Diary of a Lonely Emo Princess Who Has Everything but Hates Everyone and Everything

Apparently, a King was supposed to remain cool, calm, and collected – both on the inside and out. However, King Eric of Belfry was on the verge of a breakdown – minutely on the outside, but over the edge on the inside.

He and Ariel didn’t understand where the hell they went wrong; that was a code that not even the best could crack. He did not understand why Mel had suddenly made the switch from the sweet little girl that she had been only a few years earlier to the Emo monster that she'd transformed into almost overnight. She'd suddenly wanted Eric's room -- kept under lock and key for years -- and insisted upon getting a Royal Warrant to Hot Topic. He and Ariel, of course, forbade it, but came to grant it only a few days later because they could not stand to hear of Mel's emo lyric tirades. History, unfortunately, has been cursed to repeat itself. His parents, now permanently living on a grand estate thousands of miles away in Hawaii, had warned them.

He wondered how hard they were laughing at him. Karma is a huge bitch.

Eric, dressed in a customary white military uniform, kept himself before the dance floor, watching the other Royal and non-Royal couples dance. He'd become considerably good friends with some of the Royals, which he felt was a blessing. It seemed like the only reason they were here, drinking wine and dancing with their spouses, was because they felt bad for him and Ariel. At least it was a reason to be here.

The party went on without the guest of honor. Nobody seemed to notice.

Eric saw Ariel come down the steps again – nix the announcement; the Queen didn’t seem to be in the mood -- and breathed a small sigh of relief. She’d done it, apparently. That slight scowl on her face put it all into a sad perspective that caused the King’s heart to beat heavily with internal pain that he didn’t want flared up again.

“How’d it go?” he asked her as she came to stand by him.

“Well,” Ariel said simply. She looked exhausted.

He pressed, “Just well?”

“Yes.” The word was clipped.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

His wife pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, as if she felt a nosebleed coming on. “Please don’t say anything.”

Eric paled. “Why?”

“Wait for it,” Ariel sighed as the page announced to the entire party that Her Majesty, Princess Melody of Belfry, was arriving. Eric sucked in a deep breath and prayed to whatever celestial being out there that things would go well. For once.

The trumpets sounded and the doors opened and the entire dance floor stood still.

Melody stood at the top of the stairs, not moving, dressed in a short black lace-y strapless dress with black fishnet stockings underneath. Six inch platform steel-toed, knee-high combat boots clad her feet. The self-harm scars on her skinny arms were sorely visible, along with some fresh ones that still bled. Pink fishnet arm warmers clung to her arms. Her face was a mess of brand new piercings and raccoon eyes and pasty white, vampire makeup. Her hair was a rat’s nest, backcombed within an inch of his life that made her head seem six times its normal size. A red ribbon completed the look.

Eric’s palm hit his face at mach speed and stayed there as Ariel silently ushered the stunned orchestra to begin again. The dancers quietly started dancing again, keeping their eyes on the Princess.

“Ariel, kill me. I beg of you,” the King of Belfry whispered to his wife. His daughter had officially made him the laughingstock of the entire kingdom.