The chamber maid laced up my corset, pulling and tugging till I couldn't breathe. I always thought corsets were a stupid invention, but of course my opinion has no affect in this matter or any others. I was covered in layers upon layers of white. It's essential for me to look as pure as possible for this event. The heavy fabric weighs my body down almost as much as what I'm about to do weighs my heart down. Precious jewels were placed upon me and a crown of pearls and diamonds was attached to my veil.
"You look beautiful m'lady" one of the maids tells me as they finish ruffling the skirt of my dress. I didn't respond, hoping that she would think I just didn't know enough English to speak to her, when in reality, my english was perfect. I've been rude to every person I've come across in the past 2 months. It's childish, but since I can't take out my frustration about my circumstances on any of the people who've actually caused it, the poor maids have to face my wrath.
As soon as they were done preparing me, I was quickly ushered to the cathedral. The grand doors opened to reveal an extravagant room. Though it was filled with gold, jewels, and fine silks; the entire space lacked warmth and happiness. Strange for a place of worship. At the end of a long aisle stood three people: A plump priest, the guard that had accompanied me here, and a boy with cold eyes. My stomach flipped, 'This must be him' I thought to myself and forced my feet to tread down the path to my very soon to be husband.
I realized I had made the wrong assessment when I called him a 'boy' before. The prince is anything but a child. He towers over me even with my elevated shoes, his shoulders were extremely broad, and he had a close trimmed beard. His blonde hair was tousled in an upward manner, making his deep blue eyes to stand out on his face. He was fairly pale, just like everyone else in this sunless country. I would most likely find him attractive if his expression wasn't full of bitterness and complete unwillingness to be here.
The priest started rambling words in Latin, I got the impression that he wanted the prince and I to join hands. Lucas threw a glance at me then quickly looked away as if he had seen something extremely unpleasant. I suddenly felt the urge to cry. I looked down at the floor to try to calm myself. The priest took our hands and joined them after a minute of frustration on his part. Lucas' eyes glared at the wall and mine looked downwards again.
The only time I looked up was to say "I do." Lucas looked up too. A silent tear slid down my cheek as the two words that imprisoned me tumbled out of my mouth. I thought I saw a flash of pity in the prince's forbidding eyes, but it was quickly replaced by indifference. He said his vows next, his voice deep and smooth. The priest said the last words, "I now pronounce you man and wife," in English. At this point in the ceremony, my new husband and I were supposed to kiss, but Lucas just stared down at me. More tears fled from my eyes. He finally gave me a quick peck on the lips. It happened so fast that I had to ask myself if he really did it. He gingerly took my arm and we were led outside. The light was blinding after being in the dark cathedral for so long.
After a short and extremely awkward carriage ride to the castle, we were ushered to a large room. Inside were two people dressed in very fine clothing. I assumed they were Lucas' mother and father, Queen Elizabeth and King Andrew, considering how similar they looked to him. The queen had a warm smile, glittering eyes, and her arms immediately welcomed me into a hug. The king was quiet, but not in a rude manner. I've heard many things of their wise and fair rule.
"Bonjour ma fille, bienvenue à notre royaume et félicitations pour votre nouvelle union. Je vous souhaite tout le bonheur dans le monde," Queen Elizabeth said to me in French, a kind but unnecessary gesture. I knew English almost as well as I knew French.
"Thank you your highness. I am grateful for your kindness," I told her.
"You speak English quite well. My maids told me you knew very little," the Queen remarks.
"I am fluent in English ma'am, I suppose I just wasn't very talkative this morning," I blush.
"Ahh, not a morning person. Neither is Luke here. The servants will have quite a time trying to get you two to rise in the morning," she chuckles. My cheeks flame even redder than before at the thought of having to share a bed with Lucas, or 'Luke' as his mother calls him. The queen looks at her son and frowns.
"Gracious Luke, don't look so miserable. It's your wedding day, you should be happy," Queen Elizabeth scolds. Luke's dangerous glare turns to his mother.
"Why would I be happy? I'm the future King of England and I can't even choose my own wife. And now I'm married some French prude and my only hope of freedom would be for her to die in childbirth or something along those lines. You've condemned me to a life of misery!" the prince's explosion leaves me feeling like I've been stabbed. It takes all of my strength to refrain from bursting into tears in front of the reigning King and Queen of England.
"Lucas Robert Hemmings you know exactly why this had to happen. You're acting like a child. It's time you start making sacrifices for the good of our kingdom," Queen Elizabeth says firmly. Luke throws his hands up in rage, then storms off to somewhere in the palace. The Queens demeanor changes from stern to comforting as she turns to me.
"Come dear, I'll take you to your chamber," she says softly to me, then says asks the king, "Andrew, will you please try to talk to him?" I am led through the twisting corridors, each of them look identical to the last. It would be easy to get lost in a castle this big if you hadn't grown up in it.
We finally reach a set of double doors. They opened to a beautiful room filled with purple. Delicate floral patterns were painted on the walls and real flowers were set in bouquets all around the room. A huge bed took up most of the space, it looked as though it was lined in gold. The drapes were pulled back from the windows letting light stream into the room, showcasing the polished furniture.
"Do you like it?" Queen Elizabeth asks. I'd almost forgotten she was here.
"Yes Your Majesty, I'm speechless," I reply.
"Good. This room will mostly be for changing and bathing. I'll show you your shared quarters with Luke," the queen states. I start to feel dizzy.
"You'll have to excuse Luke's behavior. He's a good boy, it's just been hard for him to adjust," she says as she takes me through a door in the room leading to what looks like a study. It had two desks on opposite sides of the room, so I gather that it will be for both me and the Prince. Maps and important documents were scattered over Luke's desk while mine only consisted of a quill, ink, and some paper. We went through another door to a room bigger than 3 of my chambers put together. This room was painted royal blue, and of course was more gender neutral than my chambers. There was a seating area with a few chairs and a lounge where tea could be served. A grand canopy bed covered in blue silks stood in the middle of the space, two large dressers on either side of it. A large painting of Luke hung on the wall, right next to a portrait of... me?
"That one was sent to us of you when we were finalizing your betrothal," Luke's mother says when she sees me looking the painting, "You two will be great rulers if you can stick this out."
"I hope so," I say quietly.
"I'm sure you're exhausted. Why don't you rest a bit before the festivities tonight?" She suggests. I realize that I am extremely tired. The second I got off the ship I took from France, I was bombarded with maids thrusting dresses and hairpins at me, trying to decide what I was to wear for my wedding.
"Thank you, I believe that's a good idea," I say.
"Alright, I'll leave you now. Luke will probably come in soon, once he stops sulking," she says as she exits the room. A few maids come in to change me out of my heavy wedding dress and into a robe. I immediately break into quiet sobs when they leave. I try to calm myself, knowing this is not how a princess acts. I glance at Luke's portrait, his cold blue eyes look down on me. I can almost feel the hatred through the painting. Then I look at my portrait. It was painted in the gardens of my home, The Palace of Versailles. My heart aches to be there again, to smell the beautiful flowers, to see my younger siblings playing, and most of all to feel the warm sun again. The tears stop as I think of these things. I crawl into the oversized bed and dream of drowning in a deep, harsh blue sea.
