Chin Up Princess!

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Summary

In the country of England, women are not allowed to think, to speak, to voice. Can a humorous princess bring a change to the old belief of the ancient tradition/system? Knowing the royal family was as common as breathing. Seeing the royal family in flesh and blood was a chance that was received by only a few. Talking to the royal family immediately classified you as an important and rich person And being the royal family was probably the most highest position you could ever receive. Right? Anastasia Castellanos, who is the royal family doesn't seem to think so. For her, being able to be independent is more important than being famous What a crazy odd duckling in the mixture of empty headed but beautiful swans.

Genre:
Humor / Romance
Author:
DarknessAndLight
Status:
Ongoing
Chapters:
8
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
13+

Cowabunga!

“You are late” Marie informs me in a not-so-kind tone as she gives me her world wide famous stink eye

I look up at the large clock tower which informs me that I am actually 5 minutes early

Smugly, I point out the fact to my dear little sister

She glances at the clock herself and then declares like a judge pronouncing a death sentence to an innocent woman “The clock must be wrong”

Of course! The clock which showcases the time to all the citizens of London must be wrong since there is no way that I can be early

Her eyes narrow and she looks at me with suspicious eyes “You must have tinkered with it”

I would argue with her but me being early does sound rather suspicious and the fact that I tinkered with it looks more believable

“I am sure that you believe in what you are saying sister but I haven’t touched the clock tower since I was knitting in my room the whole time” I speak in a gentle tone, looking as innocent as Johnny did in the poem ‘Little Johnny’

“Knitting?!”

The tone in which Marie speaks offends me. Why cant she believe that I could be just knitting like a perfectly charming gal- Pardon me. I meant to say- perfectly charming lady?

“You were knitting?” She repeats her voice incredulous

“I was” I say a little annoyed and wonder if she going rather deaf or in shock

Marie looks at me with suspicious narrow eyes “Who are you and what have you done with my- unfortunately- young sister?”

Gee thanks a lot sister!

I open my mouth to reply with a rather smart and disapproved comment about women in general when a nasal voice speaks

“Marie, don’t give me fake hopes of not seeing your sister again” Lydia screeches while looking at as if I was a cockroach she would love step on with her 2 inch tall heels

“I think I just puked when I saw your face” I shoot back, annoyed by her face, voice, nose, eyes- In fact everything about her

“Anastasia apologise!” Marie says sharply burning holes in my head using her coal black eyes.

“No” I yell like a little kid throwing a tantrum

“Now!” Marie says her voice sharp as a perfectly sharpened knife with dark, furious eyes making me yield

I guess we all have to yield to the superior power..

Lydia smirks at me expecting a apology

“Oh pardon me” I say smiling sweetly “I meant to say that.. I think that I just emitted a foul multicoloured liquid as soon as I saw your face in my vision,I am sorry that your face is the way that it is”

There I said an apology just as I was asked

Lydia nods immediately with thinking and says “That is true”

Then my words settle in her head and she looks at me accusingly “You just insulted me”

“So glad you noticed” I say ignoring Marie as she dramatically puts her hand on her forehead acting like a damsel in distress

Lydia sneers at me before stalking to her group of so called ‘friends’. Honestly, they are just rich girls who have nothing to do except gossip about their other ‘friends’

Its absolutely brilliant how friendship works.. isn’t?

“Anastasia!” Marie’s voice pierces my ear

“Marie!” I mimic her

She sighs and looks up as if begging God to knock some sense in me. When God doesn’t reply she gives me a tired look and says:

“Just behave yourself”

Of course I am going to!


Crash. Crash. Crash.

Silence.

Then..

“ANASTASIA!” My dear old mate, Louise bellows at me

I try to ignore her by looking at the chandelier above me

Such beautiful chandeliers aren’t they... Maybe if I keep staring at it she will forget to say what she had to say

“ITS YOUR FAULT” Louise screeches in my ear

Ah! No such luck it seems

Usually I would argue with her saying that it wasn’t my fault but I do admit that from a certain angle with a certain amount of light it looked as if I was the criminal

It wasn’t my fault that they gave me some ’Strappy Dancing Shoes” to wear while practicing my ‘Wooing Moves’ (What does that even mean?) while batting my eyelids like a dainty little dizzy head

To make the bad situation worse. I had to flutter my fan and smile like a.. (What was that again?).. a-a love struck, starry eyed, charming lady.

Honestly, who do they think I am? A pink prissy princess

So when I accidentally (completely accidentally, I swear) managed to smash Louise Antoinette Jane’s priceless cups and teapots and china dishes, she decided that I was guilty

I do admit that the fact all the breakable objects kept on the large table got shattered does seem a bit suspicious but if we can dream of flying like birds then something like this is completely plausible

But no.. I had to be blamed upon

I swear that if looked in the right ear of these so called ‘Ladies’ you would actually see the light coming from the other side

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” A scream makes me realise that I was trying to peek in Louise’s right ear and see if my theory was right

“Trying to see if you have a brain or not” I say before grabbing her head closer to me and turning it and trying to see in her right ear

She quickly yanks herself out of my grip and rubs her ear while looking at me incredulously

“Of course not” She exclaims as if stating the most obvious thing in the world “That is what men are for”

See.. We don’t even need men here to make us feel inferior, these girls are enough to do so..

I swear to god (Who I am sure is a sensible woman) that this women have stuffed frilly dresses for brains, earwax in ears and a automatic giggle machine in their throats.

“Anastasia that is enough. Leave” Marie says pointing towards the large polished mahogany wood doors

I sigh

At least no one was hurt unlike last time

“Yeah! Leave” Lydia chirps from behind giving me a superior look as if she just won the war

“Lydia? Mind stepping outside with me for a moment?” I enquire giving her a fake sick sweet smile

Her already pale skinny face pales more and I can almost see the memories running through her head

“Just as I thought” I mutter and after sparing her a smirk I begin to leave in my heels

I walk outside stumbling on the 2 inches long devils creations and trying my best not to fall. After 5 steps of frustration, I take my heels off, take them my hand and begun to walk

Maybe that is why they are called ‘killer heels’ because they literally kill you

Hmm... It’s only 9:15 which means that I spent 15 minutes in that horrible ′A True Lady’ class

Instead of teaching us how to walk, can’t they teach us something about our country, the allies of our country, the value of money and how to earn money

At least we can survive due to that knowledge...

After a lot of calculation and stolen newspapers, I came to the conclusion that girls need to be educated as well. They have to be treated as the men are treated.

This ‘lady in training’ is never going to help me because in real, hard, cold & practical life, there won’t be a Prince Charming to help a damsel in distress. (Marie was saying something like that)

I knew I had to do something worth while.. something worth living for... some place where women can realise that they are much more than pretty faces.

The place would be somewhere where real and brave women resided.

I look at the grey, broken, ratty old building with a door that is off its hinges and smile in nostalgia

‘Regina’s Fishsticks’ says the old board with fungi all over it. Now that I think about it, it does look a bit un-ladylike.

So, with a charming grin on my face I start weaving my way to the back door of the shop which is as charming as its front with a hint of rotting dead fish smell and puke

Delightful. Isn’t it?

In my opinion-

“Tessa! Is that you? Why are you dressed in such kind of clothes?” A sharp and dauntless sounding, familiar voice makes its presence known

Crikety-Crickey-Crap-Crap-Crap

With my eyes wide with fear of the unknown, sweaty palms and forehead and a strange lump in my throat I turn back and give the person a weak smile

“Fancy seeing you here Grace” I say looking around as if truly surprised by her presence

It would have been a good idea to change clothes...

“This is my house Tessa” Grace looks at me with narrowed and suspicious eyes

In that case....

Cowabunga!

~*~

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