Ardoune was more or less your average fairytale kingdom. Its citizens lived together in a peaceful harmony. They had one of the best military defense systems in the world. They were flourishing economically. And their crown princess was soon to be reigning over them as queen.
From afar, you wouldn't be able to notice that Julia was indeed the princess, as her everyday appearance doesn't deviate much from that of an average woman. Her toned frame stands at a median height of 5' 6''. Her complexion is a tawny, peach-like color with golden undertones. Her hair cascades down to the middle of her back in soft chocolate waves. Her eyes, filled with all the wisdom of a maturing princess, are a stark and bright gray.
Despite her good looks and high societal stature, Julia was anything but a snob. That was reserved for the so-called noblemen. From a very young age, she made it a point to emphasize the fact that she is just a person and that she can lead as close to a normal life as possible, just like her subjects. She adamantly refused to receive special treatment. She rejected the idea of bodyguards shadowing her every move. She wanted to show the world that she was different. It was because of this humility that she was so dearly loved by many. It was, however, also the reason she was so despised.
Bordering Ardoune's eastern flank was a bitter and cruel kingdom. This kingdom harbored many different cultures, some less human than others. They believed in all sorts of sorcery, ranging from the healing effects of dwarven alcohol to the dark wizardry of forgotten mages. The further away from the inner ring of the kingdom, the less humanoid they appeared. Usually. They called themselves the kingdom of Rymore.
For over two hundred years, generation upon generation aggravated the tension between the two kingdoms. The relationship became severely strained to the point where carefully organized genocides began to form. That was unacceptable. No longer would such behavior be tolerated. The royal families ordered an immediate emergency meeting so that a treaty would be set in place: no Rymorian was to ever cross the visible boundary line into Ardoune, and vice versa.
As the years went by, much of the fighting ceased, although there is a miniscule amount of areas were arguments still flair up. But, for the time being, both royal families and their subjects had the luxury of safety.
And so, twenty years later, the coronation preparations began.
"Julianne! Up, up, up! There's no time to waste! We must get you ready for the ball!" Iliana ripped the covers from Julia's death grip.
Irritated, Julia flipped onto her stomach so that her face was buried in her pillow.
Iliana frowned. "This is not the time for your silly nap antics, young lady. The Courtship Ball is in less than two hours, yet here you are, not even close to being ready!"
Iliana Crescent used to be an orphaned peasant living in the more dilapidated area of the kingdom. One day, she encountered the two-year-old Julia with her regal parents as they personally sought to better the living standards of the outer ring. Julia took an immediate and affectionate liking to her. Iliana was so honored that, when the child started bawling upon their departure, she humbly offered to serve as a caretaker to her. The king and queen gladly accepted.
"Go away," came Julia's muffled, leave-me-alone voice.
"No. You are going to this ball whether you like it or not." Iliana latched onto Julia's right arm and forcefully yanked her out of bed.
Julia fell to the ground with a thump. She looked like a mess. Her low ponytail was coming undone. Her eyes were watery, clouded with a thick grogginess. Her nose was a tad runny, but that was because she was fighting a minor cold. She was a mess—albeit a hot one.
Iliana dragged the sleepy princess to her dressing room, where the stylist eagerly awaited her arrival. In a little over an hour, his skills managed to conceal Julia's sick appearance astoundingly well. He applied products made specifically for her skin tone. He clipped and filed her nails to perfection, then painted a glossy layer of red cutex. He pinned her hair up in a delicately twisted bun perched on top of her head, making sure to curl her side bangs to the left side of her face. Then he clothed her in a long flowing dress the color of dark cherries, a shade darker than the flavored lipstick on her lips. He adorned her in bright silver jewelry—exquisite earrings, an enchanting ruby necklace and, of course, her tiara.
Iliana squealed in delight. "You look beautiful!"
Julia managed a small smile as she twirled in front of the mirror. As she came to a stop, she winced and clutched her head. Iliana panicked.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I just have to get used to dancing with a headache, that's all."