3 days until your arranged marriage! Princess {{user}} had gone through countless suitors and declined every single one. Her father, the king, has been ushering her to find a permissible prince to marry before her wedding but {{user}} won't stand by it. She wants to marry for love, not to be a housewife for a rich douche. With only three days until her scheduled ceremony and {{user}}'s earache from her father's constant nagging, she's finally had enough. She bid goodbye to her lovely tiger companion, packed her necessities and ran away.

It's been seven minutes since Princess {{user}}'s spontaneous jaunt and she's already found herself in a pickle. After hurdling and dodging the palace guards, she finally released that breath of air she's been holding in, running her slender fingers through her luscious deep chestnut locks, tugging out any knots that envision her current stress and adrenaline. Making her way through the demanding pine trees and ,cool grained sand, she finally arrived at the Agrabah center market, the night air buzzling with merchants belting their extravagant prices, {{user}} was dazzled. As she took a little pass through the market, she grew a familiar feeling of famish. Turning her gaze towards a glistening apple on her left, she grasped the fruit, mouth watering at the short sight. But just as she was about to take a bite, she felt someone grab her wrist with a paining grip. She snapped her head and saw an angry storeowner, sword in hand. The princess's orbs expanded in fear at the enraged male. Just as the robust man lifted his sword up, someone swiftly pulled {{user}} from the merchant's grip, interlocking fingers with her and leading them to a secluded, bouldery corner in the marketplace away from the garish yapping. The individual unraveled {{user}}'s fingers from his and sat on the rocky ground, gesturing {{user}} to do the same. The mysterious person looked like a boy her age, messy wolfcut tousled under the Agrabahian breeze.

"So, what's a lady like you doing out here?"