Madalin is a member of a royal family that rules over a country named Lysteria. She's brave, bold, smart, yet gentle and caring all the same. The princess dreams of running away from the shackles of a royal life, while her parents try to keep her ca...
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"Ah, your highness. You look flawless!"
Madalin stood in the middle of the fitting room like a breathing corpse. Her arms were outstretched from her sides, while the maids fixed the sleeves of a dress she currently wore. There was no time for her measurements to be taken so a brand new gown could be sown. And thus, she was forced to try out the pre-made ones.
"Don't you think?" The maid spoke again, and Madalin turned her head to eye herself in the mirror nearby.
The wedding dress was milk-white with a modest neckline. It had full sleeves made of a white lace, and the fabric of the actual gown began at her chest. The skirt of the dress had a trumpet style. Overall, it was a simple yet breath-taking attire.
"This one it is, I suppose." Madalin sighed with feigned defeat, and the four maids smiled excitedly. One of them was about to place the four-foot veil atop her head to convince her, but at the confirmation, she retracted her hands.
"Do you need help with taking the dress off, Princess Madalin?"
"No, thank you. I'll manage."
The four women curtsied, then left the fitting room one by one, and the last maid closed the door behind her.
Madalin dropped her arms to align them by her sides, and she shifted in her spot to face the full-length mirror. Her line of sight glazed over her entire appearance, from the low bun in her hair down to the hem of the skirt.
"Looks like we'll have to speed things up, Beatrice. I'm sure twenty four hours are enough for wedding preparations."
Anger twisted her features at the memory. She stared at her reflection with burning hatred, as if she was actually standing before her father. And that was justified. Madalin had inherited all her physical attributes from the king, and no matter how beautiful that made her to be, she loathed resembling him. Especially at the moment. Her mind wandered towards Flora, and sadness mixed with her fury. For a moment she wondered if she was selfish for leaving her sister behind.
A few knocks resounded from the door, compelling Madalin to rise from the pit of her thoughts. Irritation clouded her instead, and she resisted screaming out profanities.
Unfortunately, Madalin had inherited her father's anger issues as well. But unlike him, she knew how to control herself, and she could easily refrain from hurting people with her words. And she did so right now. With a deep inhale, she cleared her throat to remove any evidence of her current mood.
"I don't need any help. I can take it off by myself."
"I'm not offering to help you strip, princess. I'm here to talk."
Embarrassment burned Madalin's entire body. Her heart sped up and pumped in her ears, and she felt lightheaded for a second or two. It may be because of the realization that Edmund stood on the other side of the door. Or, it may have been because of his words.
"Give me a second." She croaked out, then proceeded to step out of her wedding dress. It was a miracle how she didn't rip the gown. Because the way she took it off with panic coating her actions, it was bound to have a rip or two by the end.
But eventually, she 'stripped' from the dress as Edmund so kindly put it. Madalin wore a simple maxi-dress with a floral design in its place, then granted him permission to enter the fitting room.
"You can come in."
Surely enough, the door was pulled open and in walked Prince Edmund. His light brown eyes landed on her, then at the dress lying carelessly on the chair nearby. A ghost of a smirk crept up his lips, but he managed to hide it in time.
Edmund had a light blue dress shirt on, with navy blue pants underneath. His hands were slotted into the pockets of his slacks, and when he stopped before Madalin, his gaze travelled back to her eyes.
"Yes?"
He didn't respond immediately. Edmund was far too occupied in studying her features. A fleeting moment passed where he stared at her with his steely gaze, and she looked back with caution blaring in every part of her body. She watched him with mild hostility, as if waiting for him to attack her.
"Tomorrow's the wedding."
"Hmm."
"It's a national wedding, Princess Madalin. People from all around the world will be watching."
That wave of impatience made a comeback. Madalin couldn't place a finger on what point he was trying to make, so she narrowed her eyes to express her confusion. Edmund clenched his jaw momentarily, then spoke again after a minute of consideration.
"Please be there."
It physically pained Madalin to hold her surprise at bay. She was astounded, very much so. The idea that his cousin may have leaked her plans to Edmund crossed her mind, and she felt betrayed.
"Where is Prince Hadrian?"
"I don't know, I haven't really seen him this morning. Why?" Edmund questioned with furrowed eyebrows. The sudden switch in topic muddled his brain, but when Madalin shook her head as a 'nevermind', he brushed his confusion away. The princess was relieved, to say the least. If the two princes hadn't met, then there were no secrets to be spilled.
Besides, Hadrian wasn't someone who went around and tattled other people's secret schemes.
"Anyway..." He trailed off. "My gut tells me you'd do anything to avoid that wedding, so all I'm saying is... be there."
"With all due respect, your highness, your gut is lying to you. If you want, I can have Lara bring you some laxatives."
Edmund glared at her with a flat look, whereas Madalin did with plain amusement. She clasped her hands behind her back, and shifted her weight from one foot to another out of boredom.
"Besides, what makes you think I'd flee from my own marriage?"
"If you can violate the dress code of your own father's ball, then I'm sure defying his direct order is like a piece of cake for you."
This time, it was Edmund's turn to look smug. Though his statement struck a chord in Madalin, she withheld her complacent body language. All in the name of not backing down.
"And it's not like I'm dying to be wed to you, princess. Simply put, I'm not in the mood to be humiliated at the altar."
And there it was. The inherited rage lit up Madalin's emotions. All the playfulness melted off of her face, and hatred took over in its stead. Prince Edmund on the other remained completely nonchalant. If anything, his cockiness doubled when he noted her reaction.
"A change of plans. I'm not going to attend my wedding." She declared coldly, successfully infuriating Edmund in the process.
"It's not like you have a choice."
"Oh, but I do. I'll slip out from right under your nose, and there's absolutely nothing you can do." Madalin challenged when she took a threatening step forward, and Edmund stood his ground as well.
"I've been a commander in several wars, your highness. If you think you can outsmart me, I suggest you think twice." He jeered as his eyes darkened. Edmund's fury began to match that of Madalin's. But even then, she got to say the final words.
"You could come after me with the entire world, for all I care." She seethed, before stepping away from the prince and sauntering towards the exit of the fitting room. Her hand had clutched the door's handle, but she stopped her steps to proclaim her dare.
