Not a Typical Princess (Princess Diana's Daughter)

Chapter 12: First of Its Kind Wedding

On the morning of Saturday, 19 of May, Princess Gwendoline was pulled out of her bed. Unlike the rest of the family, Gwendoline had opted to stay in London for the night and then head to Windsor in the early morning. This was the reward: getting up before the sun.

In Windsor, the princess was the first to get ready as the future duchess was pulled out of bed and pushed into the shower. The stylists worked on the princess first as Doria Ragland, Ms. Markle's mother, walked around nervously, wringing her hands. The inn where they stayed that night wasn't just a small and cozy thing, and with everything brought out to make the wedding day perfect, it all looked like a lot.

Gwendoline peeled her eyes toward the woman. "Doria, why don't you sit down and eat something? It's going to be a long day." The stylists gripped Gwendoline's blonde hair hard and pulled. She was used to this pain by now.

Doria did as the princess asked. "You're not nervous?" she asked, playing with some bread in her hands.

"No." Gwendoline was used to the cameras. At the last royal wedding she was in-- the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge's-- she was perfectly fine. That had been horrible because she had been in charge of wrangling the children. "You are."

"Yes. My girl is getting married. The whole world is watching."

"Not the whole world," Gwendoline said, hoping to make it better. "Only the Commonwealth countries, a lot of America and anyone who finds the monarchy remotely interesting. We'll probably be on in some waiting rooms as well." Gwendoline smiled, and Doria returned the smile.

"Are all royals this calm?" Doria asked.

"No, but some of us are used to making mistakes so we don't care anymore." Gwendoline took a sip of her coffee and glanced down at her mobile. Margo was still probably sleeping.

Doria looked around nervously, and they were saved from the awkward silence when Meghan came out of the shower. Some of the stylists went to the bride while some stayed with the princess. Gwendoline didn't mind as her hair was done, and the process of heavy makeup being applied started. Doria, who preferred a more natural look, watched and helped her daughter.

Meghan was beautiful; there was absolutely no doubt about that. Her natural beauty shone through, and then everything of the day gave her a glow. The dress was basic, but that was the plan. When it came to her veil, it was extravagant work. It took 500 hours to sew every flower to it, which just happened to be every Commonwealth country's flower. Her tiara was placed on her head and then almost glued in place.

"Is this really how they do it?" Doria whispered.

"This is the kind version," Gwendoline replied. "Have you ever seen a duchess, princess or queen lose a tiara? It is embarrassing." Gwendoline usually had pins stuck in her hair to keep the tiara from falling out of place. She had grown used to that pain too.

At Windsor Castle, the princess was dropped off first in her white dress. It was basic too, and thankfully, it was not tight like Pippa Middleton's had been. Her body would've given some older men a heart attack. The dress billowed in the wind, but at least it was easy to walk in. Due to her height, she was pushed into flats so that she didn't throw off the height of the small bride and taller groom.

Meghan's car pulled up as she sat alone. Doria was already inside, waiting patiently. When she had left, there had been tears in her eyes, and Gwendoline could understand how this was a particularly beautiful and trying day. Her daughter was being married, and she was moving half a world over. Meghan was leaving everything behind, and for what? A man and a title were simple terms, but she was doing this for love.

Gwendoline helped pull Meghan's veil out of the as Meghan walked away. She halted on the steps as Gwendoline bent down to spread it out and make it look beautiful. Meghan wore a pretty smile, but the screams had to be deafening. She glanced back at her future sister, and Gwendoline nodded. None of the screams bothered her.