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Isabelle Lightwood, heir to the throne of Alicante, stood in front of the floor length mirror in her dressing chambers. She looked like an absolute goddess, if she did say so herself.
But the sight still caused a sickening feeling to crawl its away up her throat.
She was dressed to the nines in her country’s traditional marital color. Gold. It was everywhere. From the floor length, extravagant wedding dress hugging all the right curves to her body, to the glitter spread through her updo. She wanted nothing more than to rip it all off of her and crawl back into her bed.
She was due to wed Jonathan Christoper Morgenstern, the heir to the throne of Edom, once the clock struck noon.
If it was up to her, she would remain single and free, rule her kingdom solo. But alas, in the conservative and sexist times she lived in, such a thing was forbidden. If she wanted to be crowned queen after the passing of her parents, she had to find a husband. The husband that Robert had chosen for his daughter was, of course, the eldest Morgenstern child.
There was just one small problem with that.
Isabelle was totally and helplessly in love with Prince Jonathan’s little sister, Princess Clarissa.
She’d met the fiery redhead at the engagement party of Duke Lewis and Duchess Roberts of Dumort. Clarissa had been blessed with the opportunity to be the maid of honor of the couple’s wedding. So she had naturally helped host the event. Since it was such a high-profile engagement, Isabelle and her family had been in attendance as well.
She would never forget the first moment she laid eyes on the young princess.
Clarissa’s husband, Prince Jonathan of Idris, had escorted her onto the dance floor for a waltz. That’s how it had started out, but the song had soon morphed into something a little more cheerful and upbeat, and parters began to trade hands.
Isabelle had just been spun away from her latest partner and promptly collided with the next. She’d almost tripped over her own heels when she caught sight of the woman’s face.
When their hands touched, it was like electricity coursed through her fingertips. And judging from the astonished yet mesmerized expression that had enveloped the princess’s face, she’d experienced the same.
When it was time to switch partners again, they’d blatantly refused. When someone got close, they would simply spin away. That night, two straight hours were spent just holding onto one another and dancing to their hearts content.
When Prince Jonathan had returned from the bar to retrieve his wife, Clarissa made some kind of excuse up about needing to pay a visit to the washroom. Her husband informed her he would be waiting for her out in the carriage and exited the palace.
Clarissa latched onto her wrist and dragged her away from the crowd. They wove their way through winding halls and elaborate staircases. Eventually, they’d arrived at the rooftop garden. Isabelle hadn’t had much time to admire the view of the rare, sweet-smelling flowers or the moonlight that beamed down from above before she’d felt a soft pair of lips smashing against her own.
For the following months after the wedding at the Kingdom of Dumort, the two princesses had engaged in a secret, forbidden relationship. They would constantly make up excuses to visit the other’s kingdom. Many of their free nights were spent deep inside Brocelind Forest, curled up together in the grass and gazing up at the stars.
Then their beautiful serenity had shattered all around them.
During one of Isabelle’s many visits to Edom’s palace, she’d accidentally caught the eye of Clarissa’s older brother, Jonathan. The man became totally enraptured with her, constantly asking her to go on outings with him and finding every reason in the world to speak to her when she visited his kingdom.
Isabelle dreaded what could become of his infatuation. And her fears became a reality that following winter.
Jonathan turned up at her kingdom one night out of the blue, requesting a meeting with Isabelle’s parents, the king and queen. As soon as the meeting ended, her parents broke the news to her.
The prince had asked the king for his daughter’s hand in marriage. The king had agreed. They were due to wed in the spring.
Telling Clarissa the news was probably the most difficult thing she’d ever had to do. That night was spent in Clarissa’s chambers, holding the redheaded princess close and trying to calm her tears.
They knew that this love affair they had would come to an end sooner or later. It was pretty well-known that homosexual relations were punishable by banishment to The Spiral Labrinth if you were lucky. For those who weren’t, they would mysteriously vanish during the middle of the night. The citizens of the kingdoms would turn a blind eye to the freshly dug graves in the city of bones.
Isabelle knew of this firsthand. Just a few short years ago, the heir to the throne of Alicante had been her eldest brother, Prince Alexander. Unlike many younger siblings of royal families, she didn’t resent her oldest sibling nor did she feel envious of his opportunities. Isabelle loved her brother dearly, and was more than content to stand in his shadow and support him whenever he needed her.
Until the day he disappeared.
It’d happened well over three years ago. The Prince snuck into her chambers in the middle of the night, dropping a boatload of bombshells on her and barely giving her any time to process what was even happening.
Alec had fallen in love with a peasant from Edom. And the peasant was another man.
Her brother and the peasant were engaged in a secret relationship. Had been for almost a year. The previous night, something apparently clicked in his brain that told him enough was enough. He was tired of running and tired of hiding from the knights of both of their respected kingdoms. He and the peasant, who he called ‘Magnus’, hatched a plan to run away to another providence, one rumored to be slightly less strict on the relationships of their citizens. They would be leaving that very same night.
Isabelle begged him not to go, not to abandon her. Alec was much more than her brother; he was her best friend too. Without him she’d be all alone. Well, she would still have Max. But he was too young to understand anything she was going through. Alec was the only person she felt she could confide in. But with tears in his eyes, he kissed her cheek, gifted her his crown, and vanished into the darkness.
Nobody ever heard from him again.
His disappearance was the talk of the kingdom for months afterwards. Rumors circulated like crazy amongst the townsfolk. Some said that he was mauled by a pack of wolves, others said that he’d been captured by a group of thieves, but none of them knew the real story. Isabelle was the only one in the world who did. And she would take that information to her grave.
Isabelle couldn’t lie, the same idea had went through her head a few more times than strictly appropriate. To run off with Clary the same way her big brother had with Magnus. But, in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She had a duty to fulfill. She wasn’t going to abandon her people for a place that may or may not possibly exist.
Logically, the princesses knew this would happen. But somewhere along the way, they’d chosen to ignore it and live in the here and now. They were going to pay the consequences of that decision today.
Isabelle was startled out of her thoughts by a gentle kiss being pressed onto her shoulder. In the reflection of the mirror, she saw Clary standing behind her in an emerald-green gown, arms circulated around her waist tightly.
“You look beautiful, Iz,” she whispered into her hair.
Isabelle could only nod. The tears constricting her throat wouldn’t allow her to speak. Clary understood just by looking into her eyes. She always had. She spun the other princess around to face her, and held her flush against her chest as she pressed a gentle, bittersweet kiss to her lips. They basked in it for as long as they were allowed, kissing sensually and breathing each other in.
“I’ll always love you,” Clary murmured against her lips before she reluctantly pulled away.
Isabelle fought hard against the tears threatening to spill. “I...I’ll always love you too, Clary.”
The redhead didn’t have a chance to reply, because a loud knock sounded throughout Isabelle’s chambers. It was time.
Clary released a quiet sob and hugged her one final time. “Goodbye, Princess Isabelle Lightwood. I wish you a long, and joyous life.”
Isabelle ran her fingers through the other girl’s bright red locks. “Goodbye, Princess Clarissa Morgenstern. I wish you the same in return,” she replied, the world-shattering pain she was feeling inside evident in the tone of her voice.
With one final kiss, they went their separate ways.
And that following night, as Isabelle lied bare next to her snoring husband, she cried herself to sleep.