A few days later, with the first few pages of our tale ready, I strode into the throne room, parchment in one hand and a bundle of Elias's sketches in the other.Whiskers trailed behind me, as usual—because even kings needed to be informed of the important things in life, and obviously, a royal cat was one of them.
Father sat in his usual spot, his throne looming above him, its gold inlays gleaming as his fingers absently drummed on the armrest while he conversed with a councilor. But when I entered, he turned toward me, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Princess Charlotte," he said, his tone warm yet slightly mocking. "What brings you to my court today?"
I lifted my chin, puffing out my chest in the most regal manner I could muster. "I am here to bring something of great moment, Father."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what, pray tell, is this significant issue?"
"Ah," I said, pulling the parchment from my hands with a flourish. "The start of greatness. A tale so potent, it will alter the very fabric of our kingdom."
I was being melodramatic, of course—after all, when you're creating a royal work of art, the world must know it for what it is.
Father's smile grew broader as he leaned back on his throne. "Go on, then. I'm listening."
I laid the pages on the table before him, smoothing them carefully. "This," I said, "is the first draft of The Princess and the Dragon's Lair, created by myself and drawn by my royal official illustrator, Elias."
Father hesitated for a moment, as though questioning whether I was jesting. "Son of the gardener, you say?"
"Yes, Father. He is incredibly skilled, of course, though still a little self-conscious about it." I winked slyly, remembering how Elias would nearly faint whenever I praised him. "But that just makes him all the more deserving of royal recognition."
I paused dramatically, making sure every eye in the room was on me. "And so, as a royal duty, I am here to present this lovely gem of a story to you for your review."
Father's eyebrows flicked upward as he took the first page. He scowled at the words, read a few lines, and then looked up at me. "This is... interesting. A princess outsmarting a dragon, you say?"
"Yes," I nodded gravely. "A dragon with a very large ego. And, as you'll see from the pictures, the knight is utterly useless. Very typical."
Father's lips curled into a smile. "A useless knight. Now, that's a novelty."
"Exactly!" I exclaimed, hopping up and down on my toes. "And the princess doesn't need anyone to rescue her. She rescues herself—as any princess should," I added, throwing him a pointed look.
The councilors exchanged glances, some of them even arching an eyebrow as they leaned forward to examine the drawings Elias had so carefully crafted. The dragon was enormous, with shining scales and sharp eyes. The princess—my favorite part—stood with a cunning grin, positioned before the dragon's lair, her hand resting on a very shiny, very sharp sword.
Father raised his eyes to meet mine once more, amusement and incredulity etched on his face. "Well, this is... quite a tale, Charlotte."
I pressed my hands together and beamed. "I thought so too."
"And these pictures," he said, running his eyes over the pages, clearly impressed despite himself. "They're... quite good."
"Isn't Elias brilliant?" I said with a smug smile. "I told you he would bring the story to life."
Father slouched forward, glancing at the final page, where the triumphant princess stood proudly. "And what happens at the end? Does she slay the dragon?"
"Of course she does," I replied, waving my hand airily. "But not with violence—by brains. She outwits the dragon, persuades it to vacate its cave, and gets it to swear never to harm anyone again. A proper princess, Father, knows the strength of negotiation."
He smiled quietly, reclining in his throne. "I must say, Charlotte, this is an... unorthodox story."
I gave him a sly grin. "Well, Father, what else would you expect from your daughter? Tradition is so nineteenth century."
He chuckled—a deep rumble that rang out across the throne room. "Indeed. Perhaps there's some merit in your story. Maybe I'll investigate this dragon negotiation business the next time I need to deal with a rebellion."
I curtsied dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. "Just remember, Father, a princess who thinks for herself will always be supreme."
Father's smile softened, his eyes filled with affection and humor. "I'll remember that, Charlotte. And I suppose, when you finish, we'll talk about making this a permanent fixture."
"Right!" I said, brimming with excitement. "A royal book! One that will be read for centuries! But only after we include a few more dragons, and maybe a villain who's particularly hard to defeat."
"And so, it starts," Father replied, shaking his head with a grin.
And just like that, our very first royal story was approved.
I grinned to myself. This was just the beginning. If I had anything to say, the kingdom would be discussing Princess Charlotte's Great Royal Stories for years to come.