Gwen, Not Gwendelyn

I stare blankly at my face in the mirror. I don’t want to go to the ball, but my mom would kill me if she found out that I was planning on skipping. I take a deep breath. Maybe I don’t have to skip? After all, what are the chances the prince of Hearts would choose me? I shudder at the thought of the prince. Nobody else seems to notice the evil lacing his eyes, the way that he stares at everyone like he is planning their murder, and most of all, nobody could know the way he looked at me. Longingly. Nope, nope. Not going to think about that.

I reach for my iron curler and half-heartedly add a bit more bounce to my already curly black hair. I am only fifteen and I have already been dreading this night for seven years. I set the iron curler down, and reach for the eyelash curler. My brother always joked about it looking more like a torture device, and secretly I agreed. I usually love big events and making myself prettier, but not tonight. Not when I know that it will be the prince looking for his new bride. I couldn’t help but remember him making his way across the room during the first royal party that my parents allowed me to attend. ‘Hello, my name is Damien, what is yours?’ I shudder just thinking about it.

“Honey, get the hell down here or you’re going to be late!” my mom yells from downstairs. I roll my eyes. I’m almost tempted to say ‘what a shame that would be’, but instead I just yell “I’m coming mom! Just curling my eyelashes!” I half want to tear my eyelashes out, say it was an accident, and insist that I couldn’t go like this, but I know my mom has far too many sets of fake eyelashes. I set the eyelash curler down , and get up, lifting the farthingale of my dress. I actually love the dress. The black and white checkers pattern, and the ruby hearts sewn on, delicate yet beautiful. I had loved it since the day my mom had presented it to me for this very party, but I just wish that I could wear it somewhere else.

As I make my way downstairs, making my way through our mansion, I weave past the maids and other workers, and as I reach my mother, she frowns at me.

“I told you to let Pheobe do your makeup today. I knew you were going to pick that shade of lipstick, and how many times do I have to tell you it doesn’t match your eye color?” My hands move from my side to my lips, which are bright red, as I love to color them, I just wish my mother loved it to, but she said that shade clashed with my icy blue eyes, but I personally thought that they went really well together.

“It’s the national color, mom. If anything, I should always wear this lipstick.” I groan. I mainly just don’t want to wear that sickly shade of pink that my mom seems to love. Mom sighs, probably already giving up, as she doesn’t really put much effort against me ever since she figured out that I really just did not listen. She reaches for my hand and takes it, and I have to fight the urge to immediately yank my hand away.

“Look, Gwendelyn- “

“Gwen.” I correct.

“Yes, Gwen, whatever, I just want you to understand, it is okay if you don’t get chosen, it isn’t the end of the world. I thought my life was over when King Steven chose Harley over me, but I found someone even better. Okay?” I grit my teeth. That’s right, it would be the absolute end of the world if I didn’t get chosen. I nearly role my eyes.

“Okay, mom. I get it. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t be heartbroken if he rejects me.” This time I can’t manage to stifle the eye roll. My mom sighs again.

“Be grateful. I even rented a carriage from the Looking Glass, and you know how expensive that company is.” My mom said, reaching over and kissing me, trying hard not to ruin any of my makeup.

“Mom, we literally own a carriage.” I shoot back, smoothly turning away, because when it comes to exquisite fancy things such as balls, my mom will pull out all the stops, even at the cost of money that could literally feed a hundred orphans for a month. As much as I like fancy things, I prefer helping people (I know, surprise.) I quickly kiss her on the cheek, making sure not to smudge my lipstick. I grab the doorknob, and exit the house, clutching the hem of my skirt. As my mom said, there is indeed one of those hideous Looking Glass carriages. The thing was made of glass, shaped like a heart, and has a full chandelier inside. I like shiny things and crystals, don’t get me wrong, but these carriages are just straight up tacky. Me and Mari love to make fun of them. God, I can already hear her laugh when she sees me pull up in one of the famous glass carriages. I take a deep breath and climb into the carriage.

“Madam. Are you ready to head to the grand ball?” Probably the only time that anybody will be talking about big balls being related to the prince. Oh wait, I should probably answer the driver.

“Um, yeah.” I play with one of my curls, bouncing it up and down and twirling it between my fingers.

“Sound a bit nervous there, madam! Don’t worry, if the prince doesn’t pick you, you probably won’t have to wait long for a boy to take an interest in you.” The driver turns and cracks a crooked grin, and I have to stifle a groan. I honestly think boys are genuinely stupid. What about driving a girl to a royal ball screams ‘Time to flirt with this random girl’? Other than my boobs of course, because I have already noticed how much some boys stare at those. Especially Damien. Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. I am not going to waste my time thinking about him, because if he does what I expect, then I won’t have a choice about whether I want to think about him. Right, I am still actively in a conversation.

“Why thank you, I was slightly nervous but that helps a lot!” I chuckle softly as I lie through my teeth, praying to god that he couldn’t hear the sarcasm in my tone as I get inside. He just smiles at me, so I think I’m in the clear. I am really happy that seemingly only me and my friend group seem to know about sarcasm. The carriage starts moving. I rest my head against the door.

I can already hear the sound of the stupid orchestra, because of course they couldn’t have bands that make good music perform. I love music, so being able to listen to Excalibur Gauntlet would be far better than some classical music composed 500 years ago. The worst part is how much happier Mari would be about it. She always hated pop punk and alternative, which also explains why she hates dressing like anyone remotely cool or interesting. Sorry, uncalled for. I really need to work about talking trash about people, even in my head.

The biting cold of the door prevents me from thinking anything to serious or scary (thank god). I stare out the door, watching the buildings fly by. I really wish that I didn’t live so close to the castle, but since my daddy works there as one of the kings’ advisors, I live in the rich and royal district, as Mari calls it. I do really love it there, I do really love the lifestyle I get to live, but do I have to see Damien? I even spent a whole hang out venting to Olive and Mari about how much that guy creeps me out. God, I miss Olive. Why am I stuck with rich idiots like Owen, but Olive is stuck with the middle-class circle where I can barely see her? I can’t wait to see Olive for once, since at the ’Grand Ball’ all maidens are invited. Some are turned away at the door if they look bad, or are not adhering to the dress code, but that rarely happens because everyone is far too eager to go meet the prince.

The glass carriage pulls to a stop, and I realize that the drive is already over. Maybe the man driving me will decide to kidnap me? No, that’s wishful thinking. One of the kings’ servants, a rabbit, opens the carriage door for me, and I quickly get out.

“Good luck madam!” The driver calls as I step forward towards the stairs leading to the entrance of the castle. I act like I didn’t hear him, and he quickly peals away, and I am left in a horde of girls scrambling desperately to make it to the door. I, for one, sure as hell am not one of them. I want to run, but there are guards everywhere, and I don’t want to deal with my mom if she finds out. And I know she will find out if I do bolt. So basically, I’m trapped.

“GWEN!!!” a loud voice breaks through my thoughts, and I twirl around almost instantly to see Olive’s bright smiley face. She is so sweet that even the sight of her is enough to make someone feel like a better person. I almost instantly find her face in the crowd, despite how short she is. I almost trip running over to hug her, and we have a nice warm embrace. I don’t need to look up to see the judgmental faces of the girls around us, because for once I don’t care. After about a solid minute of just hugging, Olive finally pulls away.

“Gwen! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you it almost makes up for being forced to come see that prince guy! Oh, whatever will I do if he chooses me?” Olive flops dramatically against my arm “However will I explain that I don’t like misogynistic, self-obsessed guys?” I snort.

“Oh please. I don’t think you are at much risk, Liv.” She gasps and draws herself up, trying her best to look absolutely insulted, but her eyes betray her, dancing with fun and mischief.

“Let’s go find Mari before she finds some random obscure reference to dragons, freaks out, and gets kicked out and banned from royal balls.” I smirk, knowing full well that we might already be too late.

“OH! YES! I get to see Mari to!” Olive gasps, and we quickly take off, weaving through the crowd. I spot a few familiar faces, but don’t bother to put names to them. After what feels like forever searching the crowd outside the castle, holding each other’s hands desperately to make sure that we don’t get pushed apart in the crowd of lovely looking girls desperate to see the prince, I finally spot Mari. I gasp, and grab her. I know I saw her only a few days ago, but you tend to miss your best friend. She, like Olive, radiated kindness, which made me realize that it might not be that some people are kind, but maybe just that most 8people were very crappy.

“Mari! What’s wrong with your hair? Why is it down? What happened to your signature braid? Did someone steal it?” I eye the surrounding girls suspiciously. Mari blinks, obviously confused.

“First of, how does one steal a braid? Like, if someone stole my braid, then I shouldn’t have any-“ Mari doesn’t get any further before she is almost knocked over by the pure force of Olive barreling into her.

Olive pulls away and looks at Mari, only to gasp.

“Oh, I’m so sorry madam. I thought you were someone I knew, but she always wears a braid, so I must have been mistaken!”

“Nice to see you to, Olive. Just so you know, my mom made me wear it this way, something about ‘Looking good for the prince’.”

I can’t help myself from snorting.

“Please, if someone pushed me in a puddle, I would thank them. Plus, I already look pretty enough without all this extra stuff. And I’m sure that the prince would love to see me without all the extra stuff, especially the clothes.”

Olive swats at me.

“I swear, we haven’t even entered the castle, and you have already made a dirty joke.” Mari remarks, smiling despite herself.

“What? I’m a teenager!” I exclaim, trying to prevent Olive from smacking me again.

“All girls remaining outside are required to enter the castle!” One of the guards calls out, a one of hearts, so clearly low ranked. I sigh apathetically.

“Guys, I have to go see the dude that is obsessed with me? This is torture.” I sigh as we walk to the entrance, over the grueling amount of stairs. Seriously, they clearly were not thinking about all the maidens in high heels that would have to trek to the castle. Much to their despair.