Disobedience [h.s.]

Thirty

Every muscle in Brielle's body is rigid, unwilling to move on the day they should want to move the most. When dawn at last made her appearance, she could not force herself out of bed. All night, she thought about Harry's smile and what he would wear to the ceremony, and now she cannot picture anything the malcontented expression Richard wears whenever she is in his presence. No crown will force him to accept her.

"And why does my daughter look so glum on her wedding day?" June pinches Brielle's left cheek and forces her frown into a delighted smile. "Much better. I know you're worried about what his parents think, but parents do not always make the best decisions. Do you remember when I tried to keep you away from him?"

Brielle nods, glancing at her fingers as if they are still dripping vermillion tears. "My fingers bled for three days. Harry thought it was his fault and sent Dr. Avery to heal them. Later he brought me flowers and he brought them every day after for the entire month. He refused to leave my side in his spare moments and made his parents furious."

Richard kept him in lessons all night for a fortnight, determined to punish him into submissive loneliness. Anne always let him out early, but never with too much time to spare before lights out. Only once has she told her without a formal curtain of falsity that she likes her, and that was before she threatened to send her away should she continue to pursue Harry. "What if she keeps me away from him? Locks me in lessons for the rest of my life, or sends me to some foreign country where I can never see him?"

Fabric rustles behind her as June brushes her hair from her shoulders, "She may be Queen, but that man would never let you out of his sight for such a span of time. He's come to the door three times to ask if you're alright and only a night has passed. Now, unless you want to keep him waiting...it's time to properly dress for the occasion."

An icy storm of blue and cloudy purple appears before her eyes, contained within a dress made for someone of a far higher standing than herself. Metallic strands of intricate flowers line the bodice, waist, and sleeves, dipping with the grace of willows and bleeding hearts. Brielle chokes on her words, "Is that--the flowers are so....is that mine?" She expected Harry to surprise her with something extravagant, but this...this is beyond anything her dreams have created.

Her mother's smile tells a thousand stories as she loosens the strings holding the unworn corset together. "Of course it's yours. I've had the plans for it beneath my pillow since the day you came back blushing from your head to your toes. Harry came to the house and asked if I would craft it for you, the poor lad didn't know I had already started. Is it too much?"

Brielle laughs and throws her arms around her mother, "It's perfect! Thank you, mum."

"I hope the sizes are right. I don't believe he expected them to change quite so soon."

Eyes wide and pale, she retracts her arms and bites the inside of her cheek. No one, save for the midwife, is supposed to know. "What do you mean?"

June twirls limp corset strings between her fingers, her smile caught in a transient memory. "A mother always knows. Have you told him yet?"

"No, I meant to tell him the night of the festival but we got carried away. I'm going to tell him tonight, after the festivities have ended." He's been waiting to hear the news for months, asking her night and day with the hope of a thousand Kings in his smile. The moment he knows, he'll proclaim it to the entire Kingdom regardless of the hour or how scandalous it will sound on the eve of his wedding.

Across the hall, Harry picks at his suit, pulling at strings and embroidery that will not budge. Pacing the room created an ache in his heels that he hasn't felt since Richard forced him to stand at attention after he caught him trying on one of the guards' armor.