I'm posting this story again just to have it on this WORLD. If you've already commented, don't feel the need to comment again. Although I'd appreciate it :P
“Your dress is so beautiful, princess. You’re a beautiful bride.” The servant helped the princess drape her veil just right.
“Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you.” The princess looked at herself in the mirror. It was true; the dress was beautiful on her. The creamy whiteness contrasted with her deep brown skin, and her black hair peeked through the silk veil. The pale floral embroidery on the overskirt and sleeves was just the right touch. The black ribbon sash stood out surprisingly against the white dress, but somehow it was fitting. She was indeed a beautiful bride.
“King Marcos is lucky to have you,” her handmaid continued. “I’m sure you’ll have lovely children.”
“I doubt that.”
“Oh… Princess Mara… Maybe he’ll be a good husband.”
Mara smoothed her skirt and adjusted the sash. She looked in the mirror again. A beautiful bride.
“I suppose you’re right. I’ll have to give him a chance.” She rested her hand on her sash where a small dagger was hidden.
She had no intention of making it to her wedding night.
Princess Mara stood at the doors to the church. The long dress just brushed the tips of her satin slippers. Her hands were shaking as she took her bouquet from her mother.
“Just relax, dear,” the queen said, kissing her forehead. “You’ll be happy. You look beautiful; your dress is lovely.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“I just wish you hadn’t chosen black flowers,” her mother fussed. “It’s so depressing. This is a happy day.”
“They’re black and purple.” Mara held her flowers in both hands to keep them from shaking. “I like them.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Mara. The music is starting. Go to your husband.”
Princess Mara took a deep breath as the doors opened. The church was all decorated in deep purple with hints of black, just like her flowers. Even her fiancée’s waistcoat was purple. Another deep breath before walking to him.
King Marcos was a tyrant. Everyone knew it. He amused himself by tormenting his servants. War was a game to him. He thought nothing of sending hundreds of soldiers into a death trap of a battle. Mara’s marriage to him was political, nothing more. With her as his wife, Marcos agreed never to attack her country. She had no choice.
But you do have a choice, the weight of her dagger reminded her with every step closer to him. Mara’s hands clenched on her bouquet. Not yet. Not yet. She reached him.
Marcos let his eyes slide over her, not trying to hide his lust.
“What a dress,” he said appreciatively. “It makes you look beautiful.”
The priest began. Mara felt faint. She vaguely heard King Marcos take her as his bride, and she responded in kind. She felt the cold ring slip over her finger like a miniature handcuff. She gave Marcos his ring.
There was no reception. Marcos didn’t want to waste any time getting to the honeymoon, and what the king wanted, he got. He whisked the princess away to his bedroom immediately and shrugged off his formal coat.
“
Let me see what you’re hiding under that beautiful dress,” he smirked.
“No.”
The king’s eyes went hard. “What was that?”
“I said no.”
Mara’s face stung with a sudden slap.
“You’ll do as I say. I’m your husband.”
“Not by my choice.”
Another slap, and Mara’s beautiful dress was torn. Marcos pulled at the overskirt, ripping a long hole into the fabric. It hung by the stitches still attached to the bodice.
“Stop!” Mara shoved him. He came back at her and grabbed a handful of hair. Her sleeve was the next to go. It barely hung off her shoulder, the delicate embroidery ruined. She tried to run. The door was so close.
Marcos grabbed her sash and yanked her back before the delicate fabric ripped in his hands. The sash slipped down and Mara’s dagger fell out, landing on the floor with a heavy clunk! The king stared at it.
“What were you planning?!” He lunged for the dagger but the nimble princess beat him to it.
“You will not touch me!” She held the dagger defensively. She made quite a sight: veil slipping out of her hair, dress torn and ruined, carefully chosen flowers forgotten. “I didn’t bring it for you.”
The king was seething.
“Give it to me now before you do something you regret, stupid girl.”
Mara spit in his face. Marcos lunged at her, but couldn’t twist away fast enough to avoid the princess’s dagger. It slit open his chest just above his heart. The king fell, his blood pooling around Princess Mara’s feet. It took only seconds for him to bleed out.
Mara looked down at her dress. The hem was splattered and soaked in blood. She looked at the dead man lying at her feet. She couldn’t go home. There was nothing for her here.
She thrust the dagger into her chest. Another red stain spread over the torn fabric as she fell.
It was a shame. It was a beautiful dress.
