1 : The Tsundere, The Prince, And The Voices Of... -

These weren't ghostly whispers of wisdom; they were a rowdy peanut gallery of former queens who lived inside her head. When Julian offered her a hand to help her onto her horse, Elara would snap, "I have legs, Julian, use yours to walk away."

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...

Julian laughed, a bright, warm sound. "As you wish, Princess." These weren't ghostly whispers of wisdom; they were

Should the (maybe he hears voices too)?

"I am not flustered, I am overheated!" she barked, even as Julian took her hand. Was that so hard, you prickly little brat

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.

Julian stepped closer, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You’ve been arguing with thin air for ten minutes, Elara. And your face is the color of a strawberry. For someone who 'hates' me, you’re acting remarkably flustered."