|| @thefighterwoman || princess belle w/ Fi

Her dad had pulled her long hair up into two large curly buns that sat high on her head. The style she really wanted involved hours and hours sitting still in a chair while a hairdresser did elaborate braids but Belle just hadn’t had the patience and James wasn’t going to set up an appointment again unless Belle was actually going to sit still for the whole thing. So they’d just gone with buns. The dress was hand made, sewn from scratch in with the fabric the young girl had fallen in love with in the store. Belle had sewn much of it herself, with her friend Min’s help. Standing in her room she had felt like the most beautiful princess that had ever been. Like she could walk right into the screen of a Disney movie and fit right in.

When James had dropped her off at the party her spirits had been high and she’d been all smiles. That hadn’t lasted long. It was a costume party but few of the kids had put much effort into the outfits at all. Most just wore masks that they left on top of their heads. That made her feel awkward, standing at the edge of the party in her glittering volume of fabric. Then they started trying to guess who she was. Of course, everyone guessed Tiana and told her the color scheme was all wrong. As if that was her only option as a black girl. Her mumbles of Bluebell went largely ignored. Wasn’t she too old to still be playing princess, anyway? She told herself she was just being paranoid when the giggling started in one corner of the party… that it was all in her head and that she was just being silly. Then she heard that name. Said by a boy she had known from before she was allowed to wear dresses to school. Said while pointing at her, evil grin on his face. Her blood went cold as they started laughing again.

Belle wasn’t sure how far from the party she’d ran. Her eyes had been too filled with tears to see. Just away. That was all that mattered. Curled into a little ball at the base of a tree, she sniffled, too tired to cry anymore. Staring numbly at her toes she realized she’d torn her dress somewhere along the way. She felt like she could see the truth of it now, her ‘rose glasses’ off. Just an ugly dress, poorly sewn, on an ugly body. She’d been an idiot for even coming. Wiping her eyes, she looked around to try and figure out where she was. She should call dad but her phone was in her purse… which was back at the party… 

She froze when she saw them. Forcing herself to her feet, she tried in vain to brush the leaves from her hopeless dress, to smile like she hadn’t just been crying. She hadn’t remembered any of the adults at the party having so blond of hair… but there must have been. Sucking in a breath, she tried to act as nonchalant as was possible for a 12-year-old, ❝Hi… I was just… walking… are you Mary’s dad?❞