Princess of the Knights,ch.1

Instructions

The earliest memories I have,I often like to say are of playing in the garden with mother. I say i was happy. Happiness is the only thing i can't remember. When i was a child,they thought i couldn't understand their whispers. They thought i couldn't be queen,that i'd have to marry. I,naturally,will *never* marry a man. Not to let him take the throne and become corrupt. I,myself do not want to be queen,but i am crown princess. As i walk to my lessons i sigh as i realize i never brushed my hair. I'll be hearing about this from my etiquette teacher. I sit down,inwardly cursing my mother for making me wear this skin-tight dress that i can't breathe in. I set my bag down and wait for my teacher,and she comes in,wearing a pink dress with a high,tight neckline very much like my own. She looks very silly,and made entirely of lace,but of course i can never tell her that. "Hello." I say,trying to not let the reproach show in my voice. "Good day,lady Alexis." she says disdainfully. I hate her. "Today we will be going over your eating,sewing,and the way you speak. If you remain as you are,Lord Stirling will look at you with disdain at the altar!" My fists ball up. I despise him. He's at least twenty and his last wife died of cancer. Now he's a dispicable human being and believes that men are superior. At that moment,something inside me snapped. "No! I won't marry him! I don't care if you tell my mother,or my father,or anyone! I won't marry anyone you've chosen! They're all horrible!" However,instead of yelling back,her teacher smiled. "Oh dear. It seems we have another. You think you know how this world works. Your life was never your own. We own you,we get to choose who you are. All your 'individuality' has been stripped away the second you were born. You are the face of this nation. That comes at a cost. You must marry who *I* say,because your mother is gone." She grabs my chin and forces me to look her in the eyes. Her eyes are wild and cruel. I stare at her defiantly,and march out of the room,muttering to my maid to lengthen my pottery class. It's one of the only things that bring me joy. I march into my room,and tear the stiff fabric off my body,making sure that i damage it. I make sure to lock the door this time,as i strip off my excessive undergarments and put my pottery clothes on. I instantly feel better now that i'm not in skin-tight dresses with high necklines,but in a baggy t-shirt and shorts. I sigh as i sit on my bed. My teacher will have called up my mother,claiming that i put in an order to beat her. I *would* if i didn't have one last thread of sanity. After a minute i realize that i feel tears on my cheeks as i'm dreading my mother telling my father of whatever my teacher lies about... He's worse than my teacher. I hate him. And he's coming home today.