Writing Prompt #9

This Pinterest picture (and, thus, today’s writing prompt) was inspired by the first sentence of a story written at write4fun.net.


“Girls do not get to play with weapons.”

“Girls do not get to fight.”

“You are not my daughter until you remember who you are.”

These words repeated themselves in her mind with every step she took. “Girls do not get to play with weapons. Girls do not get to fight. You are not my daughter until you remember who you are.” The very walls – plastered with tapestries of valiant princes and kings leading armies against impossible odds – reminded her that she was not like them. Not like her brother, the prince. Not like the boys she used to beat in races when she was younger. Her father the king had always frowned on her behavior, but she’d never expected he’d go this far.

She stormed away from the throne room. The ladies of the court, milling about the hallway, gossiped behind their dainty floral fans. They fell silent as she walked past them. They must’ve heard her father’s proclamation. He hadn’t tried to keep his voice down. She grimaced, ignoring their stares.

If there was one thing she’d gotten good at, being the ‘tomboy princess,’ it was ignoring what everyone else thought.

Tobin, her brother the prince,sped towards her. His eyes were still wide. “You know he didn’t mean all that.”

She gave him a look, then gave a scathing stare at anyone who dared glance their way. “You know he did.”

Tobin didn’t bother disagreeing with her. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

“He won’t be happy with you if you leave.”

The two of them stopped in the hallway. The gossip hens, thankfully, were nowhere to be found. Her brother looked at her worriedly. She sighed. “Tobin, I can’t stay. And if being a lady is what it takes for me to be a princess again, then I’ll never be a princess. It’s just not who I am. There’s no point for me to stay here anymore.”

A look of hurt flashed across his face.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” her brother said quietly. He tried to crack a grin. “It just won’t be as fun around here with you gone.”

She couldn’t grin back.

“Take someone with you at least.”

She clenched her jaw.

“I know you’re capable of protecting yourself – unlike Father, I’ve actually seen you fight. But there’s no reason to be reckless. Please.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“And, sis?” He hesitated. “Don’t be a stranger.”


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