Defiance in the Golden Gown

The Kingdom of Perest was a land of beauty and magic, nestled between the towering Silver Mountains and the sprawling Emerald Forest. It was a place where the land was filled with enchantment and magic. The kingdom's capital was a sight to behold, flowers were in full bloom and spread along the roads.

"I don't want to go to the square and be paraded like a beautiful trophy," Princess Alita bellowed as she stood before her father in his study. Her voice, usually melodic and gentle had a defiant edge. She was a stunning figure dressed in a golden long gown that cascaded to the ground in shimmering waves. Her pink curls, a trait of her fairy lineage, were wrapped around her head like a halo, and her striking blue eyes glared at her father with fierce determination.

"You will go because I demand it, child. Your presence is needed more at the main square. Besides, what do you do in the castle?" The king's voice was stern but tinged with exasperation. He was a middle-aged man with the same pink hair as his daughter and striking green eyes that bespoke his fairy heritage. He was the ruler of Perest, a kingdom dominated by the grace and beauty of the fairy race.

Alita breathed in sharply, her father's words hitting a sensitive spot. As a princess, what did he expect her to do in the castle apart from sleeping and looking pretty? The palace was overflowing with servants and guards. There was practically nothing for her to do. Even when she had picked up archery, her father had forbidden her to continue, deeming it unfit for a princess. And now he was mocking her, questioning her role. It wasn't as if the entire kingdom hadn't seen her before. Ever since she could walk, her life had been a public spectacle.

"I could be exposed to danger and killed," Alita said slowly, trying to keep her voice steady.

The king snorted, his wings moving along with the movements. "There are over a thousand guards positioned at the square to protect you. You will be fine."

Alita wanted to protest, but her father with an impenetrable face seemed to stifle her voice.

The king waved his hand dismissively and said, "This isn't a request, Alita, it is an order."

It wasn't rare for Alita and the king not to see eye to eye. Their disagreements were frequent and their arguments were always intense, but this time, Alita felt the sting of her father's command more deeply than usual.

"I know you are the king," Alita began, her voice trembling slightly, "but you are also my father. Shouldn't you be worried about me?" She pouted, hoping to soften his stance with a display of childish charm.

The king narrowed his eyes at her, his expression stern. "That will not work on me, Alita. Besides, you are not a child anymore. One day, you will take over the kingdom. You need to be prepared."

Alita rolled her eyes, her frustration evident.

"Stop it!" The king's voice was sharp, his patience wearing thin. "You are going to the square in two days, so get yourself ready."

With a huff of indignation, Alita stomped out of the king's study. Even in her anger, she had to maintain an air of calmness. She wanted to shout, to let out her fury, but she couldn't. She was a princess, and a princess had to maintain decorum at all times.

As she walked through the long corridors of the castle, her mind raced with thoughts of rebellion and escape. The walls of her home felt like the bars of a prison.

Alita made her way to her chambers, it was a lavish suite adorned with rich tapestries and delicate furnishings. The room was filled with treasures from all over the kingdom. She collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ornate canopy overhead, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. She hated feeling so powerless, so trapped.

Her maid, Nadir, entered the room. With her flaming red hair and striking green eyes, she was a vision of the standard beauty in Perest kingdom. A full fairy, Nadir's delicate wings shimmered in the soft light, casting iridescent reflections on the walls. She had what I was denied because of my half-human heritage, wings.

Nadir's eyes were full of concern. "Princess, is everything all right?" she asked softly.

Alita wiped away her tears quickly and sat up. "No, Nadir, everything is not all right. My father is forcing me to go to the main square in two days, and I don't want to. I feel like I'm being paraded around like a prized horse."

Nadir sat beside her, taking her hand gently. "Your father loves you, Princess. He just wants what is best for the kingdom."

"I know," Alita sighed, "but it feels like he doesn't care about what I want. I'm always being told what to do, how to act, and where to go. I have no freedom."

"Being a princess comes with its own set of challenges," Nadir said softly. "But remember, you have the strength to overcome them. You are destined for greatness, Alita. You just have to find your way to it."

Alita looked at Nadir, finding comfort in her words. "Thank you, Nadir. Sometimes I forget that."

Alita POV

As Nadir strolled away from my room, I found myself engulfed in the solitude that I both feared and craved. The quiet gave me the space to clear my head, to unravel the tangled thoughts that had taken root there. It wasn't that I didn't want to see my people—no, I yearned for the connection, the sense of belonging. But the reality was far more complicated. There were those among them who despised me, and their hatred ran as deep as the roots of the trees that surrounded our kingdom.

I couldn't help but replay the last time I ventured to the main square. The memory was sharp and stinging, much like the bruises left by the rotten fruits that had been hurled at me. The man who attacked me had been bold enough to voice his contempt, calling me a "half-blood brat" with such venom that the words echoed long after he was apprehended. He was open about his loathing, What about the others who harbored the same hatred but chose to hide it behind polite smiles and watchful eyes?

I let out a sigh, heavy with the burden of a life I never chose. It wasn't my fault that my father fell in love with my mother. My father, a fairy of noble lineage, found his fated mate in a human woman. He could have ignored the bond, married a female of his kind, and spared himself—and me—the pain of ostracism. But he allowed nature to take its course. They had me, their only child, but my mother died in childbirth. I never got the chance to know her, to understand the human part of my heritage.

I tossed around in my bed, a frown on my face.

Although my father doesn't say it, I know he thinks her death is partially my fault. The unspoken tension hangs between us like a fog. No matter how I try to ignore it, I cannot conceal the truth that gnaws at me.

It's been over twenty-two years year since my mother's tragic death. My father, King Aric, seldom speaks of her anymore, but I can see the grief etched into his stern features. And beneath that grief, a hint of accusation lingers.

Being a princess is harder than what people see. To the outside world, my life appears as a fairy tale, a series of lavish balls, exquisite gowns, and glittering jewels. But the reality is far more complex. The rules, the guilt, the need to conform to a particular standard—it's all exhausting.

I am grateful for my life, truly. Yet, sometimes, I get bored of it. The endless protocols, the constant vigilance, the facade that must be maintained at all times. It feels like a gilded cage, beautiful but confining.

I was lost in thought, gazing at the ceiling. My eyes were opened but I wasn't seeing anything.

A knock on the door startled me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I called, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The door opened, and Nadir stepped in once again. She bowed gracefully, her movements fluid and elegant.

"It is time for your massage, my princess," she said, her voice a whisper.

I smiled a genuine one this time. This was my favorite part of the day. The feel of the aromatic oils being massaged into my skin, the soothing touch of Nadir's hands working out the knots of tension—it was a blissful escape from the weight of my responsibilities.

Inside my chamber, I had a separate room set up just for my daily massages. It was the only way I could feel relief.

"Thank you, Nadir," I replied, making my way to the cushioned table prepared for the session. I laid down, allowing myself to relax as she began her work.

The room was filled with the calming scent of lavender and chamomile. Nadir's hands moved with practiced precision, her touch gentle yet firm. As the oils warmed under her skilled fingers, I felt myself feeling drowsy as she continued massaging my body with her magical hands.