The dress felt so heavy. She felt like she could trip on her veil if she wasn't careful.
"Perfect!" Aurelia's voice rang out in the room, sharp and crisp.
Beatrice was staring at someone in the mirror.
Whoever it was, it wasn't her.
A diamond necklace on a neck covered in lace, face caked in makeup, hair stiff and unmoving.
Were all brides this lifeless?
The door opened, Chelsea entered.
"The majority of guests have arrived, and Nicholas is waiting-" she froze.
Her lips stretched into a wide smile.
She slowly walked forward and gently held her daughter's face, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"You look like a princess."
"Your father is outside. Shall we?" Aurelia offered a hand.
Beatrice got up wordlessly.
. . .
A crocodile-skin derby tapped furiously.
Nathaniel stood at the altar, having arrived a moment ago. He watched the bridesmaids file in like ants, followed by a few of his friends acting as groomsmen.
The music slowed. It was time for the bride to enter.
High heels padded softly on the red carpet, followed by loafers and flats.
Nathaniel knew. He knew this was all a business arrangement. He knew neither of them wanted this.
But damn.
She looked ethereal.
Jet black hair was pulled back into a soft bun, a few strands coming loose onto her face. A pristine, mermaid-tail dress shifted with her each step, framing her curves perfectly. Her lashes fluttered, lips painted a bright red.
A rose. Gorgeous, unreadable rose.
His eyes widened despite himself, but he quickly masked it off as his usual nonchalance and stood straight.
She walked up to the altar, and stood in front of him.
Only then did he notice that she wasn't being escorted by her father as per tradition. He only trailed behind her.
It felt like a dream.
The officiant opened his mouth, and started blabbering about the importance of true love in a person's life.
Which was ironic, given the situation.
Beatrice didn't move unnecessarily. Her shoulders were stiff, and her head was lowered.
"...Mr. Victor?"
Nathaniel snapped back to Earth. "Wh... Sorry?"
He only realized how stupid that sounded when the guy raised a brow.
Whispers had already started circulating in the masses of rich people.
"Do you take Beatrice Collins to be your lawfully wedded life, vowing to remain by her side through good or bad, in sickness and in health?"
Oh. The vows. Right.
"I do." He managed.
"Beatrice Collins, do you take Nathaniel Victor to be your lawfully wedded husband, vowing to remain by his side through good or bad, in sickness and in health?"
"...I do." she whispered.
Just as the silence started to stretch, a small child struggled up to the altar, a crown of black curly hair and pink cheeks.
His lips involuntarily curved. Without thinking, he gave a small wave to the child.
His cheeks went even redder as he nervously held out a small cushion which displayed two rings.
Beatrice was frozen as Nathaniel grabbed her hand and slipped the ring on.
The ritual was repeated, Nathaniel holding out his own hand as cold metal slid onto his finger.
As he took his hand back, a very small but crucial detail came to his mind.
He would have to kiss her.
"By the power vested in me by God, I pronounce you both husband and wife!"
Applause rang out in the courtyard, Beatrice was dead still, having realized what Nathan did a second too late.
"You may now-"
Nathaniel was on a roll of impulsive decisions that day. He nudged the officiant discreetly.
Thank the Lord he was a smart guy, and clocked the tension immediately, changing his statement halfway.
"You may now proceed down the altar."
Beatrice blinked. The crowd shifted.
He quickly took the woman's hand and turned his back to the altar, plastering a smile to his face.
Behind them, Chelsea's hands were clenched. Aurelia's expression was taut, and Nicholas's jaw was set.
His siblings were watching with bewildered, and slightly bewildered expressions.
Beatrice herself wasn't dumb. She forced a smile as well, sliding her arm through his to avoid any more controversy.
He flinched, but kept a straight face.
She was one hell of an actor.
. . .
The door swung open.
A crystal chandelier hung over a decent yet luxurious living room, joined with an open kitchen. A few steps ahead, the short hallway was split into a few rooms, one being at the top of the small set of stairs behind the sitting area.
The master bedroom probably.
Beatrice slipped off her shoes, looking around.
This guy is loaded.
She stepped onto the marble floor, wincing when sensitive skin met the cold marble.
Alarmed, she pulled up her dress and vaguely made out some redness and swelling on her foot.
The woman sighed, stumbling forward to the couch to support herself.
Upon closer examination, she noticed that blisters had formed on her heels and toes.
Just great.
Suddenly the door creaked open again. Beatrice quickly yanked down the cloth and spun around.
Nathaniel stood in the doorway, blinking.
He hadn't changed out of his three-piece tuxedo, and his hair was half tangles and half cream.
"How did you get here so fast?"
"I left before you," she said simply.
He raised a brow. "Right. Always the first to leave."
He tossed his shoes aside, slipping into softer ones, and walked to the kitchen to get some water.
Beatrice was slumped on the couch, lost in thought.
The room was awkwardly silent.
To make it even worse, they decided to speak at the same time.
"You're-"
"Who-"
They froze. Nathaniel scratched his cheek, "You can... go first."
"It's fine," she shook her head.
He shrugged. "...The room straight down the hall is yours. Your stuff was put there."
She blinked.
Oh. Right.
"And... you?"
He pointed towards the staircase.
"Unless... you want to switch?"
She got up quickly. "No, no, it's fine."
"Wait."
Beatrice halted.
"What were you saying?"
For a minute, there was silence.
She hesitated.
"That boy... the ringbearer. Who was he?"
"Oh. Asher? The black haired one?"
She nodded.
"He's my cousin's kid. From my mom's side."
"And... who is this cousin?"
He arched his brow, "Why are you asking me this again?"
"..."
He sighed, "Valerian. Valerian Woode."
She went still. Utterly unmoving.
A clock ticked somewhere nearby.
"...You okay?"
Suddenly, she snapped out of it.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry," the woman quickly turned, limping towards her door.
Nathaniel frowned.
Why did she react like that, and why is she limping?
But he didn't probe further.
It wasn't his place to.
He exhaled through his nose, and put the bottle back in the fridge, loosening his tie.
Nathan walked towards his own room and shut the door.
They both were now living under the same roof.
Two strangers.
Or... enemies?
What even were they?