Young Writers Society

Part one: In Which I Alienate my Best Friend and Receive a Proposal from the Very Person I Inadvertently Wished to Do So.

Chapter One:

In my very humble opinion, which I must insist is the most righteous, I think they were too harsh.

I mean, I'm good, I'm obedient, aren't I? (As child, princess and otherwise.) Granted, I may have thrown a tantrum or two frequently, causing the demise of a vase or pottery or such, but really.

Going to another country and leaving me with a deadline of two months to find myself a husband is just... just... unfair! They said that a husband will be able to control me (their faces said tame not control) and of course will become the Heir to the crown of Angria. It is not a punishment, they told me, it's a chance to display your sense of responsibility as a princess. We'd like you to find a place to channel your anger instead of -sniff- destroying your mother's favorite vase.

As if it were my fault the stupid vase was standing near me at a time when I was having a fit! My parents can be so hopeless sometimes. Thus, I have to spend every evening with the unwelcomed bachelors of the Kingdom. It used to be amusing the first five days: having the whole Hall filled with the handsomest faces all willing to grant me what I desire; no supervision (The Fool doesn't care what I do as long as I stay inside the room and Ms. Al is half-blind anyway) ;and me at the centre of attention... It didn't seem that bad. But then all the constant dancing and flirting started to become monotonous, and the chocolates weren't as rich-tasting as they used to be and tormenting their flaws and clothing didn't have the same appeal, (which was odd because tormenting people is my favorite pastime).

Lady Charlotte-supposedly my best friend but I have speculations that she has a hidden agenda under that innocent facade- told me yesterday that I should stop judging them by their appearances and start knowing them inside out as to decide which one would be the most suitable husband- which, by the way, is the whole purpose of those evenings and I shouldn't act as though I have the luxury of time.

I refrained from calling her a wisey-wisey which was dreadfully gracious of me. One would think she was the unfortunate individual having her delicate parts waxed and hair combed every day until it was practically non-existent just to please the gentlemen. And she was one to talk. Why, Charlotte was shyer than a bunny confronting its first mating season! Stutters and gibberish flow out of her pink mouth whenever even a servant -a servant!- is anywhere near her vicinity.

Enough about my supposedly-best-friend. I have better things to do than to talk about her.

Like leaving the sanctuary of my relaxing crimson bedroom to the changing room and calling for Ladenne, my personal maid. She arrived a minute -a young maid with overlarge ears and a mouth to match-later and began undressing me. As she did, I examined myself in the mirror that covered an entire wall, turning my head slightly to the left and right.

Hmm. My hazel eyes were a little brighter than usual, but I think it suits my face better. At some point during the day, my hair-do came undone sending my waist-length curls down my back. I tugged on one spiral and let it bounce. Often compared to fiery bushes and roses, it was predicted that I shall develop the suiting temper and passion to live up by it. Ergo, my name was to become my hair color's namesake: Flame. I dote on my hair. I think it belongs to a fierce feminine goddess and accordingly spend hours playing with and just sighing at it. Who wouldn't?

I was squeezed into a fitting white evening gown with loose frayed sleeves and wide black ribbons defining the waist and around the arm but not its neck (which revealed a generous amount of skin) and over it a dress-coat with golden threading to protect my delicate being from the worst of the chilly night.

"Would you like your hair up this night, Your Highness?" asked Ladenne.

"Yes, do that," I murmured, deciding that I wanted to display my new earrings of crafted tiger's eye. Ladenne opted for a simple do with my hair, sweeping it up my shoulders ,twisted and fixed into place with gold-tipped pins.

"Is Lady Charlotte here?"I inquired of Ladenne.

"Yes, Ma'am," said she in her chirpy voice."She's waiting for you by the staircase."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let her in," I told her impatiently.

"Of course, Ma'am," she quickly replied. She hesitated at the door, turned to me and squeaked," I wouldn't want to bother you, Ma'am, but is it true that the Lady is engaged to Baron Fey?"

I glanced at her from the mirror, my quick gaze apparently sufficient to show my growing impatience and that she was by all means bothering me, for she scurried out the room without waiting for an answer.

A minute later, she returned, announcing the arrival of Lady Charlotte Vann Hugh, daughter of the widower lord of Austen. Instead of going to greet my friend, I contented with giving her a wave in the looking glass. Ladenne meekly came back to perform a final check on me lest a pin or hair was out of place or a single inch of fabric was creased or misplaced.

Charlotte appraised me silently from her position, hands on hips. A frown distorted her face, yet she still maintained her angelic expression. I hated how her eyes were so wide and blue, how her lips quivered when she was confused or nervous –which would be all the time-,rendering any unsuspecting onlooker (usually of the male variety) helpless against her innocent charm and deceit. I hated it with passion. It screamed fraud and it reeked of weakness. If my father wasn't such a good friend of hers, I wouldn't've gone a mile near her. But one must make sacrifices to preserve one's reputation, so is the price for life in the fast lane.

"What?" I asked her doppelganger, batting my eyelashes out at her like fans. Flutter flutter flutter, they went.

"Why, Rose,"- I raised an eyebrow at the mention of my other, less exotic first name-"have you forgotten The Curtsey?" she inquired, her eyes as wide as teacups.

I groaned internally. Stupid Charlotte. Stupid twelve-year-old, thought-it-was-time-to-invent-a-secret-code-to-ward-away-any-suspicions-of-falsehood-in-a-moment-of-pure-folly-with-Charlotte, thus-becoming-an-inhumane-curtsey-creator me. It was a good idea at the time, but really, Charlotte should have grown out of it by now. We are but seventeen years old, for goodness's sake! But if I don't do it, she'll eventually stare a hole into me.

"Come here," I said in clipped tones, waving away Ladenne like one would wave off a fly.

Charlotte trotted to me-yes, she trots- with a barely concealed squeal. My eyes almost went rolling as I turned to her, clasping her hands in mine as we recited:

Hello, my darling, my ambrosial pleasure,

My friend, my sister, my sweet, sweet leisure.

We'll hold on to this friendship no matter what we have done,

Let everyone know this when we walk in the sun.

As soon as we reached the word 'sun', we were supposed to kiss each other four times as fast as we possibly could. She did it with enthusiasm while I barely puckered my lips.

"Oh, Flame, one would think you've been blackmailed into doing it," she mused after hearing my deep sigh once I returned back to the mirror.

"I was," I muttered under my breath for only my ears to hear. Ladenne has created a piece out of me, I thought.

I turned to Charlotte again, linked my arm through hers and steered her to the door without offering her a turn in the mirror.

"The staff are very busy with the arrangements," she said.

I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You know, for the gentlemen's stay," she explained.

I raised the other eyebrow.

"Flame, you are aware that it's been snowing all day, aren't you?" she asked.

"Of course I am," I snapped, sounding offended, although I was not conscious of the fact. Why would I want to go out if I could be sitting in front of the looking glass, meditating the depths of my beauty?

"Shall we go?" I asked.

"Certainly."