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❨𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏❩ constance, the constant pain
The entire day I watched my betrothed fraternize with Constance. The two of them seemed to be attached at the hip. Constantly laughing and chattering with each other. Every time I made eye contact with Constance, she shot me a glare.
"What is her problem?" I asked Claude with a huff. The two of us sat in my chambers, getting ready for the party. I had dismissed my ladies, letting them get themselves ready. I was determined to find them suitors. Each of them at least deserved to find love.
Claude sat on my bed, watching as I placed on my evening jewelry. She was already ready, her signature pink dress on her body. I was talking nonstop about Constance. She made my blood boil. I wasn't one to get angry easily, yet somehow her and Charles both made me unbearably so. The two of them together was even worse, double the trouble, double the annoyance and double my anger.
"Just ignore her, she's just jealous." Claude commented, looking at her nails. I sighed, fixing a few hairs in the front of my face. My brown locks were half up half down. The bejeweled tiara that belonged to my mother was placed neatly on my head. The small blue stones twinkled in the pale light, matching with the royal blue gown I wore.
"Of what, she's the one who has Charles enamored with her. Even if she does look like a brat." I huffed. The thing about Constance is that she got everything handed to her. The Duke of Toulouse was wealthy, and respected. But he was not royalty and neither was she. Constance didn't have the stress and anxiety that came with being a royal, not to mention fearing for your life. Instead she got to live carefree, fraternizing with whomever she pleased. Claude chuckled.
"Sounds to me maybe you're the jealous one."
"I'm not jealous, I just feel like a fool." I told her. I peered away from the mirror, turning to face my friend. "My betrothed gets to run around and fawn over any girl he sees, yet he won't say a word to me. I feel stupid."
"Have you tried to talk to my brother?" I groaned at her obliviousness.
"Well duh, but he doesn't want to talk." Claudes brows pinched together. "Have you not noticed?"
"That's odd," the Princess remarked, sliding off my bed. "Before you arrived he wouldn't shut up about you. He was so nervous."
"Not anymore he isn't." I grumbled, finishing the last bit of my hair. I stood up and held the door open for my friend, who was still chattering away about how Charles kept asking her questions and such. I shook my head, following her down the corridor.
━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━
I stood by Claude as Francis and Mary entered the room. All eyes shown on them as the maestro called his musicians to play dancing music. My eyes watched every move Mary and Francis made as they danced. I smiled sadly, my own sense of longing seeping into my pores. I wanted what they had, true love. Throughout their ups and downs they always found a way back to each other.
