The dry rustling of leaves and the crunch of broken twigs echoed through the air as servants bustled about in preparation for the big day. The warm afternoon breeze carried the clatter of pots and spoons from the kitchen, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of barley leaves, rosemary, and sauced chicken, teasing everyone’s senses. Since the birth of the King and Queen of Avon’s first child, the palace had been alive with joy, festivity, and endless smiles.

In the kitchen, the royal cook dipped a wooden spoon into a pot and tasted the hot soup. He hummed approvingly.

"Well done. The beef is richly sauced, but a touch more chili would be perfect," he instructed, giving a pat to the younger cook with an apron tied at his waist.

Louis stepped away from the cauldron and moved toward the pastry station. "Make more of the twisted bread, and let the margarine drip from the ends. We must ensure our guests enjoy everything today."

"Sir Louis, you shouldn’t be here," a maid gently reminded him, trying to guide him out of the kitchen. "Today is your special day..."

Louis chuckled. "You’re right, old habits die hard, especially the good ones." He sighed, realizing that even though it was his daughter’s wedding day, he was still in the kitchen. "I suppose I should go get ready. Make sure everything is perfect."

As he made his way to his room, Louis paused outside his daughter’s chamber. He decided to see her before the wedding, with a soft tap he knocked on the door.

"Freya! Your father’s here," Sophie called, opening the door and stepping aside to let him in.

Seated at the vanity, Freya looked up from her reflection as soon as she heard her father’s voice. "Pa," she whispered softly.

"Don’t cry, Freya... Don’t even try it," Jasmine cautioned as she pinned the veil to Freya’s hair. "It took Madame Rosalie all morning to perfect that."

Louis bowed his head slightly to the women in the room. "Thank you for helping my little girl."

"Pa! I’m not little anymore, I’m getting married," Freya protested, glancing down to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

Louis clicked his tongue. "No matter how grown you are, you’ll always be my little girl." He then turned to the women. "I can’t thank you enough. I know her mother should be here for this, but I’m grateful you’ve taught her what I couldn’t. I’m lucky to have you all around Freya."

Madame Rosalie set down her pencil-liner and hugged Louis tightly. "We’re the lucky ones. Freya is like a little sister to us. Now, go! Don’t let her ruin my hard work by crying."

Louis laughed through his tears. "Alright, I’m leaving. Freya, I’ll see you soon." He gave her a small wave before stepping out.

Freya sat frozen, her eyes fixed on the door, her hands gripping her gown.

"Please hold it in, Freya. You can do it," Sophie pleaded, noticing the tears brimming in Freya’s eyes.

Jasmine added, "She’s trying. Don’t cry..it’s your happy day. You can do it...you can- not." She sighed in defeat as a tear slid down Freya’s cheek. "Well, she tried."

"I can’t believe I’m really getting married," Freya murmured, turning back to the mirror.

"Aww," Madame Rosalie cooed, embracing her. "You deserve all the happiness in the world. We’re here to see you get the love and family you’ve always dreamed of."

Sophie and Jasmine joined in the hug, but they were careful not to ruin Freya’s makeup.

"Ladies!" Oriana’s voice cut through the moment. "There’s no time! The men are waiting." She entered the room, frowning at Freya. "Sophie, take Nora for me."

Sophie picked up the baby and left. Oriana knelt down in front of Freya, fixing her shoes. "You shouldn’t cry on your wedding day," she said softly, her voice breaking at the end.

Jasmine sighed. "We just got her to stop crying. Don’t tell me you’re going to start now, too."

"Why does she look pale?" Oriana asked, dabbing Freya’s forehead with a handkerchief.

Madame Rosalie adjusted Freya’s veil. "She’s ready now. Just one final touch." She uncorked a small vial and brought it to Freya’s face. "A scent to make Rowan fall head over heels."

Freya recoiled, holding her stomach. "What is that? It smells terrible."

Madame Rosalie frowned. "What? This is the best perfume from the merchants!" She sniffed it herself.

Freya shook her head. "I don’t know. It makes me feel sick."

Oriana took the vial and inhaled deeply. "It smells fine to me. You really don’t like it?" Freya nodded. "Strange," Oriana muttered.

"I’ll take her to the hall," Jasmine offered, taking Freya’s hand as they made their way out.

Madame Rosalie exchanged a glance with Oriana. "Did you notice how pale she looked?"

"You mean Freya? Yes, I think she might be unwell. It’s odd that something so pleasant would make her sick." Oriana’s eyes lit up with realization as she turned to look at Madame Rosalie.

"Do you think...? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?" Oriana asked with her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I’m thinking exactly what you’re thinking."

Both women gasped and shared a knowing smile, their expressions turning from one of shock to one of mischief. They couldn’t contain their excitement any longer.

"Rowan couldn’t wait, could he?" Madame Rosalie giggled, nudging Oriana. "Come on, let’s go before we’re called."

. . .

In the grand hall, Rowan dressed in a well ironed white shirt, tucked into a black trouser with a polished black shoe. His black hair styled all back, stood at the end of the aisle with Adric and Malcolm by his side. Fidelis, the officiant, stood ready. All eyes were on the doors, waiting for the bride.

Behind the doors, Freya tried to steady her nerves. She had rehearsed her walk a dozen times, but now that the moment had arrived, fear crept in.

"Freya?"

She turned to see the Princess of Eridor approaching.

"Princess Lirien?" Freya furrowed her brows in surprise as the princess took her hand.

"Freya, I know you may not want to see me, but I had to apologize. It’s been haunting me. You’re a good person with a pure heart, and I almost betrayed that. I’m glad you’ve found the happiness you deserve. Congratulations on your wedding with Rowan."

Freya nodded, she was peechless as she didn’t expect to see the princess. She opened her mouth to respond, but Oriana and Madame Rosalie hurried past her.

"Save the pleasantries for later. Freya, it’s time to get married!" Oriana said as they pushed the heavy doors open.

The hall fell silent as Freya stepped inside. Her all-white gown, adorned with orange and green flowers, fitted snugly until it flowed out like a sea of blossoms. She carried a small bouquet that matched her pastel shoes, and her veil trailed behind her as though caught in a gentle breeze. She looked like a vision walking through the clouds.

Cheers and applause filled the room as she walked down the aisle. When she reached the altar, Rowan offered his hand, steadying her as she climbed the small steps.

"You look so beautiful, little mouse," Rowan whispered with a wink, eager to spend the rest of his life with the woman he love.

Fidelis stepped forward. "Before we begin, may we hear a few words from the bride’s father?"

Louis, who had been quietly crying since Freya began her walk, wiped his eyes and stepped forward. "Today is the happiest day of my life. Seeing my daughter so loved, I only wish her mother could be here to witness this. Freya, you’ve grown into a wonderful woman, and now you’re becoming a wife." He turned to Rowan. "I couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law. You’re part of our family now."

The crowd erupted in applause, some teary-eyed, others smiling.

After exchanging vows, Rowan gently lifted Freya’s veil, his couldn’t stop smiling throughout the whole process.

"Kiss your bride and seal the vow," Fidelis prompted, grinning ear to ear.

Rowan leaned in, but just as his lips were about to meet hers, Freya pulled back, clutching her stomach.

"Are you alright?" Rowan asked with a concerned look on his face, his arm wrapping around her waist to steady her.

Oriana stepped forward nervously. "She might have eaten something that didn’t agree with her—"

"I didn’t eat anything," Freya interrupted, still looking pale.

Madame Rosalie rolled her eyes, as she sighed in frustration. "We are trying to help you, young lady you’re pregnant!" she whispered, though the people nearby overheard.

"She’s what?" Louis exclaimed, confusion spread on his face.

Adric laughed heartily, clapping Rowan on the shoulder. "Rowan, Rowan....I’ve always know him to be- He just couldn’t even wait!"

Louis eyes shifted from Freya, and settled on Rowan. His shock turning to a glare, fixed his eyes on Rowan. "How is my daughter pregnant?"

Rowan stammered, "Well, um, Father, we—"

Madame Rosalie quickly intervened. Going to stand protectively beside Freya. "They’re married!"

Louis frowned. "They just got married!"

Oriana clapped her hands. "Exactly! Now let’s celebrate." She gestured for the crowd to cheer.

As the noise rose around them, Rowan leaned close to Freya, avoiding Louis’ gaze. "You started this, you asked me to...when I didn’t want!" he whispered.

Freya smirked. "Madame Rosalie and I agreed to be each other’s godmother. And who knew you’d be so- active? It was only one time." She said in her defense.

Adric chuckled from behind. "No wedding night for Rowan, his father-in-law might turn him into a pastry tonight!"