Royalty is something that many girls dream of being, but not me. I am royalty, a princess if you will, but nothing irritates me more than this title.
I grew up in a palace with various servants to my bidding, who made it their highest priority to ensure my pleasure no matter what I asked of them. I would wake up everyday folded in between my white silk sheets, in my personal bedroom that was bigger than the entire servants quarters. I had dark mahogany furniture with a gloss finish on every surface, and my clothes consisted of dresses made of the finest material and lace with the brightest of colors. All of these luxurious items, I had known all my life.
I hated it.
It’s a normal day in my hometown, and I wake up to the sun shining on my face and the birds whose chirping sounds pour in through my window. I unfold the sheets from of my body, as I walk over to my white window pane with pink curtains that line it. I gaze out over our city, and as I do, I see the suffering of our people. Everyday I look out and see streetways lined with starving, sick people that require care, and everyday I see my father’s failures. It is my father’s cruel rule that creates this suffering on the streets, while I live in a palace filled with luxuries that I don’t need.
My father is often called a thief. He is known for the way he steals the money of those who have none. He has a tax that is enforced by the police of the city, and based on the appearance of those in the streets, influences their tax bracket. Twisted as it is, my father forces the poorer in appearance to pay more because, “it is their punishment for poisoning our streets.” 
I step away from the window and grab the dress that I am required to wear, and draw the skirt up over my head. The Italian lace falls from my waste to the floor in grace as if snow was falling around me. Every single one of the dresses that I own forces me to “be the epitome of innocence and beauty,” like my mother says, “the people of Catalina need a ruler that looks to bring peace.”
I walk down the stairs to the kitchen, walking past countless portraits of my ancestors, each one wearing a solemn face, attempting to be an image of power, but I know better. My family has a history of terrible, ruthless rulers. Kings and queens that did anything to stay as powerful as possible, even murder. It is because of these immoral practices that I despise being Arianna Anastopoulos. A princess bound to be as cruel as those that have taken the throne before her.  I do not want to meet these expectations, I want to be free of my name.
I walk into the kitchen and am greeted by my mother, father, and younger brother. My mother is a beautiful woman that I had always hoped to be like. Today she wears her long black hair in a braid, which made her warm dark eyes even bigger and more beautiful than I ever thought possible. Her body is strong as well as beautiful, sculpted as though by an artist. People always say that I got all of my beauty from her, but I disagree. She has a presence about her that I could never match, kindness that I could never give, and intelligence that I could never develop. 
My father on the other hand, I wanted to be nothing alike. He is a tall, strong man with broad shoulders. Body well trained and graceful from the many years of defense training required to be king. He has black hair as well, as it fell around his ears, just enough to cover them but not long enough to reach his shoulders. His face shows years and years of the burden brought about by running a kingdom, for where smoothe skin once was, wrinkles are slowly but steadily appearing on his face. Wrinkles that are constantly hidden by the servant’s artistic abilities so that Catalina will never realize his weakness of age.
My brother is tall for his age. At the age of 12, Jonathan is almost as tall as my father. His eyes are still bright with innocence and love for he has never seen a single glimpse of the outside world beyond the palace walls.  He has my father’s strength, but my mother’s warm eyes. He is my best friend and I would do anything to protect him from the fate that awaited him as he became of age.
I sit down at the kitchen table, as one of my father’s servants appears behind me placing a plate full of food in front of me. On my plate lie scrambled eggs and an apple fritter, my favorite breakfast. Seeing this I look up at my parents knowing that I am missing something.
“What’s going on, is there a special occasion?”
“Your father and I have a surprise for you, but it will have to wait until after your studies,” my mother explains, matching her words with her kind eyes. She waits for my reaction, but I never respond. Gazing at me realizing my lack of enthusiasm for what she has told me, her face falls. 
            Seeing this my father steps in, attempting to fill the awkward silence.“It’s a big deal and I know that, being an adult now, you will appreciate it” my father says with a grin, waiting for any recognition.
“I am sure it will be wonderful and can’t wait to find out what it is.” I say in order to redeem myself. I don’t mean a single word but I make a convincing smile in order to stop the conversation. I stare at my scrambled eggs that fill my plate.
I pick up my silver fork, and begin eating the food that was placed in front of me. As I take my first bite, my tongue is met with the sensation of warmth from the eggs, and this is when I realize how hungry I am. I take a bite of the warm apple fritter, savoring the sweetness of the icing and the softness of the apples that lie within the pastry.
I glance up to meet Jonathan’s eyes and see his rough hand reach up to catch a servant’s attention.
“Can I get some more of this wonderful cuisine that you have prepared? It is divine.” he asks, with a huge grin on his face.
“Why of course Master Anastopoulos” replied the servant girl tending to our table. She blushes at his request and quickly fetches more food from the kitchen. She returns shortly and places a beautiful plate, full of food in front of him.
“Why thank you! You may leave my presence now.” He said as he eyed the food placed in front of him. You could almost see the saliva pooling in his mouth as he stared at the plate of food, but only for a moment. He continued to eat with great restraint in order to uphold the house rules and etiquette.
I hated that he wasn’t himself when he acted in the presence of our parents. When he and I were alone together, we could be whatever we wanted, and speak the way we pleased without being judged by our parents.
After breakfast, I get up from the table with my brother, and we walk to our daily classes which consist of self defense and etiquette classes.
“What do you think mother and father’s surprise is?” Jonathan asks me as we pass various vases and relics that have been passed down through our family.
“Honestly, I don’t care.” I look at the ground, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. “From the looks of it, it’s father’s idea which means it’s probably something I’ll hate.” I look up to see his face, and he stops.
His eyes look confused and sad at the same time.“What has he done to you in order for you to hate him so much?” he asks.
“Forget that I said anything.” I continue to walk past more and more vases and paintings, hoping that Jonathan will let it go, and he does. It is not long and he is jogging up behind me, staring at the ground as we walk.
At the end of the hall are our two classrooms, each one with a tall, dark, wooden door standing open. Johnathan’s was on the right, and inside I could see various punching bags and mannequins used to teach self defense. Armour for knights lined the wall, along with different equipment used in combat such as swords and shields. There was a white mat in the middle of the room where the fighting took place.
“Have fun learning to not die,” I say to my brother with a laugh.
“Oh, why thank you, and have fun learning which fork to use.” He has already picked up a long silver sword, and he brandishes it at me.
I laugh at him, and turn away trying to hide my nerves for the lesson that is approaching. Only I know that my lessons are much more brutal than knowing which fork to use. I take a deep breath and step inside my room.
My classroom is about the same size as my brother’s, but instead of weapons, everything was lace and flowers. The table cloths, curtains, and the couches scattered around the room were all matching in feminine horror. Every time I walked into this classroom I was hit by the smell of tea, as well as the smell of a gaudy perfume.
My teacher is named Agnes, and she looks as though she is 90 years of age. Frail with an incredible amount of makeup painted on her face, today she wears a pink silk dress that flows all the way to the floor. Though age seems to take over her appearance, she acts as though she is a mere 21. As I walk in, I am greeted with a smile from her. She then gestures for me to sit on the overly flowered couch next to her.
“We are going to work on posture today, something that could use much improvement,” she says to me, as she eyed me up and down. Suddenly, aware of my posture, I straighten up.  She laughs at me.
“Sweet Arianna, it is the princess’ job to be perfection. After today, you will never slouch again,” she says with a sly grin, as her pink lipstick curves upward.
With this statement, I knew that today was going to be pure hell.
We worked for hours and hours, different drills with different tools, all with one purpose: to train me to remember pain whenever I slouch. She had me walk around with books on top of my head, and if they fell she would beat me. She would be smart, about it too, making sure that every contact made was hidden beneath the dresses that I wore. She did this so that the bruises wouldn’t show, but would still inflict much “deserved” pain.
Every time the books would fall, Agnes would stick a cloth towel in my mouth. She would take her cane that she needed to walk and strike me in the torso repeatedly. Each time they fell, she would add an additional strike in order to make my compliance happen faster.
After what felt like an eternity of pain, I glance up from the floor at the clock that hangs over the big door. I see that my lesson was finally over, and I am overjoyed. I couldn’t get out of that dreaded classroom fast enough. I walk out into the hallway to see my brother waiting for me. Soaking wet, he is grinning from ear to ear. In order to hide the pain inflicted by my lesson, I match his grin. At least now I could escape abuse until dinner.
I walk to my room, to find my evening gown was waiting for me. It was a long bright blue gown, with a tulle skirt that flowed out from the waist.
To prepare for dinner, I step into my bathroom to clean myself up.
I take off my dress carefully, in order to prevent the pain that appeared with the wrong movements. Steam fills the room as I step into my shower. The soothing flow of the water grazes over my tender skin, as I weep from the pain inflicted by today’s lesson. I stand there under the water waiting for the pain to be washed away, but it never does. After what seems like forever, the pain still remains. Giving up, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around me. As I step out of the bathroom, there are three servants waiting for me. I walk over to them knowing that they are there to prepare me for dinner with my parents. They hold up the blue dress as I step into it, and I turn around to see myself in the mirror. The blue of the dress compliments my skin tone perfectly as the tulle skirt floats just above the floor, while creating the illusion that I am thinner than I am.
The servants then continue on to do my hair and makeup. It feels like hours and hours until they are finally done. I look in the mirror to see someone whom I despise, Arianna Anastopoulos. The princess of the cruel king. Someone that dresses in expensive garments every day for the sole purpose to show off. I don’t need this, and I don’t want this.
I walk down to our dining room and my mother smiles at me.
“You look beautiful,” she says to me, as though I didn’t dress this way everyday.
“Thank you mother, I appreciate your generosity with such a beautiful gown.” 
My brother and father were both standing, waiting for me. I make eye contact with my brother, and he smiles as we all take our seats. Four different servants appear behind each of us preparing us for a meal. After we began eating the meal that was placed in front of us, my father begins to speak.
“Earlier today , I told you that your mother and I had a surprise for you,” he began. “A surprise that you would appreciate now that you have finally reached the age of 18.”
With this, I look at my mother. Her eyes are bright with anticipation as my father continues to speak.
“Now that you are considered an adult, you know that you have to marry in order to carry on the family tradition of power in this city. Your mother and I have seen to it that you have an advantageous marriage. A marriage that will provide you with the life you deserve, and Prince Lucius of Corcyra is the man your mother and I have chosen for you.”
Fear had struck my heart. I was going to be married off to a prince that would be just as ruthless as my father, and I would have no say.
Prince Lucius was an apprentice of my father’s, a star pupil if you will. My father had showed him many ways to strike fear into a kingdom, as well as into his enemies. In addition to the traits that my father had taught him, Prince Lucius of Corcyra has been known to be unfaithful, as well as abusive to previous love interests. I could not stand to be with someone as horrid as this man.
I look at my brother, and he looks to have the same level of confusion as I do.
“Who do you think that you are?” I say as my words drip with rage, and all I can see is red. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, as my hand curls into a tight fist. “Why would you do this to me? Depriving me of any choice that I could have in my own life.”
“Arianna, your father wants what is best for you, do not question his judgement,” my mother says with a warning tone. “He knows what he is doing.”
“Don’t you see, I don’t want him writing the rest of my life. Everything that he chooses will be in order to increase his power. Nothing he does is for my benefit” I stand up from the table and storm out the the room. I run past the portraits that stare at me down from the wall, and I run into my empty room, as I can see nothing but a blur from the tears that fill my eyes.
I jump on my bed, and sob to release all of the knots that have formed in my chest. When the tears would no longer fall from my eyes, I pick my head off the pillow and glance around my bedroom. The pink curtains hung from the edge of the window and have been there as long as I remember. The pink curtains that once pleased a little girl, for the brightness of color was enough to make her happy, but I was no longer that little girl. I stood up from my bed, angry at my father, angry at the world, and angry that everyone wanted my to be perfect. I wrapped my hand around the fluorescent pink cloth and ripped them off the wall.
I remembered my father’s words from this morning, “being an adult now, you will appreciate it.” I now understand that no matter how old I become, no matter how much of this dreaded lifestyle that I endure; I will be trapped here forever if I let it continue.
I realize now that the only way to escape the fate that I was destined to have is to run from it. I ask the nearest servant to grab various combinations of servant clothes and pack them in a white canvas bag laying on one of the dressers. I take off the ridiculous dress and change into brown rags with which the servant provided. My family would not choose my life for me, for I want a life, not living  to please those around me.
I creep down the hallway to avoid the ears of my father, but when I reach our foyer, my efforts to hide cease to matter. My mother is standing in front of the door with her tears running down cheeks and her body shaking.
“Please don’t do this, don’t leave your brother and me, we love you Arianna.” She pleads, she knows that I would do anything for Jonathan, but I can’t so this.
“Mother, I can’t live like this anymore. Father continuously  forces me to be someone I don’t want to be, someone who gives into conformity and pressure. I want to be my own person. I want to find love, travel, and be free to do as I please.” I look her straight in the eye, “You can’t stop me.”
With that last statement, I could see the tears roll down her cheeks. She collapses and begs on her knees for me to stay, but I will not. She once had a daughter who played by the rules. A daughter who did what she was told and didn’t question it. That was no longer me. I could see the corrupt ways that my father and his friends were treating the people of Caterina, and I would not be apart of it. I would not be a puppet for him. I would be free.
I stared into my mother’s pleading eyes, but I walked right by her. She could not change my mind. With white canvas bag in hand, I walked into the bitter cold night, searching for a long lost dream that was time to fulfill.
I trudged onward into the night, hiding my face from those who might recognize me. I walked through the foreign city that my father ruled, past vendors upon vendors selling various goods. I realize that I was despised by many people of this city, but I felt sorry for them. My father was a cruel man, who took pleasure in ruining lives, and I am determined to redeem my own life, even though it means leaving both my mother and my brother behind.
As I walk through the city, man across the street makes, eye contact with me. I can see a recognition register on his face, as he turns to another man standing beside him to tell him something. Realizing that they were probably talking about me, I ran in the other direction as fast as the thick crowd would allow me. While I run, I trip over a loose stone lying in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Whoa, are you alright miss?” a boy says as he lifts me off the pavement. He has black hair, blue eyes, and a very kind smile. His shoulders are strong, and you could tell that he has worked in manual labor every single day of his life. He looks to be about my age, and despite the dirt that covers his face, he is extremely handsome.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I say, as I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “I can be very clumsy.”
“Well I’m glad you’re alright.” he paused staring at me. “Where are you from? You don’t seem to be from around here”
“You’re right, I’m not from here, my parents passed away and I ran away from home,” I lie looking at the ground. For some reason, I can feel my heart racing and my hands begin to tense up. “I have no place to stay, no money, and no food.”
Seeing my utter despair, he stares at me with his kind blue eyes. He reaches his soft hand up and touches my shoulder, leaning in to look me in the eyes. I could feel the warmth of him and could hear his breath.
“Well I can’t leave a young lady like yourself all alone in the street, why don’t you come home with me and I can make you some of my famous soup?” he said with a grin on his face. He then gently grabbed my arm and I followed him down the crowded street. I wondered how someone would be so kind to me and not even know me. I wondered why fate lead him to my rescue. Maybe fate will have him save me from my dreaded name.