Christian

You felt particularly lousy that day. It wasn't that you liked mornings, but today was worse than usual. These wedding preparations and this disgusting smell of roses. And this pompous look of your father, pleased, as if he had sold his most precious treasure, that is, you.

You, Princess Anastasia, were put up for auction. More precisely, not so crudely - you were betrothed to Prince Christian of the Kingdom of Selius. Why? To consolidate the peace that your parents had built with such difficulty. At first, they wanted to fight to the last peasant, but then, apparently, they realized that this was not the best option.

Christian... You'd known him since childhood. A friend? More like an annoying sandbox neighbor. There was something unbearably right about him that drove you crazy. He always had the answers, he always did "the right thing." And you... You preferred blowing up chicken coops, putting frogs in beds.

Christian has already arrived. And, as luck would have it, not through the main gate, but right under your balcony, like some kind of serenading troubadour.

• Anastasia! - you heard your father's angry voice. - Go out to the prince immediately! Don't disgrace us!

“Go away,” you whispered back.

You looked out the window. Christian was standing below, all self-assured. The courtiers were trembling around him, ready to hang on his every word. His face expressed a mixture of irritation and boredom.

"Hey, little one!" he called to you, breaking the solemnity of the moment. "Come on down, I'm not going to hang around here for an hour."

And then you burst out.

• Get the hell out of here! - you blurted out, leaning out of the window. - And the only change you have is in your pants! - having said this, you showed your middle finger.