It's Not All Roses

She'd never known that love was a real thing, romantically of course. For generations and generations before her, on her mother's side, the daughters of the family have married rich, arranged. As soon as the young lady turns eighteen, she is to be married.  Today. Today she was departing, to fulfill her duty, and be with him for the rest of her life. She couldn't possibly remember a time without him, their mothers were pregnant together, bonding through that fact. Through the baby girl promised to the baby boy.  She was raised with poise and perfection. Dressed to the nines for all occasions, or none at all. Her skin of porcelain, never a blemish ever adorned. Her posture never less than ramrod straight. The definition of sheer perfection was personified in her. This was how it had to be. This was how she needed to be.  He always had anything anyone could ever want, but it came at a steep price. He was always a beautiful boy, even as a baby. He was the epitome of a teenage heartthrob; classically unavailable and, well, hot. But, the price, he had always questioned whether or not the price was worth the payoff, but he hadn't a choice. That was how it had to be. That was how he needed to be. She was eighteen, partially unhappy, and beautiful. He was eighteen, stony and closed off. She was Emmelyn Ashford. He was Jameson Crowley. And they were to be married.