The Crown Formality

Chapter One: The Wedding

On the night before Christmas, I had given my first kiss away. It was not taken by brute force or lost in the throws of passion. I gave it away. My lips were cold and quivered with nervousness, but I was relieved because he felt the same way. I knew it was his first kiss as well. I could almost feel the heat on his cheeks, and all too soon he pulled away. My eyes fluttered open in a daze and I looked up at him. He was red from embarrassment, averting eye contact with me at all costs. I felt the embarrassment as well, my hands clenched on the white roses I held in my hand. Imported from Italy, did you know? Time slowed down after that kiss and I blinked back tears as he smiled at the crowd in front of us. He waved with his quiet, regal air and grabbed my wrist gently. The man standing on the platform with us lifted up his hands and beamed, "I now present to you, Crown Prince Benedict and Princess Genevieve. May God bless this marriage."

I smiled and bowed to the minister politely and to the crowd, giving a more shy smile to my new husband, Benedict. He nodded at me and escorted me from the chapel to the awaiting car outside. Cameras flashed in the distance, but they were too far away to be a bother.

"My lady," he said as he helped me in. I nodded at him and scooted over.

I frowned.

He lifted a brow curiously at me. "Whatever is the matter?"

I remembered he was raised to speak formally when in public. I followed.

"Oh, what am I to do with my bouquet? I forgot to toss it."

"That's for the reception."

"Which is next week," I added, glancing at the sultry gloom outside. "Did we really have to be married on Christmas Eve?"

He crossed his arms, leaning his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes. I could sense his migraine coming on. "That's the date that Adella wanted."

I became silent then. I'm sure you can already tell, my dear Diary, this isn't the fairytale wedding I've been dreaming of these past 15 years. Don't mock me. I only started considering marriage when I was 7 years old. But yes, my dear husband Benedict and I had an arranged marriage of sorts. He is the Crown Prince of Antis, a thick slab of land located between Germany and Poland. Antis has become a favored ground for forming European peace treaties. Once again, I have gotten off-topic. Adella is my and Benedict's best friend who ran away a month before the wedding. As it is custom for the Antisian people, the identity of the bride is unknown until the day of the wedding. To save face, the royal family instructed me, Edith Genevieve Moore, to stand in place in case Adella failed to return. She did, and I took Adella's place as bride.

We arrived at the gate of our new home--well, the home meant for Adella and Benedict. She was somewhat of a controlling person, but she got her way through her educated way that allowed others to see things in her perspective. She made whatever she wanted what others wanted as well. As the driver sped down the empty road back to the city, my heart pounded nervously. It IS our wedding night. But I had never been romantically involved with the Crown Prince of Atlis before! As though reading my thoughts, he pointed down the hall. "Your room is down there. Good night."

"What?"

He unbuttoned his shirt and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Adella made sure she made a room for you when we built this."

I pretended not to feel my heart slow down, straightening my shoulders and smiling. "I didn't hear you correctly the first time. Good night. And thank you."

He nodded politely and tossed his button-up on the ground and stalked to the kitchen. I nearly stumbled on my wedding dress as I made my way down the hall. Benedict was always a quiet and reserved person, but this silence was tormenting. As I slowly undressed in my room, a tear slid down my face. Adella, what have you done?

As I have stated before, Diary, Adella was my best friend and also Benedict's. She was since the day we shared nursery in the Castle. Which meant...Benedict was my best friend as well. I had fallen in love with Benedict when I was 13 years old. I was sure he would have fallen for me too if the opportunities ever arose. But Benedict was the Crown Prince. Adella was daughter of the King's main advisor. My father was the head of Finance. Who do you think then spent more time with beloved Benedict? Yes, in the fall of my 16th year, Adella and Benedict were in love. I couldn't bear to lose either of them and instead became their number one wingwoman. Their happiness was my happiness.

I wiped the tears that fell from my eyes and looked at the regal form in the mirror. Brown curls were pinned up to reveal my slender neck, the dress Adella designed herself for me fit my shape perfectly. In the moonlight, the pearls that were pinned into my hair gave me a delicate sparkle. I looked like a beautiful bride.

I was the one who walked down the aisle.

I was the one who said those vows to him.

I was the one who kissed him.

I was the one who became part of his family.

I was the one who stayed.

I was the one who listened to him, cared for him, appreciated him.

My knees gave way and I began to sob. I was the one who got Benedict in the end, but why do I still feel like the loser? Diary. I think my suffering has just begun.