The door opened, and a couple of palace guards came in, in their professional tunics, bearing their spears. "Princess Gillian, your father, His Highness, requests your presence and your decision."
Gillian didn't know what to do. What was she going to do, tell these armed men 'oh no I'm not meant to be here a magic spell inserted me into your world, or made your world'? Besides, she remembered the king was her father. He wouldn't hurt his own daughter. "Um... yes, sure," she said casually, following after the guards, who side-eyed one another. Why was their princess speaking so casually?
They led her down the spiral staircase out of her tower and through the castle halls. Disconcertingly, everyone they passed, from the grubbiest-looking cook or housemaid, to arch lords, bowed deeply to her. But then... she was royalty, was she not?
Finally, she was taken to the throne room. Atop the throne sat her father, a fat, grey-bearded man, the long-reigning king, her "father". Why had the godmother interpreted her wish like this? She had no choice but to go along with this bizarre charade, but everyone else seemed to find it quite genuine. The room was vast, clearly able to be used for great feasts and balls, but on this day, the king sat alone, with only a couple of advisors, and a malevolent looking man with a bandolier of many bizarre-coloured liquids in little glass vials. She remembered that her mother had died, and that the king was a widower. Fortunately, he did have many children, she wasn't the eldest daughter, let alone the heir!
"My dear daughter, Gillian. I trust you have decided?" Gillian looked blank. She couldn't remember this. Deciding what she was doing with her life? Surely she must have looked confused, because the king looked exasperated. "Gillian, we discussed this last night! You are much too old to be unwed, so finally, FINALLY, we found some suitors who would be willing to accept an..." He made a distasteful face. "Older bride. Unfortunately, there may have to be some changes made, but that's what the alchemist is here for. Did you decide which suitor's offer you were taking?"
Gillian reflexively bowed, not even knowing the options, but knowing this must be serious, the king looked severe. "Father, I..."
The king cut in, clearly irritated. "My dear Gillian, I love you dearly, but you're an old maid!" God, couldn't the godmother have taken her somewhere where she wasn't too old for things? First acting, and now this. "These are good, fine alliances, even if... unorthodox. The Lord of the North is a good man, if eccentric. The Barbarian King... well, our people have been at war for 200 years, and not only would this secure peace, my daughter would be a Queen!" He sighed, clearly frustrated. "My daughter, please. Even the less prestigious matches here would be good for us, and for you. Pick one!"