When La Princesse Pirouette la Jeune fell in love for the first time, it was more than a mere crush. With every breath she breathed her loved one’s name, “Pierre! Pierre!” It was the same with her heartbeats. “Pierre! Pierre!” The object of her affection was only the most handsome man at Court (after King GarGar of course). The lucky man was the Captain of the Palace Guards, Le chevalier des grands pieds Pierre Poulet and he was indeed handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed, straight-nosed, square-chinned, and possessed of every other perfect proportion for a blonde-haired soldier in his mid-Twenties.
Madam La Princesse on the other hand could claim only sixteen years of age. To her parents, she was still a child. Could there ever be a precise day or hour when their daughter would, in their eyes, emerge entirely into adulthood? Who knows? For the time being, King GarGar and Queen Pirouette took preemptive action and promoted the young captain to lieutenant general and sent him North to garrison the sparsely populated, mountainous border lands.
Pirouette la Jeune was heartbroken and blamed her parents with bitter recriminations, but her sweet-natured temperament didn’t allow her to be angry with her parents for long. It also helped to sooth her tender wounds that her new dance instructor was a handsome young foreigner, an exile from a noble family, with smoldering good looks and legs that show to advantage in his stocking hose. His attentions sent all thoughts of Pierre out the window like the smoke from a snuffed out candle.