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Royal by maraudertimes
Chapter 3 : The Crown Princess's Choice
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 2

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I was sitting on one of the couches in one of my many sitting rooms, arms crossed and pouting at my father. He was pacing around, his impeccable shoes making patterns in the soft rug I had ordered would adorn all my most visited suites. Of course, that was when I was 12 years old, so the rug was a putrid purple colour.

I promised myself I would get it ripped out and replaced as soon as this schooling issue for Marielle was decided. I heard the door open and turned my head quickly, smiling as Marielle stepped into my quarters. Her face was still paper white and I got up to walk over to her. My father shot me a glare but I ignored him.

Giving my 11 year old sister a hug, I took her hand and semi-dragged her over to the couch I was sitting on. Letting my work clothes – sweatpants and a tank top that Chancellor Evans hated with a passion because it wasn’t ‘presentable’ – wrinkle as I sat down, I glanced over at my father and reveled in the sour look on his face.

“Marielle,” I started, but seeing my father glare at me, I stopped and frowned, crossing my arms and leaning back into the couch.

My father stepped forward, uncrossing his arms. “Marielle. I know that letter surprised you this morning, and apparently,” he shot a furious glance at Chancellor Evans and then at me, “it is not some sort of crock, though I still reserve some doubts. Your sister and I have called you in here to ask you a very important question.”

He paused and Marielle looked at us, her head seeming to whirl as she whizzed between us.

“Marielle,” he continued, walking forward and taking her hands in his, “what do you want to do?”

“Um, what do I want to do what?” She asked, her usually happy voice mixed with confusion.

“Do you want to go to this Hogwarts, stay at home and be tutored in the castle, or attend private school somewhere else in Avalyn?” I asked, staring daggers at my father.

She gave me a look. “It’s my choice?”

I smirked at my father and stood up, walking over to one of the windows and staring outside at the plush green grounds I hardly ever got the chance to use anymore. A wave of light-headedness washed over me and I leaned against the window trimming to steady myself.

“You’re growing up, Marielle,” my father said, sending me a glare. “It’s time for you… time for you to make your own decisions about your scholarly progress.”

I smirked as I heard his teeth audibly grit. Marielle turned back to me and I hid it, nodding solemnly.

“I get to choose where I go to school?”

“Yes,” my father said in a strained voice.

She looked at me, a happy smile growing on her face. “Carolyn, I get to choose?” I smiled and nodded, and she sighed dreamily. “I get to learn magic?”

My father pursed his lips and seemed about to say something, but Chancellor Evans raised her eyebrow at him and he seemed to think better of it.

“Carolyn,” Chancellor Evans began, and Marielle’s face seemed to fall, “while I condone Crown Princess Marielle’s decision, she is still the Crown Princess of Avalyn.”

I pursed my lips and scrunched my eyebrows together, deep in concentration. “Chancellor Evans, I do see what you’re saying. A school that no one in the entire castle has heard of until now, to become the home of Marielle for months at a time? Definitely not safe.”

Marielle’s face fell and my father’s seemed to brighten. I tasted copper in my mouth at my disappointment in not being able to accommodate my sister’s decision.

“True,” Chancellor Evans said, a small smirk barely visible on her face. “We do not know if this Hogwarts is safe. Yet.”

I grinned. “Chancellor Evans, get me in contact with the headmistress. McGwenall or something.”


“Right. McGonagall. Get me in contact with her. Marielle won’t be going anywhere until I personally make sure this place is safe.”

I turned to Marielle who grinned broadly. She raced over and threw herself into my arms.

“I can go to Hogwarts? I can learn magic?”

I smiled and held her to me, her apricot shampoo scent making its way to my nose. “Yeah, Mary,” I whispered, using the ‘improper’ nickname I had given her years ago. “You’re going to learn magic.”

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