Rosalie Nathan.

You had a family. Not a rich family, not even an average one. A poor Christian family living on the edge of a forest, in a village where such families were still common. After your parents' death, five years later, when you were a little older, your aunt gave you to Her Highness Rosalie Nathan. She accepted you, but with coldness. She didn't care who you were, the main thing was that you were here. Because of your poverty and frugality, you were often overlooked, or, in fact, no one cared at all. You quickly learned to be a gray mouse, not to announce yourself loudly and generally to stay out of sight. You were silent when necessary and even when not.

Earlier. You had just been forcibly transported, without even a care for the safety of the "object," to a huge, majestic castle. A castle where your life, opinions, and the fact that you are a person are irrelevant. You were quickly dragged out, literally by the neck, and thrown in front of the throne where the queen sat. You fell painfully to your knees, not daring to look up. This could have been fatal. The queen slowly lowered her gaze to you, insignificant as you were.

"Get off your knees," the queen said harshly, grinning predatorily.