In French

Chapter Eight

    The day of the wedding my heart was beating deafeningly, my throat was dry and for the life of me I could not stop quivering. I was barely visible through the entourage of lady's maids clustered around me; one powdered my face and another fiercely tugged at my hair, twirling and twisting it back into a plaited bun elaborately. I felt uncomfortable with these two new maids that I did not know. Unlike Eloise and my maids back home these two were strict and silent. 

    "I always think being beautiful is almost an art form," I commented as the maid doing my makeup stepped back allowing me full access to the mirror for the first time since I'd been sat on the chair at the crack of dawn. I was unrecognisable, my face looking very doll like and youthful, all blemishes hid under intricate layers of makeup. 

    "I wish that you two would speak, you are making me uncomfortable." I laughed nervously as the maid finally stood back from my hair and asked me to wait there while she fetched the mantilla. "What is your name?" I addressed the other who was stood to attention beside my dresser, head bowed, eyes on the ground and hands held placidly in front of her. 

    "Chaney, My Lady," still she refused to look.

    I smiled pleasantly, my eyes flickering curiously from my reflection to that of Chaney, I was still sort of swept away with just how ethereal and different I looked. It was as if I'd stepped out of a fairy tale. I was desperate to reach up and touch my flesh but was frightened the illusion would crumble.

    The other maid returned, her hands filled with a fine lace material which she proceeded to thread into my thick mane. Once she was done with every last detail she stepped away, a look of dazzling accomplishment burning bright in her eyes. "If I may say so myself you look positively breath taking."

    My cheeks flourished in delight, "Fit for a Queen?"

    Her eyes widened at the mention of me becoming Queen, it was not something one really spoke of when the actual Queen was still alive and well. "Of-of course my lady." 

The moments peace was extremely short lived as a knock at the door and another round of women and men were pouring into my chamber talking loudly, their voices bubbling almost into hysteria. It was too much. This was all too much. I was a princess and used to attention but everything was tenfold more here. I was overloaded with compliments I didn't know how to react, I twiddled my fan nervously between my fingers, laughing when prompted. This was the moment I became a public figurehead all over the world, I was about to step into the limelight. 

    My dress was pulled out from nowhere and I had to stand on a small oak stool that had roses and leaved sculpted intricately into the wood, I stood absolutely still as I was stitched into the gown. The whalebone corset seemed to be less pliant than the ones I was usually accustomed to and my breathing took a small while before it evened out to how I was trained to breathe, there was always a knack to these kinds of things. I wore a fairly small whalebone hoop that my pure white gown hung off of like silk. I had a heaving chest and an exceedingly low cut bodice that glistened with diamonds and lots of bows.

    "Beautiful," I was told as I was helped off the stool and into my jewel encrusted pumps. My carriage was ready, the people of France were ready, my fiance was waiting. Through the windows and carried needlessly by the breeze, the cheers and excitement of the French was carried toward me. I was nervous but not shocked, I had grown up knowing that my marriage would be on a huge scale. I just never realised that it would be made to such a powerful and influential country like France.

    Throughout the halls of the palace the walls were lined with servants, each bowing their head as I walked by. It was a line of bobbing heads wherever I went. I kept my thoughts strictly under control and flailing, panicking emotions in check. Outside the footmen were dressed in fine clothes of white laced with gold thread. They bowed at exactly the same time from the waist. I couldn't help the smile that I shared with the old man. "Good luck Your Highness," He muttered ever so quietly as I strode past with perhaps a bit too much gusto.