𝑈𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 ~ 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐺𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒 𝐼𝐼𝐼

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑂𝑛𝑒

Dear Charlotte,

You will receive the mistaken letter from the post, gratitude to Elise. From that letter from that particular day, I received terrible news from my infuriating brother. I am to be married to the King of England. Yes, you read it correctly, the King of England. At this moment, I am on a ship boarding to London, away from my home. A home where I grew to be part of.

Freedom. Now I am stuck in a status that I never meant to be. Marrying a strange man whom I never met and never exchanged letters with. Considering I had never been fonder of politics, I hardly knew his name. What if he is boring? What if he is a bigot like Laurent? What if he will never accept me for who I am? Will I love him like my mother and father once were together?

All the questions are echoing in my brain while I am distant from my family. My father had not looked me in the eye since I had been away from the castle. Considering that he is regretting that he signed a contract as he should be. I am dressed in the horrible, toxic dress that I had to charm the British Empire as I am to be wed to their king. Oh, how I wish you were here to save me.

Warmly,
Anastasia.

***

Upon the light green carriage upon the lion crest for Valiant. Horses trotting on a road in the middle of a field on a sunny day. There were two men from the other side sitting on cushions behind coachmen while a young lady was seated behind the footmen. Claude and Laurent were quiet with Anastasia.

She was looking out the window, quiet while she was dressed in a beautiful green-and-blue silk dress all on top with a blue hat with a peacock feather under the updo. Along with pieces of her hair down on one shoulder as she brought the beauty for the era. The jewelry laying on her neck was emerald and sapphire while her ears were sparkling with sapphire.

Her eyes continued to stare out of the window as she embraced the emotions inside her. Constantly telling herself to remain strong and not shed tears in front of her family. Not giving a sense of pride to the bigot since he said that emotional women are weak.

"Nettie..." Anastasia shifted her eyes at Laurent who spoke to her, "You know you have not moved for quite some time."

"Did I? Hardly noticed," said Anastasia in a discomforting tone in her voice. Her voice was mixed with British and French along when she was speaking in her natural language. Her father was born in the United Kingdom before he traveled on a ship to France to meet her mother and fell in love. Granted, he was born into royalty while she was poor but he saved her from poverty. Her voice returned back to bickering with her older brother. "That is of course I remained beautiful like a statue. They are works of art."

"Art can be beautiful to gaze upon. You are ridiculous to the eye." 

Her eyes squinted to hear his voice from her brother that disgusted her, "Is there a point?"

"You have not moved an inch in six hours."

"Laurent, I am wearing Lyonnais silk, encrusted with Indian sapphires and Colombia emeralds, working with an overlay of 200-year-old lace. Apparently, you must know that any cause of movement that will cause the gemstones to shred the lace. If that were not enough, the gown I am wearing sits atop a bespoke underpinning made of whalebone."

"Whalebone?"

"Oui, whalebone, brother. Bones of whales. Whenever they die in the ocean, the bones will be cut off to have any women's lungs become tighter to breathe. All the finest corsets are whalebone since you have repeatedly assumed you know everything.'