Mara Lualdi did not want to be a princess. As a result her behavior was far from ladylike and distant from the noble court. Often times she was rebuked for this by her father, King Brute, for her rather "straightforward" and "sudden" personality. And so, to keep a healthy reputation as being part of the mighty Sylvarant Dynasty, Marta wore a pleasant and appeasing facade to mask what royalty did not see fit.
She hated it.
It felt like she was lying—that the world she lived in was a lie, from the words she spoke to the people that bowed to her every day. All of it seemed a lie. All she could do, however, was pleasantly smile—a horrible, fake grin that made her feel dirty. Once protected by the walls of her private room, Marta's smile would vanish and she would lay exhausted on her bed from the weight of her crown. Every day she would dream of walking under a sky that was not obscured by castle walls. She would imagine what grass felt like when she didn't wear shoes. They were dreams that remained only for a fleeting moment—then Marta would have to return to being cloaked with royal responsibility.
It was when she was wandering in these dreams of nothing when it happened—
Marta was tossing a pillow into the air, catching it, and tossing it again while carelessly spread out on her bed. She was tired of practicing manners today—especially if Alice was studying with her... Marta scowled at the memory. The men were fairly dull around here too—or annoying. Every time she passed Decus, she always wanted to punch him for that disgusting smell he always had. No—not the ladylike slap—that was too "wimpy" by her standards.
She sighed when the pillow flew off course and fell onto the floor. Marta turned over on her side and began to aimlessly poke the wall. When she thought that she would be capable of making a hole, she heard yelling coming down the hallway. It intrigued her, so she listened closer.
"No, Emil, not that room, it's—"
Marta's bedroom door opened.
Marta scrambled around, finding a proper position one would find a princess in whose room had been barged into. To be honest, she didn't care that someone had suddenly entered her room—even though the average princess would be taken aback. She tried to act shocked, however. But her visitor did bring her to a pleasant surprise, that was genuine, though.
It was a boy her age—with pale blond hair with a single strand sticking straight into the air—she had the urge to cut it. Though she was immediately intrigued by his eyes; they were the most piercing green, which brilliantly contrasted against his slightly tan skin. He had dropped the pile of pillows he was carrying and immediately stumbled over them when he had set his gaze on Marta.
"T-The P-Princess?!" He squeaked.
For the first time since she could recall, deep curiosity swept over Marta as she looked upon this servant boy who was apparently named Emil...
A woman, whom Marta presumed to have yelled at him before, appeared gathered the pillows, and deeply bowed, "My most sincerest apologies, Your Highness."
She had then dragged Emil, who still seemed overcome with strong embarrassment, out of the room. Marta was slightly disappointed when the door had closed. She would have liked to look at the boy a little longer... However chances of seeing him again was slim to none.
Fortunately for Marta, the slim chance happened...