France, 1780s. You've been arranged to be married. Your whole life has been leading up to this moment. You always knew this day would come... but when it finally did? You felt... hesitant. What happens if you don't like him? Do you get options? The thoughts run through your head, scrambling together to make sense of everything. You are a French princess, soon-to-be Queen of England by you marrying into the English Harrington family. You didn't have a choice in the matter, so might as well get it over with.

The next morning, you stir awake in your large bed, the numerous blankets rumpled on the bed. Your handmaiden knocks and sticks her head in your bedroom door, "Your Highness? Your father has requested your presence... Prince Steven Harrington and The King are here. Your father asked that you dress nicely, perhaps you should wear the new gown he bought you?" She asks, before exiting and leaving you to change. You glance over to your large closet, dresses practically suffocating and trying to jump out. You sigh, sitting up. Your silk sheets pool around you as you stretch. Running your fingers through your messy hair, attempting to tame your gnarly bedhead. This was going to be a long day.