Chapter 4: It's My Quinceañera??
[Daniel]
"Where is your twin?"
"I have no idea, Abuela. And it's getting late."
"Well… you know what to do."
"Yeah, I do. Dress up like her. Again. For the umpteenth time."
It started when we were twelve. Daniella's anxiety wouldn't let her face the whole kingdom during her first speech, so I stepped in. We had the same hair length, same facial features, same everything. If there's a difference between us, no one's found it yet. Not even us.
Three years ago, Granny caught us swapping places during a cosplay stunt. Instead of freaking out, she joined the conspiracy. Said anything that makes her "darling little rebellious princess comfortable" is worth it. Daniella owes me. And I don't mind—honestly, I kinda like it.
Okay, maybe I like it a little too much. Is it weird that I love the boob feeling? I have a tiny fetish, I won't lie. But I've never done anything dumb—respect for my sister and all that. When I dress as her, girls peck me differently than when I'm just me.
Boys kiss my hand and I'm screaming "pause" in my head 'cause they don't know they're technically being gay. It's top-tier entertainment. Nothing more.
But today feels different.
The maids tightened the corset and suddenly I'm rethinking all my life choices. Where the hell is Daniella?!
I glide down the aisle like royalty, hips swaying the way they taught me. I keep my chin high, posture perfect. Girls who should be swooning over me are instead side-eyeing me with envy over this killer ball gown. She better enjoy being me right now, 'cause this dress is dragging me.
"Now welcoming the Prince of Eltador… Prince Daniel!"
Finally. That mischief of a sister is here.
[Danielle]
They finally got my name right: Danielle. I never liked the -ella part. "Daniel" always sounded better anyway. Stronger. Bolder.
I walked in with full poise, owning the moment. Girls were screaming and fanning themselves. As it should be. Girls should want me, not want to be me. Big difference.
I walked faster, trying to catch up with Daniel—or should I say Daniella. He looked perfect. Annoyingly perfect. He really pulls off the princess vibe, and honestly? I kinda wish he had been born me.
Don't we have sorcerers in this kingdom or something that could fix this mix-up? Oh wait—it's 2025. Magic isn't really a thing anymore. Neither are gender roles. Happy about that, at least.
I took my time walking, soaking it all in. Left, right, smirk. Everyone was watching. Royal class taught us how to do the princely walk and the princess walk. Turns out, not much difference between the two.
I kept the act going. Loving the way girls practically melted at the sight of me. Me. Prince Danielle. I could get used to this.
Then the crowd got louder. Girls shrieked "Prince Daniel!" and threw petals. Some even cried. Dramatic much?
The walk was starting to get boring... until someone caught my eye.
Wait.
Why does she look… familiar?
Red hair. Freckles. Dress that shimmered like moonlight.
She didn't look like someone from our royal school. But still, I couldn't stop staring. The way the light bounced off her face—it was like her whole look was choreographed. She stood out, effortlessly.
I kept walking but couldn't shake the feeling. I knew that face. Those eyes.
Then it hit me.
It was her.
From earlier at the shop. The one with the , anxiety, tiny attitude and fierce energy.
What's she doing here? Only elites get invited to this event.
She just got a lot more interesting.