3: It’s Hard To Face Reality

As soon as Isana opened the door to her private chambers, the brightest smile she had ever known caused her worries to diminish. Freya, her best friend, her confidant, the person she cherished most in the world, had dropped everything to help the Princess prepare. The pair told each other everything, down to their very deepest and darkest secrets, a gamble far more dangerous to Isana, but one that she would never regret.

"Isana!" Freya rose to her feet from the imported damask sofa she had been lounging on. It was their favorite piece, a couch both of them had slept countless nights on.

The Lady-in-Waiting had already laid out three dresses, each a different shade, each more dazzling than the last. She had rushed to gather all the accessories required to present Isana, multiple bottles and jars were strewn out across her vanity and every available surface in the room.

The young Princess rushed into her friend's arms, sinking into her embrace, curling her own arms around Freya's smaller frame.

"Freya—"Isana choked out, burying her face into her friend's shoulder.

She was about to release all the bent up tension. She was about to break from the pressure of what awaited her outside the safety of her bedroom.

Freya didn't need to ask what was wrong. The moment she felt the first sob rake through Isana's body, she knew the one thing that would make her so distraught had finally happened.

Isana and Lukas were no more. And now, a Prince she was arranged to marry had shown up at a moment's notice, all without her knowledge. That was the only thing that could make her best friend upset. Nothing else had affected her character so drastically, had made her anxious and confused.

Concealment was Isana's most extraordinary demise, and she would be forever grateful to have Freya to lean on.

She sobbed into Freya's chest, taking comfort in the stroke of her head against her hair, shushing her until the tears were no more. Until she finally gained the courage to peel her head away from the warmth and face the cold hard truth that awaited her.

"It will be okay," Freya whispered, taking Isana's hands in hers. The Lady-in-waiting studied the Princess. Her face was now blotched with red indents of where her face had snuggled. Her eyelids were swollen and glossed over, exemplifying the seriousness of the predicament.

How would Freya conceal the blemishes when she wasn't even sure that Isana could hold herself together?

The Princess recognized the way Freya's eyes scanned her expression. It was as if the gears in her head were turning rapidly, imagining everything she was going to execute in order to make her friend presentable.

"I'm okay now." Isana tried to tell herself, standing up abruptly from the sofa and heading towards the stool that sat in front of her gold-trimmed vanity, every detail crafted carefully from the best artists the country had to offer.

"I'll start with your hair, then." Freya nodded, following closely behind. She knew if she started the makeup routine first, the expensive products would go to waste if her skin was still sensitive from the overwhelming amount of tears.

Isana sat down, closing her eyes. The motions of her everyday routine would put her at ease. Today was just like any other day. It was just like the last ten years of her life, being introduced to men who had the potential of marrying her. Her head had been tugged into braids by Freya almost every day. Today was no different.

The Princess hadn't just broken her lover's heart. She was not about to meet the country's most feared family. Everything was okay.

With those thoughts, Isana endured the sting of her scalp until the half updo was complete, until only her most delicate baby hairs were poking out of the slick, the rest of her untouched, gorgeous locks cascading across her shoulders.

"Everything is going just how it's supposed to.:" Freya chided, satisfied with her work, admiring the hairstyle through the mirror. She quickly moved onto the next task, latching a gaudy necklace that contained a pure sapphire gem, along with matching earrings.

Isana sat still as Freya moved onto the makeup, patting blush gently across her cheeks and carefully applying a lash pumping oil along her already well-groomed eyelashes and eyebrows. The light makeup accentuated Isana's beauty, drawing further attention to her elfish, young and vibrant features.

"This is exciting, you know." Freya encouraged, blending the shades until they began to contour Isana's face frame, until she began to resemble the submissive Princess her people needed her to become for one night, and eventually, for the rest of her life.

Isana was beautiful, she knew she was… yet the reflection in the mirror echoed one of a stranger. She was more than that. She wanted to do more. The young Princess ached to become stronger, as she would have much rather been sparring in the courtyard than sitting in her chamber with tears threatening to pour from her eyes.

She was in love already. Her kingdom was strong. Why was this even happening? Her father had offered a temporary explanation, but when Isana thought harder on the subject, she realized she was being sheltered from the truth.

"It's what you have been waiting for your entire life." Freya continued, dipping the fur brush back into the finely thinned powder.

"I know." Isana finally answered, appreciating how hard Freya was trying to act normal for her benefit. "But I can't help but worry, not for my own freedom, but for my people's. Once I am married, I will be a Queen, but I will only have power if the King wishes. I hope whoever Bastian is can grant those wishes."

King Alaric had granted his daughter many freedoms that a lot of other princesses did not have. That was why getting married was so frightening. Once the marriage contract was signed, her life would no longer be her own.

Her father knew this. Yet, he was taking a gamble trying to befriend the Kaarella kingdom. A risk that depended on her life. Isana had been raised with myths and legends of the gruesome Great War and how the dragon people had slaughtered her own. Now, she was going to be forced to have dinner, and eventually, if everything her father wished went right, she would marry into the family that the rest of the country despised.

The impending future weighed heavy on her heart, but so did her talk with Lukas. Something had seemed off about him. He and Isana had always known their relationship could never work out. They had been granted time in their younger years when the King had discovered their first date, but the day would always come where Isana would be promised to another.

Though it hurt, Isana knew that it was for the best. But Lukas, on the other hand, seemed as if he was plotting, the look in his eyes resembling desperateness as she turned away. Before today, he had always been calm and collected. He was the one to push her away at first, knowing what would eventually happen, but at that moment, he had asked her to not forget.

Why shouldn't she forget? What was he planning on doing? Was Lukas trying to coax her to remember the past in hopes she would ignore the present?

"Judging by the rumors, if he is not what you wish, I think no other man fit."

At Freya's calming, forthcoming tone, the young Princess was brought out of her spiraling thoughts. She tried to tell herself that she was overthinking, that her mind wasn't stable at that moment to properly study another's emotions. She had to focus on her own and remain not paranoid.

"What rumors?" Isana asked, a quizzical expression almost creeping along her face, eyebrows hardly rising, until Freya clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth in warning, conveying that ruining the makeup would be a death wish.

They both laughed, though Isana's mouth and eyes remained closed, feeling the slight swipe of a brush along her eyelids.

"Let me see… Handsome, not very charming, but kind enough to his people. Good at what he does, striving for unification among all the races and kingdoms…" Freya pulls back and sets the makeup brush down. She seems satisfied with the tones she had applied, finishing off Isana's look with a light peach shade of lipstick, hardly darker than her skin." I've heard that he might be a flirt, but it never goes farther than that. All the ladies in waiting speak of his voice though, and his stature. They say he was sculpted from the gods."

Slightly shocked by how highly others had spoken of the Prince, Isana scoffed in reply. "Those seem like rumors, not the truth. Perhaps they were forced to say something like that."

Freya shook her head in response, trying to hide her smile. "I don't think such intense infatuation can be faked."

"How do you even know that?" Isana asked, annoyed. "Who in this castle has even seen him?"

"A few of the new servant girls that arrived yesterday are originally from Kaarella. I think the new herbalist is as well." Freya left Isana's side to fetch the gowns she had picked for the evening. "I'm not sure if they actually know the Prince, but they speak of him highly, which doesn't seem to be from coercion."

Isana stood up from the stool and followed her friend. She examined the dresses. One was a deep shade of scarlet red, one was a vibrant tone of periwinkle, her favorite color, and the other was a dark green, complemented by threads of gold that followed along the inseams that would curl around her most provocative parts.

"You do not need to feel so threatened, is what I'm trying to say," Freya said, reaching forward and running her fingers along the silky fabric of the red dress.

"I know… I just can't help but feel so…" Isana faltered, eyes darting between the dresses. These three gowns could determine her future; one of them could impress the Prince beyond measure or detest him into permanently leaving the castle.

"Helpless?" Freya finished.

"Y-yeah." Isana narrowed her eyebrows in confusion, in need to abolish the feeling of dread rising in her chest. Now she was scared of liking him, not just hating him. The more childish part of her had hoped he would turn out to be an imbecile that would eventually persuade her father into annulling the marriage.

"I'm sure it will all be okay."

"He is to be my husband." Isana inhaled sharply. "It has to be okay."

"I think the red gown." Freya nodded, studying the Princess closely. She was the only female in the castle who had the authority to address the Princess in such an informal manner. "It is a cherished shade in Kaarella. It will definitely match him."

"Red is the color of blood." Isana sneered, replying a little too quickly, as she had already noticed that Freya wanted her to wear the red. "I'll wear the green."

Shades of green were always safe. They reminded Isana of her home, of the land she was destined to protect with her life, and with every decision she was going to make.

"The green might be too provocative for a first dinner." Freya inquired.

"All the more reason to try it on."

The Lady-in-Waiting couldn't help but smirk in response, knowing Isana might have chosen it in the first place.

"As you wish."