Pricila grumbled something under
her breath as she swept a hand through her bubblegum-pink hair.
“Pricila! Where are you?” She ignored her mother, staying silent as she messed with her hair, pulling to one shoulder and braiding it, letting it rest down her back.
“Pricila, please come back! I didn't mean it!” her father shouted.
As silently as she could, she moved further away from them. She glanced to Gwen, who resided on her body in tattoo form. Gwen refused to speak for the last little bit, confusing her master greatly. The dragon was usually very talkative.
Gwen? Are you okay? Why aren't you speaking? Pricila mentally asked, brushing aside a large leaf as she continued through the dense forest to avoid her parents.
Gwen was silent for a moment more before answering. Mistress, I advised you to tell them about him before you two decided to marry. Not after. You knew how what your parents would say—especially when you're in an arranged marriage to another man.
Pricila glared at the dragon tattoo on her arm. Shut up, Gwendolyn. You said no such thing.
Gwen huffed at the use of her full name, revealing her true form. Pricila studied her for a moment. Shoulder-length, cherry-red hair and brown, almond-shaped eyes coupled with her height, allowing her to stand over Pricila by a good six inches or so.
Pricila looked away, moving on. She didn't remember Gwen saying anything, which means it didn't happen. Stupid dragon. I can take of myself. I don't care if my parents hired you to protect me. I don't need protection.
Gwen chuckled scornfully. Princess, if you knew how to take care of yourself, I wouldn’t be here. But, you don’t, so here I am. You’re original marriage is to a commoner to help your village. He can help a lot more than the prince you want to marry can. I promise.
Pricila said nothing to reply as Gwen reappeared on her arm. Pricila wasn’t the easiest girl to get along with, clearly. She was stubborn, clumsy, and outright rude. Sometimes Gwen wondered why the Prince of Eralyn agreed to marry her. He was a decent, honest, and overly apologetic man.
They were opposites.
Polar opposites.
Yet, they got along very well.
Pricila would quiet down, and Prince Jonas would take over their conversation. Pricila would trip; Prince Jonas would catch her. Prince Jonas would back down as a mob formed; Pricila would take control and calm them down.
Gwen paused. Perhaps Pricila was right about wanting to marry him over the commoner. She had plans to abdicate her throne anyways, giving it her sister, Charlotte. Gwen still thought she should’ve told her parents about it though.
They hadn’t met Prince Jonas, and didn’t want their eldest daughter—Princess of Colox—marrying some man, prince or not, without meeting him. King Peter and Queen Molly truly had their daughter’s safety at the forefront of their minds, and wanted her safe. Princess Pricila didn’t care about her safety, and just wanted to get married and away from them.
Gwen nodded to herself. The members of the Royal Family were overbearingly protective of Pricila, so Gwen could see why she wanted to get away. It wasn’t like there would be no one to take the throne. They still had Charlotte.
She sighed, shifting slightly on Pricila’s arm.
Prince Jonas would be a good man to Princess Pricila. They just needed to get the King and Queen to see that.
“Pricila! Where are you?” She ignored her mother, staying silent as she messed with her hair, pulling to one shoulder and braiding it, letting it rest down her back.
“Pricila, please come back! I didn't mean it!” her father shouted.
As silently as she could, she moved further away from them. She glanced to Gwen, who resided on her body in tattoo form. Gwen refused to speak for the last little bit, confusing her master greatly. The dragon was usually very talkative.
Gwen? Are you okay? Why aren't you speaking? Pricila mentally asked, brushing aside a large leaf as she continued through the dense forest to avoid her parents.
Gwen was silent for a moment more before answering. Mistress, I advised you to tell them about him before you two decided to marry. Not after. You knew how what your parents would say—especially when you're in an arranged marriage to another man.
Pricila glared at the dragon tattoo on her arm. Shut up, Gwendolyn. You said no such thing.
Gwen huffed at the use of her full name, revealing her true form. Pricila studied her for a moment. Shoulder-length, cherry-red hair and brown, almond-shaped eyes coupled with her height, allowing her to stand over Pricila by a good six inches or so.
Pricila looked away, moving on. She didn't remember Gwen saying anything, which means it didn't happen. Stupid dragon. I can take of myself. I don't care if my parents hired you to protect me. I don't need protection.
Gwen chuckled scornfully. Princess, if you knew how to take care of yourself, I wouldn’t be here. But, you don’t, so here I am. You’re original marriage is to a commoner to help your village. He can help a lot more than the prince you want to marry can. I promise.
Pricila said nothing to reply as Gwen reappeared on her arm. Pricila wasn’t the easiest girl to get along with, clearly. She was stubborn, clumsy, and outright rude. Sometimes Gwen wondered why the Prince of Eralyn agreed to marry her. He was a decent, honest, and overly apologetic man.
They were opposites.
Polar opposites.
Yet, they got along very well.
Pricila would quiet down, and Prince Jonas would take over their conversation. Pricila would trip; Prince Jonas would catch her. Prince Jonas would back down as a mob formed; Pricila would take control and calm them down.
Gwen paused. Perhaps Pricila was right about wanting to marry him over the commoner. She had plans to abdicate her throne anyways, giving it her sister, Charlotte. Gwen still thought she should’ve told her parents about it though.
They hadn’t met Prince Jonas, and didn’t want their eldest daughter—Princess of Colox—marrying some man, prince or not, without meeting him. King Peter and Queen Molly truly had their daughter’s safety at the forefront of their minds, and wanted her safe. Princess Pricila didn’t care about her safety, and just wanted to get married and away from them.
Gwen nodded to herself. The members of the Royal Family were overbearingly protective of Pricila, so Gwen could see why she wanted to get away. It wasn’t like there would be no one to take the throne. They still had Charlotte.
She sighed, shifting slightly on Pricila’s arm.
Prince Jonas would be a good man to Princess Pricila. They just needed to get the King and Queen to see that.
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