Walk in front of your full-length mirror so you can tidy yourself up a little.
From Create Your Own Story
You stride over to the mirror, wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you do. When you finish, you see yourself standing in front of a large silver mirror which stretches from the marble floor of your room to almost the ceiling. The edges of the mirror are adorned with intricate wooden carvings of various animals, both fantastical and real, painted in gold. The vast majority of the people in your kingdom would never be able to afford a piece of artwork like this, even if they worked their entire life to try and obtain it. Of course, you were simply given this artifact when you grew old enough to start caring what you looked like. Whether that thought fills you with guilt or indifference is up to you.
Your eyes move away from the edge of the mirror and into the middle, where your own reflection resides. You, of course, look like you've just woken up, and quickly move to sort yourself out. You run your fingers though your hair several times, trying to remove the knots. Your hair forms thick, bouncy curls that twist their way down to just above your breasts. When straightened, your hair can reach down to your lower back. The noble women of your dynasty possess a unique hair colour, which appears to be a very light brown at first, but seems to change to a bright, golden blonde when in sunlight, or a faint red in dark, similar to a dying fire. You take after your father, as your hair tends to be more blonde, while your sister takes after your mother, with more red in her hair. Some claim your hair changes colour depending on your mood, but you think they are fools.
Your fingers move from your hair to your face. You have two thick eyebrows, both a dark brown in colour and well groomed, as is the style of the court. Your long lashes flutter as your fingers near them, as you move to check your sleepy eyes. You might be considered beautiful in many regards, but in your eyes there is something almost divine. They are large and round - some would say doe-like, but you tend to keep them narrowed, making them seem sharp and dangerous - more like an owl with prey in it's sights. Your irises are intoxicating, a deep, dark blue with lines of turquoise exploding from the pupil. Those who get close to you can see flecks of golden light coming from your eyes. Some say that means your eyes are filled with deep sadness, while some say it is proof of your divine favour. Between them sits a very regal nose - slightly hooked and a little on the large size, but as your father says, "proud and aquiline, and impossible to ignore". You choose to take that as a compliment.
With the last of the sleep out of your eyes, your fingers trace down your cheeks until they reach your rather small, sharp mouth. You tend to keep your mouth pursed, which alongside making people thing you are always about to say something or are silently judging them also accentuates your already plump lips. You give yourself a semi-confident smile and show off your pearly whites.
Your hands leave your face and trace along the sides of your body. Your silk nightgown is still a little damp with sweat, but still looks almost perfect on you. As you tighten the fabric against your body, you sway from side to side. Your body is best described as tight and healthy. You have never found yourself lacking or wanting in any respect when it comes to your figure. Your body narrows from your shoulders to your midsection, before flaring out into near-perfect childbearing hips. Considering your station as a princess, this makes you prime real estate. Any time you wear a fine fitting dress to an event, you feel the eyes of every bachelor (and a few married men as well) on you. You look at yourself from the side. Your breasts are a fairly new addition to your arsenal, but have softened up and sit almost perfectly even upon your chest, each a little more than a handful in size. You miss the days when you didn't need to be strapped into a corset, but are not unhappy with what the Gods saw fit to grant you. Your rear-end has also been equally given to you charitably, though why men seem so obsessed with it still eludes you.
