ONE
Charlotte smashed the buttons on her controller, eyes trained on her desktop monitor, brows furrowed with her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth. Her streamers couldn't see that though, for the black cat ear biker's helmet she wore served a wonderful shield to protect her royal face and identity.
“Almost there…” her car swerved around the others on the screen, her position steadily climbing up from fourth… third… second…
She ignored the comments popping up on the bottom corner of the screen, her viewers cheering her on. It was their fault she was even doing this race to begin with. But she had quite the knack for racing games, if she did say so herself. Leave it to CharryKin to master any video game in a few days.
The red Mercedes ahead of her own car was more of a master than she was though. With more than five hundred metres between them, the opponent seemed bent on keeping the distance that way. But she was ready for them. She blasted on her full nitro and smashed into the red sleek car, sent it spinning off course and into a building. Some few kilometres later, she was past the finish line.
“Victory!” She shot a fist up, almost throwing her controller away in the process. She now settled to see all the comments flying upwards on the screen. Of course, her loyal fans were full of praises.
TheSleek: That's my girl!
Soryynotsorry: Hell yeah, won the bet
Mudamuda: Womp womp
She wasn't sure what that “womp womp” meant but it was all good! She'd have loved to show her mother or father, or even her brother, Everett. But some things were better hidden from her family.
“You have my thanks for your uplifting cheers, dear viewers,” she said as she collected her rewards and other materials from the game, also accepting the friend requests from her once-opponents. Including the red Mercedes fellow. “What do you say I go for another race?”
Smaller_yuji: fak yahs
Meow_3294: day 490 of asking to see your face
Brazaaa: hope I get to hear u say it!
But before she could click on the “start” button, a gentle knock came through her door. Only one other person knew about this room, and only her knocked this softly. She was sure the microphone on her desktop wouldn't capture the voice that suddenly followed after the knock so she eased a bit.
“Your Highness, Her Majesty wishes to see you.” Bellamy's calm and aged voice came through the door.
“Bollocks!” Charlotte exclaimed, and immediately faced her many thousand viewers.
Kutakuu: she said it!
Brazaaa: worth staying up all night ahh
Lowkey_chump: she's got that scouse accent lmao
“Unfortunately, I have to call it a day. But worry not, you shall see more of me tomorrow! I do tend to be busy, but I always make time for my viewers! Farewell!” With a quick click, she switched of her livestream and jumped to her feet.
“You said Mother wishes to see me?” Her mother hardly ever wanted to meet up, except if it was for important things like showing off-which, now that she thought of it, didn't exactly sound important–or making a brief appearance on national TV
“Yes,” her handmaiden replied curtly, straightforward as ever. “She's inviting you for some afternoon tea.”
“Quite a surprise. I'll be right over!” She removed her helmet and tossed it on a nearby plush couch, loosened her hair and immediately opened the door. It was more an elevator than a door, but it conveniently opened only on command.
Bellamy stood inside the elevator, her fine black maid attire a good contrast to Charlotte's casual shirt and trousers. If her mother were to ever catch her in these clothes, hell would surely flip over. “I have clothes arranged for the date.”
Beside herself with joy, she hugged her handmaiden. “You are simply the best! Heavens keep you longer for me.”
“I daresay I would only live longer for you, Your Highness.” Together they ascended and stopped at the secret backdoor of her massive dressing room. “After you,” Bellamy gestured with open palms at the door, dipping to a small bow.
Charlotte hurried ahead, making a beeline for the bath. She took a quick shower–best not to delay–didn’t bother to soak up in the bath, threw on her dress–free, classy and fit for royalty, as her mother would like it–and let Bellamy do her hair. If there was one thing Charlotte Somerset learned while growing up in the royal palace, it was that whatever etiquette or formality you learned was not to impress anybody but the Queen of Angloria herself. Impress the Queen, and you'll impress just about anybody else.
While it was getting close to habit, she liked to think she'd steered far away from the lavish and noble tastes of her mother, albeit secretly. Including her tastes in lovers.
“Do you reckon she wants to yet again bring me a suitor?” She asked Bellamy warily. “I find I already tire of this episode with her.”
“She only wants the best for you, Your Highness.” Her handmaiden paused for a bit. “Though I'm quite positive she just wants to have a little chat. She looks rather quippy today, I should add.”
Quippy meant she wasn't looking as hard faced as usual. Just… a bit less hard faced. Charlotte could work with that. “Desserts?”
“Always, Your Highness.”
“Capital.” She beamed as her handmaiden did the final touches on her hair. Simple, elegant, noble, as her mother would like it.
She got up and twirled for Bellamy to assess. A curt nod from her confirmed she was ready to meet her mother. That she had not even a single trace of the hardcore gamer–with thousands of followers on Twitch and a pretty gold tick on X–left lingering on her. She was the perfectly raised, perfectly elegant princess that could do a remarkably low curtsy and walk on her tiptoes like a ballerina.
And also, that she wasn't a fan of Brooklyn Nine Nine. Her mother hated that show for some reason.
With practiced grace, she glided down the spiral staircase, nodded at every bow thrown her way, made her way past the grand gilded hall and out to the garden, where her mother waited on a polished white chair with a polished white table adorned with all sorts of delicacies fit for an afternoon tea party for two placed before her and another empty chair kept opposite her.
“Your Majesty,” She dipped into her remarkably low curtsy. “An honour to join you in your leisure.”
“Yes, yes, come join me. Let's have a chat, shall we? I need to see my daughter who has yet to accept any suitor come her way.”
Charlotte turned slowly to give Bellamy a stare. A “what did you tell me?” Stare. But her handmaiden only gave the slightest of shrugs, and slipped away when her mother waved her hand, demanding privacy.
This was going to be an awful afternoon tea party.
