Once Upon an Us (Arranged Marriage to a Prince)

He's called for me. Prince Cillian. The moment I receive Word, I feel my heart begin to gallop in my chest until I'm clutching at the tight fabric around my bosoms in a panic. I can't breathe. I can't breathe! "Maria!" My maid, Rosalita, rushes across the room toward me. Wrinkles deepen on her face from her concerned expression as she grabs hold of my arms and shakes me out of my anxious stupor with strength that should evade a fifty-year-old woman. From the rapid movement, some of her silvery hair escapes its loose ponytail and falls into her widening cerulean blue eyes. One more good jolt, and she nods slowly as I drag desperate gulps of air back into my lungs. "That's it. Good girl. Just breathe. You are going to be alright." Alright was a generous way to describe my sullen fate at the hands of Prince Cillian. Doomed is a much more accurate description. The things I've heard of Prince Cillian of Prua have been nothing but borderline evil. I know that some are probably the handy work of his tyrannical Father, King Lance, but the man should have dementia by now. He hasn't made a public appearance to address his citizens in over a year. They laugh at the lower class, leaving the scraps for them after the Royal family and their noble friends are done enjoying the best of the harvest. One of my dearest friends, Ruth, migrated from there and told me horror stories from growing up as a servant in the castle. Now I've spent my entire life wishing someone would save me from this fate. It's too late. I've been his since I was a baby--Promised to the ruthless Prince Cillian of Prua as a sign of peace between our countries. I thought I had more time. I thought I could find a way out of it. I thought I'd be saved from what I believe will be a bleak fate, but my eighteenth birthday has arrived, and I am due to say 'I do' before tomorrow night ends. "But remember what Ruth-" "Oh, Hush. Ruth was probably telling horror stories. You have to see that kind of stuff for yourself before you go putting yourself into a heart attack. Understand?" Since the death of my parents and the throne of my home country, Kamarre, a smaller European country than Prua, having gone to my Uncle, Rosalita has been like a mother to me. Although she's my maid, I look to her for guidance and respect her like family. "You don't know that," I croak as I plop down on my bed, hands folding in my lap defeatedly. I bow my head and tightly close my eyes. Lord, please get me out of this! I don't want to go! I don't want to marry him! A forceful knock on my bedroom door rips me from prayer and lands me back in reality, where I am destined to be the next Princess of Prua. "Maria, you must be ready within the hour. You are to leave tonight." Uncle Miano, the acting King, sighs on the other side of the door when I don't respond to his instruction. "Maria, I'm serious." "She will be ready, Your Highness." I shake my head rapidly at Rosalita, wishing she'd stayed quiet. Her eyes narrow, chastising me with a mere look. My face blazes hot with embarrassment as I sigh. "Fine!" I begin to respond before gnashing my teeth. "But wait! Rosalita is coming with me!" "I'm sure Prince Cillian will have his own pick of maids for you-" "And as wonderful as that sounds, I would prefer to have whom I am comfortable with. Prince Cillian will have to deal with it." Rosalita's mouth becomes a thin line as she suppresses a grin. "Fine, whatever you wish, just please hurry. You know this treaty is important for us, Maria. You must do your duty as we all have." I suppose he's right. Uncle Miano never wanted to inherit the throne. He spent his life being a playboy, going against our royal family's religious and societal expectations, only to have the kingdom land in his lap when my mother and father perished during a fire one night. His heavy, receding footsteps spur Rosalita into action. "I've drawn you a bath, Maria. Hurry and head to it while it is still warm." With another sigh, I push myself off the bed and go to my bathroom. Steam wafts from the bath, turning into inviting swirls that appear like fingers ushering me toward its comfort. I carry myself to it, letting my dress slip and fall to the ground before discarding my undergarments as well. Once I submerge myself in the tub, the warm water lapping at every inch of exposed skin up to my neck, I feel my muscles relaxing. Perhaps, Rosalita is right. What if Cillian isn't as evil as Ruth has made him out to be? What if he's just a man that is misunderstood? I could potentially have a better life than expected. Lord, I'll trust in your direction of my life. I hope Prince Cillian doesn't let me down! I take my time washing up. So much so that Rosalita is unfriendly when I emerge, and she begins to get me dressed. She puts me in a corset that almost completely blocks my breath and a beautiful emerald-colored gown with an elongated V-shaped bodice, a full skirt, and a low v-neckline, but the bust area is covered with a chemisette. My brown, with hints of auburn, curls are pinned up into a low bun with ringlets framing my heart-shaped face. I resemble so much of my mother. I swear it's her looking back at me in the mirror. With a fine set of jewels around my neck, matching earrings, and a light layer of makeup, Rosalita looks at me with tearing eyes and swallows. "You are so very beautiful, mi hija. You are like the daughter I never had." I throw my arms around her, hugging her tightly. She pats my back soothingly before she pulls back and wipes at her eyes. "Enough of that. Your things and my things have been brought down to the carriage. We must make haste." I look around my chambers, the only home I've known, and feel the painful tug of sadness. "This is it." *** The carriage ride is bumpy, but the company of Rosalita keeps me at bay. The night is particularly dark, with no stars, just the moon, which pales in comparison to its usual, beautiful luminescence. It will take approximately the entire night's journey to get there. Thankfully, my stomach endures for the ride, and I don't have to use the bathroom as the hours slowly edge by. At one point, I manage to fall asleep for the last three of them until I'm gently awakened by Rosalita. "Miss Mills. We are here." Rosalita becomes formal anytime we are not at home or if we are at home and there are guests. She knows when to act accordingly. We both have parts to play. "Thank you, Rosalita." The carriage door is opened, the coachman offering a hand to first me, then Rosalita. When I'm free from the carriage, and I've dusted off my gown, I take in the surroundings of the massive estate. The castle is colossal. The stone structures are breathtaking and yet foreboding all at the same time. A grandiose new prison for me. There are several towers and connecting structures. From further inspection, I realize there's a drawbridge that adds defense to this stronghold. I am ushered toward the front of the manor, up wide stone steps that become more daunting with each movement forward. I am not sure what I expected, but a hush welcome was not one of them. I understand it's early in the morning. So early, in fact, that the sky is still pitch black, but if the Prince summoned for me so quickly, I expected a regalia welcoming. That is not the true author of my disappointment, though. There is no sign of anyone but the Steward and the house servants. No royal family. No Cillian. What on earth is happening? Lord, this isn't looking so good after all! "Hello, My Princess. I am Stephanus, the estate's Steward. It's splendid to make your acquaintance." He bows, and as he does, the staff bow and curtsey in respect. I nod, eyes flitting down the line of people one last time, all of which are old and most of which are women. I was told he had inky black hair and endless dark eyes. I don't see someone resembling him. "Is the Prince not up?" Stephanus's face falters before he clears his throat and offers his hand. I accept and allow him to lead me down the line of staff as he goes over their names and positions. Almost as if he's avoiding the subject. When he's finished, he introduces me to my maids. I quickly interject that I've brought my most trusted maid, and although I see a protest gleaming in his stern eyes, he doesn't push the issue. "As you wish. They will lead you to your chambers, and I will have a room prepared for the maid you've brought with you." "Thank you. But Stephanus," I call when he has begun to spin on his heel. He halts, brows raised, curiosity in his stare. "Where is Prince Cillian?" "Oh, um, the Prince is asleep, I believe. He will greet you at breakfast." Breakfast. How utterly hospitable. "Thanks," I say through gritted teeth before following my two maids, Fawna and Felicia, who brunette haired twins with mousy features but kind personalities. "This way, Your Highness." I am a little baffled that Cillian wouldn't greet me himself. I guess I was hoping for a more inviting first impression to ease the worry born of Ruth's carping. "Is everything alright, Your Highness?" Fawna asks as we climb a grand marble staircase. She glances over her shoulder at me with raised eyebrows. I plaster a fake smile on my face, not wanting to upset her. "I'm fine, Fawna. Thank you for asking." Fawna nod's before I notice her and Felicia exchanging a look. I can't even pull a fast one on the maids. How am I to hide my distaste or my uncomfortableness in front of Prince Cillian if I can't even convince the help I am enduring just fine? I shake off my anger, willing my jaw to loosen. I just need some rest. A few consecutive hours of peace in a cozy bed can change even the worst of attitudes, I've been told. It seems like hours go by of moving about the interior of the castle. My eyes fleet over designs carved meticulously into the wood and ceilings covered in extravagant paintings honoring the male and female figures, some of the angels, and others of the blazing sun in the sky. There are a multitude of corridors. Too many to get lost in. This castle makes the one I lived in back at home look like a decrepit, suffocating shed. "We can go in and help you get ready for-" "No!" I blurt, only realizing by their startled faces how rude I sound. "I mean, I understand it is your duty, but I would prefer to just have the remainder of the night to myself. I will see you both in a few hours." Or whenever Prince Cillian decides he's done hiding or playing whatever games he is, and he calls upon me. They both curtsey and disappear down the corridor. Alone finally. The weight of my duty has begun to crush me, and underneath their scrutiny, I was bound to c***k. I miss my Uncle. I miss my country. I miss the comforts of the only home I've known. It's all gone. With a deep sigh, I twist the knob, push open the door and step across the threshold into my room. Candles are lit on both bedside tables to illuminate just enough of the room not to walk directly into furniture, but there are still vast shadows in certain corners that play with my mind, taking the shape of ghosts, ghouls, and strangers. Men even. "Welcome, Princess..." The deep cadence of a male's voice is heard from the darkness in the far right corner of the room. I gasp, utterly frozen in all other aspects other than the breath refusing to remain in my lungs. He steps out into the moonlight streaming through a c***k in the curtains and grins a devilishly handsome grin. A lock of dark hair falls onto his forehead as his dark eyes trace my figure up and down. "Who are you? G-Get out!" "Is that really how you want to greet your Prince?" Prince Cillian?