Creative Writing

Who Needs a Prince?

I am not your typical fairy tale figure. My name is Princess Helena, but most people call me Princess Charming. I think they’re trying to be funny because no-one would ever refer to me seriously as ‘charming’. I’m no dignified princess, I’d rather be riding my horse at full speed through the forest than sitting having tea, like I’m supposed to. 

I’m meant to be greeting royal guests for my family’s ball right now, but I truly couldn’t think of anything worse. Don’t get me wrong, I love a ball. The music, the dancing, the outfits and the food are all stunning, but I despise making small talk with a bunch of princesses trying to win my friendship, and princes trying to win my hand in marriage. Who needs a prince? I don’t see why I must marry in order to rule. And I won’t even get to rule if I do marry! Fancy that! I’m the heir to the throne but it’ll be my husband who rules. How is that fair? 

I love my kingdom, I really do. I could really make a change if only I was given the chance. My parents don’t take me seriously because I’m not as soft spoken as I ought to be. But I don’t see why I should be – princes get to shout and scream as much as they like. I don’t need any of these princes here lording it over me. They can shove off as far as I’m concerned, there’s no way I’ll be marrying any of them. 


The party is in full swing and I’m running away from everyone who wants to use my status for their own good. Everyone on the dance floor looks stunning, I can see their smiles from across the room. My attention suddenly goes to the doors, towards which everyone is slowly turning. I feel myself step out from behind the pillar to get a better look, and the breath leaves my body. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen steps into the room in a blue ballgown. Her golden hair is pulled up, showing off all her stunning features. I feel myself walk towards her before I can stop myself. In mere moments, I’m directly in front of her, holding out my hand. She looks up at me, confusion on her face, but takes my hand nonetheless.

“Would you like to dance?” I ask her, paying no heed to the whispers around me.

“Is it… is it proper?” She asks, under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

“Probably not, but that’s never stopped me before. It’s okay if you don’t want to.” She scrutinises my face for a second, then something clears on her own.

“I’d love to.” She sinks into a small curtsey, and I can’t keep the smile from my face as I lead her to the dance floor. Who needs a prince, when you can have a princess?


A year later, we’re in the same room, standing in front of a crowd full of people. Ella looks striking in her wedding gown, her beauty only emphasised by her happiness. Some people were against our marriage, but, at the end of the day, I’m the heir of this kingdom, and why shouldn’t we love whoever we wish? After the ball, the princes went back to their own palaces and started looking for wives elsewhere. They could tell I wasn’t interested, that I was enamoured with someone else. Ella stole my heart that night.

Afterall, who needs a prince, when you can have a queen?

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Louise Collins

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November 2021
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