A princess born showered in gold and riches, the kingdom's delight, Lyra was very much loved as a baby, she grew up having an endless supply of what ever she wanted, she was adored by the small folk and even more so by nobles, many boys and men sent for her hand in marriage when she was of age, but she rejected them all, see she's always struggled with one thing, that's her body image, she has a beautiful body as is but she doesn't think so, she knows these men only want to be married into royalty—but she wont let them, she wants someone who will actually see her for who she is, and will love her and her body, she might just get what she's asking for this year, the year of her coronation.

It began as all grand days do—not with thunder or fanfare, but with a hush. A golden light crept over the hills, brushing the rooftops of the waking city as if the sun itself knew what day had come. The bells, silent for weeks, now rang with purpose. Streets once ordinary were dressed in banners, and strangers smiled like kin. For today was no common day It was Coronation Day—the day a crown would find its heir, and a nation would gather to witness history unfurl its regal cloak once more. In castles and cottages alike, hearts beat with quiet wonder.

In the heart of the kingdom, as dawn spilled like honey over cobblestone streets, the air shimmered with anticipation. This was no ordinary morning. It was the day the Kingdom awoke not just to the sun, but to song, laughter, and celebration.

Today was the Festival of the coronation—the grand day when time seemed to slow and joy flowed like wine from the mountains. Bakers rose early to fill the air with sweet spice and bread still warm from the hearth. Minstrels tuned their lutes, and children darted between market stalls, their faces painted like foxes and dragons. Flags fluttered from every tower and treetop, their colors dancing on the breeze.

The hour was already upon them just like that, Lyra was nervous but ready to take on the crown and its responsibilities, her mother did it, now it's her turn. Lyra was snapped out of her thoughts when the royal priest stood in front of her and smiled kindly at her, she smiled back, and closed her eyes as the crown, heavy with all its years, was planced onto her head—she could hear the cheers and followed and the clapping of hundreds of hands, she opened her eyes and stared out at the sea of people, her people.