Princess Stone

Princess Pearlene Banks was born the last daughter of the Banks family—small in size, but never in presence. From the moment she could speak, she found ways to stand out. She was loud when she needed to be, stubborn when she wanted something, and fearless in ways that didn’t always make sense for a girl so little.

Her older sister Cleopatra called her Mighty Mouse.

The nickname stuck because it fit. Princess was tiny, but she never backed down.

Their parents were alcoholics—physically present at times, emotionally absent always. Love came inconsistently, responsibility even less. Raising three girls was never something they truly managed, and before Princess was old enough to understand what was missing, the sisters had already learned to lean on each other instead.

Cleo, the eldest, carried the heaviest weight.

She stepped into the role of protector early, taking responsibility no child should have to shoulder. When the fridge was empty, Cleo figured it out. When the house was loud with arguing or silence that felt worse, Cleo kept her sisters close. Mystery helped where she could, but Cleo was the one who sacrificed—over and over again.

She gave up her freedom before she ever had it.

As the years passed, their parents’ mistakes caught up with them. Debt piled up. Bills went unpaid. Eventually, everything collapsed. The house was lost. Stability disappeared overnight. Whatever illusion of family they had left crumbled under the weight of addiction and neglect.

Cleo was furious.

Not just angry—but done.

She took her sisters and made a choice that would define all of their lives: if their parents couldn’t raise them, she would. She promised to protect them and love them the way they deserved, even if it meant burning parts of herself to do it.

Princess grew up under that protection—but she was still Princess.

In her teenage years, trouble followed her like a shadow. She was curious, impulsive, and drawn to chaos the way some people were drawn to comfort. Cleo and Mystery spent years pulling her out of situations she had no business being in—sneaking into dangerous places, trusting the wrong people, chasing excitement without thinking about consequences.

Every time, Cleo showed up.

Every time, she paid the price.

Princess didn’t fully understand it then, but the foundation of who she would become was already being built: a girl raised by sacrifice, shaped by instability, and protected by a sister who refused to let her fall completely.

Mighty Mouse didn’t know it yet—but survival had already been written into her bones.