Heirs

Brea Arielle Charlotte Kaylin Gotha-Chaplin detested her full name. Had it only been Brea, Arielle, Charlotte, or Kaylin, she would have been fine with it. But the name as a whole didn't even roll of her tongue nicely.

Always one to be childish, she asked her caretaker Gertrude why she couldn't change it.

"Because your parents chose it for you," Gertrude responded, eyes on the scarf she was currently knitting.

Brea was laying upside down form her bed, looking at her caretaker with a frown.

"But if you had to choose one of your names, which one would it be?"

The princess pondered for a second, sitting up in her plush bed as fixed the dress she was currently wearing. The blood that had been rushing to her head while upside was starting to give her a headache.

"I like Brea," she decided on minutes later, crossing her legs under the dress. Had they been out of the room, Gertrude would have given her a stare that would let her know to sit like a lady. "Brea Gotha sounds normal, right?"

The older woman nodded, agreeing with her. Gertrude wasn't old. She was only sixteen when she had been appointed the task to take care of the Princess. It was a prestigious job, especially amongst her family since most worked in the kitchens and gardens. She had no idea as to why she was given the job, but she wasn't one to be ungrateful.

That had been eleven years ago. Now the girl she treated as her own was going to be sent off to Hogwarts, something the Gertrude wasn't fond of.

Like most young royals, Brea lived a sheltered life. The princess had a private tutor for her basic education such as reading, writing and basic arithmetic. She had another tutor for etiquette, another for horseback riding, and another for magic.

Gertrude had taken the initiative to teach Brea things like knitting, sewing and basic home knowledge. Things that princess didn't really need to know. Most days began in the early hours of the morning and ended before dinner.

"I'm nervous," Brea suddenly confessed as she pulled slightly on her hair.

"And why's that?" Gertrude asked as she continued to knit, glancing at Brea for a second.

"What if people don't like me?" The quietly asked, "I don't know anybody there! I don't understand why mother wants me to go to this school. I thought princesses had to stay in the castle and learn."

Queen Jaclyn had been the one to suggest that her daughter be sent off to a private school. Her stance was that it would encourage Brea to develop her magical skills away from the watchful eyes of the media. Especially Frenchie Skeeter.

Jaclyn made a strong case against her husband, King Baron. Hogwarts would provide top-notch private education, and giving the princess some kind of normalcy would help the Queen sleep at night.

The school wasn't far from the Kingdom of Sempiternal, a small magical country located between Iceland and Norway, north of the United Kingdom.

"If people do not like you, then they're idiots," Gertrude said, stopped knitting and smiled at the princess.

Brea giggled at the word, but took some comfort in Gertrude's words.

"Besides, I hear that Prince Martin and Prince William be accompanying you," Gertrude said, resuming her knitting. She had to finish the scarf before the Princess left.

Brea shrugged. Prince William and Prince Martin were royal twins from the Riparian Kingdom. It was located in the mountains of what muggles called Faroe Islands.

According to her mother, Hogwarts was the alma mater of the Riparian King. Just like Brea's mother, he had married into royalty.

"I don't think they like me that much," she said, looking at the ceiling.

"You just have to get to know them a little better," Gertrude responded.

Brea grumbled incoherent words under her breathe soon after. She was sure that Martin didn't like her to some extent. He always seemed so uptight, and never wanted to play when they frequented each other's homes. To her, it felt like Martin's only happiness came from calling her fun ideas stupid.

William and her did get along from time to time. In the end, he was a boy and enjoyed to tease her for the small things. More times that not, he poked fun of her accent. She often argued that it was he with the accent.

"Do you know when Gran returns?" Brea asked, changing the subject.

"Your mother says in two days."

Frowning, Brea realized she wouldn't be able to see her grandmother before she left. She could at least owl her.

Putting her knitting supplies to the side, Gertrude stood up and fixed her outfit.

"Alright, time to get you ready for dinner," the caretaker announced, reaching out to hold the princess's hand.