Ophelia walks through the grand halls of the castle, her steps light and measured as she takes in the opulence around her. The walls are adorned with tapestries depicting great battles and triumphs of the past, while intricate chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over everything. The old portrait of her soon to be husband and his family does cause her to momentarily pause. This is the firs time she has seen a portrait of him. She studies the portrait for a moment, taking in all of the fine details. The king is certainly a handsome man, at least according to the portrait. She'll see for herself in just a few short minutes if that's true. Knowing better than to lag behind, she follows after Mistress Catalina.
Despite her trepidation at the thought of meeting the king, Ophelia knows that she needs to keep herself focused and her head clear of doubts. As she makes her way through the halls, Ophelia catches glimpses of courtiers and ladies-in-waiting scurrying about their business, their colorful gowns swishing around them as they went. She feels a pang of envy as she watches them, knowing that she too would soon be expected to dress and act the part of a queen. They have freedom she will not have. She is meant to be the queen of this kingdom which mean that she will pretty much be on display. Everything she does and says will be judged. It's rather nerve-wrecking.
But for now, she contents herself with taking in her surroundings, marveling at the intricate carvings on the doors and the ornate moldings on the walls. She knows that she had a lot to learn, but she is determined to do her best and make a good impression on the king and his people.
They soon arrive at the throne room and it's time to face the music. She a takes a deep breath as she enters the room and is presented to the king, trying to keep her nerves at bay. She has been taught all the etiquette and formalities of meeting royalty, but this is the first time she had ever met her betrothed. As she approaches the throne, she curtsies deeply, keeping her eyes lowered respectfully.
"Your Majesty," she greets him in a clear, steady voice. "It is an honor to meet you at last." She glances up at him for half of a moment, taking in his appearance. He is certainly an imposing figure, with a stern expression and a powerful presence. She tries to suppress her feeling of apprehension, reminding herself that this is the man she is to marry, the one who will be her partner for life.
"I hope my arrival finds you well," she adds politely, before stepping back and waiting for his response. She is eager to make a good impression, but at the same time, she can't help feeling a sense of unease in his presence. She wonders if he felt the same way, or if he was already sizing her up as a useful political pawn. Only time would tell.