The Princess and the Shoemaker

Prologue

The train of her wedding gown spread behind her on the church red velvet carpet like a gentle wave that had escaped from the ocean's blue she was never to see again, sweeping over the vivid red in a contrasting almost subduing calmness. A serene azure like a blessing bestowed by the empyrean sky placating the glamorous colors of the lit candles and carved ceilings adorned with ribbons and silk, all of bright gold yet failing to dominate the auspicious picture of a royal wedding. To a poetic sensible eye, even the meticulously carved angles and saints seemed to be looking down at the prosperity – promising occasion with saddened pitiful eyes. And at the ornamented altar, where the priest stood in his white and crimson robes, the marriage document was bedded between the curious flowers sprouting perceptibly in various colors weaving a charming aura upon the quiet place as if trying their best to grant some of their beauty to that piece of paper; that mere piece of paper that held enough power to bring peace to two warring nations. And although the color of the bride's wedding dress that was embroidered gracefully with bluish and golden silk blended harmoniously with the colors and symbols of the risen flags and arranged decorations, and flowed with perfectly matched tones with the groom's royal suit and cape, both attires matching to the minute details, the soon to be queen did not feel herself a part of that traditional ceremony and the arduous preparations it flourished upon for a single moment, nor did she feel that she belonged to the anticipating crowds, ready to cheer in unison once she arrives at the altar by her husband's to be side and sign the marriage contract ushering peace for generations to come. The reason was simple, aside from being a foreigner who traveled for exhausting miles and was newly taught how to speak the language, it was because she was not supposed to be the bride in the first place were not for a cruel twist in her family's fate, more specifically in her own, prompting a hurried yet decisive decision to be taken on her behalf to replace the deceased expected bride and savior. This wedding was celebrated on the account of two funerals. The group of youthful and bright bridesmaids were standing in the place of the pallbearers. The gold and blue dresses were replacing the black ones meant for mourning. She herself was supposed to be donning herself in black, shedding tears over her late sister who had only been dead for a month or less. Even her husband was still lamenting inside, his vision reflecting a forcefully shortened grief over the king, his father, and the bride could tell that the image of his deceased father's grave was haunting the furthest corner of his mind the same hers was haunted by her sister's every time they glanced at the rosy altar. The people did not seem to mind this issue though as fear arose quickly like a plague tearing among the commoners and nobles at the thought of postponing the wedding, getting new allies, and renewing the fight. Furthermore, as sadly as it was true, a joyful occasion was always more juicy for the public mouths and more entertaining for their eyes. No one wanted to mourn for limitless months, and a saying that the mourning over a wise dead king and a beautiful dead princess could only be honored by carrying their wishes for peace spread through the two kingdoms' nobles and commoners alike, perhaps the only strategy the two had ever agreed on thus leading to the expected proper mourning period, passed down through generations as six months to be shortened to one month in both countries without losing the "supposed" respect they were meant to deliver.

The foreign princess and the only prince arrived at the altar with the regality and elegance expected from the future rulers. While exchanging the rings, the groom did not steal a look at his bride, though embracing her little hand gently as if considering if he was ought to offer his condolences in person or apologize for this shameless hastening of events but the bride was more composed. She took a quick glance at her chosen husband through her satin veil, while holding his hand carefully between her own. It was not the first time she had seen in fact. She had caught some far glimpse of him but not enough to draw clear details while he was visiting her elder sister for "protocol reasons". The sheer fact that he traveled to appease an arranged bride with gifts and some comfort of prior knowledge astounded her so she was not afraid of him. She was afraid of the loneliness to come, of the promised responsibilities, of the ugly aspects of compensations.

The groom took the inked feather and signed the document without hesitation and the bride could only follow in his suit, a knot twisting in her stomach but not showing on her face. The bells joyfully rang as if they had not just rang a month earlier to announce the consequential death of a king and the crowds erupted with cheers with no qualms over the two dead royalties who were already forgotten preferably. After the brief spell of applause and congratulations on the marriage completion, a more solemn aura suddenly composed itself through the gleeful atmosphere as the two newly wed bowed down, eyes humbly cast to the ground as a golden crown was bestowed upon each of them signaling their awaited role and the fulfillment of many promises that neither pertained to their hearts' wishes.