Trumpets sang happily and banners waved gaily in the lilting late summer air. Darting red birds danced jauntily on drifts of breeze, singing their unearthly songs to all that would hear. The very island itself seemed to quiver with anticipation. Brigades of servants and craftsmen, chefs and tailors, put the final touches on what could very well be the grandest fete of their lives. There was more than one nervous citizen in the city that day. But for all the commotion, a solitary girl remained as silent and cold as the ocean surrounding her.

The mahogany vanity had rarely had an occupier, but on this particular occasion, its sole purpose of existence was granted. And the girl who sat at that elaborate vanity was nothing short of exquisite. Framed by the generous plumes of vibrant purples and gentle greys, the girl watched herself from afar as a fleet of lady’s maids dashed around her, willing anything but her fearsome disproval. She had once been a gentle, thoughtful girl, but that had been pounded out of her by the harsh realities of the world. She had become what was expected of her, but had given up her carefree philosophies in the bargain.

Her once famed smile had not graced the masses for weeks. Even her closest companions feared her. The powders that masked her face could not hide her contempt or disgust for the proceedings about to befall her. It was all so horribly, unescapably beneath her. And yet, for all her struggles, she would be forced to play along into such an insipid ceremony to celebrate what could hardly be called a perfect union.

The girl in the mirror stared hatefully around her, waiting for this nightmare to be over. Soon she would be summoned to the grand ballroom, and would have to stand aloft and watch as thousands of peddlers and tenement dwellers cheered for her. While she knew she fully deserved their adoration, she couldn’t help resent the basis for their love. She would have to share their affection with another, who, while pleasant in his own right, was nothing compared to her.