Oreo's PoV

"I thought you would have been caught by now," I tell her, shaking my head. 

She laughs. A laugh you would never expect out of a girl like her.

"I guess it helps that I have a private room, and I already have the face like all the other soldiers here," she chuckles.

We're sitting in the secret garden. Our secret garden. I had one built as soon as I read The Secret Garden. As much as it was a boring classical, I loved the idea of a secret garden. Nobody could get in here except for me and whoever I let in. 

Including this girl. I've known her for so long.

The sunlight streaming in through the trees and decorates my body. The delicate scent of roses lingers around.

I look up at her tanned face. Her hands, making a daisy chain, are calloused and blistered. Her unusual gold eyes are squinted in concentration. Her pale blonde hair, cut short, dance around in the wind. Her tongue is sticking out slightly, her eyebrows creased in concentration.

She senses me looking at her and whips her head up.

"Is something the matter?" she asks me.

"No! No... it's just..."

"We discussed this, your royal highness. I will not get caught even if my life depended on it. I need to fight for my kingdom, even if I die in the process," she states boldly, her eyes cutting through me.

"Don't say that... also don't call me 'your royal highness'. I told you, you can just call me Oreo," I pout, turning my head away from her. I hug my legs and set my chin down on my knees, staring at the grassy ground. 

She cups my chin in her hand and tilts my face towards herself.

"You and I both know it's going to happen. If I get caught, I will be executed. If not, I will die in battle. You can only avoid the inevitable for so long," she tells me, her usually hard and emotionless eyes hinting at sadness and empathy.

I turn away.

"How am I going to live without you...?" I ask her, tears prickling my eyes. 

There was a silence.

"Prince Oreo, my father was the head knight when you were only a couple years old, and many years before that. My father was a part of the royal guard when your father was only a teenager, and got promoted, due to his strength and agility. He was... amazing. I thought that I couldn't live without him. Like you think you can't live without me. 

My father was my best friend. All of the other girls at the village school called me boyish, and the boys didn't want to play with a 'girl'. I didn't fit into any categories. My father fit all of the categories of a best friend. He was there for me and he helped me up when I fell down. Literally and metaphorically. 

Then he passed away. In battle, fighting for his kingdom. I didn't know what to do. I was broken, I wanted to die. But I didn't. I lived. I wanted to show him I could be as amazing as he was, if not better. Even though he's not here with me anymore, I still had this feeling... I wanted to make him proud," she tells me, her voice trailing off.

There's a silence, the wind whistling to try and fill said silence.

I turn towards her.

"What was your father's name?" I ask her.

She stares at me, startled. Then she smiles.

"My father's name was Blancmange. As ferocious and strong he was in battle, he held unrealistic sweetness and was more gentle than any other person I have met in my life."

She pulls out two tiny dolls from inside her armour. The smaller is the size of my pinky finger, and the bigger one is the size of my middle finger.

"My father made this," she tells me, and she presses both into my hand. I inspect the bigger one. 

It's a man, with messy whitish blonde hair, and and olive skin tone. The stitched eyes are amber, and the man is wearing overalls and boots.

I look at the small one, and I immediately get reminded of someone. I hold it up and compare the doll with her.

"It's you!" I exclaim. She laughs, amused.

"And that's my father," she tells me, pointing at the bigger doll.

"Oh..." I mumble in realization. I start to hand her the dolls, but she only takes the doll of her father.

"You keep that one. I can live on my father's doll alone," she tells me, smiling weakly at me.

"But he made this for you, didn't he?" I ask her. She nods.

"But still. I don't need my own power. I don't need myself hovering over me, just my dad. You keep that one. Pretend it's me," she says, smiling.

I stare at the doll for a second. Then I close my fists, look up at her and nod, smiling.

She smiles, the grin slowly faltering. She gets up.

"I'm going to go train. The king needs you in the throne room. Do you need me to come with you? The king seemed anxious while addressing me with this order to send you to the throne room as soon as possible. I can hold off of training."

She was my private guard. Even if she followed me around and escorted me everywhere, it wouldn't be suspicious. I ponder this option. I wanted her to come, just for some extra feelings of safety, but I wanted to try out the doll and see if it made me feel safe. But my dad is never anxious, or at least, he doesn't show it, much less to a soldier. I nod.

"Please come with me," I order.

"Yes, your royal highness," she says, bowing. We walk out of the garden.

I sigh. Good bye, beautiful flowers and blue sky. Hello... responsibility.

While walking to the castle, she notices the daisy crown in her hand, and looks at me. She smiles, and plops the daisy crown onto my chocolate brown hair, my royal crown strapped to my belt. She doesn't even break her stride, and she continues, humming a song.

***

"Father? You asked for me?" 

I anxiously walk into the throne room, and sink down into my knees, into a bow.

My dad and I were almost identical. Same chocolate brown hair, silver eyes, pale skin. The same posture, always straight and regal. My mom was nothing like us. She had a red eye and a yellow eye. When my mom was still a kid, something happened to her eyes, so my gran, my mom's mom, had undergone surgery to take out her eye and give it to my mom. The yellow one was my gran's. Her skin was olive tones, and here hair was a cherrywood color. She was much less serious about royal occasions. The only thing I have in common with my mom is the distaste of royal occasions.

I stay on the floor for 5 more seconds and get up.

My father looks down at me from his throne.

"My son, per tradition, all of the unwed ladies from the village and other kingdoms will come to the palace on your 17th birthday, in hopes of being wed into the family."

Shocked, I step back slightly.

"When your choice has been made, the final decision will be made by your mother and I," my dad tells me boldly. 

"That is all I needed to tell you. You are dismissed."

I whirl around, about to exit the throne room. I see her eyes, piercing into me.

My father looks at her.

"Thank you for coming, Blancmange."

A/N

Me: sc r e e e e 

Pudding Cup: how come my name wasn't even mentioned in this

Me: s hr u  g

Oreo: and why am I a prince

All of the other OI cast: hey how come we weren't here

Me: HOW BOUT YOU ALL SHUDD UP

All of the other OI cast: ...

Quadratini: oh is that from the fruit babies video-

Me: yE s,  s h ut u p-

Me: anyways, yeah, uhhhhh

I made this becasue why the h e l l not?

Uhmmmmmmmmm

I'm probably going to delete this later lmao

Explanation on why the king called Pudding Cup by her father's name will come at the next chapter.

Oreo: o o f

Me: sHUT uP thATS mY lINE-