A Lady of Exquisite Sensitivity, Pt I

I was not having my best day ever.

I had awoken with a raging headache, and had it been any other day (or had I been any other person) I’d have spent the entirety in my bed, hiding beneath the covers. But it was not any other day- it was thirty-fifth day into the diplomatic mission I was making on behalf of my father to a foreign kingdom in the hopes of arranging a highly advantageous political marriage- and we were expected to arrive that evening. And I was not any other person- I was Princess Arabella Gabriella Grisadella Isabella Emanuella Christiansen (known more practically as “Aggie” to my family), and not only had I been raised on my mother’s rigorous etiquette standards and thoroughly educated on the history and mores of the surrounding areas, I also was in possession of a rather large amount of Natural Charm, which meant that any diplomatic endeavor I was a part of tended to go better than those I was not. And Father really needed this alliance. And so I had gritted my teeth, gotten out of bed, and climbed back into the carriage I was coming to loathe. Just one more day, I had told myself.

I had not mentioned my discomfort as we embarked- a lady never complains, after all- but I had made it a point to shut all the curtains, greatly reducing the amount of light and noise that infiltrated. Thus I had been able to drift into a sort of half-sleep, which unfortunately meant I had not been entirely coherent when the bandits struck.

I will say this for them- they didn’t kill me. I’m not sure if this is because they knew who I was, or because they didn’t. Either way, while they’d taken everything else of value- servants, goods, even my clothing- they’d left me my under garments and- more importantly- my life. This fact, as far as I’d been concerned, had meant that I still had a chance to negotiate the alliance I’d promised Father. And so I’d squared my shoulders and started walking, comforting myself with the thought that at least it was summer: although I’d been robbed, and my head was aching and my bare feet protesting, at least I wouldn’t be cold. And as I’d slowly covered the remaining miles I had been warm…

Until the storm him.

And so there I was, standing in my undergarments, soaked to the skin, spattered up to my knees in mud and road filth, teeth chattering like a rabid squirrel as I knocked on the door of a stranger’s castle gate at midnight, about to make perhaps the worst first impression I could conceive of. As I've mentioned: not my best day ever.