TXT Imagines

𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 (2)👑 Choi Soobin

"You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen, my lady!"

My maid, Rosalinda, gushed while fixing the beads of crystal woven into my now-curled hair. Excitement dripped from her voice like water from a cup with holes, chilling my bones and binding my nerves, making me nauseated. I ignored the echoes of agreement from the other maids present in the room and looked back at the mirror, marveling at the foreign beauty that stared back at me.

Gazing at the fear manifesting in every crevice of her dolled-up face, ice-cold fingers of panic wrapped around my throat, raking bitter air into my lungs. The day I've been dreading for the last weeks has finally come to put an end to my fretting, yet it did not offer any sense of comfort. On the contrary, the distress I endured for days is only a preparation for the lifelong misery awaiting me.

After meeting the Royal Family, my parents, alongside the King and Queen, were delighted to know that Soobin and I had made an interaction—however fleeting it may have been—prior to the formal introduction. They believed that the unexpected turn of events call for an immediate wedding, deeming that becoming acquainted with each other was unnecessary. "You will spend the rest of your lives in the Sterling Estate together—you will have plenty of time to know each other." These were the exact words of the King when I hinted about my concern. Thus preparations for the royal wedding were made; flocks of servants arrived at our home to assist me with my dresses, my dowries were settled, and the great Sterling estate buzzed with workers coordinating for the nuptial ceremony.

And now, there is no turning back from the accord that chained me to a supposedly sacred and loving moment of star-united lovers. My heart was akin to a piece of a mature bud—spreading its delicate petals toward the awful knowledge that I would forever be tethered to someone I do not love. Terror rolls across my brain in painful images: tales of forced marriage that led to the tormented existence of wives dealing with infidelity, indifference, and abuse from their own spouses.

"Are you feeling alright, sister? You look a little pale."

Yvonne's soft voice incinerated my thoughts.

She was closely facilitating my maids, and I did not notice that her muddy brown had fallen onto my face in deeper scrutiny.

"Try sitting here for hours with a dozen hands touching your body, let us see what you'll look like." I retorted rather brusquely due to trepidation.

"Y/N!"

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth to restrain my mouth from running. My mother entered the room clad in a gold and white fusion of a silky gown adorned with pearls and laces. Her face was vibrant with light rouge, and her hair was tossed into a neat bun. She looks ravishing—an echo of her younger self as a Viscountess of Earlwind before she too, was trapped in a loveless marriage.

"Everyone," She calmly began, her eyes that were the softest shade of brown with the forest moss clothing the pupils boring into mine. "Please leave us for a moment."

There was a brief disarray before all the servants piled out to give us some space.

"What is this behavior you are exhibiting, Y/N? In less than an hour, you will be marrying the Crown Prince! But you're still keeping this ungracious demeanor!"

"Ungracious, Mother?" I questioned, incredulous as I turned to face her. "You had forced my hand into this union, and now you also want to dictate what I should feel? What more do you expect from me?"

"I expect you to play your part," She answered sternly, stepping closer so she is standing right in front of me. "We all have parts to play—and you are old enough to fulfill yours for the sake of our family. And obviously, you are making no effort to do just that!"