An Arranged Marriage

"Your Presence Is Requested"

Dulcinea's POV
"Your highness!" The call from my lady-in-waiting awoke me.
"Princess Dulcinea, your presence is requested at the throne room!" She called again.
I groaned and rolled out of bed, stepping into the hot bath that was always provided for me, lathering the soap and scrubbing away the sleep from my body and the excess oils from my hair, making sure to rinse extra well. Once my bath was finished, I wrapped the towel around me and picked a dress from my wardrobe. Since it was winter here in Elonora, I made sure that my dress was trimmed in furs, so I chose the hunter green dress with the brown mink fur around the cuffs and hem.
"I'm ready!" I called out to my lady-in-waiting, Janelle, who would lace up my corset. It was a castle regulation that all the ladies had to wear corsets, but we weren't so cruel as to demand they be laced as tight as possible.
"How did Her Highness sleep last night?" Janelle asked, coming in and closing the door, getting right to work. She knew how I liked my corset laced: not too tight, but not too loose; snug, but not constricting.
"Please, Janelle, you've grown up with me. Call me Dulcey," I begged her while she began the lacing.
"Alright, Dulcey, how did you sleep?"
"I suppose I slept alright, until I was awoken," I answered, wishing I could back to bed.
"My apologies. Your father requested your presence for an important matter," Janelle finished the lacing and picked up the dress I had chosen.
"Did he say what the matter was about?" I asked hopefully.
"Nay. Arms up," she instructed.
"What could be so important that he require me?" I ponder aloud, lifting my arms over my head so Janelle can slide the dress over my head and down my body.
"Well, you are coming of age when your father, the king, will arrange for suitors to come and ask for your hand in marriage," she said, brushing the dress down and helping me stand up, motioning with her finger for me to twirl slowly.
"Suitors? Marriage?" I asked while doing as she asked.
"Well, you are 15," Janelle pointed out.
"But, marriage so soon?" I asked, bewildered.
"Your mother was married at 12," Janelle reminded me as I sat at my dressing table, and she began some intricate up do for my hair.
"I know, I know, but still. With marriage comes children. Childbirth means pain. I don't do well with pain," I reminded her while she combed my still-wet hair.
"Ah, but I think you'll find that children are well worth the pain. Plus, the castle physician is among the best. Top of his class in university," Janelle soothed my fears.
My mother had died in childbirth with my youngest brother, Algernon. He had survived, but mother had not. I was five when Algernon was born, and there were days when just even looking at his face would remind me of her, and I would have to excuse myself from the situation. Janelle always understood, and in addition to being my best friend, she had, in a sense, become my mother. She was two years older than me, but we had grown up like sisters. As we grew older, we had late night conversations about whichever stable boy we'd fancied, or what unfair law we wished to repeal when I became of ruling age.
"And, finished," Janelle placed a jeweled ornament in my hair to compliment the elaborate updo.
"It's beautiful," I looked at it in the mirror, turning my head to see it from different angles.
"Now, up you go, Your Highness. The king awaits," Janelle's vocabulary turned to a more formal manner as we walked to the throne room.