Royal Pain in the Neck

Elara woke up to the distinct feeling of not being in her tiny apartment. 

For one, the bed was massive—fluffy, embroidered, and definitely not her worn-out mattress that squeaked whenever she turned. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, and when she cracked open her eyes, her suspicions were confirmed. 

Marble pillars. Tall windows with gold-trimmed curtains. A chandelier that looked like it could pay off her student loans ten times over. 

Right. She wasn't in her world anymore. 

She groaned and flopped back against the pillows. "Still not a dream, huh?" 

A sharp knock at the door made her jolt upright. 

'Okay, be cool. You're a princess now. Act like it.'

Before she could even say 'come in'—assuming princesses were supposed to say that—the doors swung open, and in marched a group of people. 

Three women in crisp maid uniforms. A young man in what looked like butler attire. And a girl—maybe a little younger than her—bouncing excitedly at the front, her dark curls bouncing with her. 

"Good morning, Your Highness!" the bubbly girl chirped. 

Elara blinked. "Uh. Hi?" 

The maids and the butler bowed in perfect synchronization. It was kind of impressive. 

"Did Your Highness sleep well?" one of the maids asked, her tone polite but detached. 

Elara opened her mouth to say 'yeah, sure', but the words died on her tongue as she spotted the sheer army of pillows surrounding her. 

Had she really needed twelve pillows? Who even needed twelve pillows? 

"…Yeah. Very soft," she said instead. 

The younger girl beamed. "That's great! The palace attendants take great care in maintaining the princess's comfort." 

Elara nodded like that was totally normal and not ridiculously excessive. "Yeah. Of course. Great… pillow maintenance." 

The maids didn't react to her comment, simply stepping forward in an eerily coordinated manner. 

"Shall we assist with dressing Your Highness for the morning?" 

Elara immediately stiffened. "Dressing?" 

"It is our duty to help Your Highness prepare for the day." 

Elara eyed the complicated array of dresses they were carrying, all of them adorned with lace, pearls, and at least fifty too many ribbons. One even had some kind of built-in corset, which she was pretty sure was designed for torture. 

"…I can dress myself, actually." 

The maids exchanged a look. 

The young girl piped up again, clasping her hands together. "But, Princess, you always have help getting dressed!" 

Well, that made sense. The original Elara was probably used to luxury. But this Elara was used to hoodies and sweatpants. She was not about to be shoved into some extravagant, fifty-pound dress every morning. 

"I appreciate it," she said, trying to sound as regal as possible, "but I'd like to get dressed alone today." 

The maids hesitated, glancing at each other. 

"…Very well, Your Highness," one of them finally said, though she sounded suspiciously unconvinced. "If you need assistance, simply call for us." 

Elara nodded, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine, thanks." 

As they left—albeit with many skeptical glances—Elara let out a breath of relief. 

'Okay. Step one of surviving royal life: avoid being wrapped up like a Victorian doll.'

She walked over to the wardrobe, only to immediately regret it. 

Because wow. 

There were at least fifty dresses in here, and they were all fancy. She rifled through them, trying to find something not covered in jewels or embroidery. Eventually, she settled for the simplest thing she could find—a light blue gown with minimal frills. 

Alright, one crisis down. Time to figure out how to act like a princess.

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Breakfast was an experience. 

For one, the table was long. Way too long. She felt like she needed a megaphone just to speak to anyone sitting at the other end. But, more importantly, she wasn't alone. 

Three people sat at the table with her. 

First, a tall, broad-shouldered man with striking silver hair and piercing golden eyes. His posture was perfect, his expression unreadable, but he radiated the kind of authority that made her sit up straighter without thinking. 

Her father. Emperor Theron.

Next to him sat a woman with a calm, elegant presence. Her deep auburn hair was pinned in an intricate style, and she carried herself with quiet grace. 

Her mother. Empress Lyra.

And then there was a boy, maybe sixteen, with dark silver hair and sharp golden eyes. He had an air of mischief about him, and his gaze flicked toward her with mild interest. 

Her younger brother, Adrian. 

"Elara," Emperor Theron said, his voice deep and measured. "You seem… different this morning." 

Elara tensed. 

Was she being too weird? Did she need to act more princess-like? What did Princess Elara even act like? 

She scrambled for something to say. "Uh. Just… woke up on the right side of the bed?" 

Her father blinked. "…I see." 

Her mother smiled softly. "That's good to hear. You were rather quiet these past few weeks. It is a relief to see you in better spirits." 

Elara internally sighed in relief. Looked like the original princess had been reserved, which meant she had some leeway. 

Her brother, meanwhile, leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "So, are you actually going to eat today, or are you still in that 'barely touching your food' phase?" 

Elara glanced down. 

The table was filled with so much food. Fluffy omelets, fresh bread, an assortment of fruits, and a variety of things she didn't even recognize. 

"…I'm eating," she said, grabbing the nearest thing—some kind of pastry—and taking a bite. It was soft, sweet, and buttery. 'Okay, rich people food wasn't so bad.'

Her brother raised an eyebrow. "Huh. No complaints about the sugar content?" 

Elara chewed slowly. "No…?" 

Now both her parents were looking at her oddly. 

"You truly must be feeling better," her mother murmured, sipping her tea. 

Elara swallowed. "Yup! Feeling great!" 

Her father studied her for a moment longer before nodding. "That is good. I expect you to attend your lessons today, then." 

Lessons? 

Oh. Right. Princesses probably had those. 

Elara hesitated. "Uh… remind me what those are again?" 

Her brother snorted. 

The emperor, however, frowned. "You have been attending them since childhood." 

"Right! Of course! I just, uh… forgot the schedule?" 

Her father looked unconvinced, but her mother gently placed a hand on his arm. "Perhaps she is simply overwhelmed. It has been a long time since she seemed this energetic." 

'Energetic?' She barely had coffee in this world. 

Her brother smirked, clearly enjoying this. "Well, since you forgot—your morning schedule includes history, etiquette, and swordsmanship." 

Elara perked up at that last one. 'Swordsmanship?' Now that sounded fun. 

"Okay," she said casually. "Sounds good." 

Her brother's smirk widened. "Really? No complaints?" 

She narrowed her eyes. "Should I be complaining?" 

"You hate sword lessons." 

…Oh. 

Elara quickly shoved another bite of pastry into her mouth to avoid answering. 

The empress chuckled. "Let's not tease your sister too much. She is making an effort." 

Her father nodded approvingly. "Yes. It is good to see you embracing your responsibilities." 

Elara forced a smile. 

'Welp. Guess I'm learning sword fighting today.'

At least it beat embroidery.

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After breakfast, Elara was whisked away by the maids, who seemed way too eager to prepare her for the day. 

Despite her protests, they practically smothered her in perfumes, fixed her hair into an elaborate braid, and handed her a schedule thick enough to be used as a weapon. 

"We have prepared everything for Your Highness's studies," one of the maids said, her tone crisp and professional. 

Elara glanced at the schedule. 

*8:00 AM – History Lesson* 

*9:30 AM – Etiquette Training* 

*11:00 AM – Swordsmanship Practice* 

*1:00 PM – Lunch* 

*2:00 PM – Music Theory* 

*3:30 PM – Dance* 

*5:00 PM – Archery* 

She stared at the paper. Then at the maids. Then back at the paper. 

"…This is my schedule?" 

The head maid nodded. "Yes, Your Highness." 

"…Every day?" 

"Yes, Your Highness." 

Elara squinted. "Am I training to be a princess or an Olympian?" 

The maids looked mildly confused, probably because they had no idea what an Olympian was. 

Elara sighed, rubbing her temples. No wonder the original princess had been so quiet—she was probably exhausted. 

'Alright. One thing at a time. Let's survive history class first.'

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History, as it turned out, was brutal. 

Not because it was difficult, but because her tutor was an old man who spoke in the slowest, most monotone voice possible.

Elara sat at her desk, trying not to doze off as he droned on about past emperors, war strategies, and political treaties. She knew history was important, but did it have to be delivered like a sleep spell? 

"…and thus, in the Year 715, Emperor Hadrian solidified the trade agreement with the Western Isles, allowing for the import of rare spices…" 

Elara propped her cheek on her hand. "Uh-huh. Spices. Got it." 

The tutor gave her a sharp look. "Princess Elara, are you paying attention?" 

"Totally. 100% listening. Trade agreements, spices, very important." 

He narrowed his eyes. "Then can you tell me the three conditions of the treaty?" 

Elara hesitated. "Uh…" 

The tutor sighed, rubbing his temples. "Your Highness, your education is crucial—" 

A loud thud interrupted him as the doors swung open. 

"Elara! I heard you're actually showing up to lessons today." 

She turned to see her younger brother sauntering in, looking far too smug for his own good. 

The tutor frowned. "Prince Adrian, I—" 

"Oh, don't mind me. I just wanted to see if my dear sister was truly embracing her studies." Adrian leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Or if she was secretly planning her escape." 

Elara pointed at him. "Okay, that's slander." 

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Is it?" 

She considered. "Okay, maybe not entirely slander." 

The tutor cleared his throat, clearly unimpressed. "Your Highness, if you are not going to take your studies seriously, then perhaps—" 

"Actually, I just remembered!" Elara shot up from her seat. "I have etiquette training next! Gotta go! Bye!" 

Before the tutor could protest, she practically bolted out the door, dragging Adrian with her. 

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Lesson Two: Etiquette

Elara had never sat this straight in her life. 

Her etiquette instructor was a strict-looking woman with a spine so straight she could probably balance a book on her head while scolding someone. 

"Elara, your posture." 

She immediately straightened. "Yup. Sitting. Very properly." 

The instructor pursed her lips. "And your tea?" 

Elara glanced at the delicate porcelain cup in front of her. 

Right. Fancy tea drinking. 

She picked it up carefully, pinky slightly raised for good measure, and took a sip. 

The instructor nodded approvingly. "Better. And remember, a lady's movements must always be graceful." 

Elara tried. She really did. But somehow, her sleeve caught on the table's edge, and before she could react— 

Clatter!

The spoon fell off the saucer. 

The instructor's eye twitched. 

Elara froze. "Uh." 

The woman inhaled deeply. "We have much work to do." 

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Lesson Three: Swordsmanship

Finally. A lesson she could actually enjoy. 

Elara stepped onto the training grounds, dressed in a light tunic and trousers—finally, something practical. 

A grizzled instructor eyed her with skepticism. "You're actually attending practice today?" 

She gave a thumbs-up. "Yup! Totally ready to wield a sword. I mean, how hard could it be?" 

The instructor sighed. "You said that last time, then spent the entire lesson complaining." 

Elara blinked. "I did?" 

Adrian, who was sitting on the sidelines, snickered. "Oh yeah. You said, and I quote, 'Why use swords when words are sharper?'" 

"…That does sound like something I'd say." 

The instructor handed her a wooden training sword. "Let's see if your attitude has changed." 

Elara took the sword, testing its weight. It wasn't bad—actually, it felt kind of nice in her grip. 

The instructor nodded. "We'll start with the basics." 

She got into stance, focusing on her footing. 

'Alright. Time to be a cool, sword-wielding princess.'

---------------------------------------------------

Thirty minutes later, Elara was lying on the ground, staring at the sky. 

"Ow." 

The instructor shook his head. "You lack endurance." 

Elara groaned. "You say that like I didn't just fight for my life against an angry training dummy." 

Adrian leaned over her, smirking. "I don't think the dummy was angry. I think you were just bad." 

She weakly pointed at him. "One day, I will defeat you." 

He patted her shoulder. "Sure. In, like, twenty years." 

Elara groaned again. 

Royal life was exhausting.