Welcome! I hope you are all well! Whilst I am not new to FanFiction, I have created a new account to help me start afresh. I am very excited by where this story is going and I hope you enjoy it too.

Chapter 1

A new century, a new ruler.

It was not my father's plan to die so young. He had so many plans to fulfill that would make this country of ours shine brighter than any monarch could ever dream. But alas. His light has gone out. Our country mourns. I mourn. I sigh, coming out of my thoughts. I look down at the book in my hands. Leather. Even after all these years it still smells the same. That deep, earthy scent combined with the tobacco enfused pages bring a melencholy smile to my face. Within these pages are those plans that I mentioned. Written in Father's neat penmanship. Twelve years on the throne snd a whole lifetime of ideas written in this one book. Footsteps break me from my musings.

"Your Majesty?" I look up to see Felix, Father's - well, now my personal servant. I give a small, sad smile in response.

"Not yet, Felix." I reply, smoothing my fingers over my fathers royal seal embossed into the ledger. HRH King Charles III. "I am still a princess for now." Refering to his address of me as Majesty.

He responds with a small nod beofre crossing the room to stand before me. He holds out his hand. "Are you ready, Your Highness?"

My breath halts and my eyes travel from Felix's hand to his aged eyes.

"I am scared," I choke out, unlady like.

A hint of a smile crosses his face.

"I'd be worried if you were not, Your Highness."

A tear escapes my eye that I quickly brush away.

I take a deep, cleansing breath before I place my hand into his gloved one. I stood as quickly as I could with how tight my corset was and how much my dress weighed. Once upright, I passed my father's ledger to Felix, who placed it under his arm to put away once I have departed the palace.

I took one step and then another and before I knew it, I had made it to the foot of the carriage. I had to be lifted in for my dress would not allow any upward movement from my legs. Once situated, I was joined by Mother. She grasped my hand in support and comfort. Her smile calmed me like water on a fire.

"You look wonderful, Darling. Your father would be so proud of you." Her eyes sparking with tears. I smile and willing my own tears not to fall.

I begin to thank her but the call of the head guard for the procession to begin interupts me. I snap my mouth shut and mould my face to resemble a facade of confidence. Mother smiled knowingly before looking out of the carriage window. She was the one who had taught me this look, as she was taught by her mother. But the difference is, when she was crowned, it was with my father at her side as King. I am to be crowned Queen, unmarried and barely eighteen years old.

The horses pick up speed until we reach the palace gates. The noise outside is phenomenal. The roar of the crowd. Of my people. I glance outside as we pass through the gates. They are packed together like straws of hay in a hay bale. Yet that does not damper their happiness or enthusiasm. It swells my heart and instills confidence within me. I can do this. I can lead this country true.