Azalea
"Azalea, would you prefer gold or green?"
I blink once, twice, surprised my opinion was asked for. "Silver."
Surprisingly, Mother didn't argue. She extended her left hand to the side, her forearm in a bored slack. I would assume it was from pain if I didn’t know better. If I didn’t know how there was probably nothing capable of causing her pain on this day.
This day.
My wedding day.
"Take it off," she commanded and the servants went into action.
And so another round of taking off heavy pieces of jewellery began. On one hand, I was glad to be relieved of the heavy ornaments, on the other I was scared of what would be my next fate. An even heavier set of ornaments?
To be honest though, I didn’t mind. To me, all these charades were an efficient way of putting off the inevitable; the moment I finally go out and become Jaren’s bride.
I. Can. Wait.
I don’t want any of it, would rather be doing anything but this. Sparring, hunting animals, or even wolves. That would be better, so much better.
No. No.
This is for a great cause too. A great cause because Papa wants it. That reason had been enough for me to endure the annoying past few days of grooming and dreading the end it would all lead to. He had looked at me with so much pride when I had agreed.
He even bothered to ask, even though there was never an option of me to refuse. At least, at the very least, he bothered to ask me. And the way his eyes lit up with pride when I agreed. I had been so enthusiastic about it, you see. My heart and body and soul had all shattered at once when I heard what he had to say, but after seeing worry start to cloud his features, all that displeasure vanished under a thick cloud of pretence. I had grinned and went to cling to him.
“Oh Papa,” I had called with that gleeful tone my voice always had anytime I was so pleased with something he had done for me.
And oh, had he done a lot for me?
“Azalea!”
My chest rose in a back-to-life move as my eyes concentrate once again on Mother’s chiding face. It soon softened though, as had been occurring since the marriage was announced. She would get upset, and the anger would dissipate in seconds, making a quick transition into care. Not being outrageous, Mom has shown me more affection in the past week than she has my whole life.
Don’t get me wrong. She loved and literally worshipped me. But that love had grown from cautious to overbearing in such little time…
“You’ll be fine,” she said assuredly, a knowing smile on her face.
Every time I’d been lost in thought -and that had been happening quite a lot these past few days- she automatically attributed it to the fact that I was getting married. She wasn’t wrong if I were being honest. Yes, I was worried and continually restless about this marriage, but she believed without a doubt that I was only getting cold feet and about the new life ahead of me. And that wasn’t what was worrying me at all.
I mean, sure, a new life like that, was a bit unnerving but that wasn’t the point.
The point that kept me continuously worried was the marriage itself. I wasn’t scared about marriage and family life. I was scared about not being in the position to live my life like I had done the first seventeen years of it.
And this was certainly not the way I was hoping to enter my eighteenth year. I had something bigger planned, you know. Something much more worthwhile. A life, a dream that made me feel so much better than I felt now.
A dream of slashing hundreds of werewolves heads, infiltrating and successfully taking over their kingdom and killing every single one of them. Then coming home to my papa and watching his face light up like it always did anytime I did him proud.
“My powerful, powerful daughter,” he would endlessly proclaim. Then kept on retelling and reannouncing that his daughter was a great warrior. A great warrior that in a few years would be second to none but him.
That was our dream, but so quickly, it had become mine. So quickly, he had forgotten.
He had patted my shoulder after I accepted the marriage proposal.
“You never disappoint, my beautiful Azalea.”
“You know papa that I would never disappoint you, not even in my grave.”
But what I had actually wanted to say was express my pain and question him on why he said ‘my beautiful Azalea’ unlike the regular ‘my powerful Azalea’.
Suddenly, my strength didn’t matter anymore and only my beauty did?
“Lea!”
“It’s beautiful, Mama,” I replied without staring at the adornments in question. I might’ve not heard, but I didn’t even need to confirm what it was she asked me. This cycle had been going on for over an hour. If Mother kept this up -and I hoped she did- the day would fly past and the bride would still be trying to find the perfect ornaments. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I loved it.”
I heard a disgruntled groan. She was convinced, rightfully, that I wasn’t there body and soul. “I love it too.”
That gave me a sharp awakening that brought me to the present in a millisecond.
“You said what?”
“I love it.”
She smiled sweetly at me, and it was only then I noticed her eyes were glinting. “I love you.”
It took every restraint in me to not break down. “I love you too, Mama.”
We fell into a tight, desperate embrace that held on for minutes amid the claps from the maid entourage that had been working together with Mama to doll me up.
She was the first one to pull away. “Come on, it’s your time to become a woman. We shall waste time no more.”
She stood. “Rise, Azalea.”
And rise, I did. In the greatest wine-coloured gown ever, doned with the largest and most beautiful of the golds and diamonds Papa could find in the kingdom.
It was heavy, but that was an important point getting passed across. This role that I was taking on today, was a very large one. This was a union of two wolf-hunting empires, ready to put down their little fights and work together against a common enemy. I wasn't just marrying Jaren, I was joining the two kingdoms together. Every key official in both kingdoms believed this union, this cooperation, was what was needed to end the werewolves once and for all.
And I wanted to tell them, that I could do it. I could do it if they let me. I could lead the werewolves to their demise. I've trained for it my entire life! I've trained for that my entire life!! Not this. Not this.
"Papa, we can do it alone."
Yes, I had tried to reason with my Papa. I made it clear I wasn't against the marriage, I was just against the thought that we couldn't do it ourselves. Papa hadn't listened. For the first time, he had disagreed.
"We've been trying for years now. There is no more time to waste kicking around trying to get a heroic success."
"But that is what you raised me to do, Papa. Or... you don't believe in my strength and capability?"
Papa's face had thinned visibly. He hated any occurrence of anything or anyone putting me down and never tolerated it. Not even from myself. "You are strong and capable, Lea! And that is why you're doing this. This marriage is your contribution to our victory of this war."
Right then and there, I had wanted to say a lot of things. Wanted to ask him, if, that was what he had actually been training me for all these years?
Wanted to ask him why he couldn't see my strength and capability could be used in more efficient ways that didn't involve being a catalyst?
All those years he had said I was born to do great things, was this what it all led up to?
With both his hands holding me by my elbow, he had drawn me close and gazed deeply into my eyes. And I had seen that a part of it wasn't about the marriage. It was about a father's love for his daughter.
"You also know Azalea... For your health..." he had put his head down solemnly. Every dejection in him had sipped into me then, and I had crumbled in his arms.
Then, and there, the decision was made.
I was marrying Jaren.
I was sealing the deal that would lead to the end of those disgusting werewolves.
I... was doing a great thing.
In the present, a twin door opened on both sides. A red carpet lay on the road, clarifying my path. The maids created two queues behind me.
It was time.
