It became that time in your life as a royal where everyone around you expected you to get married. Married off to some prince or princess from another kingdom with a lot of wealth. The constant pressure made you hate it, soon not wanting to get married at all. You turned down every prince and princess your parents introduced you to, hoping they'd get the hint and stop bothering you with the idea of getting married.

But soon, your parents put their foot down. They wanted you to get married. They were forcing you to get married now.

So, here the three of you stood, king and queen beside you as you stood on the large ornate stairs that lead to the ballroom. They had found a prince for you to marry, one by the name of Dottore. He seemed like an intimidating prince, the look on his face obviously one of pride. He looked at you like you were below him, not like you were equal.

A smirk crossed the man's lips as he looked you up and down. He let out a prideful ‘hmph’ before words came out of his mouth, his voice deep. “What's with the annoyed look, dear prince/ss?”