"Absolutely not. I refuse." my older sister, Blair scoffs, after I request that she assist me in thievery.

I start leisurely walking around the room, "But why? It'd be so easy, just swipe a cloth drizzled in chloroform under their noses, and boom! They're out, and we're in!"

She crosses her arms, "And how, do you propose, would we do that to four guards when there are only two of us?"

I clap my hands together in glee, "We each take out two!"

"Oh yes, I could undoubtedly reach two of their faces at the same time because I have giraffe arms!" she throws her hands into the air, storming over to gaze out the window overlooking the palace garden.

"Why are you so negative about this?" I inquire, tapping my foot against the carpeted floor.

She whips around, her braided hair flying over her shoulder and looks at me like I'm insane, "Because we could be caught! Get in trouble! Have privileges taken away! Oohh, you're so apathetic!" she seethes.

I slump down on the four-poster bed, grumping excessively. "It's just the palace scroll," I huff, "all I'd wanna do is read it a few times."

She takes calm breaths, "The scroll isn't worth it, You've already heard what's written on it." She turns serious, "When I was your age, I would definitely be wanting to do these exact things, but now that I'm grown up, and mature, I find it's better to spend my time doing things that will do me good in the future."

"You're eighteen, only two years older than me, Blair, stop making yourself seem old, it's not cool."

"Hush, little sister, regardless of my age, I am older than you, and therefore smarter than you."

I grab a silky pillow from the bed and launch it at her face, but she was ready for it, and neatly catches it, smirking. 

"Why do you hate me?" I ask.

"I don't hate you, I just am easily annoyed by the inconsiderate actions of younglings."

I chuck another pillow at her and it lands a few feet away from her.

"Well, I do hate your aim."

"Like yours is any better, Blair." I stick my tongue out at her.

She launches the pillow in her hands at me and it hits me squarely in the face. I glare at her.

She arches an eyebrow, "You were saying?"

"Go kick rocks," I huff.

"Just accept that I'm better than you, and we won't have to continue this squabble." She rolls her eyes and walks across the room to her dresser, and sits on her chair, opening a tube of lipstick.

"Why do you wear that stuff?" I ask, partially disgusted.

"Because it makes me look gorgeous," she turns in her chair, and gives me a once-over, "you should try it sometime."

"No thanks," I breathe, stretching out on her bed, my loose dress straining against my hip, "I prefer to keep my face clean of products that will irritate my pores." And with that, I toss the pillow next to my arm at the back of her head.

I know I hit my target when I hear her yelp of surprise and the following string of profanities when she throws her lipstick down, kicks her chair over, and turns around to display a thick line of red lipstick drawn across her cheek from the corner of her mouth.

I burst out laughing as she continues shouting at me, violently ripping tissues out of a box on her dresser and furiously wiping the line of lipstick. 

She storms into her bathroom and shoots me a look of anger, hissing, "Don't you dare even think about that little plan of yours! If you do, I will tell mother, don't you think for one second that I won't!"

She pulls the door shut, then reopens it and screams, "GET OUT!" and pulls it shut again.

I get off of her bed and retrieve the stray pillows, place them back on her bed, stand up her chair, pick up her lipstick tube, screw it closed, and set it on her dresser.

Then I retreat to my own room.

But not before being confronted by my mother with her arms crossed in the hallway, her head tilted in concern.

I sigh, "She's difficult."

She tilts her head further, "What happened?"

I leave out the part about my possible thievery plans and explain how she thinks I'm immature and useless, and she overreacts about everything.

My mother tilts her head even further until I'm sure it's gonna break right off her neck, and somehow her crown stays on, "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

I hide my palms behind my back as they start to sweat and maintain eye contact as I say, "No. I just wanna be alone."

She nods, her head back to its position, "Give her time. She's... adjusting."

"Adjusting to what?"

She spreads her hands out, "To being older, and taking on more responsibilities, as she may be the new queen someday, and that is a very important role in the palace."

"Or me." I remind her. "Or I could be queen someday."

She smiles, "Yes. Or you, my darling."

A loud wail echoes from the room behind us. My mother sighs and I barely keep myself from physically cringing at the noise.

"I will talk to her," my mother says, and pats my shoulder as she enters Blair's room.

I take a few steps down the hall to my room but stop and think. Can I pull off the thievery by myself? Is it worth it? I may have overestimated myself. How would I get my hands on chloroform? I push the thoughts aside and decide it wouldn't be worth it to steal from my own family. Stealing the palace scroll wouldn't even be enjoyable. I'd get bored of it within a few minutes.

 Making the rest of the way to my bedroom, I turn the knob of my door and open it to an explosion of fairy dust and the three most dislikable fairies known to our palace cackling and fluttering around my wardrobe.

Hearing the door open, they spin around and scream when they see me and take flight out my open window, more fairy dust trailing behind them.

I tap my heeled foot in annoyance and snatch the dustpan and mop from the cupboard in the hallway between my room and Blair's room which is used for this exact situation.

After twenty minutes, the fairy dust is gone and I hear the ringing of a bell from downstairs which means it is time for supper. 

A/N: Dedicated to Rosie :)

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