She's My Queen

Chapter 2: Where Am I?

"I am sorry, King Edward," the man apologizes before glaring at me. "My daughter hasn't been feeling herself lately. If you would like to meet any of my other daughters, that would-"

"No," the guy cuts him off, his gaze fixed on me, "she's the girl I want to marry."

WHAT? "Wait wait wait," I hold up my hands, "Will someone please explain to me, what the hell is going on?"

"Silence, Catherine!" The man roars, grabbing my arm. "Marie, take our daughter to her chambers. Now."

Sighing heavily, the lady takes my hand and drags me away. "Wait!" I shout over my shoulder at the two guys, "Please borrow me a phone! Come on! I just need to call my mom!" The man stares at me, his face a mixture of horror and confusion, while the guy just smirks.

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"Catherine, what is going on with you?" The lady asks gently, taking my hands into hers as we sit side by side on the bed I had woken up in.

"Who are you?" I whisper, feeling tears spring into my eyes. I am so confused.

"I'm your mother."

"No," I squeeze my eyes shut, "I don't know you..."

The lady sighs, patting my hand. "Elizabeth," she calls out, "come help me out with your sister!"

"I don't have a sister," I mumble. The girl in the green dress I had seen earlier sits down next to me.

She glances at my 'mother', "She can't remember anything?"

"Yes," my 'mother' whispers, "but not a word of this to the servants. We can't let this get out. She is our heir to the throne."

"Of course, mother," my 'sister' grabs a leather bound notebook off the bedside desk and hands it to me, "here, your diary."

I run my fingers across the flowers carved into the thick gold cover of the book and flip it open gingerly, revealing yellowed pages covered in elegant cursive writing. "This isn't my diary."

The girl squeezes my hand, "Yes it is, you write everything in it." She stands up, her green dress puffing up around her. "Mother, let's give her some privacy." With one last pat on my back, the two of them exit the room.

I open the diary up to the latest entry.

Father tells me that King Edward XI wishes to ask for my hand in marriage. We saw a portrait of him today. Elizabeth thinks he's handsome, and I guess he kind of is. I know this marriage will be beneficial for Scotland, but I can't do it. I just can't keep living as a chest piece in father's game. This union will never happen. I will make sure of it.

I snap the diary shut. What kind of prank is this? As I glance around the room, a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach spreads through the rest of my body. 

It looks as if a real person lived here. Half finished paintings are propped up along the wall. Jewelry, shoes and dresses are strewn across the room, almost as if someone extremely indecisive had been in here preparing for prom. I skim through the diary, noting how detailed and genuine each entry is.

What if....what if this isn't a prank? What if this is real? What if I have somehow switched places with this princess?

"No no no, noooo way," I toss the diary aside and am about to run outside when I realize I am still in a nightgown. Randomly grabbing a blue gown from the mess on the floor, I change into it. Surprisingly, it fits me perfectly.

Unable to resist it, I admire the dress for a minute in-front of a long mirror. It is off the shoulder and embroidered with silver roses and beads of perfectly round pearls. It's long enough to cover my feet, so I decide not to wear heels this time.