The bright, rainbow-hued light streaming through one of the many intricate stained-glass windows of your tower bedchamber falls across your pixie-like face, waking you from a restless sleep. Stretching between the luxurious, white sheets and heavy comforter, you yawn, then suddenly sit straight up, your waist-length, fiery red hair falling out of its haphazard bun and cascading down your back.
"Oh good heavens!" you exclaim. "'Tis my wedding day!" You let out a very unlady-like groan.
Your tyrant of a father, Lord Wesley, is forcing you, Lady Augusta, his eldest daughter, to wed Dorian, his eldest son and heir to the throne of Evian. Lord Wesley's intent is to ensure the family's continued rule of the kingdom. The thought of marrying your own brother makes you quite ill, but you have, as of yet, not come up with a workable way of avoiding the seemingly inevitable event.
Brushing your silky, sunny hair into a becoming updo and slipping into a gauzy, blue dress with a fashionable square neckline that further emphasizes your long, pale neck and small but perky breasts, you prepare for the big day and whatever it may hold. |