Royally Screwed

16

The first wedding I'd been to was a small Anglican affair in an old church. My mum was friends with the bride which contributed to her eagerness to attend this wedding. She wasn't a very sociable person. She'd always been focused on her work. The few friends she had, she treasured greatly.

I had been eight then, and I just barely got the gist of weddings. I sat with my parents in the middle, mum, who never cried, had tears in her eyes when the bride walked down the isle in a stunning lacy white gown. I was forced to stand, but I could see why when the bride strode up the carpet within my small sight. 

She was my mums age, but she looked glowing and radiant. That picture of her walking down the isle would forever then be engraved in my memory because I wanted a wedding like that, an old church with wooden pews and people that loved me surrounding me.

I remember the love in her eyes as she looked at a man whose skin was darker and hair whiter than her. I wanted that.

Maybe that's why throughout school in the years of puppy love, I was picky but when I did fall for someone, I fell hard often giving up every bit of me in the process. Somewhere along that way, love lost its spark on me and now as I touched the white lacy gloves that covered my hands, I wondered if that silly idea should have been squashed too.

There was butterflies in my stomach. I knew we'd had multiple rehearsals but that didn't stop the nerves that bloomed under my skin and the longing that crept up my heart. I wasn't nervous about marrying the love of my life, I was nervous about the show that I would put on in front of all the visiting royals and people who the country had an alliance to would see through me. They'd see this pregnant lying whore marrying the Crown Prince and object to it. 

They'd masked me up well, thick globs of foundation that's a shade darker than my skintone. I felt this urge to tell them this mask wasn't perfect, that if they took it off people would still recognise me. 

I wasn't ugly.

But I needed to look stunning, magical otherworldly. I needed to look magical so they could see why a crown prince would want me. I needed enough make up for Philip to love me so at least one thing about this affair wouldn't be pretend.

The wedding gown was a lie. 

White; the colour of purity was tainted by me, how could he love me when I wore a lie? The tourist I had begun to fall for, he was a hollow version of himself as he came in the darkest of nights to calm himself to sleep. He pretended he was fine but as our wedding approached, I wasn't blind to the way he began to look. 

He'd lost weight, I noticed it when my arms wrapped around his waist. He was still muscular but he was thinner. His cheekbones struck out more as the wedding approached and he lost anything boyish about him as the date drew nearer. 

This wasn't right.

There was nothing I could do to ease the unease in my stomach that bloomed and showed itself every damn time I glanced at the mirror. I couldn't shove this unease that I wasn't enough. That I wasn't good enough. 

"You look beautiful," I turned around, a smile gracing my lips as I glanced at my mother who had willingly entered the storm of beauticians and maids that had the honour of doing my make-up.

My bridesmaids which consisted of alliances to the throne, turned to glance in interest in my mother. We'd barely spoke when the Queen introduced us but I understood it was vital for me to play the role of a beyond grateful bride that all these women were my bridesmaids but it felt so far from my dream wedding where I was surrounded by the ones I loved that it felt difficult to play into the part she wanted me to play.

"So do you, mum," I said ignoring the ache as I stood up, ignoring the sound of protest from the woman doing my nails to turn and hug her. The peach dress frills got in the way but I ignored it, it was a pretty dress, one that brought out her figure and made her look regal. 

My mother was the first to let go, taking a step back,  to admire the Greek gown some famous designer designed specially for me. I was in the dream wedding, I reminded myself. Hoping it would show on my face as I walked down the isle. Ignore the feeling my mind scolded my gut.

"You won't believe this," My mum said still stealing glances at the lavish gown, "but they're trying to put concealer on your father." 

I had been looking for a release, something to calm the knots in my stomach and my mum gave me the chance. Because something was wrong but I wasn't sure what, it just edged me in the back of my mind. But the thought of my father, being restrained by beauticians as they tried to apply concealer was enough to push aside my worries and doubts.  

A giggle escaped my lips. "I'm not a wee woman," I tried to mimic what my dad would have said as they tried. My mum and I started giggling more.

"I've never seen your father more horrified," mum admitted, peals of giggles turning into laughter.

"I wonder if he'll have his way," I wondered. 

As we were laughing, I heard the sound of two more girls. I turned to look, startled to see them so refined. Maria was one to dress up, but she favoured little clothing while Ellie always covered every bit of her up because she didn't like how pale she was. That of course, didn't help her get any tanner. But the two of them looked classy, sassy and the two I'd rather have walk with me down the isle.

I was robbed of that too.

The two of them don't see that, they looked excited, wide smiles and surprise in their eyes as they registered what I wore.

"You look -" Ellie started.

"Amazing," Maria breathed out, eyes wide in awe.

I did a spin for them, the two girls laughed then both of them, carefully hugged me. I wasn't complete, if the nail and hair team were any indicator, but it didn't matter because the blooming sense of joy started as we laughed and chatted for a bit before the woman doing my nails got impatient and said something in Greek.

"You should go back to do your nails," my ever-practical mother said pushing me back on the chair.

But they didn't leave the room, keeping me much needed company as the beauticians worked their magic on me. 

"You're so lucky," Ellie said wistfully watching the beautician do my hair. "The prince, besides being a total hottie is nice."

"You've met him?" I couldn't keep the shock from my voice.

Ellie glanced at Maria, unsure and a little puzzled, "Yeah, he invited us for a tour of the gardens, he even showed us the place he proposed to you!"

I closed my eyes, "Oh."

"Is anything wrong?" Maria asked.

"No, nothing," I replied quickly.

"If you're going to lie, the least you can do is be convincing," Maria remarked, standing up looking annoyed.

"No, Maria, it's just that -" I faltered. "I well, I miss him, he's been very busy after the engagement." 

Both of their eyes spoke with understanding, my chest twisted on the inside. I desperately wanted to tell them the whole truth, from my pregnancy to this but I couldn't. I wanted them to envy me, to long to be me.

I was always the one who admired them, you had Maria whom boys loved and Ellie whom boys protect and then, there was me, plain old Alana. I was the one the guys would end up being forced to date so their friend could date Maria. I wasn't the one they wanted, not always. I was good for one thing and that was a warm body to lie beside, but even then I was choosy. 

I pushed that thought away, glad that my new instagram page had followed them back because I knew like my parents, these two would leave. And while I couldn't tell them the truth, at least, I could still be connected to them.

It was only the little things I could do, not the large ones, like confessing a royal scandal. 

"Don't worry, he must love you very much," Ellie said gently touching my arm. "He wants to marry you Alana, and no one would marry a person they didn't care for."

I wished I believed her.

But she didn't know the royals.