the kids aren't alright

Ella had taken the morning to firmly entrench herself in a pile of blankets on her bed that was easily twice her size, just enough of a tunnel peering our that she could see the endless loop of documentaries playing on her tv. She had spent too much time playing nice with too many royals, and now the introverted side of her was demanding that she provide every layer possible to protect herself from anyone that might try to penetrate her solitude. “Fuck off!” She shouted, as soon as the door opened. It was a gamble, but she couldn’t imagine anyone but Kit walking in without knocking first. “Leave me alone to die.” 

“I wish I could get to that point.” She did know that she would never appease any of these people, she had a lifetime to prove that. But she still had her father harping on her, and she knew that when she fucked things up, that was one thing she could do royally. Chances were, she’d have every major country out to destroy Andorra after just one night of letting down whatever thing filter she had. “Let’s just hope I stop myself at decking someone.” This was not making her feel better. “Sounds like you’re in love with him.” 

Oddly enough, Ella hadn’t scared the woman away immediately. Sometimes she forgot that not all royalty were like the people she had grown up with; some of them still possessed a beating heart in the recesses of their soul and had somehow escaped the fate of being a complete dick. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she herself fell into that category. “Everyone has a different idea of interesting.” She pointed out, unable to stop herself from being at least a little contradictory. Still, she took the woman’s hand and shook it briefly. “Ella.” 

“You look like you lost a fight with a lawn mower.” If she insulted him enough, it was easier to act like it was true. Draining the last of her coffee, Ella held out her mug to him in a silent, pleading sort of way. “Fuck you. I do what I want.” He could tell her what to do, sure. And most of the time she actually listened, but it wasn’t because she had to. 

“Most of them probably would.” Ella shrugged. She knew that she came far from fitting into the mold of ‘most royals’, as hard as her father had tried. She would never be able to act the part of a perfect princess, who never shoved her foot in her mouth. “If a short fuse is all it takes, I’m fucked.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get into a fight or not. Sure, it would be satisfactory to piss her father off like that, but she was going to have to be queen one day, and she wasn’t sure that punching another royal would help her in that area. “Which one is he?” 

Noting the way she was leaning, Cass patted the empty spot on the bench next to her, a sympathetic look on her face. “You look as though you’re needing the same sort of peace and quiet I was to just take a load off. You’re more than welcome to join me. I’ll admit I’d like to try to get to know some more people around here…” 

Ella sauntered a little further into the small clearing, picking at one of the vines enough to keep her hands busy, but not enough to cause any real damage to the plant. She plucked a dead flower from another bush and flicked it to the ground. She was tired and a little sweaty, but she still couldn’t take being still for too long. Especially in the presence of anyone else. “Good to know.” She replied lowly, realizing only after that it probably came out sounding rude. This was what she got not thinking through her words before speaking, but that was always her problem. 

She eyed the empty space on the bench. It was very close proximity and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but it felt too rude to decline the offer, so she made her way to it and sat down. “Oh, if you’re looking to get to know the important people around here, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” 

“Bitch, I’m the only one that can fire you.” She crossed her arms and glared. They were both right, in this matter, though she would never admit it. “I should have let my father fire you. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with your stupid smug mug. And you can’t tell me what to do.” 

“God, I hope so.” She wasn’t even bothering to try to stop herself. A fight was exactly what this place needed to liven it up a little, at least then they would all have something to watch. She was a little surprised herself that nobody had tried to kill anyone yet. That they knew of. “Who do you think will start it?” Either he would find the topic ‘revulsive’ and walk away, which she wouldn’t mind, or he would be into it and she would actually have something worthwhile to talk about. 

“Have you done practice fights before?” A small part of her assumed not given the fact that Ella was a Princess… but then again, the smaller brunette had been full of surprises so far. Why should this be any different?

Uly began idly re-wrapping her knuckles in a completely unnecessary gesture of self-preservation. The bandaging prevent skinning knuckles and wrist injuries when striking a surface… in training bouts, force was with-held from strikes and more often then not, it was a contest of pins and arm-locks more akin to jujitsu than Uly’s native Muay Thai. 

“Ready when you are, Princess.” She muses as she settles into a classic defensive stance. Front heel arched high with most of her weight on her back leg, albeit spread and balanced. Hands up. She twisted that last word intentionally, trying to bait the girl into venting. Letting out that anger. 

Show me the real you.

Eyebrows up. She hadn’t expected Uly to take her seriously. Nobody ever took her seriously, after all. They laughed, or maybe just gave her a strange look and moved on. But the look was one of surprise. She really though Ella wanted to fight. Of course, Ella was no stranger to fighting. Dance had been her passion, but she had done her fair share of kickboxing, only cutting back when her body forced her to choose one to pour her energy into. She had always liked it, though. There was nothing like a punch in the face to remind her that she was still alive. 

“Only bar fights.” She replied flatly. Again, her mouth which ran without her permission was going to get her in trouble, though she didn’t think Uly would actually believe that. It had only been the one, anyway. Other than that, it had mostly been practice fights, so long as you didn’t count all the fights she had gotten into at school. There was a reason she hadn’t passed a full year in any one school. Always getting kicked out, forcing her father to pay out in order to cover up her ‘ineptitude’ when it came to getting along with others. 

“Do you have more wrap?” Ella asked, glancing down at her hands. Her knuckles were mostly healed from younger years. Punching walls, lockers, other people. Even at times, hitting the bag until her hands bled because she needed to feel something. But she had taken time and pieced herself together, she wasn’t so broken that she needed that kind of pain as much anymore. Definitely not in the presence of anyone else. 

She pushed to her feet. It might have been a while, but she still knew her placement. She was short, but she had been taught how to use every bit of herself she had. It went against the dancer in her to bring herself down, make herself solid instead of light, but she could shut that part of her out with enough effort. Her skin was tingling with the idea of a real fight, a proper letting of energy. 

Uly: Can we meet?

Ella: You need to talk to me?

Ella: Why?

Stretching down to the leg in mention, Adaline picked up a strap and tightened it around her leg, keeping it firmly attached to her horse’s side. “Mind showing me or have I destroyed any chances at making a friend? If so I’ll go the other way and you never have to look at me again.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” For a moment, Ella was grateful that she came from such a small country and that fact was true. She caught more than a few strums of annoyance in the other woman’s tone, and she started chewing in her thumbnail. Really, she’d made it longer than usual without offending someone, it was no surprise. She had held her tongue, for once, but she was terrible at hiding her expressions. It’s not like royals never shirk their responsibilities to flirt. She was not going to say that. Something like that would get her in more trouble. 

“I can show you.” She didn’t respond to the idea of making a friend. She had never been the ‘friend’ type, especially with other royals. “Are people really like that around here?” She didn’t have to ask. She knew how unforgiving this world could be. Wrapping a hand around the reins and nudging Sitra lightly in the sides, she started moving for the doors.

Ella was in a bad mood. She was usually in a bad mood, only tonight it was worse because she had let Kit convince her to come in the first place, and now she was left to sit simmering on a log, only watching her bodyguard flirt with every female that had a pulse. Traitor. She thought about leaving, but she knew that would bring up questions and she was a terrible liar, so she remained where she was, keeping most people away with withering glares as they approached. “Define good.” She replied sourly, as someone made it past the initial glare (or simply hadn’t noticed it in the dim light). 

“All the time. It’s so annoying trying to get a leg up from someone who is being paid for that kind of stuff, and they’re flirting with the maid.” She rolled her eyes, turning to smile at the girl as she pulled herself into the saddle, using her upper body in a display of strength that impressed her. “Have you had time to find any trails around here yet?”

“Everyone is just as fucked up and messy, some people just hide it better. Besides, I would rather someone be a bitch to my face, then be nice and shit talk behind my back.” That was not their way, though. She had just described the foundations of being a royal. 

“Well,” she was going to bite her tongue and not respond to that. Not everyone was friends with ‘the help’ after all. And nobody of their station appreciated being corrected when it came to talking about people ‘underneath’ them. Like a bloodline actually made them more than anyone around them. “I’ve just been taking the trails.” 

“I meant terrible at dancing, you goof.” Uly teased as she absently began unwrapping her hands from their protective bandaging. The scarred and calloused tissue underneath was familiar to Uly, however she was acutely aware that her butler turned political adviser had advised she keep them away from the public eye. ‘They are a reminder’ he had said. Of what? That I’m not a prissy flower waiting to be plucked? But as much as Uly disliked the concept, she tucked her hands in her pockets a moment later.

The mention of being taught to dance simply made her laugh, a genuine sound that reverberated through her chest as she waved a hand dismissively. “Learn to dance? On top of learning how to run a country?” She emitted another soft giggle. “No chance. It’s already ego-destroying enough to be bad at one thing, let alone two.”

With that, Uly padded over to her bag which she’d left by the punching bags, turning her back on Ella briefly in order to tuck the bandages away and retrieve her phone to check for messages. A few texts from mother, a call from Ethan wondering where I vanished to… Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Besides, I wouldn’t want to be caught on the dancefloor with you around. You’d just make me look bad.” She calls over her shoulder. “Or… well… Worse.”

“I’ll fight you.” Ella responded, on principal. This was the problem with getting comfortable with someone; her filter got less and less and she was more likely to blurt out the first thing that popped into her head, and it was generally not what needed to be said. She hadn’t really meant it in an aggressive manner, though she would fight if called on. But she wouldn’t have allowed it to slip out if she didn’t feel like she was getting along with the other girl already. In any case, it was out there and there was no drawing words back in once she had said them. 

A giggle. It was a sound that didn’t seem suited to the other girl, but it was there anyway. Ella couldn’t decide if it was a learned thing in order to fit the part of a princess, or a thing that had yet been suppressed because of whatever it was that this princess did. What did she do? It occurred to Ella that she really ought to be more curious about the royals surrounding her. Especially one who seemed more down to earth than the rest. That personality did not come naturally to people raising in their lifestyle. Which meant that either something drastic had happened in her life, or she hadn’t been raised to be a princess. Possibly both. 

“If you’re only bad at two things, I think you’re doing alright so far.” She might have offered to teach herself, if she didn’t know that would ruin whatever decent acquaintanceship was forming at the moment. Ella had tried to teach things before, but she was too hard, too forceful and didn’t have the patience for it. It was the way that she had been taught, to be fair, but not many people had the constitution to be driven in such a way. And dancing was really not important enough to deserve so much dedication. 

She sat up, choosing to make her break a little longer, as the conversation seemed to demand it. “I don’t dance around people. Ballroom dancing is not what I do, and I spend the whole time doing my best to scare people off.”