The Swan's Wish

"​How can I be late, again?" I swatted my dress back into its shape, absolutely abhorred by the pricking sweat I felt rushing down the back of my legs. Hmph. If this is what they wanted, this is what they got. "​Maybe because you threw a tantrum like a child and refused to wear what your mother picked." Thomas' voice softly threw the accusation. I​ glared at the body guard. "I didn't ask you." H​e shrugged, a slight smirk on his mouth. T​he town car rolled to a stop in front of the venue, and a tall lanky man pulled the handle of my door. "Your Royal Highness," he nodded his head respectfully while extending his hand. "​Thank you," I obliged, hoping my dress would come with me the way it was intended. I thought only small children were forced to wear these poufs out in public, but alas. T'was my fate to look like an overgrown, overly decorated cupcake at this event. Or charity. Or whatever it was that I was supposed to be attending. H​ow nice it must be to stay at home and read every once in a while. Or watch television. Or eat a food that wasn't perfectly curated animal gizzard that tasted more like plastic than chicken. You know, not stuck at another social gathering that required all of a person's strength not to completely bash the brains of an overzealous photographer that had zero regard for personal space. Smiling through clenched teeth, Thomas and I waded through the throng of celebrities, musicians, and entrepreneurs, ignoring the flashes that blinded my pupils every couple of seconds. Looking for the familiar face that insisted I be here tonight, I swiveled this way and that, noticing how many times my dress made that loathsome sound as it brushed against every body within two feet of my being. Swish! Rush! "​Odette! Oh, Odette!" I heard the voice above the roar. How? I'll never know. M​y mother. As we approached, a hole opened in the crowd. Princess Charlotte was surrounded by her usual entourage. They moved just enough to let me in the inner circle. "​Darling, how lovely you look." She bent slightly to press her cheek to mine. "Late again, as usual. Try and smile prettily. You'll do yourself no favors scowling like that. Think of the wrinkles." She stood back to admire the ridiculous costume she had selected for me. "I do adore Monsieur Phippen. His designs are to die for!" She exclaimed as she touched the bright pink tulle extending to a perfect circle around my body. "​I wish I had died." I mocked, choosing to ignore her criticism. "Mother, do I have to be here?" Surveying the crowds, I noticed there were plenty of A-listers that would draw more attention than I ever would. "I have to be up early tomorrow morning for practice. You know this." I didn't attempt to hide the annoyance in my voice. "​Now, now, darling. You will be here, and you'll be pleasant. Tonight's a very important night." Her eyes twinkled with their usual mischief. "​Motherrrr," I groaned. "Who? What? Ugh. Is this just a photo-op occasion, or do I actually have the privilege of talking to someone?" I threw barbs with that last one, causing Thomas to chuckle behind me. "I would much rather be HOME." I exasperated the point. A slight pout cornered her perfectly lined lips. "Odette Alexandria Charlotte Maria Bernadotte Cromwell! Don't embarrass me. Here," she pulled a tendril of hair down to frame my cheek. "Look bright." S​he marched forward, not waiting for me to follow. The waves of people split like the Red Sea, no one daring to cross the Princess's wake. The gold of her silk embroidered gown was sparkling under the hundreds of lights precariously hanging from the rafters of this large space. People softly "Oohed," and "Aaaahed," as they watched her magnificent form strike its path. I looked for event markers--not at all enchanted by my mother's beauty--still not managing to find that blasted invitation that had drifted from my reticule. The posters read, "British Academy Film Awards." Oof. I really didn't want to have to sit through that monstrosity again. The blue backgrounds with glitter lettering painted the way towards the large theater. The huge doors were opened just enough for the waitstaff to lead people in to their seats. Last year, I'd sat by this huge buffoon of a man that smelled suspiciously of body odor and cigar smoke. He was drunk, all hands, and had commented several times on the neckline of my dress. Barf. "People need to know we are interested and supportive of the arts, Odette." She had scolded me before. "Not just in the medicine and sciences." This had been a conversation stemmed from an over-busy schedule of the previous year. I had been exhausted, and demanded to know WHY we were REQUIRED to attend EVERY. SINGLE. EVENT. the season had to offer. Especially when it propelled me into awful situations that I'd rather forget. S​he stopped before the large doors of the main entrance, her body angling as she posed carefully. I looked beyond her, wondering who in the world she was expecting. A​ quiet sort of hush fell over the room. There was a movement that rustled through the middle, disturbing the waves much like my mother had done. Stealing the view from every on-looker was the most dashing young man I'd ever seen. N​ot that that was anything spectacular. We rubbed elbows with the most beautiful people in the world. B​ut it was the way his eyes found mine that unnerved me. In this swarm of people, he was looking directly at me. "​Smile, darling." My mother coaxed through clenched teeth, her smile never wavering. "You remember Derek, don't you?" L​ike a ton of bricks crashing into my body, I looked back at the man in horror. "NO!" I half squeaked. "Moth-her!" I whipped my head to face her. "You know if he's here that means--" "Your Highness," My mother crooned, extending her hand for him to kiss. "Right on time. I expect you remember my daughter?" H​is dark lashes swept upward, his body bowing before he gingerly took my hand. "How could I forget?" He whispered. His dark hair coiffured with no hair out of place. "How are you, my betrothed?"