seasons change

chapter nineteen: a wedding to come

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The grand drawing room of the de Montmorency estate brimmed with anticipation and a hint of nervous energy. Servants scurried about, placing vases of fragrant lilies upon polished tabletops and straightening the heavy velvet drapes to ensure the room looked its most exquisite. The prince of Prussia was due to arrive at any moment, and the family was gathered, each lost in their own thoughts.
Cossette paced near the window, her gaze flickering between the garden where she had once walked in silence with Genevieve and the winding drive that led to the estate. Despite the opulence surrounding her, a furrow of skepticism marred her brow. She couldn't shake the feeling of unrest about the upcoming nuptials between her sister and the prince.
Genevieve stood by the fireplace, hands clasped tightly in front of her, the very picture of nervous grace. Her eyes shone with an emotion that was difficult to name; hope mingled with fear, excitement tinged with sorrow.
Catherine, their mother, was the embodiment of delighted expectation. She flitted from one end of the room to the other, adjusting a cushion here, a portrait there, ensuring that everything was perfect for their royal visitor.
Alexander, ever the calm in the storm, lounged in a plush armchair, one leg casually draped over the other, his eyes fixed on an ancient tome. His demeanor was serene, but the slight upturn of his lips suggested he was well aware of the undercurrents of tension in the room.

The sound of hooves on gravel announced the prince's arrival, and the family assembled in their finest attire. A servant opened the door, and with a flourish of trumpets and the murmur of attendants, the prince stepped into the de Montmorency's world.
"My dear de Montmorencys," the prince began, his voice rich and confident, "I am overjoyed to be in your presence once again. I bring gifts, not just of material wealth, but of a future filled with unity and prosperity." He presented each family member with a carefully selected present, symbolizing the bond he wished to forge with them.
Catherine stepped forward, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy. "Your Highness, we are honored by your generosity. Your gifts are a testament to the bright future our families will share."
Genevieve's fingers trembled as she accepted a delicate pendant, the stones catching the light and casting prismatic colors upon her fair skin. "Thank you, Your Highness. Your thoughtfulness knows no bounds."
Alexander closed his book and rose to meet the prince, accepting a handsomely bound tome. "A wise choice, Your Highness. Literature has always been a bridge between cultures and hearts."
The prince then turned to Cossette, offering her a small, exquisitely crafted music box. "For the lovely Cossette, whose beauty is matched only by her spirit."
Cossette accepted the gift with a polite nod, her eyes betraying her inner turmoil. "You honor me, sir. But truly, the greatest gift is seeing my sister so cherished."
As the prince smiled, a servant announced that tea was served. The family and their esteemed guest moved to the adjacent room, where the conversation flowed as smoothly as the fragrant tea from the pot.

As the evening progressed, Cossette and Alphonse couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled upon them like a heavy shroud. While Genevieve maintained a facade of composure, her forced smiles and hollow laughter betrayed the turmoil simmering beneath the surface.
Alphonse cast a concerned glance at Cossette, his brow furrowed with worry. He knew his sister well, and her stoic demeanor was a mask he could see right through.
"Something isn't right," he murmured to Cossette, his voice barely above a whisper. "Genevieve shouldn't have to hide her true feelings like this."
Cossette nodded in silent agreement, her gaze fixed on her sister across the room. Despite her own misgivings, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Genevieve, trapped in a web of duty and expectation.
Approaching Genevieve during a lull in the festivities, Cossette sought to offer a moment of solace amidst the chaos.
"Genevieve, are you truly alright?" she asked softly, her concern evident in her voice.
Genevieve forced a smile, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness. "I should be happy," she replied, her voice tinged with resignation. "Marrying into royalty, securing our family's future... It's what I've been raised to do."
Cossette's heart ached at her sister's words, knowing the weight of the burden Genevieve carried upon her shoulders. She reached out to gently squeeze Genevieve's hand, offering a silent gesture of support.
"You don't have to pretend with us, Genevieve," Cossette said gently. "We're here for you, no matter what."
Alphonse joined them, his expression filled with concern. "Genevieve, if this is truly what you want, we'll stand by you," he said earnestly. "But if it's not... we'll find another way. Together."
Genevieve's facade wavered, tears glistening in her eyes as she released a shaky breath. "Thank you, both of you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "I... I don't know what I want anymore, but knowing I have your support means everything to me."

As the evening waned and the guests began to depart, the Duke de Montmorency called for attention, his voice commanding the room's focus.
"May I have everyone's attention, please?" he announced, his tone firm yet genial. "I have an important announcement to make regarding the upcoming wedding."
The room fell silent as all eyes turned towards the duke, anticipation palpable in the air.
"The wedding between our beloved Genevieve and His Highness, the Prince of Prussia, shall take place in one week's time," the duke declared, his words resolute. "It is with great joy and anticipation that we look forward to this union, which shall strengthen the bonds between our families and secure a prosperous future for all."
A murmur of approval rippled through the servents and Catherine, their excitement echoing the sentiments of the duke's proclamation.
At that moment, the Prince of Prussia stepped forward, his regal bearing commanding attention as he addressed the assembly.
"Indeed, the wedding shall be a celebration of unity and love," the prince affirmed, his voice carrying a note of solemnity. "Her Majesty, the Queen, has graciously offered to take full responsibility for the preparations, as it was her astute matchmaking that brought Genevieve and myself together."
He turned his gaze towards Genevieve, a tender smile gracing his lips. "I vow to cherish Genevieve with all my heart, to honor and protect her till my last breath. Together, we shall embark on a journey filled with love and devotion, united in purpose and commitment."
Genevieve's breath caught in her throat at the prince's declaration, her heart stirred by the sincerity in his words. Despite her doubts and fears, she couldn't deny the flicker of hope that blossomed within her at his unwavering pledge.
As the room erupted into applause, Genevieve found herself caught in a whirlwind of emotions—uncertainty mingled with a newfound sense of purpose, apprehension tempered by a glimmer of optimism for the future.
That maybe with time she would learn to live prince Frederick , it was with due time.
And amidst the jubilant festivities, the de Montmorency estate buzzed with excitement, as preparations for the wedding of the century began in earnest, guided by the guiding hand of the queen and the unwavering commitment of two souls destined to be bound together in love.

In the opulent halls of the royal castle the next day, Genevieve stood amidst a flurry of activity, her figure draped in a cascade of shimmering fabrics as the royal couturier meticulously took her measurements. The room buzzed with anticipation, the air heavy with the scent of delicate perfumes and the rustle of silk.
Queen Charlotte, a vision of regal elegance, observed the proceedings with a keen eye, her presence commanding respect and admiration. "Genevieve, my dear," she began, her voice carrying the weight of authority softened by maternal affection, "the fabric for your wedding gown has been carefully selected from the finest silks in the kingdom. I am certain it will accentuate your beauty and grace."
Genevieve offered a gracious smile, her demeanor poised yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honored by your thoughtful consideration."
Meanwhile, Catherine, resplendent in her own right, engaged in animated conversation with the queen, their voices blending in harmonious accord. "Indeed, Genevieve is the epitome of elegance," Catherine remarked, her tone brimming with maternal pride. "She will make a splendid addition to the royal court."
Queen Charlotte nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering fondly on Genevieve. "And she is a perfect match for our dear Prince of Prussia. Their union shall herald a new era of prosperity and unity between our nations."
Across the room, Cossette sat in silence, her thoughts drifting like the wisps of silk that adorned her sister. She listened to the conversation with a detached air, her mind a tumult of conflicting emotions. The weight of expectations pressed upon her, a suffocating cloak that threatened to smother her true desires beneath its suffocating folds.
As her mother's gaze turned towards her, Cossette forced a smile, her words carefully chosen yet tinged with uncertainty. "Of course, Mother," she replied, her voice a soft murmur amidst the grandeur of the castle. "I am thrilled for Genevieve's happiness."
But behind the facade of serenity, Cossette sensed her sister's inner turmoil—a silent plea for understanding amidst the whirlwind of expectations. She longed to reach out, to offer solace in the face of uncertainty, but the weight of tradition and duty held her back, a silent specter looming over their familial bond.

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