Following Hearts

Ready As I'll Ever Be

Amelia sat upon her bed as Portia rummaged through her closet to retrieve the dress she had custom made for Prince Balthazar's arrival. She fidgeted with her fingers absentmindedly and gazed around her room while waiting.

    Amelia's bedroom sat on the top floor of the palace, next to her father's. Unlike her brother's and sisters' rooms, which were always cluttered and messy, Amelia's room was immaculate. Most of the surfaces were barren, and on those that weren't, small trinkets were laid out in a neat and organized manner. Her bed, which she always made in the mornings before Portia arrived, had a cream comforter and tall bronze bed posts which radiated regality. The walls remained clean of any kind of photos or painting, with the exception of a family portrait hung above her bed.

The photo was painted years ago, but Amelia thought that her family still looked essentially the same. Ferdinand's mischievous smirk hadn't changed since he was three; Rose's freckled cheekbones had lost some of their chubbiness over the years, but her green eyes still sparkled through the same; King Ramses looked identical to the photo, except for the gray streaks that now ran through his auburn hair; even Valentine, who was only a few months old when the picture had been painted, retained her fiercely dark eyes. The only clear difference between then and now was her mother's absence. The painting was made sixteen years ago, just days before Elizabeth was killed.

    Amelia could still remember her mother, although it was only in bits and pieces. A gust of wind brought back the sound of her mother's laugh or a glance at the palace hall brought back the feeling of her hand on Amelia's cheek. Sometimes, Amelia would find that these memories only made her ache for something she couldn't quite remember, but she was still thankful she could at least remember parts of her mother. None of her siblings could, at least, as far as she knew.

    Amelia couldn't remember the last time she talked about her mother with anyone in her family. She always assumed it was because they couldn't remember her anymore, but sometimes she thought it might be because as Amelia grew older, she became more and more like her mom, and it was all too painful to think about anymore.

    "It's gorgeous." Portia continued rifling through the racks of fluffy ball gowns that filled Amelia's wardrobe, interrupting Amelia's thoughts. "The other maids and I spent two days working on it."

Amelia smiled appreciatively, but she could not enjoy the excitement in the moment. Prince Balthazar arrived tonight. This was the evening that could very well decide the rest of Adaia's and Nevani's future relations. If the Prince wasn't satisfied with Amelia's welcome, if he wasn't satisfied with her sister... Amelia could barely stand to think about it.

She didn't want to pressure Rose, but if she refused to marry Prince Balthazar, everything Amelia worked towards for the past three years of her life as her father's shadow would be ruined. Amelia's future rested in the hands of her sister and a foreign prince. Everything that Amelia had worked and hoped for was at stake. She began to pick at her fingers anxiously.

"I swear it's in here somewhere..." Portia threw a few dresses onto the floor while she continued to search through Amelia's closet.

Ow! Amelia looked down and saw that she had drawn blood from her obsessive habit. Her hands and fingers were long scarred from years of her picking. Amelia had always struggled to find a positive outlet for her stress. Up until recently, she had managed to cease her painful tendency, but with the stress of her coronation, she had started again.

"Oh! Of course! I left it in the laundry room. I'll just-" Portia turned around and Amelia quickly hid her hands behind her back. "Show me."

Amelia laid her hands in Portia's and let the wrinkled woman inspect them. Portia shot Amelia a disapproving look and exited into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with some bandages.