1 The Wedding Day

Today is the most dreadful day of all. It's grim outside, with rain so heavy that it gathered in a stream by your feet. The clouds were so dense and low, it felt as if the heavens were to fall out of the sky. Not even a ray of sunshine could break them up. The air was heavy and musky. The wind found its way in through the tiniest creaks, whistling through the hallways.

The weather was a perfect reflection of the mood within the palace. If you didn't know, you'd think that everyone prepared for a funeral. Until the large door to the biggest hallway opened revealing a bride. She wore a simple and plain white dress and a veil that hid her face. The draft found its way into the hallway, flickering the flames of candlelights' and sending chills down everyone's spines.

The bride held tightly onto a small bouquet of white baby breaths which hid the trembling of her hands.

At the end of the long hall was an altar, where the tall man stood with his back to the crowd, not caring to turn around and look at his new bride.

This was not a marriage of love, it was an arranged marriage between an unwanted princess and a hero Prince from a faraway land.

It wasn't meant to happen. The king agreed to marry his daughter to anyone who was to help bring the war to the end. No one expected that this Prince would be the one to lead the victorious army. No one expected that a man from such a distant land will have the skill and capability to do so. No one expected him to survive it. But the promise was made and the princess was to marry.

Initially, it wasn't her but her sister who was to marry. It was meant to be a marriage of honour. But it would have happened only if it were one of their own who won the war, not him. He was a stranger and he had no connections to the court or royal family.

The bride who walked down the aisle was the other princess. Half-sister to the beauty which the king loved to show off. She was the daughter of the first queen who passed away during her birth. She was unwanted and unloved. And hence, she was chosen to stand in the place of her sister on this day, in the hope to cheat the Prince into thinking that he was being shown the highest gratitude, but really, he was given a discarded princess.

It was a perfect plan, supposedly. The thick veil hid her face enough to not show that she wasn't her sister, and the deal was still being finalised, after all, she still was a princess. Just not the one the Prince expected.

She was trained for this for the last few weeks since they found out who the hero was. She didn't get a say in it.

Once the messenger came informing his father of the end of the war and a hero that did it, his father demanded of her to fulfil her duty. She didn't dare to say anything. She didn't fight it. She obediently nodded at her father and did as she was told. That's what was expected of her after all.

The exchange of vows was quick with the officiant purposely omitting her name.

"Do you, princess of Galbore, take his highness for your husband?" He spoke, simply as that, making her vows valid even if the Prince were to find out that she was not Adeline, but rather Isabella, the older, stupider, uglier, and unlovable princess of Galbore, who was hidden away from the public for years, hidden in chambers away from prying eyes, whilst her sister was shown off like the kingdom's gem.

Isabelle couldn't see the man's face through the thick veil, she only recognised that he was tall and that he was big. She saw merely his silhouette. His voice was deep. It was cold. It was terrifying.

It was made clear that they weren't to kiss during the ceremony. The decision of her father who used an excuse that the princess shouldn't show any public affection.

The Prince placed a ring on her finger, and she tried to place one on his, but her hands were trembling too much. She dropped the ring which he caught and placed it on his finger himself. Isabelle felt the pit in her stomach knowing that she was going to get punished for this mistake. And the punishment was severe, as made clear by her own father. A whip or a rod until the skin ripped and bled.

The wedding ceremony was over with a few people clapping unenthusiastically. The royal court wasn't very ecstatic and it seemed that there was barely anyone from the Prince's side. Why would he bother them to travel this far for such a horrid event anyways?

The party was due to start, but she won't be a part of it. As guests shifted towards the ballroom, Isabelle went to the chambers. She changed into a nightdress, readying herself for the next duty she had. She crawled into the bed, covering herself with a blanket, and pulling it all the way up to her ears.

She heard heavy footsteps and movement. A shiver ran down her body. She was afraid. Terrified of what he was going to do when he realises that she was not Adeline. She felt the mattress move as he sat on the edge of the bed. But there was nothing other than silence for a while before he laid down as far away from her as possible. He was quiet. Isabelle wasn't sure if he was still awake or not before she fell asleep.

When she woke up in the morning, he was not there. She was alone in the dim room. She felt anxious. He didn't do what she expected. She was told exactly what was to happen and it didn't. She failed her first task as a wife.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Maid asked in a rough tone. She was a maid assigned to her by her stepmother. She treated her with as much love as the rest of the family.

"I'm sorry, I just woke up." Isabelle said quietly, quickly getting up and starting to get dressed in a simple grey dress. Maid took covers off the bed without another word. She looked up at Isabelle and left the room in a hurry. The air was heavy. Something was brewing. Isabelle felt it.

"You incompetent bitch!" The queen stormed into the room holding the sheets that the maid took off a few minutes earlier. "You had one job!"

"I don't understand, your majesty." Isabelle managed to utter as she looked at her in confusion. The queen came towards her and slapped her across the face. "I'm sorry." Isabelle uttered. She wasn't sorry, really. She didn't know what she should be sorry for. It was an automatic response ingrained into her so deeply that she didn't even have to think before her lips said it.

"Did he realise that it was you before it happened?"

"I don't know." Isabelle said with a whimper.

"Or is it that you are so repelling that he didn't even want to touch you in the dark?"

"I'm sorry, your majesty." Isabelle repeated, readying herself for another strike.

The queen threw the sheets at Isabelle which was much less painful than another slap but which still hurt her dignity, not like she had much of it left. The first slap already left a red imprint on Isabelle's face. Her cheek was stinging but she won't dare show her pain. If she did, the queen would laugh and strike her again for her own entertainment.

"Now, make sure that you get in the carriage downstairs. If you don't leave or if you come back, you'll be as good as dead." The queen spat out through her teeth before she left the room. Isabelle stood still before the maid reappeared. She followed her silently through the long hallways, and outside, into a carriage. It was cold and Isabelle shivered as she haven't had anything warm to cover herself. She climbed into the carriage, given only a small piece of luggage that contained all of her belongings. No one came to say goodbye. And no one was to notice her absence.

Isabelle felt the pit in her stomach as she held tightly onto the luggage. The wheels started rolling. She left the very place where she was born for the unknown. She wondered if it could be any worse than a place she spend her whole life in.

She didn't dare to complain as the hours went by without a single stop. She didn't dare to ask to stop to relieve herself. She didn't dare to ask for food, or a blanket. The night started to fall and they were still travelling. Well, it was only her inside of the carriage, and two coachmen sitting at the front. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't know how much longer it was. At last, she fell asleep. Her head rested against the side of the carriage.

She didn't know that head breath became visible. That her skin turned paler. That her lips turned blue. Sleep was the only escape from the cruel world she ever had. It was the only comfort she ever had.