The Princess Broken Wolf

11

Her makeup was done lightly, rosy cheeks with nudish lipstick. Her hair now loose curls and nestling the crown in all its glory. All there was left was getting into the dress that was still covered behind the velvet cover. Rosamund couldn’t be more agitated than she ever was. It wasn’t that she was anticipating the wedding. But her mind moved around the meeting she was going to have with the prince. Ruslan Aleksander, also known as Erebus by the people of Wasiz. He was more than just feared, he was worshiped, paid tribute to so that he would leave others alone. People around the border of Karkonz often left their best possessions yearly, wishing that the prince wouldn’t come to their village. Rosamund felt herself tensed. How the hell was she going to kill him in one strike? As far as she knew and what was told by her conspirator, he was too strong. Stronger than the strongest commander of Wasiz. He was stronger than she was and that made her shiver a little. Though she would never admit to someone that she felt like throwing up, in reality she felt grateful for her empty stomach. She had too much to think about. Too much was to be done in such a short period of time. The spy her mother had sent, Ellie, opened the front zipper of the velvet cover that held her dress. It was beautiful, so much so that it felt like a sin to be dressed in such magnificent dress to slaughter.

It was a full off-shoulder ball gown, laced up with long sleeves. The hemline was a chapel with floral applique beads made of crystals and stones. The intricate design was similar to her crown, with flowers of all sorts and birds scattered with perfect discretion. With such a variety of colored stones, the dress itself was pure white, making the tiny world stone stand out even more. All the maids were marvelling at the dress, such beauty admired for its perfection. Rosamund couldn’t help but feel bitter. If only she had a normal life, if only she was someone of no importance, no degree nor rank. Maybe she would have had the chance to enjoy the ceremony of union between souls. Maybe she would have been happy somewhere in a small cottage with a loving mother and father and possibly a loving husband. She would have sold her soul in a heartbeat if that was possible. Ellie and another maid, Lucie, carefully took the dress out of its cover. Very slowly they made their way towards Rosamund and after a few minutes, Rosamund was dressed in the wedding, looking like a Goddess or so the maids told her. The maids insisted she look in the mirror, to see how utterly stunning she looked, but Rosamund didn’t have the heart. She knew she looked beautiful, perhaps like a fairy or a princess. But in reality, she was none. Her white dress would be ruined, her whiteness would be filled with redness. She was a bride sent to kill and be killed. It wasn’t something she had to struggle to remind herself of. The only regret she felt that made her heart painfully beat was not being able to meet Esmeralda one last time. How she wished she could just hug Esme, breath in her innocent scent and perhaps shed a few tears as her goodbye. How desperate she was to feel something other than cold and numb, it was against human to be left feeling so…..empty. So empty the world seems black.

Rosamund collected herself, steeling her spine while the maids fitted a long veil on her face, caging her even more so. The fuzzing of the maids kept her mind occupied, letting her breath for a moment. As she was fitting in her shoes, the doors to her chamber opened with a loud thud. There stood her friend, Lizbeth, with Marcus supporting her weight with his own. They were dressed impeccably in their uniform for ceremonies. Such grandness, yet their eyes were damp. She encountered everyone with a small smile and emotionless eyes. Too many emotions have been wasted, too much time has passed. It was too late now to go back to the path she had left a while back. Her fate was already written and it seems it revolves around her getting killed.

“I…..” Rosamund stopped, her voice sounded too cracked for her own liking.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.”Edward spoke quietly, his eyes focused on her. Rosamund shook her head in reply. She could never promise her safety. This whole ordeal was the whole point of making her not safe.

“Just….” Edward paused, “Just please.” he whispered, a stray tear slid down his cheeks. Edward loved Rosamund too much to see her like this, beautifully dressed for execution. His heart and his soul broke a little more. He would forever remember this day, the day his heart turned to ash because he lost it to the girl who wasn’t his. It was perhaps his only fortune in life to have me Rosamund,, intervened with her just from the sidelines, but nonetheless, their souls met. And he had fallen in love with the girl beyond his every dream. He could not stay for the ceremony. He didn’t care for his duties, he would mourn for himself and her. He would forever mourn for her, but before that he would fight the world for her. Even if it meant dying in the process.

Without a backward glance, Edward walked away from the door, his strides purposeful and proud. He would not let it go with ease, he would still fight. Rosamund made eye contact with Marcus, which he seemed to have understood because he gave a little nod in return.

“Leave us” Demir ordered the maids, who blushed profusely hearing his voice while tittering away with hurried steps.

Rosamund stood in her room, motionless in her wedding dress, looking like a Queen. Lizbeth wanted to cry for the first time in her life. If only she could give her First Commander well wishes, if only she could say a word. She felt Marcus' hand tighten against her hands, silently reassuring her.

All of them made their way into the room. Marcus seated Lizbeth on a plush settee while taking a seat beside her. Demir took the lone chair on the other side. There was silence, not the comfortable kind but the kind when it spoke too loud. Louder than any word in any language.

“His Majesty doesn’t intend to walk you down the aisle,” Demir said, his stiff voice. He looked handsome in his dark red velvet uniform, with delicate gold designs. His sword clasped on his waist, his pins shinning like bright stars. But there was an energy emitting out from him that felt like a wild animal was being held behind a cage.

“I will walk you down. Please do not refuse.” Demir said quietly, his hands clenched, his body tensed.

Rosamund felt a rueful smile on her face. She nodded.

“I…I have something to give you from myself and Pandora.” Lizbeth said, waking up from the settee, making her way towards Rosamund.

Lizbeth took out the ring Pandora had given to Rosamund. She had found it at her bedside when she was getting ready. A note was written telling her to give it to Rosamund without a name. But she knew it was from Pandora, her suspicion confirmed by Marcus.

Rosamund wore the ring on her pinkie finger, cautiously twirling it around her finger.

“ Thank you.” Rosamund said, grateful for the little ring somehow.

“And this is ……from me.” Lizbeth handed her a small red pouch. Rosamund opened the pouch to find a pair of hair pins with tiny butterflies. It was so pretty and tiny.

“It was my mother’s. She believed brides should have butterflies as an accessory to the bride as they give colors and hope. I……I hope the future changes its course. I truly hope for your peace, First Commander….Rosamund.” Lizbeth said, her voice shaking from her emotions. Rosamund couldn’t help but hug Lizbeth as close as she could.

“Please pin them on my hair.” Rosamund requested, already turning around. Lizbeth slowly fitted the pins on Rosamund's hair. Rosamund looked like an ethereal queen but an immense sadness surrounded her that shouldn’t be around a bride. It was supposed to be a merry day, with laughter and joy and dance, but Rosamund’s wedding was anything but that. The loud bell echoed through the walls, alerting them of the beginning of the ceremony. Demir woke up in an instant. At once, the maids came back, fitted the veil on Rosamund's face. Demir began escorting her through the door. The people in the hallway parted ways with the First Princess. Eyes followed every move the small group made, marveling at the beauty of the creatures, which was the literal definition of beauty. Rosamund felt an uneasiness creep across her skin, her goosebumps rose as if someone was watching her with an intense gaze. She tried to discreetly look around, to see if anyone was watching her, but everyone was busy looking at her dress, at the people behind her. She couldn’t shake off the odd feeling as she made her way towards the carriage with Demir as her escort. Everything was white, from the horses to the carriage. The flowers were blood red, signifying the Karkonz. Every white had a little bit of red, some prominent, some subtle. Rosamund braced herself for the events that were to come.

Carefully, Demir opened the carriage door for her. One last glance at the castle and she could see the past of her life. Such bittersweet memories lie in these walls, always suffocating her, always punishing her, always reminding her who and what she was. How helpless these walls made her feel while she sat as the First Princess. Her eyes moved towards the windows of Esmeralda’s room only to find her little sister hysterically shouting out her name with Queen Mother holding her back. Esmeralda must have found out but it was too late. Rosamund felt her tears falling on her rosy cheeks. Her breath hitched when she saw the Queen Mother forcefully close the windows without ever giving her a backward glance. Subtly, Rosmaund cleaned the stray tears and, without a backward glance, she went into the carriage. She would fight for herself till the end.

Rosamund made a vow to herself.

I would die but my soul would live. My goodbyes should not be wasted, my breath will count for something. I will fight one last time for myself. If I died, so would he. So would they.