Chammielle sat in a daze. There must be some sort of misunderstanding.

Bouquets surrounded her, more and more arriving by the hour. Letters of congratulations, gifts, jewels, rare treasures from far off lands, all of it was hard to comprehend. Why was she receiving such attention?

"My lady, you seem quiet."

She looked up at Belladonna, unsure what sort of face she was making. This didn't seem real.

"I'm marrying Will?"

The maid chuckled, "Yes, my lady. In little more than an hour I shall be calling you your highness."

She nodded and glanced around once more.

The dress was pristine. It couldn't possibly suit her. The veil too, it was so long and elegant. Were they truly expecting her to fit into all of this?

"Why would the Prince want to marry someone like me..."

"I told you already, my lady. He's your Will."

She shook her head. Not comprehending her situation.

"He's not supposed to be mine."

"My lady, are you angry with him?"

She nodded. That seemed like a rational explanation for her morose.

"He could have waited another week or two. Aster would be able to walk then. What is he thinking doing this? I'm not suitable as a bride, much less a princess, and far removed from being Queen."

Belladonna was quiet a moment, shuffling through the letters and painted cards from well wishers.

"My lady, this has come from your father."

She snatched the card from her hands, a painting of a small cake with a crown affixed atop it. It made her smile.

My dearest Chammielle,

I always knew you were the brightest star amongst my daughters, but do not share that with your sisters. Garten is in good hands. Though now I suppose I'll have to take time off of work to come to the Capital. Oh bother. Oh well, it is for you.

Love, your dear old Dad

She smirked and felt a pain in her chest. She missed him so much. What was he talking about coming to the Capital being a bother?

"Such a silly man..."

"And this is from your step mother."

The wax sealed parchment was offered to her and it slipped into her fingers.

My dear daughter,

I write this to you in the belief that the Prince has indeed chosen you to be the future Queen of Garten. I've asked the postman not to deliver it until this day, so I hope this finds you as you are preparing to take the next steps in your new life as a princess.

From the day you came into our lives you've always been different. Lovely, a delight, and far wittier than myself. I do believe you're the only one who can keep up with your father, and I admit I have been jealous at times of the bond the two of you share. But you deserve it, and so much more.

I've always worried I could not replace your dearly departed mother. Surely she would have been better at helping you accept yourself in all of your peculiar wonder. My hope is that I have not been cruel to you, and that you know I do love you even if I sparingly use such sentiments. My own mother was often ill tempered and would deprive me of simple things, and I'm afraid I have not been able to look beyond that. They say that one's first child is the one you'll make the most mistakes with, and I am so sorry you had me to make those mistakes with you.

I think if your mother were alive today, she would want you to know that your markings do not define you. But also, they are your finest decoration. I've always thought you looked like a beautiful strawberry covered in seeds. But seeing the woman you have become, and a far better and kinder one than me, they are not seeds or spots or anything to be scrubbed away. They are princess freckles. And history will reflect that you were marked from birth for the throne.

Forgive me. Whatever it is I've ever done to make you feel unworthy of all the good you deserve, I never meant it. Even if you don't, know I will always love you.

Remember your sisters, I know they will want to surround you in their exuberance. But above all, remember to hold your head high. It's why I chose your dress the day the Prince came. Dianthus to mark you as excellent. And its other name "Sweet William" so he'd know someone saw you were worthy of him.

The page became wet and she lifted a hand to her face. Water was running down from her eyes. They were not tears. Just a valve had been opened and the excess moisture was being released. But with all the crying she'd done this morning, she hadn't suspected she had any liquid to relinquish.

"Oh, my lady... Come now, we'll cover those tear lines with a nice cream to brighten you up."

She lay the paper down.

"That's alright, Belladonna. I don't think I want anything to change my appearance much."

...

William stood in his study, writing documents to the last minute. There were laws that needed to be passed, and public encouragements to be made even on the day of his wedding. Never a moment's rest.

"Will you stop with your quill and stand for the tailor? That shirt cuff is too long and your bride will not care to see her groom out of fashion!"

Alfric was being ridiculous but he could not be tempted to be amused at this moment.

"I do not think my bride cares what I wear or whether or not I even show up, thank you."

The tailor was swatted away so that he stood a few paces from him. The young Duke took his place.

"What do you mean by that? Of course she cares! Who could not?"

He shook his head and his hair tickled his nose. It was too late for a haircut. Did she even like his hair?

He glanced at his cousin's low ponytail. Perhaps he should have it pulled back?

"You didn't see the look on her face last night. Her sister was bleeding before her and she stormed from the room like she wanted nothing to do with me. I failed her."

"You're being silly. If you're so concerned with how she feels now that her sister is recovering, quit with your law making and write her an apology! I'm sure... repealing the permit requirements for peasant class shops in the first year of business can wait."

He read over his shoulder and then snatched the page away.

"Actually, this is a good one. As a business man such permits are pricey even if they are leveled accordingly. If I could get a break like this I could afford to pay my workers more without waiting to see a greater profit the first two years. And it would attract more skilled craftsmen and laborers."

He waved him off and took the paper back.

"These are all changes I need to start implementing by tomorrow. It's the mark of a good king to start such things in preparation for being crowned. The people will love Chammielle all the more if these things are begun the day after the wedding."

Alfric crossed his arms and tossed his head to the side.

"So this is really all for her?"

"Yes. And for the people."

"Then wouldn't the people be happier if you didn't look like you were attending a funeral instead of your wedding? I'm sure this is all in your head. Write her, beg for her forgiveness. At least your conscience will be clear even if she does not write you back."

"My conscience can never be clear of the harm I allowed to occur to her sister. She loves her passionately, and this all happened while I was on the balcony feeling giddy over the idea she would not refuse me."

Alfric mussed his hair and fell back into the couch. He reached for his usual toy and spun the jeweled orb in his hands.

"Cousin, for being so intelligent, you're awfully dumb."

"Better to play dumb and not think of what this will mean in an hour from now."

"Ah, yes. The stupid idea your princess will be walking down the aisle thinking 'I hate this fool' or something like that. Probably because you didn't write her when you had the chance. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Alfrina has already taken care of it."

He stopped writing and the quill fell from his hands creating a streak across the page he'd been working so hard on. His hands gripped the sides of his desk and he stared at his cousin.

"What?"

"My twin. She's escorting your gift to the bride now as we speak. I believe she wrote a note to go with it. Knowing her, it will help explain everything."

He looked down at the ruined page. The words were visible enough and it was salvageable if someone rewrote them into another piece of parchment. He'd been writing it in his own hand for effect, but it wasn't necessary. The thoughts were all there.

"Damn. Alright, call my secretary. Have them finish this up. These sleeves are too long."

The tailor jumped into action. The papers he'd so diligently used to assuage his misgivings were taken away. Alfric prattled on about Bedellia Lancashire. The time for his wedding was upon him.

He only hoped there would be a bride.

...

"Lady Kuchen?"

Two maids were being instructed by Belladonna as they worked to get her into the vast yards of tulle and lace. Alfrina stood at the door, a knight at her side holding a velvet covered box. She was covered but he averted his eyes all the same.

"It's highly improper for a man to be present while my lady is being dressed, Duchess!"

"She's nearly ready, Belladonna. And Sir Lyssum is discreet. His highness wanted Chammielle to receive her wedding present from him before they take their vows."

The box was presented to her and Belladonna opened it as she could not reach it in her current state.

"Oh! My lady!"

Inside was a crown. And not just any crown.

Crowns for princesses of the royal family or marrying into the royal family were made for them. Something to suit each princess's taste. This one was clearly designed for her.

Chamomile flowers in dainty sprigs and woven together by golden leaves formed a beautiful tiara. Some shone pure white with diamonds and gold centers, others had pink diamonds in various shades. It was enough to take one's breath away.

Her heart nearly stopped.

Pink diamonds.

"He also wanted to thank you for receiving his secret admirer gifts previously. Now that the ceremony is over, he can express his admiration and affection publicly."

"Why?"

Alfrina looked puzzled.

"Why what?"

"I...I still don't understand. He was always so...with me...with the others he...I don't understand. I thought I was a target to draw the fire away from the true bride."

Alfrina's bright green eyes darkened and her mouth became firm.

"You thought wrong. But I should have guessed it from the moment you drew attention to yourself. It doesn't matter now, being such a target comes with wearing the Queen's crown. But this is why you have allies. Keep that in mind next time someone you love is in danger. They are here to protect you and your loved ones and not one or the other. Trust the people around you. Because we are all putting our trust in you, Chammielle."

She lifted the crown from the box. It tapered to a slim line at the back of the head, and the front sprung up and dazzled the eyes. It wasn't very heavy, but she felt the weight of it.

"Why me?"

"I told you from the beginning. You're perfect. If Will didn't choose you he'd be a fool. But beyond your many qualifications, he personally has an affinity towards you."

She smiled gently at the last and Chammielle couldn't see it. How could he care for her?

Her arms were being pulled into the long, sheer lace sleeves. They reached down all the way to her hands and had a small hole for her middle fingers with gaps for the rest of her hands to push out. It covered her palms and she would have normally been happy to cover her arms. Yet not today. Fortunately the tops of her shoulders and collarbone were exposed. It was modest, and lovely. Showing just enough skin.

Alfrina took the crown and set it up on top of her head once the veil was fixed in place. The back of her hair was pinned up elegantly, but the curls at the front hung down in rosy golden spirals. She was ushered to a mirror and she couldn't look.

"Chin up, Chammielle. You are the Prince's bride."

"I don't feel like a bride."

Her finger came up and pressed her chin to make her look at herself.

Her eyes shot open wide at her appearance. Alfrina's hands rested lightly on her shoulders. A smile on her face, not sly but sincere.

"Chammielle, we are all of us meant to find each other. We must rely on the right people, and understand our own true worth. Or else a rhinestone will sell itself for a castle, and a diamond will sell itself for a shoe. You are worthy of this crown and this place. No one else was better suited for today. You've proven yourself at every turn, and you should be proud of how far you've come. There's a ways to go yet, but you will have his highness at your side. And he wants you by his."

"Princess freckles..."

Belladonna smiled in the reflection at her side.

"Indeed. Suitable for a princess."

She nodded. Finally seeing herself clearly. She did look like a royal bride.

There was just one thing missing.

"Alfrina...I have a request to make."

...

William stood at the altar, waiting for the music to sound. He felt nervous. Whether or not Chammielle showed was up to her. He'd never begrudge her for refusing him, but rather than embarrassment it would be to his shame.

The symphony began to play and the attendees arose. Alfric stood by his side, looking more ridiculously spectacular than ever, and exuding a confidence William wished he could possess right now. Ianthe and Chryssia walked down the long aisle way, the Duke of Wells and Sir Rose at their sides. They wore white, to show they had not been chosen. The same for Gladys, the Ladies Phlox, and Petulia. All with an escort they'd met at the ball last night.

Aster sat comfortably in the front row. A small bed setup for her with Lord Applebalm at her side. Her parents at her other side. Today Kuchen would go down in history for having a Lady on the Pink Throne.

The song changed and he couldn't help it. He reached up and pushed at his hair. Perhaps he really should have tied it back.

"Hey, cousin!"

Alfric whispered at him and he tried to lean in inconspicuously.

"What?"

"She likes your hair. Mine is ridiculous to her, remember?"

He smirked. Of course. Despite all of Alfric's ludicrous nonsense, he did have a keen way of reading people. He just didn't care to use it. Not like Alfrina. But he was beginning to understand why she'd left him like this. Tweaked just enough to be useful, but not smart enough to outdo her.

He breathed deeply.

And then it was sucked from his lungs.

Lady Chammielle Kuchen entered the soaring double doors. Her gown about her like she was the wishing candle upon a cake. Her veil streamed behind her, and her head was held high with the tiara he'd had crafted for her perched atop her glorious crown. Gasps could be heard throughout the crowd as she marched slowly to the cadence of the music down the aisle. The small legion of knights belonging to the Order of the Daffodil filed in behind her.

They came to a halt at the middle of the aisle and she nodded.

This was not exactly part of the ceremony...

A door at the side was opened and two knights entered with a woman wearing a burlap sack down past her knees. It took him a moment to realize it was Lady Aconia. He glanced at the gasp beside him to see Alfric's astonished face.

"Dear lord, she's brutal. Oh, I like her. I like her a lot."

Ammorettallia looked enraged but clearly subdued. Murmurs like his cousin's flowed quietly throughout the assembly. He could only imagine all the scheming she had done to try and be in Chammielle's place right now. His attention returned to his bride's stroll down the aisle.

She came to his side and he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a breath. Her smile was small, simple, and a few freckles shone through the light pink color they'd painted on her lips. Her cheeks were pink too, but it was natural.

"You look stunning..."

Her golden eyes met with his and he felt like he'd just learned how to take in air.

"You are quite dashing yourself, your highness."

Mischief played about her mouth and he wanted very badly to take those lips.

"You may be seated!"

The voice of the Bishop carried over the crowd and they gave him their undivided attention. Mostly. William still stole glances at Chammielle between words.

"This day marks the fruitfulness of a grand and long standing tradition. The marriage of the Crown Prince and the lady of his choosing. But while many would see this day as a fairytale, we must come into their presence with the knowledge that marriages such as these do not begin with love. No marriage does. We believe we are in love and act upon it accordingly, but love is an action. It is the cultivation of that affection, to make it bloom into a lifelong commitment and trust. To make oneself beholden to your partner, and live out your lives together side by side. Not one day will pass between them that will not be wrought with burdens and troubles. As the rulers of our fair Garten, it is what they do and for all of our sakes. But together, they shall carry our burdens and treat us with the kindness and deference that only they can, or with chastisement...as some of us deserve..."

The bishop took a moment to turn and look at Ammorettallia. The silence was deafening and Will could hear the light clanking of chains as the woman shook in her anger. Chammielle was smirking for a moment before she fixed her face.

"Let us remember that there is power in the Crown. And we must support them, as they care for us. Let us bloom, while the sun is full."

William turned to Chammielle, and her train was lifted for her so that she could move as well. She was so beautiful.

"Do you, Prince William, take Chammielle Edelweiss Kuchen to be your lawfully wedded, and holily bestowed wife?"

"I do."

He nodded and turned his attention to the woman before William. Everything he had ever considered his marriage would be, he had not considered he'd be binding himself to someone so enchanting. So unique and ethereal.

"And do you, Lady Chammielle, take William Lauren Alderswitch Pink to be your lawfully wedded, and holily bestowed husband?"

He held his breath. His mind begging her to accept him.

"I do."

"Then by the-"

He couldn't wait any longer. Her deep gold eyes widened slightly as he reached forward and held her in his arms. An embrace that draped her body so strongly against his own.

"Thank you."

"Will..."

"Ahem."

He released her, remembering himself but couldn't help his smile. She looked flushed and he wanted to tease her. Of course this was not the time or place.

"May I continue?"

"Mhm, yes, please."

The bishop chuckled and shook his graying head.

"Not love indeed..."

He straightened and let his voice carry once more.

"By the power vested in me, by God almighty, and by the mercy of the Crown He has set in place for our good, I pronounce you husband and wife. Long live the good of Garten!"

The crowd echoed back their reply.

"Long live the Pink Crown! Long live Garten! Long live the Prince! Long live the Princess!"