The Baronesses and I |A Sashannarcy Story|

Chapter 25 : Wedding Bells

Well, now that his majesty is no longer with us, I am certain there shall be a Wedding in our near future for Marcius and, whichever young lady he chooses to be his Queen.

At least we shall have some happiness through these sad times.

—Lady Feicuiton Societt Papers—
—12 September 1813—

Anne forced a soft smile as she bit off the small piece of duck off her fork, looking at her fiancé who was also eating with a grin on his face. Anne had gotten over her initial excitement about being proposed to, and now she simply felt sick.

Sasha and Marcy were sitting right next to her—Marcy because she was Marcius's sister, and Sasha because she was invited simply for being with the ravenette at the time—how could she not feel ill?

"How do you feel about it, my Dear?" Marcius suddenly spoke, making the brunette snap her head up towards him, her face blushing a bit from the embarrassment of not knowing the topic of conversation: but how could she? Her turned stomach was distracting her ever so much.

However, her reaction made the King—who was in quite over-sized and inappropriate clothes for dinner—laugh a rather girlish giggle, "Oh my!" he chuckled, before clearing his throat, his usual king-like voice returning after the fact, "Apologies, there was something in my throat."

Queen Olivia looked as if she could pop a blood vessel, but nether the less, she gave her husband a twitchy smile, asking, "Yunan, my majesty, what has you so tickled?"

Yunan let out a little chortle, nodding his head towards the soon-to-be-married couple sitting across from each other, "They simply remind me so much of us when we were young, so nervous, so flustered;"—Anne felt herself gag—"And so, so incredibly in love."

Marcius laughed softly, smiling at his soon-to-be bride, "I'm glad we remind you of your joyous marriage, Uncle." he said as he admired the brunette.

Anne smiled back, holding back her tears as she ignored Marcy and Sasha's presence's, agreeing with a simple nod. "I as well."

Anne took in a deep, shaken breath, watching in her vanity mirror as her hair was braided into a beautiful bun.

It was the Fifteenth of September, and she was getting ready for what should be the best day of her life.

Her Wedding day.

She was going to be the Queen of Prussia in less than three hours—and yet, that was the terrifying thought.

Sure, King Marcius was quite kind and thoughtful to her, but being married to him for the rest of her life sounded like absolute misery; she felt as if she'd rather die than live such a fate.

And yet, there she was, being prepared to do that very thing.

"Miss Anne?" One of the many ladies-maids applying her rouge spoke, earning the brunette's attention, "Are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale..."

Anne took a silent, but sharp breath in, looking at the worried maid with a soft smile, "I am feeling exceptional, but I appreciate your concern."

The maid mumbled a quick, "Of course," before going back to her duty—it seemed Anne's acting was lacking from the servants' reaction, she used to be able to make anyone believe she was overjoyed with her perfect fake smiles, but she supposed feeling this terrible made those acting skills falter.

Anne sighed, looking down at the strange powder box on the royal vanity, picking it up, and sliding it into her dress pocket in case she would not be able to retrieve it after the ceremony.