Sasha & her men

The Betrothed

(Imagine in an alternate dimension...)

Staring out her window, Sasha huffed as she watched the farm hands muck out the stables. It had rained the night before and the smell of shit was ripe, the stank floating up to her window.

She hated it here. Ever since her father, the king, found her and forced her to move into his castle, she'd longed to go back home. But her mother had succumbed to the fever and there was no one else for her. She hadn't even known her father was the king, she thought her mom was just telling fancy stories at bedtime.

The door to her room opened and the queen strutted in with her nose in the air. She waved a hand covered in delicate lace. "Oh, the stench," she stated with her handkerchief up to her powdered nose to hide her smirk.

Sasha curtsied, holding out layers of her dress. "My queen." The curse of having a room so close to the stables was the indefinite funk. There was literally nothing Sasha could do about it. The royal chambers were on the other side of the castle and faced the gardens.

"Oh, petulant girl." The queen glared at her. It was no secret that the queen didn't like having Sasha around. "Your betrothed should be arriving soon. Make sure you pack only what you came with."

Sasha bowed again. "Yes, my queen." She didn't have much to gather. She arrived at the castle two years ago with a small parcel. Since then, her bosom had grown and nothing she arrived with fit anymore.

The queen stared down at her with judgmental eyes. "The viscount has been most kind in offering his hand in marriage. You will be gracious, kind and obedient. Once you leave, you shall not be welcomed back. You will be the responsibility of Viscount Jeremy."

With her stomach in knots, Sasha curtsied again. "Yes, my queen."

Fanning herself, the queen surveyed the room. There wasn't much there of a personal nature. The elegant gown Sasha was supposed to wear for the evening ball was hanging near her armoire. She owned two works of literature, the Bible which the queen bestowed upon her to cleanse her of her hedonistic tendencies, and Shakespeare which she hid under her pillow.

"Well," the queen sighed as if the entire conversation which she had started was becoming troublesome. She turned back towards the door. "It will be nice to have this room back to housing storage. Be ready at six sharp. Keep to your corner."

Sasha's heart clenched in anxiety. She hated these balls. She was always instructed to be there early and was never formally introduced to the court because she was the illegitimate princess. She was treated like a pariah, with few people having the guts to speak with her in the presence of the king and queen. Therefore she spent most of her time alone, feeling curious and spiteful eyes on her.

Everyone knew her betrothal to Viscount Jeremy was a diplomatic exchange. Her father the king received Viscount Jeremy's fidelity and vast purse, while the viscount received a Princess that elevated his station at court. Even if she was poor with no land, her title and royal blood meant something to power hungry men. Not to mention the queen couldn't wait to be rid of her.

It was a nightmare.

All she could hope was that Viscount Jeremy would treat her well, keep her clothed and fed. Maybe he'd also let her read and enjoy promenades when the weather was agreeable.

There was a knock on the door and the chambermaid entered to start filling her bath. It was time to decorate herself for the ball.

***

As much as Sasha hated attending balls and the fanfare, she did think the decorations were beautiful even if over the top. She entered the grand ballroom early as the queen requested. Her corner was as far from the monarch's table as she could get without being outside. The royal blue and gold curtains were soft, and there  huge matching bows tied to the banisters on the grand staircase. Large round tables with white tablecloths and gold or blue runners outlined the dance floor with the quartet in the middle of the western wall.