Dear Sweet Reader,
This is a consequence of a terrible sugar high…
The Royal Reflection
Gently curled tendrils that usually fell to angled shoulders, were pulled into a coil, wounded in the back with ribbons. embroidered with pearls, her tresses were fiery silk threaded on a cream head. Her eyebrows held a charming arch that always betrayed her countenance when artfully ascended or contorted. Eyes, a vacant blue held neither a merry fire nor danced, hiding behind feathered eyelashes. A harsh nose sloped down to a scowl. Lush lips, regally tinted, gave lift to the curvature of her cheekbones when she smiled. So rare, so full of mirth.
She only wore the finest. Pearls threaded in virgin white silk. Her sleeves were arrogantly pouffed, slimming sharply as the fabric touched her elbows. The lace of the high-collar, severely pleated lace reticella and empire neckline revealed a fleshy pink neck that flowed to a simple bust. The bodice of the dress was two layers of silk over a mid-bust corset and satin slip. The farthingale beneath her dress, clasped at her waist, covered by a slip of tulle both under and above kirtle. The bodice of the dress was topped with pearls, and covered the chaos beneath.Stockings flirtatiously peeked underneath the ankle-length hem of the dress. Her feet were slipped into platform heels, simply layered with silk.
Gold and jewels adorned her ears and neck.
A sinister creak made Elizabeth turn.
“It is time”
Rising from her reverie, Elizabeth looked at her lady’s maid.
“You are to be married today. Are you not happy?” The timid swarthy girl asked, taking the train of her Lady’s dress.
“I am ready.”
Two large doors, etched in gold, infected with age were thrown open.
“Your Queen!” a guard boomed.
She looked toward the throne, where her husband awaited. She would be forever bound to her betrothed, this relationship in which she would give her all.
She began to walk slowly.
Her future in her marriage was uncertain. Marriage was foreign, new. There was some excitement, some fear, a little anxiety. They would tumble to together. They would be together in ways she had never been with anyone else; She would bare her all.
The foreboding sound of the organ groaning matched graceful steps.
She hoped her betrothed would be patient with her, for she was still learning. She fancied before long they would grow to love each other. For now this arranged marriage would be as much a duty, a ritual, as her morning tea.
When she reached the alter, where a priest stood adorned in jeweled robes, she turned to face her people. She stood erect, her chin arched. She stared at her people, they stared back.
Today she gave herself to them. In holy matrimony, she would be theirs.