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Her feet carried her forward, her ruby red lips spread into a pleasant smile, her fingers knotted with his, every component of her body moving in the direction of a future she could not control.
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She was the product of royalty, a princess with pure blood and destiny as the lone successor to the throne; thus, she had to marry into a family as affluent and regal as her own. Her happiness was the fee she had to pay for success, for the approval of her controlling parents, who wouldn't let her have a say in her life if she tried.
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So there she was a puppet with her strings in hands that weren't her own.
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Her heart nearly quit beating altogether as the boy guided her to a clearing in the forest that he was seemingly so intrigued by and sank to one knee. She knew this was coming; in fact, her mother had taken her aside this morning and given her a stern talking to, commanding that no matter how she felt truly, she must act as the young lady that she was and accept the fate that she simply could not change.
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But hearing it and undergoing it were two very different things, and it took all she had to keep a genuine, enthusiastic smile on her face as sweet words flowed from his mouth. She forced her mouth to construct the word yes, willed her hand to stay still as the priceless ring took its permanent place on her finger, and used up all her energy not to start screaming in frustration right then and there as he gave her a soft kiss and caress of the cheek.
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She felt terrible not loving him the way that he possibly loved her, felt sick for using the sweet prince in a way that he didn't deserve. But she had no other option. She was entrapped in her life as if it were a jail cell, and she was handcuffed there for the remainder of her days with no viable way out.
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On the outside, she came across as serene and content; a ravishing princess decorated in brilliantly colored fabrics and desperately in love. But the painful validity of her life was that she was a sloppily constructed puppet, strung on tightly bound strings and forced to move forward into a life that wasn't her making.
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The strings were never in her hands.
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