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Thirty days ago thes knights would have bowed to me, not laugh. Thirty days ago I would have been in purple finery snapping my fingers for every whim. Now I am in this rough peasant wear, my hands bound and then led by being tied to this horse I walk beside. But thirty days ago my father's armies still existed and this foreign country was held at bay. Now they are victorius and I am a hostage, last of my people's royal family, to be held as a guarantee the conquered will not rise against their conquerors.
I am young. I should have been married and ensuring alliances and children a few years ago, but my doting father did not press and the king of this country blocked most suitors. Now I stand in this courtyard, my enemies triumphant. I try to stand with proper regal dignity. My small chest thrust out with shoulders back. Long blonde hair scraggly around my head and shoulders. I am Gloriana, princess of Cormadon.
I am young. I should have been married and ensuring alliances and children a few years ago, but my doting father did not press and the king of this country blocked most suitors. Now I stand in this courtyard, my enemies triumphant. I try to stand with proper regal dignity. My small chest thrust out with shoulders back. Long blonde hair scraggly around my head and shoulders. I am Gloriana, princess of Cormadon.