Darelle

8

Darelle sighed at the fleet of carriages that passed the streets of Mae to the palace along with horsemen and soldiers, who marched the city reminded her that the Kingdom wouldn't be owned by her. But she would live in Dolor with her future husband, even if he failed to secure his father's throne and Mae, would be left to whichever of her uncles that was ready for power.

Prince Royce, who was to arrived today, made the staffs to bathe her in perfume and painted ridiculous makeup similar to a clown that she had to have a redo, if she had her very way. She didn't take it kind to the fact that she would have to paint her face for a masquerade too, like how Belle, her pen pal said. More like the princess she was paired with.

At this rate, she was going to crack out and wrung the Prince's head if he overstepped his boundary, then she would dye his embroidery painting with his blood.

"You look to be having a dark awakening, Princess. Lighten up." Marisa told her as she was barely a step behind her.

"That's it, Marisa, just a few more minutes and we won't have to stand at the entrance of the palace and we'll be in a warm room, singing or something our hearts away." Darelle said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Actually, you would be required to walk with the prince through the garden and make the talk." Marisa said, making the princess to flinch.

"Silence and patience, is the key." she said with a warning tone. "We have to wait for my darling after all."

Inwardly, she growled and imagined stabbing the man she was to marry. They had a past like all royal heirs. In the summer of their younger years when the kingdoms decided to sign a peace treaty. Her parents had host the event and the royal children were to bond as well as few chosen nobles to keep them company.

Unfortunately for her, since princesses don't run, hunt or ride horses, she ended up being the last at everything. Tiana won with the longest book pile on her head, no wonder she needed so many pillows to have her iron spine at ease. White won the singing contest, having the most beautiful operatic voice, it was nice to be born under the blessings of the tree spirits.

Each prince or princess had a specialty under belt, something enhanced with the blessings from enchantress, river gods, gods, spirits and other magical creatures. She wondered what was hers, if she had any but being the last and being placed above, Prince Royce. She doubted she did, she was cursed.

"Well done, Dar. The prince is her. Straighten your back a bit and relax your smile, it looks so forced. You don't want any trouble from your uncle . . . that's it. Better now." Marisa said at last.

Darelle looked ahead and watched the servants moved to open the prince's carriage, she heard in fairytale that princes ride horses but her king-to-be was an exception.

She did all that Marisa required of her because she didn't want her uncle to have her make double the number of embroidered napkins to be handed to the elders. He promised that, if she failed to swept the prince off his feet. She would pay her dues.

"Prince Royce." she exclaimed in a low, lovely voice as the man stepped down the carriage.

The sun that refused to shine and warm the day, suddenly came and landed on the prince, who shined with it from his medium brown hair that waved to the white silk shirt he had on, to aquiline nose and his french blue eyes descended on her.

"Darelle!" His eyes brightened even more that her eyes almost burnt. This was what it meant to be blessed by the sun god.

The six-feet-one prince rushed down and went straight to engulf her in a hug, then pulled back to kiss both her cheeks. "I have missed you, Dar."