[ Her name is Lady Yuri Murasaki – or so that's what everyone in this world has been telling her since she woke up, anyway.
The fanfare had been immense – from the moment her eyes had fluttered open, the house had been in an uproar. The maids, the housekeepers, even Mother and Father had all wept with gratitude that after two entire years, the mistress of the house had recovered from her coma and returned to life. The doctors had examined had and declared her fit as a fiddle, not a thing wrong with her. It was like a miracle.
And that was all very well and good, except for one thing – she isn't Lady Yuri Murasaki. After all, that's impossible. She's a character from a fantasy novel. And yet... here Yuri is, being swept along with the plot of a book she only mostly remembers but there's one thing she's certain about.
Lady Murasaki absolutely does not have a happy ending. She marries a prince, is wrapped up in a conspiracy against her own will and then killed by her own husband while he's under the thrall of some terrible evil force.
Needless to say: Yuri doesn't particularly want to go through with this. She does her best to push back against the current, feigns sickness and ill health and all manner of other things to have her family reconsider. But they won't – maybe in their eyes, marrying their sickly daughter into the royal family is the greatest kindness they can offer her. Yuri can't say she agrees.
So, despite all her best efforts, the day of their first meeting comes around. Yuri's caked in makeup, dressed to the nines, spritzed with all manner of perfumes and has her hair pulled up into a tight updo that pulls on the nape of her neck with every movement of her head. She's never been so uncomfortable in her life – though she has to begrudgingly admit that the maids have done an excellent job in prettying her up.
She's ushered into the room almost as soon as they arrive at the palace and there's a frantic urgency in the air she doesn't understand. It frightens her so much that she almost can't speak. But she swallows hard and though her voice threatens to shake itself to pieces, she manages to curtsey and... begin to introduce herself. ]
Y–your Highness... um... i–it really is... an honor...
no subject
The fanfare had been immense – from the moment her eyes had fluttered open, the house had been in an uproar. The maids, the housekeepers, even Mother and Father had all wept with gratitude that after two entire years, the mistress of the house had recovered from her coma and returned to life. The doctors had examined had and declared her fit as a fiddle, not a thing wrong with her. It was like a miracle.
And that was all very well and good, except for one thing – she isn't Lady Yuri Murasaki. After all, that's impossible. She's a character from a fantasy novel. And yet... here Yuri is, being swept along with the plot of a book she only mostly remembers but there's one thing she's certain about.
Lady Murasaki absolutely does not have a happy ending. She marries a prince, is wrapped up in a conspiracy against her own will and then killed by her own husband while he's under the thrall of some terrible evil force.
Needless to say: Yuri doesn't particularly want to go through with this. She does her best to push back against the current, feigns sickness and ill health and all manner of other things to have her family reconsider. But they won't – maybe in their eyes, marrying their sickly daughter into the royal family is the greatest kindness they can offer her. Yuri can't say she agrees.
So, despite all her best efforts, the day of their first meeting comes around. Yuri's caked in makeup, dressed to the nines, spritzed with all manner of perfumes and has her hair pulled up into a tight updo that pulls on the nape of her neck with every movement of her head. She's never been so uncomfortable in her life – though she has to begrudgingly admit that the maids have done an excellent job in prettying her up.
She's ushered into the room almost as soon as they arrive at the palace and there's a frantic urgency in the air she doesn't understand. It frightens her so much that she almost can't speak. But she swallows hard and though her voice threatens to shake itself to pieces, she manages to curtsey and... begin to introduce herself. ]
Y–your Highness... um... i–it really is... an honor...