To Meet A Man

About 20 maids stood, backs rigidly straight and arms neatly folded, in front of me in the foyer. They were split in two lines facing one another, a veritable hall-for-hire. The foyer itself was a work of art. Marble walls, red carpets, statues, suits of armor, paintings, you name it. I sat in a luxuriously furnished seat next to an elegantly robed man whom I didn’t really know, sat upon a larger and fancier seat in the center. Marie attended me. Six pike-wielding knights guarded the two of us in sterling silver armor. Cool.

When she had spotted the caravan, Marie rushed me down to the welcoming hall at once — and I only tripped on my heels five times! Okay, maybe six. Or seven. When we got there, I was seated next to this unknown man.

He had a similar hair color to mine, but his face showed years more weathering and stress, half hidden by a full beard. He tried to begin a conversation with me.

“Daughter of mine, I hope you’re re-” he began, before a butler interrupted him from the front. I took a shot in the dark that he was the King.

It was odd. He called me his daughter directly, and nothing about it rubbed me the wrong way. If anything, being called his daughter almost lifted my spirits. I don’t get it. Being called a ‘daughter’ should make me gag.

Everything about it was only weird in that it didn’t make me uncomfortable. Aside from the heels, of course. And the corset. I did look fantastic, though, from the full-body glimpses in the windows I had gotten during the rush to the entrance.

Patience was key. Knowing nobody around me, not even my own apparent father, was a little scary. I looked up to Marie. She must have sensed my anxiety — she smiled, and held out her hand. Despite having only met her hours before, I felt an instinct to take it. I grasped her hand and squeezed. That’s better.

That was another thing. My hand was smaller. Slender and elegant, nothing like the ham-fists I had wielded as a man before. Wait, did I feel that negatively about them before?

But that was an interrogation for later. The entrance doors to the palace burst open.

A man, who I presumed to be Duke, and his son, led by a procession of a few knights, waltzed in like they owned the place. Clearly confident, you could practically see their noses turn up at our maids, their swagger spilling out into the space and poisoning the air.

Can you tell? I was not excited to meet these guys.

All of the maids bowed as the pair walked towards us. They both had… Well, I’m not sure how to describe them. You know those pants that are like really poofy shorts? And then leggings beneath that? They were both wearing those. They looked ridiculous. The shorts shifting as they moved made it look as if they were waddling over. I couldn’t take it seriously.

I was about to snort in laughter, but it escaped as — honestly? A cute giggle. The sound coming from me startled me out of my amusement in surprise. Marie squeezed my hand tighter, as if to say, “Dude, chill.” Or, rather, “My lady, please… chill.” Something like that.

At least I didn’t feel as nervous anymore.

When they reached us, they paused. It seemed as if Duke wanted to say something, but the two then took a knee and bowed their heads.

“My King.” They spoke in unison. They raised their heads. “Princess.”

I gave a small wave, and they looked at me weird. Oops.

“Rise, Duke Wilfried Deighsel, Young Deighsel.” Stately and confident, the King’s voice filled the hall. The two rose to their feet. “I trust your travels went smoothly?”

“Hardly! That pathetic excuse for a road through the forest jostled us to no end.” The elder amongst the two snorted. Uhhh, that’s kind of a rude way to speak to your king, right? I thought.

The King laughed it off, a hearty chuckle unburdened by the rudeness before him.

“I’ll have the pathwright take a look. The growth in the spring is rather rampant in these lands.” A short pause overtook us. “In the meantime, shall we proceed?”

“Please.”

“Off we go, then!” The King stood up, and I quickly followed suit.

The group of royals, their attendants, and one livestreamer shuffled behind the King, who paraded us to a large meeting room a hallway away.

I assumed it was some kind of negotiation room for treaties or whatever. There was a giant table, room for guards, and a rather showy number of ornaments dotted around. The King and I sat down with our backs to the wall. Duke and Junior were seated opposite us. The gravity of what was actually going on hit me. Wait, Marie said I’d be looking for a suitor. This is like a REAL marriage meeting… Oh no. Ohnononononono wait waitwaitwai-

“Ahem!” Mister Duke spoke, glancing at a piece of parchment in his hands. “We of the Deighsel Duchy have arrived to proclaim our intent of inquiring as to the viability of a betrothment between Her Highness, the lovely Lady Elisabeth Iris Lumineuse-”

Is that my full name? Kinda cute.

“-and the eldest son of the Deighsel family, Friedbert Wischer Deighsel. The conjoinment of the revered House of Lumineuse and the trusted Deighsel Duchy should prove not only fruitful for both parties involved, but for the entire Kingdom itself. We humbly ask for Your Majesty King Lumineuse for permission to begin negotiations towards this noble goal.” He looked up from the paper and slid it aside. “...Or so the Quills would have me say.” His arrogant demeanor returned as he left the restriction of the script in front of him.

“As the duke of the most esteemed duchy in the Lumineuse Kingdom, I have come prepared to do whatever it takes.” Wait, what did he mean by “the” duke? Is that not his— I was suddenly struck by a memory of a scene from a fantasy movie I’d seen, but not before the confusion manifested visibly on my face. “Duke” is a title, you moron! Not a name! Seeing my furrowed brow, the elder Deighsel gave me a snide look. I wanted to hide my face in embarrassment.

I refrained, though, as “the” duke continued, “But first, let us establish a baseline from which to negotiate.” He gave a very pronounced sigh and held his hand out behind him, and one of his knights stepped forward with a different piece of paper.

It unsettled me. I didn’t trust the two of them, though nothing necessarily innately made them untrustworthy, I suppose. Freidbert, as his father called him, was a perfect image of a younger version of the duke. He looked roughly my age, with short, cropped blond hair and a permanent scowl. He had an average build, which he had positioned in a vain lean to the side of the chair. The pants really didn’t suit him. It was like if a jester was a baseball player and also coincidentally hated everything.

The King and the duke began a back-and-forth, talking about something to do with the southern border, about trade and armies and something-or-other, but…

To be honest, I wasn’t really paying attention, okay? I had a whole lot more to think about on my plate at the moment, anyway. I had adjusted to the immediate change quickly, sure, as the situation necessitated, but I was still in a completely foreign environment, as an entirely different person. Though my new body didn’t make me uncomfortable, it was still new. Better to get a handle on my own body before concerning myself with complex geopolitical negotiations.

Furthermore, I was expecting the meeting to be primarily about the suitor thing (yuck), but it seemed that the two powerful men had to establish a baseline before such discussions actually occurred. I waited, though I mentally focused inward.

It was then that I noticed something that had never happened to me before.

Friedbert Deighsel was, without a shred of subtlety, staring at my chest.

I froze. Ew. That was the first thought I had. And the second.

Is this what women saw? Like, all the time? It was horrendous, his eyes greedily boring through my dress. His expression told me that, in his mind’s eye, he was methodically and hungrily removing each and every piece of clothing I had on.

I felt violated, in complete disgust. I adjusted in my seat, turning a shoulder towards him to obfuscate my boobs (that’s weird to think, huh?) as much as possible. His eyes darted up to mine, and he sneered.

This was the guy who I was going to be betrothed to? I couldn’t stand the thought.

In the first place, I should note, I was not attracted to men. Not in the slightest. Even the thought of being with a man in that way made me uncomfortable. My mind had always forced such thoughts immediately out of the vicinity, but confronted with the situation before me, it was impossible to ignore.

I was overcome with an urge to put a stop to it all. I did not want to marry a man, let alone this bag of scum. I waited for a pause in the King-duke exchange, then coughed. “So, um, do I, like, get a say in this or anything? Because…” My voice trailed off as everyone turned to look — or rather glare — at me.

The King cleared his throat. “I apologize for the inappropriate language my daughter has employed.” He shot me a look. “She has yet to truly adjust to how adults conduct themselves in important matters such as these.”

“Heh. Not to worry. I’m sure Friedbert can… straighten her out.” The duke smirked.

Um, excuse me? I did not like the sound of that.