Post by ᶤᶰᵗʳᵃᶰˢᶤᵍᵉᶰᵗ on Aug 9, 2020 3:47:21 GMT -5
Orson was, well, nervous to say the least. The young prince absently fiddled with the cuff on his coat sleeve as the carriage rolled along. He stared through the small window hole as the unfamiliar terrain bounced along beside them. His eyes were distant, the dark pools swirling with unspoken thoughts. The last of five to be married… He gave a low sigh, a slight frown marring his smooth face.
”Orson, sit up. And, stop sulking. This is a great honor, and your father would be very proud of you.” His mother’s voice broke through the silence, bringing a ray of light through the storm clouds in his mind. He forced a small smile, reaching his hand across to take his mother’s delicate, outstretched one.
”I know Momma, I know. I’m just…nervous. What if she doesn’t like me? Or, what if they decide I’m not…good enough?” His voice was soft and small, uncertain of the future ahead. His mother gave a small smile, reaching up her free hand to cup his face. Orson leaned his head into her hand, smiling as her thumb smoothed over his cheek. ”My sweet little bear, it will all work out fine. They’re going to love you,” Queen Devika* reassured. Orson closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the feeling of his mother’s love. He had about a week left with her before she would return home and he would be left alone in a strange kingdom with a new wife, so he was determined to savor every moment he could. It was bittersweet, but his duty as a prince was to put the kingdom’s needs before his own.
He would always put the needs of others above his.
The carriage rattled to a stop, the coachman hopping down nimbly to open the door. His mother descended, straightening slightly. His mother was a strong, powerful woman; she was single handedly running their large, sickly kingdom while his father rested. He, the great king of Sollemnia** couldn’t possibly be sick. Of course, looking over a sickly kingdom could do that to a great man, regardless. But his father would be fine, and this marriage would allow his kingdom to focus their attention to healing the sick rather than protection as that would come from their alliance.
As they entered the castle, Orson was struck with how beautiful it was. Although he was fond of their much smaller kingdom, he did have to admit that the landscape was beautiful and the castle was stunning, although terrifyingly huge. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much time he would spend getting lost in here. They made their way through the castle’s front entrance and up to the throne room. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway as they were escorted by a cheerful guard that happily answered the questions his mother incessantly peppered him with. Orson made a mental note to learn the patient knight’s name later.
”Presenting Her Highness, Queen Devika of Sollemnia and her youngest son, Prince Orson,” The herald called forth. Prince Orson took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and shaking himself slightly to dispel his nerves. He painted a pleasant smile on and followed his mother in. Upon entering, his eyes first appraised the stained glass windows and the high ceilings. Their footsteps echoed loudly, and he noted the lovely acoustics. What a live band would do for this gorgeous building!
His eyes took in the lavish thrones and the stately king and queen. His gaze travelled over to the princess. In that moment, every thought he’d had scattered from his brain like marbles on a wood floor. He slowed slightly, coming to a stop beside his mother, eyes glued on the lovely princess on the throne. He swallowed nervously, unable to look away. She was like a breath of fresh air, a rose in the midst of thorns. She was gorgeous and intriguing, and he absolutely was not worthy.
A sharp elbow in his side caused him to release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His mother side eyed him sharply as she bent her head forward and dipped into a graceful curtsy. Orson hastily bent forward at the waist, lowering his head deeply as he tried to still his racing heart.
”Greetings, Your Majesties. I am Queen Devika of Sollemnia Kingdom, and this is my son, Prince Orson. We are honored to be here, and greatly appreciate your invitation to meet with us before the wedding.” His mother straightened and Orson quickly snapped up, eyes flying back to the princess as he struggled to maintain his manners and good posture, focused intently on her.
Smitten didn’t even begin to cover it.
* Devika meaning “little goddess”
** Sollemnia meaning “religious”
** Sollemnia meaning “religious”
Sunlight cut through the slits in the floor length curtains and snaked across the bedroom to drape across the frame of the sleeping girl. Princess Talulla lay in her bed, half-asleep, mind blissfully empty as she enjoyed the silence of the castle (save for the birds chirping pleasantly outside her window). Talulla’s favorite moments were these times when the hustle and bustle of the kingdom was at a stand still. It wasn’t long before she heard a soft creak as her chamber door swung open. A small, black ball of fur sprang up to her bed, purring loudly as it nestled against her neck and chest, nuzzling her face. Talulla gave a soft giggle, pulling the small cat to her and kissing its soft head.
”Good morning m’lady. Time to rise, we have a big day ahead of us!” Constance, her lady’s maid, greeted the young princess. Talulla grunted in response as the kitten mewled at Constance to chime his own two cents in. ”Enough of that, up! We have lots to attend to before your guests—and future husband—arrive!” The chipper maid gently tugged the young princess into a sitting position. Talulla groaned again before allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. Constance smoothed over the girl’s wild bed head before guiding the sleepy princess to the bathroom. There, Talulla took a rosewater bath, falling back asleep as Constance scrubbed and detangled her hair.
”Alright, c’mon dearie. Let’s get you dried off and get some breakfast in you,” Constance said as she handed the lithe girl a towel. Talulla dried herself off before wrapping herself in a satin robe. She ate on her balcony as Constance brushed her hair out once more. Once it had dried, Talulla followed her to her expansive closet. They pondered over fabrics before she pulled out a smooth, simple gown. Dark blue in color, the gown was modest for a princess. But, it suited the girl.
Constance helped Talulla shimmy into it, tying up the back of the gown. The fabric was fitted at the waist and had an A-line neck with a tulle, full length skin that draped gracefully to the floor, The dress was sleeveless, with a low dip in the back exposing her muscular shoulders and graceful spine. It was fitting and subtle, but she didn’t want to give the wrong impression to a stranger.
”Alright, m’lady, it’s about time. Are you ready?” Constance smiled at Talulla’s expression in the mirror as she finished plaiting the girl’s long blonde tresses. Talulla gave a small, uncertain nod, following Constance down to the throne room. She bent down, bowing to her father before leaning in to place a tender kiss on his cheek and finding her seat at his right hand. A small chirp sounded at her feet, then her little black cat leaped up and tucked himself beside her, purring contentedly.
”I agree Dario*, I think this is a bit too fast for me,” She whispered to the small kitten. She straightened as the doors opened, holding her head up as she awaited her future…. husband.
* Dario meaning “possessor of good”.