“Kiss him or I’ll haunt your dreams with images of soggy porridge!” Martha threatened.
Princess Elara was the kingdom’s most polished "Tsundere." To the public, she was a prickly rose; to the crown prince, Julian, she was a headache in a silk gown. She spent most of their tea parties insulting his choice of cravat while her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Should the (maybe he hears voices too)?
Inside her head, the ancestors went nuclear. “TELL HIM HE LOOKS LIKE A GOD,” Martha roared. “APOLOGIZE!” Catherine screamed.
As he walked away, Elara leaned against the stone railing. The voices were finally quiet, save for Martha, who whispered with a satisfied smugness, “See? Was that so hard, you prickly little brat?” If you’d like to keep the story going, let me know: 1 : The Tsundere, the Prince, and the Voices of...
Elara’s pride flared. "Hate it? I find the prospect of our marriage about as exciting as watching bread mold."
Julian laughed, a bright, warm sound. "As you wish, Princess." “Kiss him or I’ll haunt your dreams with
The mental cacophony became so loud that Elara clutched her head and accidentally blurted out, "SHUT UP, MARTHA!" The balcony went silent. Julian blinked. "Who is Martha?"