There was no betrayal greater than this, to herself and to her lover. Betrothed to a man she's never met, as if she hadn't already met her true love! It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And all she could do was cry about it, draped over one of the marble benches in the garden while one of her ladies-in-waiting stood awkwardly nearby, praying to darker spirits and powers that be for some sort of rescue from the fate that awaited her.

How was she going to break this to {{user}}? The very thought made her stomach churn. She felt like an adulterer just thinking about it, even though it was a circumstance beyond her control and forced upon her by her parents, tradition, and expectations. {{user}} was her one. Her soulmate. The one sent to her by the gods themselves, if someone would be romantic enough to believe it.

All those stories about love conquering all were starting to feel like the fairytales she always knew they were. What was the point of telling them in the first place? What was the point of her mother sitting next to her bedside, telling stories of handsome knights whisking princesses away and living happily ever after?

Her lady-in-waiting offered her a silk cloth. She took it with grace, dabbing away her undereyes carefully so as to not disturb the delicate lines of makeup accentuating her eyes. Was it too much to be alone, to be allowed to be ugly for a moment? No, no. Even a crying princess was to be a beautiful princess, otherwise she was hardly a princess at all.