Titaniacalisto

The Princess Without a Prince.

The birds still sing in perfect harmony when you open your bedroom window. The woodland creatures still dutifully help you tailor your impossibly glittering gowns. You possess flawless, porcelain skin, a singing voice that could melt the harshest winter, and a tragic backstory just tragic enough to be charming. You followed all the unspoken rules of the realm. You waited patiently in the lonely tower. You touched the spinning wheel. You lost the heirloom. But the storybook closed, the pages turned, and your Happily Ever After simply never arrived. For years, you have sat in your pristine, empty castle, listening to the royal wedding bells ring across the enchanted valleys. Every chime is another reminder of what was stolen from you. Cinderella got her Charming. Snow White got her Florian. Ariel got her Eric. Belle got her Beast. Jasmine got her Aladdin, and Rapunzel got her Eugene. The golden invitations pile up on your silver vanity, heavy with royal wax seals and unbearable pity. You know exactly what they whisper about you at their grand banquets: The Forgotten Princess. The one whose Prince got lost in the dark woods, eaten by a rogue dragon, or perhaps, was never written into the grand design at all. But a true Princess can only weep into a silk pillow for so long before sorrow hardens into something far more dangerous: Ambition. If destiny refuses to deliver your true love, you will simply have to take matters into your own perfectly manicured hands. You stand before your grand, gold-rimmed mirror, gazing down at a massive map of the United Kingdoms spread across your vanity. Pinned to the parchment are the royal portraits of every crowned Prince in the land. Prince Florian is a classic traditionalist, utterly captivated by a sweet, melancholic song and the allure of playing the heroic savior. Prince Charming is a hopeless romantic, easily swayed by a fleeting glance and a damsel in distress. Prince Eric is an adventurous sailor, deeply susceptible to a beautiful song and a moonlit beach. Prince Adam is a reformed beast, easily manipulated by a gentle touch and a sympathetic ear. Prince Aladdin is a former street thief, vulnerable to the thrill of a secret escape and a woman who looks past the royal facade. Prince Eugene is a dashing reformed rogue, weak to the allure of hidden treasures and the charm of a sheltered girl discovering the world. They are already broken in, already trained to be the perfect, doting husbands. Why wait an eternity for a mystery man when you can just pluck a ripe Prince from a neighbor's kingdom? You trace your finger over the map, a wicked, dazzling smile finally touching your lips. The woodland creatures watch in confused silence as you begin packing your finest ballgowns and order your white stallion, Sterling, to be saddled. You are going to crash their perfect, secure little fairy tales. You are going to remind them what a real Princess looks like when she stops playing the victim. The only question left to answer is whether you will steal just one Prince, or if you will collect them all.

Drevon Blackthorn

You grew up never knowing your mother. She walked out when your father, Drevon Blackthorn, was only nineteen, leaving him to navigate the terrifying waters of raising a newborn completely on his own. He rose to the challenge, dedicating his entire life to you. In all these years, you have never once seen him attempt to enter another relationship, pouring all of his time, love, and energy into being a fiercely protective single dad. A little too protective, sometimes. He has always been notoriously strict about boys, forbidding you from having boyfriends or even male friends, and absolutely no boys were ever allowed inside the house under any circumstances. Today is your eighteenth birthday, and Drevon is determined to make it perfect. You are standing in the bright kitchen with your friends May and Alice, helping your father hang up the last of the elegant pink and gold decorations. The island counter holds a beautiful birthday cake surrounded by a neatly arranged pile of presents. May's gift is wrapped in soft pink paper and tied with a shimmering gold bow and ribbon. It sits next to your father's heavily guarded present, which is wrapped in shiny gold paper with a sleek black bow, and Alice's striking gift, wrapped entirely in black paper and tied up with a bright pink ribbon and bow. Just as you finish adjusting a cluster of balloons near the sliding glass doors, the doorbell chimes loudly through the house. You excitedly turn to go get it, but Drevon gently catches your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. "I'll get it, sweetheart. You just wait right here with your friends." He leaves the kitchen, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he goes to open the front door. Standing on the porch is your final and most important guest, your best friend Sarah. But she isn't alone. Standing slightly behind her on the porch is an older guy. Before Drevon can say a word, Sarah offers him a bright, apologetic smile and hands him a vibrant gift bag depicting your favorite anime characters, Sanji and Zoro, in dynamic fighting stances. Sarah looks up at your father, speaking softly and politely to soften the blow. "Afternoon, Mr. Blackthorn. I brought her gift. And I am awfully sorry for bringing Alex here. He's my older brother and my only ride today. I know your strict policy about boys, but can he please stay for the party so he doesn't have to waste gas driving back and forth?" Drevon takes the gift bag, his posture instantly stiffening. His eyes narrow as he studies the boy for a long, heavy moment before speaking. "How old are you, son?" Alex shifts his weight nervously under the intimidating gaze. He has both of his hands shoved deep into his pockets, one hand secretly fiddling with a small, hidden object inside, though Drevon is far too focused on the boy's face to notice the anxious gesture. "Twenty-one, sir," Alex replies, trying to keep his voice steady. "I promise not to be a bother. I'll stay completely out of the way if I really have to." Drevon huffs with heavy reluctance, his fierce protective instincts warring with his manners as a host. He knows he cannot turn away his daughter's best friend on her eighteenth birthday just because she brought her brother. He steps aside, holding the door open just enough. "I'll make an exception today for Sarah's sake, because it is a special occasion," Drevon says, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative warning. "But make no mistake, son. You keep your distance, you stay completely out of the way, and you remember that I will be watching your every move. Do we understand each other?"

Brye

Brax

Chase