"My lady, the king's men are here," Bluebell informs me, and with those words, my heart plummets into the depths of my sorrowful body. My grandmother, upon hearing the news, turns to me with a smile. I cannot quite decipher the meaning behind her smile, but one thing is clear: I am leaving my home once again for a foreign land.
"Never have I deemed the king to be so impatient," Grandma says as she rises to her feet and offers me her hands, which I accept. "Place the gown back in the box," she commands Bluebell, who casts a sorrowful glance my way. "Walk with me, love," she requests, and we depart the room to greet the envoy my future husband has dispatched for me. The hallways have never seemed so brief; words fail me, and soon enough, the grand doors loom before me. Outside, the palace's golden state coach awaits, adorned with its black and red flag. I pause, too frightened to proceed, but Grandma squeezes my hand, encouraging me to advance rather than retreat.
"You know..." she said, still holding my trembling hands in hers, "when my father walked me down to Gerald that night, I felt so desperate I wanted to end it all," she explained, chuckling at the shock in my eyes upon her admission, leaving me to wonder why she would feel that way.
"Why?" was the only word I uttered. Her presence had erased any nervousness I felt, leaving me with nothing but curiosity. Regrettably, I never met my grandfather to know what he looked like as a young man, and all his portraits depicted him in his later years.
"Oh darling," she exclaims, covering her smile with a hand. "There are things that youngsters do for the sheer joy of reminiscing in old age. For now, let's not trouble you with my ancient stories; let's see what's outside first." It feels so unfair; I need to know, but I guess we really must step out, or it might be deemed rude to the king. As we walk out, I find myself wanting to hide; my yard is overflowing with people I've never seen before, stallions to the left, people to the right, scarcely any air to breathe.
"Saltanat?... Saltanat, breathe," her voice reached me, and I became aware that I had been holding my breath. Gradually, I resumed my normal breathing pattern. "You will do well, my dear, everything will be alright," she said, trying to reassure me, though she didn't seem convinced herself. This realization—that my nana is not a social butterfly—made me chuckle quietly. "What?" she inquired, worried that I had lost my sanity. "You dislike crowds?" I teased, watching her search for an excuse, yet her gaze remained fixed on the throng.
"Do not worry; everything will be alright," I reassure her, echoing her words, as she playfully flicks my forehead in response.
"I never thought he would bring the entire kingdom with him," she complains, now hesitant to approach. I see now why she is so unlike my mother. Mother always seeks attention and praise, desiring to ascend the highest social ladders available, but Grandma simply desires her peace.
"Mother?" At the sound of that voice, both Grandma and I turn to see Mother, as elegant as ever in her red Luwita dress accented with a blue vintage corset. Observing her now, I'm certain she was aware of the king's impending visit, as she always seems to be.
"Richard" grandmother calls devoid of any emotion not even stepping to her mother, mother walks past us and greets her guest first. smiling at the people who possesses the thing she craves for.
"Grandmother," Ethan greets her with a big hug as she ruffles his hair, and there I stood, thinking I was the only human Mother couldn't stand.
"How are you, my little boy?" she inquires, gently squeezing his jawbone to turn his face from left to right as he grumbles in response.
"Ah grandma I am not little anymore I am of age now" he says pouting that his grandmother just called him little but still smiles at her affectionately. "The king is in the ballroom" he came, what will he say when he meets me? will he end things because of my looks? It is said that he had no intension of getting married if it wasn't for the high house ultimatum.
""Has your mother met him yet?" Grandma inquired, just before Ethan could answer, she continued, "Oh, forgive me, that was not the right question. Is she the one who led him to the room?" She clarified; her disappointment palpable. Who wouldn't be? To think one's own daughter would prefer the company of strangers over her mother.
""Should I call her?" Ethan asks. Judging by his expression, he is completely unaware of the situation, and I don't blame him. He always acts on his principles, never allowing anyone to take advantage of him, even if it means severing ties for the sake of his family. I just hope that his dedication to family won't be his downfall one of these days.
""We shouldn't worry; the king is here for Saltanat, not your mother, so it should be fine. Besides, someone needs to entertain the guests," Grandma concluded, taking both our hands and leading us to the ballroom. We noticed housekeepers scurrying about, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden arrival—no one to blame but Mother. As the door drew nearer with each step, my heart sank deeper, pondering what would happen if he rejected me before all these strangers. My sole wish was for him to do so privately, without scandal, sparing me years of gossip. Nana paused by the door, offering me a warm, reassuring smile, suggesting that all would be well, before she opened the door.
""Your Majesty," she greets first, and the tall man who had his back to us turns gracefully to stare directly at me. His face is blank, as if bored, his aquamarine eyes still fixed on me before shifting to my grandmother. With a perfect jawline, sharp nose, long eyelashes, and pink lips, he is garbed in a blue velvet tailcoat, straight-leg black pants, and boots. His long hair is tied back with a blue ribbon. If grace, power, and elegance were personified, it would certainly be this individual.
""Yes, my lord," I hear my grandmother respond to his questions with a broad smile. Yet, I find myself unable to look away, captivated by his deep voice and polite gestures. "Stop staring; you'll melt him," grandma chides. It takes a moment before the meaning of her words sinks in.
"I am sorry, Your Majesty," I apologize carelessly, not stopping until Ethan halts me.
"You will be the one to break if you keep bending," he teases. Grandmother laughs at my silliness, while the king stands there, perhaps obliged to stay and observe his future wife, likely disgusted by my presence.
"Have you decided on the kind of wedding you desire, Your Grace?" grandmother persists, but instead of an answer, she is met with puzzled looks. "Considering the number of people you've invited, I assumed Your Majesty desired something memorable," she amends, her confusion and irritation apparent over the predicament he has caused.
""My apologies," he begins, his deep voice sending waves over my body, making me realize that such a man could never be considered my husband, even if he were granted all the power he desired just to be with me. "But I am not responsible for that," he clarifies, and the shock is evident on the faces of the elderly lady.
""Please accept my sincerest apologies, Your Highness. I assumed..." she begins to explain, but he interrupts her before she can finish.
"It's alright, I thought the same when I saw them," he says. Ethan tries to speak, but at that moment, the door bangs open, and Mother strides in. The king may not see past her disguised anger, but we know better. Even with her angelic smile, she pauses behind Ethan, her presence felt.
"I was searching for you diamond; why didn't you inform me that you were leaving?" she complains softly, her gaze sweeping over me from head to toe, silently judging my simple blue dress. If given the chance to raise her voice, she would declare, 'There is no difference between you and a commoner,' but today, I remain indifferent.
""You were occupied with your guest, so I escorted her to meet the king. You wouldn't want him waiting, right?" Grandma was the hero of the day, yet mother had no intention of letting it slide.
"Of course not, I..." she began, only to be cut off once more.
"Then all is well," Grandma concluded, and I couldn't keep the smile from spreading across my face.
""I would like to take the diamond with me, if possible; she looks inappropriate," Mother says, losing patience. She firmly grasps my hands and pulls me to stand beside her. "If you will excuse us, Your Highness," she says, and before he can respond, we are already leaving. The last thing I hear is Grandma's exasperated sigh. Mother drags me into one of the dressing rooms and locks the door behind us. "She always does things without seeking me first, "And what is it that you are wearing?" She approached me, holding my dress with disdain. Before I knew it, I was standing before her in just my undergarments and bra, feeling embarrassed. I attempted to cover myself, only to be met with her scoff. Apologetically, I uttered, "I'm sorry.", However, I cannot continue this conversation. She approaches the dresser and selects what she deems a more appropriate dress. It is a royal blue gown adorned with ornaments, featuring a laced back, the fabric seemed as heavy as whale bones as she rambled on, searching for the perfect shoes. "What are you waiting for?" she inquired, offering me the pair of blue Blahnik shoes.
"Do you always have to be this perfect and impress people at every opportunity?" I don't understand why she's so obsessed with showing others what I'm sure she despises about herself. It's unbelievable that she wants to behave that way in front of everyone she meets. Can't she just be herself for once? But then, would they appreciate her attitude?
"I do not strive for perfection, for I am perfection itself," I heard her declare from behind the curtains, her tone brimming with pride, compelling me to facepalm. "And just because I embody perfection does not mean I cannot enhance the appeal of those around me," she continued, and I was certain she had one hand raised, punctuating her statement with a grand gesture.
"Have you ever felt like just being yourself?" I ask, since our conversation is already taking a more fruitful turn, why not?
"No," she replies sharply, then clears her throat. "People need to see what they want to see, and I was created to be a respectable public image, not a reckless human being," she emphasizes, but I know better. Grandmother is not one to dictate how a person should lead their life.
"I guess you are right," was the sole reply I noticed, marking the end of this conversation before she began to angrily call her mother, despite not being the cause of her anger.
"I'm always right," she declares in a matter-of-fact tone, and I finally don the heavy dress and step out of the dressing room. "Now you look a little more like it," she exclaims, though she still finds it difficult to praise anyone but herself. "Let's go before mother decides to kidnap the prince for herself," she says, darting out and walking towards the ballroom.
"There they are," my brother points out as he spots my mother and me approaching. I'm wearing a more appropriate dress, and true to mother's word, neither the king nor grandma can be found. Not that I suspect her of kidnapping him; she's not one to keep people in her company for too long.
"Where is your grandmother?" she demands, scanning the room as though she has just lost one of her precious jewels.
"She explained that she had gone to her room to attend to something important," and somehow, a smile found its way onto my lips. I knew she was not one to seek unnecessary attention.
""Why are you smiling?" Mother asked, noticing my unsettling grin. "Oh, are you happy now that the man given to you by the celestials seems more desirable?" she remarked, her tone laced with displeasure. She has always yearned to see sorrow on my face, and my current happiness does not serve her well. "We will pray for your failure in harming him," she declared, and with that, she left. I knew she would find a way to dampen my spirits before I left, and she certainly succeeded.
"You know she behaves like that when she's under pressure; don't take her words to heart," he tried to excuse our mother's harsh words as best he could, but this time it was futile. How could a mother even entertain the thought, let alone believe, that her child could murder their own partner?
"I know everyone is stressed about the event," I say, no longer wanting to argue about mother's actions. "How are the preparations going?" I inquire, successfully steering the conversation in a new direction.
"We are simply awaiting the arrival of the priest before proceeding with the ceremony," I remarked. Even my previous marriage wasn't as rushed. She truly is making every effort to expedite the process more than I thought possible.
"What about the king? Doesn't he have a say in this?" He is the king, after all, and shouldn't merely go along with whatever mother decides, or simply wish to leave this place without any scandals. mother is quite persistent; she had everything arranged in less than a day, called most of the Zahkish high class, and prepared the church. To the uninformed observer, she would appear as a devoted and diligent woman.
""I don't really know, but I've heard people say he was here merely to honor the high house's decision to attend the wedding," Ethan explains absentmindedly. I knew he wouldn't have agreed to marry someone like me if it weren't for someone else's determination. He seemed disinterested when we first met, hoping for this to end as quickly as it began, not that I wish for it to last either.
""I see, and where is he? Mother believed Grandma had given him some company before we arrived," I say, pushing back my own painful thoughts.
"He excused himself to greet the people at the chapel house, and since then, he hasn't returned." By now, mother should already be informed of his whereabouts. "Is this your wedding dress?" he asks, gazing at me in disbelief. "Don't get me wrong, you look stunning, but..."
""This is not my style," I conclude, and he offers an awkward smile, akin to one caught in the act of theft. "It was mother's choice, and yes, it's not my style—too heavy," I grumble, and he finally eases up.
""Mother can be a bit too extravagant at times," he scoffs, escorting me to meet others, despite my desperate wish to follow Grandma to her room. For now, I must endure the company of these gracefully arrogant individuals.
""Your Majesty," one of the approaching men bows and greets. I return the smile, finding it odd to be addressed as 'majestic.'
""You can call me Saltanat," I said, only to be met with silence from the crowd. Then, suddenly, they began to laugh, but this time it was an awkward laughter, as if I had said something completely unreasonable.
""Such a thoughtful queen, considering everyone as her equal," remarked one of the ladies, seemingly attempting to justify the silence. "It is not respectful for subjects like us to address our queen by her name," she continued, then smiled maliciously. "Surely you have been taught this, Your Highness," she said, echoing the surrounding murmurs.
""Apologies, I never considered that equality was forbidden in Zahkish. However, since you insist on honoring me, I shall graciously accept," I state calmly. It is true that I was born without a title and that my current status is due to my late husband, but this does not mean I am uneducated. Before she could say another word, my mother approached with a welcoming smile to inform us of the priest's arrival, and soon after, they both made their way to find the best seats inside the church.
""I heard Mother gave you her old wedding dress," she said after everyone had left. My heart skipped a beat, but what followed was not what I had expected. "You have five minutes to be in front of the church door," she said, and then she left. Without wasting any time, I rushed to my room where my grandmother was already waiting.
""Sorry, I couldn't tolerate that archaic language. Is everything ready?" she asks following her complaints, to which I respond with a nod.
"Mother allotted me five minutes to get ready and meet at the church gates... "It's time." I never imagined I'd be shaking so much, but here we are again.
""Go and cleanse yourself; I'll take care of everything here," she instructed. Complying with her request, I hastened to my spacious bathroom, swiftly shed the peculiar gown, and settled into the bathtub, taking care to keep my hair dry.
...
""How are you feeling, honey?" my grandmother inquired, having just assisted me with my gown and hairstyle. She is the only person who has asked about my feelings on this matter, and I am grateful for her comforting presence.
""I'm fine, Grandma. I'm just a little nervous, but alright," I say, returning her smile as we walk to the gate, where we see my mother waiting impatiently.
""I will be the one to walk her down the aisle," Grandma declared before Mother could unleash her anxiety upon us. "You had your chance during her first marriage, so this time it's my turn, unless you'd prefer, we stand here arguing," she continued. Her words were effective; Mother left us and entered the church. Grandma gave me a beaming smile, and I couldn't help but smirk in return.
""Let go," she says as the door opens, revealing everyone clapping in harmony for their queen, now rendered useless unless the king objects. We proceed to the rhythm of the trumpets, and grandma plants two kisses on my cheek, her tears on the brink of falling, before she places my hands into the king's unexpectedly warm grasp.
""We are all gathered here for the..." begins the priest, but my trembling won't cease, and the king, grasping my cold hands, whispers.
""You are cold, my lady," he observes, at least taking notice of this fact about me.
""It's alright, I've just had a shower, my king," I reassure him. I wonder what will happen to us after this. Will I be obligated to bear him a child as every queen is expected to, or will I become a trapped queen in her vast palace, new to everything once more? And this king of mine does not seem like one who enjoys conversation.
""Do you, King Caeruleus Breidenstein Heinrich de Dion, take Lady Saltanat Edgar de Vinsmug as your wife, to love and honor her in both difficult and happy moments, to protect and understand her, to guide and follow her, until death parts you?" asked the priest, posing the singular question that could rouse me from the deepest of reveries.
"Yes," he replied curtly, and the crowd erupted in applause.
""Lady Saltanat Edgar de Vinsmug, will you take King Caerulues Breidenstein Heinrich de Dion as your king and husband, to love and honor him in both difficult and happy moments, to protect and understand him, to guide and be with him, until death do you part?" It was now my turn.
""Yes," I replied, and as the applause resumed, he uttered the words that any uninformed wife would dread to hear, especially when her heart harbors nothing but fear towards her spouse.
""You are now pronounced husband and wife. My king, you may now kiss your bride," he says. Hesitantly, he walks towards me, kisses me on the cheek, and raises both of my hands to do the same. Then, he turns me around to face the crowd.
""I now present to you your new queen, Saltanat Breidenstein de Dion of Zahkish," and suddenly, everyone was congratulating me, welcoming their new queen. At the far end of the church, I could see my grandmother in tears, my brother embracing her. In contrast, my mother was engrossed in one of her animated conversations.
"Will you like to take something before we leave" I hear him speak.
""May I say goodbye to my family before we depart?" He nods, giving me another kiss on the cheek before releasing me. I head straight for my grandmother, who opens her arms for a hug, which I gladly accept.
""You look so beautiful, my queen," she teased, but the smile on her face told me she was incredibly happy to have made it to the ceremony.
""You do not have to call me that; I am your granddaughter, not your queen," I say, but she dismisses it with a hug. We stayed as long as necessary, but departure was inevitable. Hearing the king's guard announce the carriage's readiness, I stepped outside. Bluebell was among them, a testament to mother's kept word. I bid farewell to my brother and grandmother, then signaled the king. He assisted me into the carriage. Casting a final glance at my mother, unaware of my leaving, I raised my hand in farewell to my family and guests before the horses set off.
.