Dead point

Part 1

The noise around was overwhelming; people were running and shouting to each other. The girl with the fair complexion didn't know what to do, so she decided to do nothing. She stared at them with a misty gaze from the perspective of a small wooden stool on which I was sitting.

"Are the tables set yet?!" An older, stooped woman with sagging cheeks gave a stern look at the young blonde girl.

"Yes," the girl said, a barely noticeable blush on her face, "I just need to put the bouquets in the vases." She lowered her head slightly and curtsied, then quickly walked away.

"Good, good," the older woman mumbled quietly to herself. "Go and do it, I won't explain such a blunder!" The woman muttered under her breath, not noticing that the girl had long since left. "It would be a disgrace... A real disgrace..." She said these words feverishly in a quiet, concerned voice. Grace approached her from behind, parted her curly hair, and began to brush it.

"Ouch." She furrowed her brows when Grace tugged too hard on her hair.

"Sorry." Grace looked into her pale green eyes reflected in the mirror, and her face showed remorse.

The girl breathed deeply and evenly. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the pleasant shivers created by the brushing of her hair.

"Are you nervous, ma'am?" Grace lazily lifted her eyes. "I understand, but there's no need to worry." She began shaking her head from side to side. "You will look beautiful, the most beautiful in the whole kingdom, and the king? Ha! The king won't be able to take his eyes off you." She separated another strand of hair. "He himself is quite a man," she paused, thinking, "how should I put it..." she pondered, amusingly shaking her head. "Charismatic! Yes, that's a good word."

She raised her finger high as if she had just come up with the best idea in the world.

"And above all, his face is equally..." she suddenly stopped when I raised my hand.

"I don't think it's proper to gossip about such matters." Grace's face stiffened, and the lump in her throat grew with every word she spoke.

"But don't be nervous; pre-wedding jitters are a human thing," she continued. The old woman seemed unconcerned by the girl's cool response.

"Let's end this conversation; it's not important. The wedding will take place regardless," the woman interrupted firmly. Grace merely nodded and moved away to return with beautiful lace lingerie and a wedding gown. "And love may come on its own," she muttered under her breath, as if trying to comfort or deceive herself.

Ten different women helped her get dressed. It was at least embarrassing to stand before them in all her glory and let them dress her like a rag doll, though a doll doesn't get dressed in the finest lace lingerie made from the best fabrics imported from distant lands.

When any scrap of fabric covered her young body, it was time for the gown. It was beautiful, white with a corset, revealing her back and shoulders. She made a surprised face. Quickly, one of the servants realized and threw a thick white fur over her. It would surely keep her warm. Winter was in full bloom. The cold outside was incredible; due to frequent snowstorms, people only ventured out if absolutely necessary. And the wedding was one such occasion. She pitied all the guests, especially the poorer ones who couldn't afford better furs.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her lightly curled hair gently falling on her chest, and the heavy fur draping over her back and shoulders.

The time came when she had to face her destiny, life's goal, and task. The servants led her to the doors leading to the royal gardens, and the young woman who handled the setting covered her face with a veil. The heavy iron doors swung open. The frosty air struck and pinched her face.