They Were Expecting A Lady, Instead They Met Me (Part II)

Chapter Thirty Two

Here it is... The last chapter :'(

Her dress is on the side 

32. Everything Ends Perfectly… Sort Of…

 

If you think that I was serious about all that romantic stuff, you’d be sadly mistaken. Sure, I’d forgiven Christopher for what he’d done… But I did make him suffer a little. First, I kept three creepy mannequins in our room with the excuse that they were helping me design my wedding dress (since we were engaged again). I also forbid him from any type of sexual contact with me until after the twins were born… in two months.

            That seriously killed him. I didn’t even let him kiss me.

            Then again, we didn’t see each other as much as we usually did. I couldn’t really move around, and Christopher was constantly called in for kingly duties.

            After the death of Benjamin Ivory, the rest of Pure (not PURE) scattered and the organization was practically erased from history. We released a watered-down version of what happened in the newspaper, and improved our relations with Faelin in a big conference/party. Since Jessamina and her husband became the reining monarchs, the two countries found it easier to trust each other because of our bond.

            When we returned from the big showdown, it only took three days to prepare a funeral for the king. It was public, unlike his wife’s, and he was buried next to Madeleine in a tomb reserved purely for the kings and queens. The family, including Tayla and me this time, then mourned for about two weeks, where we just wore black and sang sad songs. It really sucked, and by the end of it I was bored out of my mind.

            “Emiliana,” the voice of Agnes, the personal maid hired by my father, rang out from behind me. “It’s time for us to prepare you.”

            “Oh,” I murmured and stood from the bed carefully. She clicked her fingers and the twins pranced in carrying another mannequin for my collection- only this one was wearing a wedding dress.

            It was a simple light cream color, with bell sleeves, a high collar (but a low back), and gold stitching under the bust. I knew that it was designed especially to fit my fatass body, and would probably accentuate my not-so-little-anymore bump. 

            “Do I really have to wear an actual wedding dress?” I whined as they stripped me out of my pjs and dumped me into the bathtub. The water was swirling with all sorts of sweet-smelling oils and moisturizers.

            “You’re getting married, my Lady,” was Saffron’s reply as she washed my hair thoroughly. “This may be only the private ceremony, but you still need to look the part of the blushing bride.”

            It was usual Astrian tradition to have a smaller, more traditional wedding with just the royal family before the big public event. This helped our tricky situation, where the twins had a possibility of being born illegitimate, even more. Technically I was getting married to Christopher today, but the actual big wedding would be after the twins were born and settled into the world.

            I was helped out of the bathtub and, after peeing for the fiftieth time that day, dressed in pretty undergarments. One twin, Mai I think, was blow-drying my hair while the other painted my nails. Agnes was fluttering around with my designer, a flamboyantly homosexual guy who tended to sing instead of just speaking normally, and putting the finishing touches to my outfit. They had already begun designing my other wedding dress, I’ve heard, but I wouldn’t get any input into it.