9. My mother throws my dress out a window

Our lady-kinda, Amelia

I sigh in relief as I shrug off my chemise and pull on my bathrobe. I survived the council meeting! {1}

**1. Such. An achievement.**

Thank God! I thought I'd die of boredom!

I pump my fist into the air. I didn't die! Thank the Lord, I didn't die!

My happiness immediately dissipates the moment I walk into the giant room that houses the pool my ladies-in-waiting and I bathe in. The scent of rose and lavender oil gently floats into my nose as I examine the high tension between my two friends.

Cora's face is completely red and her eyes filled with anger as she glares at her sister while Eleanor merrily sips wine next to her.

Right... How do I fix this?

Gesturing to the two of them, I ask, "umm... What is this?" I shake my hands at the gap between them, pointing out the crackling flames of tension.

Eleanor doesn't take her eyes off of her sister, " the prince's best-man has been making eyes at Cora."

I shrug off my bathrobe and slip into the water. Small ripples appear around me. I raise my eyebrows, "oh?"

"Yes."She takes another sip, the red of the wine accenting her gray-almost white eyes.

I blink, "I'm sorry, I don't see a problem here. Why are you so angry?"

"She's not ready for marriage!"

"Who said anything about marriage?"

She blinks, "what?"

I blink back, "what, what?"I cock my head at her, "just because he was making eyes at her, doesn't necessarily mean he wants to marry her."

"So he thinks I'm not good enough for him?!" Cora blushes.

I roll my eyes, "......when the hell did I say he thought you weren't good enough?" Even then, why would she even care? She usually never cares what other people think of her. Especially men.

I grab a soap bar and rub it into my arms, "look, at this moment, I can't say much. I don't know enough, besides I don't even know his name."

"Thomas Arther Brooks."

I stop and lower the soap bar. "What?"{2}

**2. The Brooks family weren't actually nobles. They were a very rich family of traders, investors and businessmen that had bought their way into the Borelian nobility. The head of the family was considered so good with money that the King of Borelis had appointed him his head financial advisor. A small, but powerful seat in Borelian politics.

The sons of the Brooks family were considered some of the most "poised, intelligent and handsome men in the Borelian court", apparently. Though they were also known for their high arrogance and cold demeanour, apparently. All to be expected from a family of businessmen. Apparently.

Remember children, the richer and older you get, the more you lose sanity.**

Cora raised her eyes to me. "I know."

I fought my jaw from dropping, "so what you're telling me. Is that my best friend has attracted the attention of not any rich foreigner. But the son of the Brooks?"

Her cheeks turn as crimson as the rose petals in the water. "I-"

"Is he good-looking?"

"...Yes."

"How. Good-looking?" I pick up the soap bar again.

Her face becomes even more red, which I didn't even think was possible. How much blood was in her cheeks for it to be that red? "I- I don't know. He's not that good-looking!"

I just give her a side-glance, "mmmmmmhm."

"Honestly! He's not!"

"Is that why you've turned into a human tomato, darling?"

"Shut up!"

"Yes, your ladyship.

".....But is he good-looking?"

"Stoooooooooppp!" She stomps to her feet and grabs a bathrobe. Clearly done with us.

I grin as she gives me the bird before exiting.

As she flees the room, four maids enter from the same entryway. Two of them walk to Eleanor and begin working on her hands and feet.

"Your Grace," the maid beside me curtseys and sets down a ray full of oils, soaps and towels. "What oil would you like in your hair, today?"

I blink at the array of oils set before me and purse my lips. Each bottle costing the equivalent of a small house. If sold, they could feed a whole family for a whole year if not two. It's been a whole year but I still feel guilty. At this point, I don't think it'll ever go away. I sigh. "Just pick whatever you think is best, Reina."

She's accustomed to this so she only nods.

She chooses lavender oil.

***

"Leila, why is my corset so tight?"

"Apologies your Grace, but your mother requested that it be slightly more tightened to impress the arriving royals."She tugs at the laces while murmering, "though, I don't understand her insistence. Your grace already has such a lovely waist."

I heave a sigh as I stare at myself in the mirror, delicate bones in stunning features. Lovelier than the goddess of beauty herself, they said. Brown hair that glowed red in the sun, oceans full of secrets for eyes, enunciated by high cheekbones and pale skin.

I hated her.

She was everything I wished I wasn't. She was stunning, the center of attention, the woman everyone wished they could be. The center of all the plays and theatrics of court life. Yet even in the midst of all the scandals, she still rose above. She had no choice.

She was exhausted.

So incredibly tired.

Yet just when she thought life was finally giving her the life she wished for. She was hurdled into another mess for her to clean up.

A marriage. A union between two warring nations. Peace at long last.

Not for her.

Not for him.

"Amy? Is everything alright?" Ellie comes to me from behind.

"What, of course. I'm fine."

She stares at me with sincere concern, "you look so tired."

I simply smile and let her arms come around me. Sometimes a hug is what I need.

"Amelia!"

Aaaaand the mother harpy arrives. Shit.

I rub my eyes and turn to my mother. "Mama, why are you here?"

"What are you wearing to the welcoming ceremony?"

I point to the red velvet, diamond encrusted dress on the bed. My mother stomps over and flings it out the window to the gardens below.

Silence diffuses into the room.

I open and close my eyes. ".....Why?"

My mother waves a hand at the maid behind her who reveals a white and gold silk dress that is by no means appropriate.

My jaw drops. "What. Is. That?"

"Your dress of course," she holds out the almost transparent silk cloth, grinning as I look it up and down. I could see her face through the cloth.

My face reddens as I imagine presenting myself in front of the court in that. And not just the court but a foreign prince and his family as well.

An unfamiliar sound comes out of my throat. If I had to describe it would probably be akin to the sound of a bull being strangled.

Cora clears her throat on the other side of the room.

"No." I cover my face to hide the blush on my cheeks.

"But-"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT."

"Are you sure-"

"ANYTHING BUT THAT."

"Are you-"

"ANYTHING."

"Oh alright."

Two hours later, I was being presented to the court in a dress that was far too extravagant for my taste with too many diamonds that made me too bright to look at and I was dying and I would never have accepted this dress while sober.

"That wicked conniving wench."

"Now that is no way to speak of your mother, young lady."

I look down at the ball of stones of a dress and consider stabbing something.

Isaiah walks into the great hall in all his military glory, looking like the handsome prince he is. He takes a seat beside me and looks me up and down, "the jewel has become a literal jewel."

I pull at his lapels. "I will take my fist. And fucking. Screw your head backwards. You son of little cunty ice bitch."

He put a dramatic hand over his chest and smiles, "why, thank you."

"Fuck you."

"No."

At that moment the Borelians enter and all eyes turn to the blond nincompoop that I helped at the harbour. His eyes immediately land on me, the ball of diamonds at the biggest table. I smile.

His face contorts as if he's seen a ghost, before looking as if he's seen a demon.

He hates me. Perfect.

*****

Aria: Why is the room so bright? I can't see anything.

Anthony: *too busy glaring at Amelia*

The queen: *too busy glaring at her sister*

Isaiah: *waves hand for wine* Shit is bouta go down. *looks at reader* Vote and comment for shit to go down.