Born to be his Wife

Since I was born, the murmurs of my fate have enveloped the atmosphere. They foretold a future intertwined with Prince Alexander, a gentleman whose countenance eluded me. Despite Alexander’s mysteriousness, I harbored a profound understanding of him, as though his core had been intricately entwined with the essence of my soul.

My early years were meticulously orchestrated to shape me into the ideal match for Alexander. Every instruction, refinement session, and dance practice was designed to prepare me for the moment I would grace his side as his wife. The burden of this duty lay heavily upon me, yet I welcomed it with resolute resolve.

The bond between Alexander and me did not arise from affection but from a calculated maneuver by my father, King Jacob. His noble intentions were to safeguard the harmony between our realm and Alexander’s dominion. Thus, this union was pragmatic, a method to achieve a desired outcome, devoid of sentimental attachments.

However, my mother, a woman of unwavering independence, refused to acquiesce to this agreement. She believed that love ought to dictate matters of the heart, rather than political affiliations. Having endured the repercussions of an unwanted marriage, she recounted how my grandfather had orchestrated her union with my father.

Within the depths of her gaze, I beheld her belief that I possessed the right to forge my destiny, to heed the murmurs of my innermost desires. While I admired her fortitude and principles, I was acutely aware that my life had already been predetermined. The resounding echoes of age-old customs and obligations in our ancestral abode served as a constant reminder that my realm of possibilities was undeniably constrained.

The eve of my eighteenth birthday loomed closer, bringing a blend of excitement and apprehension. The day that had been predetermined in the tapestry of my life was fast approaching, and my future would forever be linked to a stranger. The ambiguity of what awaited me stirred a mixture of exhilaration and fear. I stood on the edge of my fate, prepared to plunge into uncharted waters.

My mother, shrouded in an enigma, carried an aura of melancholy within her gaze. Whispers traversed the castle corridors, weaving tales of love forsaken, a man who had relinquished all to rescue her. This captivating and perplexing narrative eluded my comprehension as I struggled to fathom her sorrow.

Despite the disturbances, my parents’ bond was a multifaceted masterpiece woven with threads of affection and discord. Sometimes their love radiated, their unbreakable connection evident to all. Yet, their differences would sometimes transform into fiery disputes, making me ponder whether their love could endure the challenges that confronted them.

Amid flaws and shortcomings, I clung to a flicker of optimism. I craved a tale of love unique to me, a majestic romance that would carry me away. I yearned for a bond that would surpass all obstacles, a love that would withstand all trials.

Lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly brought back to reality by my father’s commanding voice.

“Adeline, approach me,” he beckoned.

I hurried to his presence, eager to hear what he had to say.

“Adeline, go to your chambers for your wedding dress fitting.”

I curtseyed as I left the room. I strolled through the grand halls, wondering about the difference between our castle and Alexander’s. I wondered what it would be like to live in such a lavish place.

Upon arriving at my chambers, the servants greeted me with a curtsy. The seamstress quickly ushered me to a pedestal, and the servants helped me undress. I felt exposed and vulnerable standing there in my petticoats, surrounded by women I had known my whole life. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were silently judging me.

The corset was the first to go on, and with each tug, I felt like I was losing the ability to breathe. I was terrified that if I took a deep breath, the corset would rip. The underskirt came next, followed by three more layers.

Finally, the dress was placed over me. Being a princess meant comfort was not an option. We were required to wear multiple layers of clothing to maintain our dainty appearance. The clothes were also incredibly heavy, making it difficult to move around with ease.

“Tomorrow evening, you shall be wed to Prince Alexander,” my father announced.

This was the moment I had been waiting for, the culmination of years of anticipation. With a nod, I acknowledged my father’s decree.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The dress I wore was a vision of simplicity, yet it held a delicate charm. The white lace adorning the corset added a touch of elegance, while a diamond belt cinched around my waist, accentuating my figure. I gazed at myself in the mirror. The sweetheart neckline beautifully highlighted my chest, defying my father’s belief that I lacked the curves to capture a man’s attention. At seventeen, I knew there was still room for growth, both physically and emotionally.

The dress flared out around my hips, creating a silhouette that made me feel like a woman. Trailing behind me was a long train, adding an air of regality to my ensemble. I admired myself, lost in the moment.

“We will provide you with the veil and do your hair and makeup in the morning.”

“Thank you, the dress is beautiful.”

However, my father’s sudden entrance into the room caught us all off guard. His presence alone was enough to silence any conversation.

“The dress needs to be tighter, we need to accent her figure as much as possible.”

“Your Highness I can barely breathe as it is.”

My father was never one to consider my opinions.

“Prince Alexander will easily be bored, tighten the dress in the chest and the hips.”

Being the youngest daughter, I was accustomed to having my thoughts disregarded. After all, his favorite daughter was already married and never uttered a word of complaint. It seemed that my worth, in his eyes, was solely determined by my ability to bear children.

The seamstress, obediently nodding, acknowledged my father’s wishes. It was clear that my desires and comfort were secondary to the image he wanted to project. I resigned myself to the fact that my dreams and aspirations would always be overshadowed by the expectations placed upon me as a princess.

Father left the room. The maids rushed to help me out of my wedding dress and into something more suitable for dinner. I made my way down to the dining hall, where my parents were waiting for me.

Finally, Father gave the signal for us to rise and take our seats. Once we settled in, Father blessed the food, and we began to eat. The conversation quickly turned to my dress fitting.

“Adeline, how did it go?” my mother asked.

“The dress is beautiful.”

My father had other ideas.

“The gown requires adjustments,” he declared with candor.

“What do you mean, my lord?” my mother countered

“It necessitates being tailored at the bosom and the waist,” he elucidated.

“She possesses limited build for such modifications.”

My brother and sister had always been the favored ones, and now it seemed that even my appearance was lacking in their eyes. I refused to let his words bring me down. I would show them that I was more than just my looks.

“Our daughter is not only smart, but she is also a vision of beauty,” my mother proudly declared.

I smiled at her words, feeling a sense of validation and pride.

However, my father’s response was less enthusiastic, leaving me curious about what he meant by “we shall see.”

I sat at the dinner table. My father’s voice broke the silence.

“Adeline, once the evening meal has concluded, you must make your way back to your quarters,” he declared.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

His next words caught me off guard.

“It is imperative that you present yourself most impeccably tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“We leave tomorrow at dawn,” he announced.

The reality of my situation sank in. Tomorrow was the day I had been dreaming about, the day I would finally meet Alexander. With a final command, my father dismissed me from the room. I curtsied gracefully, a gesture ingrained in me from years of royal etiquette training, and made my way out. I walked down the corridor. My mind began to wander, envisioning the events that would unfold tomorrow.

I imagined the grand church adorned with vibrant flowers, their sweet fragrance filling the air. I pictured Alexander standing tall and handsome, his dark hair perfectly styled. His deep green eyes, filled with warmth and adoration, locked with mine as he gently lifted my veil. A smile played on his lips as he took my hand, a gesture of love and commitment.

His hand touched mine. I would notice how soft it was. He spoke his vows with such sincerity, slipping the ring onto my finger with a gentle touch. My eyes were drawn to the beauty of the ring, sparkling in the light. His lips would meet mine in a tender kiss. It was my first kiss, and while I imagined it would be nice, if not a bit awkward.

We danced around the room. I imagined his hand around my waist, guiding me with ease. I had never danced with anyone other than my father and brother, but I tried my best to be graceful. After all, princesses are meant to be beautiful and graceful, or so I’ve been told. I’ve never felt like I fit that mold.

I made my way inside my chambers. I noticed that all of my things were already packed. A nightgown sat on the chair, waiting for me. The servants helped me out of my evening dress, and I slipped into the soft fabric of the nightgown. They pulled back the covers, and I lay down in bed, wondering what Alexander was thinking about.

Alexander’s Perspective

I sat alone in my room, lost in thought. Adeline’s appearance didn’t matter to me, nor did I care to know anything about her. The idea of marriage didn’t appeal to me, and I had no intention of settling down. I enjoyed the freedom of bachelorhood and had a few girlfriends, but nothing serious.

However, fate had other plans for me. At the tender age of sixteen, my father informed me that I was betrothed to a princess. The news didn’t sit well with me, but I had no choice but to accept it for the sake of peace in the kingdom.

Fast forward to my twenty-first birthday. The wedding preparations were in full swing. The church and dining hall were adorned with decorations, a magnificent cake had been baked, and invitations had been sent out. I had a new suit tailored, and my shoes were polished to perfection. The band had been booked, and everything was set for the big day.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the whole dancing and fancy suit situation. If it were up to me, I would have skipped the church ceremony altogether. Alas, my dear old dad had already arranged for some burly guards to drag me there. I resigned myself to getting some shut-eye before the big day.

****Adeline’s Perspective

The next morning, I was rudely awakened by my lady-in-waiting.

“Arise, my lady!”

“It is now the hour to adorn yourself!”

I groggily sat up and let her work her magic. She transformed my usual loose braid into a tight up-do, complete with a sparkling tiara. She painted my face with all sorts of powders and potions and then proceeded to cinch my corset as tight as humanly possible. Finally, she helped me into my dress—which, by the way, was even tighter than yesterday.

I made my way to my parents’ chambers. My lady-in-waiting gracefully lifted the train of my exquisite dress, ensuring it didn’t touch the ground. When we reached the door, a guard opened it, granting us entry into my parents’ presence.

Upon hearing my father’s invitation to enter, I stepped into the room, careful not to stumble on my nerves. My father’s discerning eyes scanned me from head to toe, his voice commanding me to turn around slowly for his evaluation. I complied, hoping that my appearance would meet his expectations.

“It will have to do,” he declared.

“You look beautiful Adeline.” My mother added.

“Thank you mother.”

“We must leave now if we do not want to be late.”

Together, we descended to the courtyard, where a coachman awaited to assist me into the carriage. My parents, riding in a separate carriage ahead of me, led the way. I settled into the carriage, finding myself alone with only my thoughts for company.

The journey seemed to stretch on for an eternity, lasting two agonizing hours. I attempted to find solace in sleep, but rest eluded me. The corset I wore, though enhancing my figure, constricted my breathing, making every breath a struggle. Those two hours felt like the longest and most uncomfortable of my life, or so I believed at the time.