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…Four more days until I meet you, princess. Words cannot describe how my heart aches at the chance to be in your presence. There aren’t enough gardens in the world for every flower I plan to offer you.
Alya read the latest letter Marinette had received from her betrothed in a dramatic imitation. The lady-in-waiting had taken to dancing around the room and was currently draped atop the pink chaise. She dropped out of character to squeal. “Oh, my word! This man could make a rock swoon!”
Marinette scoffed but paid attention to the mirror as she brushed out her dark hair to prepare for the night. It seemed that her friend was more excited reading the letters than she ever was.
A gasp.
“Please tell me I’ve read this correctly, ‘From what I’ve heard from my father’s advisors, your beauty puts poets’ words to shame. I consider myself fortunate to know, first hand, that the same can be said about the beauty of your intelligence and wit.’”
“That’s exactly what it says,” the princess confirmed, turning in her chair to witness the hilarious sight that was Alya tangling herself in the drapes and jumping around in glee. Suddenly, her friend stilled.
“And what did you reply to that?” Her eyes were narrowed knowingly. Alya had memorized every single interaction between her and the prince, so it was obvious the girl just wanted Marinette to relive her mistake.
She rolled her eyes and recited, “I wrote back ‘I anxiously await your arrival, your Highness.’”
“'Your Highness!’” Alya threw herself on the bed, feigning exasperation. “You called someone who literally said he was naming a star after you, ‘your Highness’! I thought you were on a first-name basis?”
Yawning, Marinette strolled to the foot of the four-poster bed, tightening her dressing gown over herself. She was grateful for her friend always being there to help her, but sometimes it became too much. If Alya drooled so much over Prince Adrien’s words, she could marry him, for all Marinette cared. Unfortunately, the politics of it weren’t as easy as that.
“I said, he was on a first-name basis,” she said, sitting down. “I’ve been nothing but formal.”
As one should be, when they have never met their fiancé and only knew vague details about their upbringing. Unlike other rulers, the Agreste Royal Family kept to themselves, in the North. It’d been nearly twenty years since the royal family made a public appearance. And Marinette was the one being thrown into the unknown.
She felt Alya sectioning pieces of her hair to begin braiding as she talked. “Well, you better start warming up to him… and fast, because the wedding is in what? Seven weeks?”
“Don’t remind me.” Marinette groaned, dropping her face into her hands.
“What are you so apprehensive about anyway? He hasn’t shown signs of being an evil monster,” said Alya over her shoulder.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I mean… maybe all the flirting is him compensating for something.”
Silence rang in the room and when Alya spoke again the smirk she wore was evident in her voice. “For what?”
“What if he’s an old man?” Anywhere her friend’s mind was at was undoubtedly improper, so Marinette hoped she’d thrown her off enough to avoid any conversation in that territory. She carried on, cutting off the other girl. “Don’t you remember poor Mylène? The girl was married off to a Duke twice her age!”
“Okay, I admit, we all questioned it at the time, but look at her now. Duke Ivan and the princess are the most pleasant couple in court,” she countered, fastening the princess’s braid with a red ribbon. “But you have nothing to worry about.”
“Of course, I do, Alya! I’m nineteen! My window of eligibility is closing.” Marinette sunk her face into a satin pillow. “And it’s no secret that at this age, people jump at any marriage contract offer.”
“But you’re a princess.”
She made a good point. Her parents had held off on accepting any marriage offers with various princes– and even kings– until their daughter felt ready. When King Gabriel had reached out and suggested forming a peace treaty alliance with a neighbouring kingdom, the conditions didn’t favour their side too much. Seeing as no one was interested in such unstable circumstances, he offered a marriage union between his son and a princess (and only someone with that high of status), which would be beneficial to both parties.
Out of all the eligible candidates, Marinette was the eldest. All the other royal houses already had potential suitors in mind for their young ladies. She was the obvious choice, though she had noticed her parents’ apprehension at following through. As a princess, there wasn’t much power to her name, so when she was given the choice of accepting the marriage terms, Marinette had agreed out of her own free will, for the sake of her people.
“It doesn’t matter either way,” she said. “I’m getting married to Prince Adrien whether I like it or not.”
“I think you will.” Alya slid up the bed, belly down, to where she lay and rested her chin on her hands. A devious smirk played at her lips. “I’ve seen the way you smile at his letters.”
Marinette’s eyes widened, face warming. There was no way she liked Adrien– Prince Adrien– at all. He’d only managed to make her laugh once. It was a coincidence Alya had been around to see. That’s what she constantly reminded herself.
“I do not!” She quickly diverted the conversation. “And don’t think I don’t notice you getting all googoo eyes with that guard… what’s his name again? Oh yes, Nino!”
Alya was the one blushing now. Her friend snatched a pillow from the pile at the foot of the bed and slammed it into Marinette’s giggling frame. The princess teased her about an incident two days prior where Alya had spilled tea all over her dress at the sight of her admirer. It was the only thing she held over her because usually, Marinette was the clumsy one.
“You. Saw. Nothing,” Her friend said, hitting her again with every word.
They practically fell off the bed in hysterics and threw themselves back on. When the laughter died down again, they looked at each other, making them laugh again.
“But s– seriously, Mari, enough… about me,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes and catching her breath. “What’s the biggest thing that worries you about your fiancé?”
If other servants had called her anything as familiar as “Mari”, or even “Marinette” for that matter, they’d be begging forgiveness, but Alya was her best friend and she refused to make her friend call her anything else in private. Now, her question sent Marinette into deep thought.
“Biggest concern… what happens if he doesn’t like baked goods?” she said finally, deciding to go for the surface of her concerns.
“That’s your deal-breaker?” Alya looked at her, thoroughly unimpressed.
“It’s a family tradition,” she defended. Her friend just hummed. She sighed. “Fine! What if he’s… really nice?”
Alya quirked an eyebrow.
“You know what I mean!” The princess shoved her lightly. “He could be really nice and… and have pretty eyes… The type that are scary.”
The girl just stared back.
“And then! And then… he might make me laugh.”
“Mari, it is clearly way past your bedtime. You should go to sleep and maybe tomorrow you’ll realize what you’re saying is completely crazy.”
Marinette shrugged off her dressing gown, handing it to Alya, who stored it away on a nearby chair. Her lady-in-waiting blew out the candles around the room and shut the door softly on her way out.
What was Marinette’s biggest worry? Deep down, it was that she wouldn’t be deemed worthy of the prince. If somehow, after all the correspondence and all the official documents were signed, he would lay his eyes on her and decide to call everything off. She feared this was her last chance at finding such an advantageous marriage. Being in love had been out of the question since before she’d learned how to curtsy, so “beneficial” would have to cut it.
Despite all the wandering thoughts, she couldn’t help but remember a certain phrase the prince had written her.
If you’ll allow me, and only if you do, I will love you to the moon, every star, and back. And then some.
That line was from a letter Alya hadn’t read. The one that had made her smile.
Adrien’s words replayed in her head as sleep fell over her.