't believe it, it sounded absurd she didn't want to believe it but she saw it with her own eyes.

She broke all protocols despite the warnings and protests of the royal advisors that it would be best she stayed within the palace walls where she would be protected

Daciana refused stating she wanted to see her parents’ bodies willingly or she would have to fight her way to the site.

It was an unusual request but yet again Princess Daciana wouldn't be the one you call the usual Princess.

In fact she was the only one who hated the title "princess"

She grabbed a coat and hurried down the halls her mother's voice echoed in her mind.

"Princesses shouldn't run"

"Daciana you are going to bring shame to this family if you don't eat your bullshit and aspire to be like your sisters"

That night with hot tears spilling from her cheeks she ran like she had never before.

She mounted on a horse and with a kick to the shins she galloped through the palace grounds and made her way through the exit and hurried down to the gruesome scene.

It was a terrible sight to behold.

It was clear whoever did this had a personal vendetta with the family, if there was one rule she obeyed from all the shitty laws was that Royals shouldn't show weakness.

She climbed off the horse with hands wrapped in a glove she dropped the hood revealing who she was.

The crowd around gasped and murmured either surprised she was still alive or rather shocked she graced them with her presence with no protection and a formal royal attire.

She walked with shaky legs through the crowd till her gaze fell on the dissembled corpse of her parents.

She went through the five stages of grief in that moment and that was the night Daci died and then came the birth of Princess Daciana.

PRINCESS DACIANA

The laces of my corset tightened further, squeezing the very breath from my lungs. I felt the rigid bones press into my ribs, forcing my spine to straighten. My chin lifted as if pulled by an invisible thread. The maids moved with swift precision around me, their deft fingers tugging, smoothing, and adjusting every fabric fold of my gown. The scent of lavender clung to the air, heavy from the sachets they had tucked into the crevices of my wardrobe.

I kept my gaze forward, eyes like glass, expression unmoving. The mirror reflected a figure that did not feel entirely mine—adorned in deep blue sapphire, silk cascading down my frame, embroidered with gold that caught the light. My crown—more like a burden of glittering thorns—rested atop my head, its cold weight biting into my scalp. I could feel the pinpricks where it threatened to slip, demanding I keep my posture flawless.

“Is the fit to your liking, Your Highness?” one maid inquired.

To my liking?

Was she serious I could barely breathe in this thing!

“It will suffice.” I said instead keeping my tone subtle.

The final adjustments were made, and I allowed myself a shallow breath. As they stepped back, I swept from the dressing chamber, my footsteps softened by the rich velvet carpet beneath me. The grand doors loomed ahead, two guards pulling them open as I approached. The corridor beyond stretched in a gleaming ribbon of marble, the cold stone sending a faint chill through the thin soles of my shoes.

No sooner had I emerged than the steward awaited, a scroll in hand, the edges worn from anxious fingers. He bowed low and rose with an air of respect.

“Your schedule for the morning, Your Grace,” he began, his voice even yet threaded with unease. “The princes are assembled in the hall.”

Oh I have dreaded this day, but what was the use I couldn't run away or hide from my responsibilities so instead I did the one thing mother always wanted me to- comply.

Comply with the rules

Obey instructions

Don't do this

Don't do that

Don't be a human being instead be a Punishment oh sorry I meant Princess.

“Very well.” I nodded, the jeweled pins in my hair catching the light like fragments of shattered glass. “Let us proceed.”

As I walked, the rustle of my gown whispered against the carpet.

When we entered the grand room, I was greeted by the polite smiles of royalty, each prince standing in a neat row, their eyes flickering with hope, pride, or barely concealed impatience.

The steward began to announce their names and titles one by one, each bowing deeply as I approached. I returned their bows with a smile that never quite reached my eyes, my hands clasped before me, fingers intertwined so tightly they ached. The taste of honey lingered on my tongue from the tea I had sipped earlier, though now it felt cloying, too sweet against the bitterness of my thoughts.

The first prince had raven hair and eyes like shards of onyx he stepped forward, his smile almost too eager. I inclined my head, listening to his greetings, though the words felt as hollow as an echo in an empty hall.

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” he offered, his eyes lingering on my boobs longer than they should.

“And you, my lord,” I replied, my tone smooth, practiced. I waited until he turned away before glancing at the steward. “Strike him from the list.”

Without a word, the steward made a swift notation.

The process continued, a parade of wealth and charm, each prince vying for favor with elaborate bows and syrupy words. Their perfumes clung to the air, rich spices and heavy floral that mingled unpleasantly, leaving a dull ache at my temples. My smile remained, fixed in place like the mask of a porcelain doll.

Hours passed, my feet beginning to throb within their confines, my patience stretched thin. I turned to the steward, my voice low, barely more than a whisper. “How many more await?”

He glanced at the parchment, eyes flicking over the endless scrawl of names. “Over sixty more, Your Grace. You must select twenty by day's end.”

The very notion made my chest tighten. I drew a steadying breath, the corset restricting the air from fully filling my lungs. “Twenty, you say?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Is there no possibility of reducing the number?”

The steward hesitated, eyes darting to the floor as though searching for an answer there. “I believe, Your Grace, a reduction is permissible, though…”

“Then strike out the remainder,” I commanded, the words leaving my lips with a decisiveness that brooked no argument. “Select only the next ten and dismiss the rest.”

The steward’s eyes widened, but he bowed his head quickly, ink splattering onto the parchment as he hurried to comply. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

And there you have it a display of how I chose my husband and more importantly the next ruler of Whitespire since being a girl meant you were a breeding machine and incapable of leading a kingdom,

So in order to be Queen I needed a King.

To that I say fuck 'em!

Oh sorry a Princess wasn't meant to curse my fucking bad!