The Letter V

Violet had never seen the palace as busy as it was the day of the wedding.

It would go down in history, at least according to the servants, as “the day from hell”, mostly because there was enough work to be done for the entire palace staff to do for a week, and they had only a few hours to complete it. There was food to be prepared, decorations to be hung, dressed to be mended - all of which probably should have been started sooner, but naturally the royals had held off on preparations until the very last second. It wasn’t as though they were working that hard, anyway. Only the servants were.

“Watch out! Bridesmaids, coming though!”

Or so Violet had thought.

She watched, puzzled, as a small herd of well-dressed ladies sped through the halls as fast as their legs could carry them - which, she noted, wasn’t very fast, mostly because they were all wearing impractical shoes. They all were wrapped in layers and layers of pink tulle, and looked very much like pieces of candy. They had their skirts scooped up into their hands as they trotted awkwardly along, shaking their heads in dismay.

Violet adjusted the basket of flowers on her hip, and turned to follow them. The flowers she had were destined to go to Penelope anyway - at least, as far as she could remember - so perhaps the commotion would lead her to the bride’s quarters. She hung back, listening to their conversation as best she could make out - after years of practice, it was one of her favorite means of passing time.

“...And can you believe it? Prince Nathan will be making an appearance!” The smallest bridesmaid turned to the one beside her, blushing furiously. “He’s absolutely gorgeous,” she remarked, stopping briefly to twirl around romantically.

The girl beside her, with fiery red hair, rolled her eyes. “He’s good looking,” she admitted, “But he’s cold. Thinks his education makes him better than everyone else.”

Violet scowled. That couldn’t be true, could it? Was that really the way other people saw Nate? Her Nate? The one who had spent each night of the last week or so in the library, reading her magical stories? The Nate she knew was neither cold nor was he condescending. To her, he was warm, inviting, attentive.

The first girl scoffed, continuing to twirl as though she wasn’t clearly on a mission to retrieve something. “Oh, Eleanor, please. Nathan is clearly attractive, and he’s a prince. You’d be thrilled to be Penelope right now - you’re just jealous.”

Eleanor, the redhead, just laughed. “Well of course. Penelope is marrying the future King - what does that make Prince Nathan? A steamy consolation prize?”

“I’ll take that consolation prize any day,” the third girl, a mousy-looking, frail girl with freckles, sighed dreamily.

The three of them descended into a fit of giggles, and after that Violet couldn’t make out what they were saying. It didn’t matter - she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it anyway. She didn’t like to hear them talking about Nate like that, like he was some object, a prize to be won. Of course he was an eligible bachelor - as eligible as they come, she realized. You can’t get any better than a prince.

But he wasn’t just an object to throw one’s affections onto. He was a person, one with real emotions. He was warm, and he was funny, and he was fiercely loyal to his friends and what he believed in. He had spent each night of his return so far in the library, reading every book he could get his hands on and chatting amicably with Violet, as though she was anywhere near the caliber of person he was. He didn’t have to do that, and yet, it had become something of a ritual since he’d been home. If only those girls could see what she saw.

Or, perhaps not, she realized, rounding the corner to Penelope’s bridal room. Or she’d never hear the end of it.

“We couldn’t find them, Pen,” the smallest bridesmaid was saying, fixing her hair delicately in a hand mirror. “The flowers have gone missing!”

Violet cleared her throat at the door to let them know she was there.

The four girls turned to look at her. The three bridesmaids looked surprised to see her, though the redhead looked more annoyed than anything. But it was Penelope that surprised her. Penelope was dressed in the most enormous, glittering white gown that Violet had ever seen. It was a mountain of white satin and pearls, with Penelope sitting at its center. Her hair was piled up high on top of her head, with a jeweled tiara perched delicately on top of her head.

She looked every part the princess she was going to become.

“Could these help?” she asked softly, fighting the urge to bolt from her spot from the bridesmaids’ looks. She held up the basket of flowers toward Penelope.

The bride’s face lit up. “Violet! My flowers!” She lifted herself out of the massive pile of skirts, emerging from the pool of fabric in only a small shift. She leapt over the pile of fabric and headed over toward Violet with ease, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, thank you! These are wonderful!”

Violet smiled as Penelope plucked a white rose from the basket, smelling it gratuitously. “You’re quite welcome, Lady Penelope. I’ll just leave these here,” she said, placing the basket of flowers on a nearby table.

Penelope paused, and then quickly glanced around the room at her bridesmaids. “Would you all mind fetching me a glass of water?” she asked sweetly, combing one tendril behind her ear.

The three of them looked at each other in hesitation.

“Now?”

With that, they all sighed and gathered up their skirts again, not questioning for a moment the fact that it took all three of them to bring back one glass of water. Violet was concerned for their well-being - perhaps it took one of them to find the kitchen, another to get the water, and another to find their way back. Yes, she thought - that seemed likely. They all stumbled out of the powder room, laughing as though they hadn’t a care in the world. They reminded Violet of some little girls playing dress-up. In some sense, they were.

When they were gone, Penelope rolled her eyes and sank down on a lounge chair behind her. She leaned her head back, careful not to disturb her hair, and placed a hand on her forehead, as though she were in pain. “Those girls… are a lot to handle right now,” she admitted.

Violet snorted. “Only right now?”

Penelope offered her a sly smile. “Fair point.” She sighed. “Miss Violet, would you sit with me for a moment? I don’t think I can handle all that… energy.” She looked mildly annoyed at the spot her bridesmaids had been sitting a second ago. “Some sane company would be nice, for once.”

Violet bit her lip, uncertain. She really should be helping the others with god knows what else had to be done. Flowers, mending, serving - the list went on and on. But surely the bride took precedence over all of that, right? If it was what Penelope requested, then she couldn’t be in trouble for it. At least, that’s what she would tell Elisabeth and Carletta later, if one of them confronted her.

She nodded meekly and sat down next to the basket of flowers. She might as well begin pulling them into bouquets, she realized, and started gently making her way through the basket, tying off a dozen or so roses, and setting them aside. Penelope just sat and watched her for a while, not saying anything.

After a while, Violet looked up to see a somber expression on her face.

“Violet,” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think I will make a good Queen?”

That was a very loaded question from someone who was dressed as Penelope was. She was a beautiful bride - she was supposed to be having one of the most memorable days of her life, and yet she was sitting in her powder room with a servant, questioning her life. Violet couldn’t help but stare in confusion at the change in subject.

“I - uh… I believe so,” Violet said truthfully, trying to pick her words as carefully as she could. “I’ve only ever known one Queen, and she’s… Well, I’m sure you will be a dramatic improvement.” She tied off a bouquet and placed it on the pile. “I’m not so sure I’m the best person to ask, Lady Penelope.”

Penelope just looked at her. “I’m not so sure about that. Besides, it’s not like I could ask Edmund, or my ladies. All they do is tell me what I want to hear.”

Another bouquet. “And I don’t?”

The bride tilted her head, as if she were trying to see Violet from a different angle. “You could,” she admitted. “But I have this sort of feeling that you won’t.”

Violet was unsure of how to respond to that. Naturally, she was telling Penelope what she wanted to hear to make her happy - she should be happy on her wedding day - but she was also certain that she was telling the truth. From what Violet could tell, Penelope was kind, and caring - she wasn’t the most educated, but she had proven to be a wise judge of character, beyond her years and experience. She couldn’t be sure, but she supposed all of these made for outstanding qualities in a royal, qualities that Queen Marion had rarely, if ever, displayed. Violet felt as though she could trust Penelope beyond a servant-royal relationship, and therefore wanted to be honest with her.

Suddenly Penelope leaned over and tucked the rose behind Violet’s ear. She looked over, startled, but made no move to stop her. Penelope’s face changed suddenly, as though she was thinking about something carefully. She then stood back, looked Violet up and down a few times, before placing her chin on top of her hand.

“Violet, dear, would you turn around for me?”

Unsure of what exactly she did to deserve this, Violet obliged, holding her lanky arms out at her sides. Penelope walked up to her and looked her over, as though she were a prized animal on display. It was unnerving, but she didn’t have the heart to tell the bride that, especially on her wedding day.

“I have a brilliant idea!” Penelope squealed, all trace of her previous somber mood gone.

“One of my ladies is with child,” Penelope continued, darting around the room, looking for something. She finally stopped in front of a satin-wrapped gown, one that matched the gowns on her bridesmaids. “She was made a dress, but is now too far gone to leave her bed. It hasn’t been altered in months, but it looks to be your size.” Penelope picked up the dress in her small arms, turning toward Violet excitedly.

“Would you do me the honor of being one of my bridesmaids?”

Violet’s eyes widened in surprise. “P-Pardon? Lady Penelope, I have so much to attend to-”

Penelope just grinned. “Oh, you’ll look beautiful, Miss Violet! Come now, you can’t refuse the bride’s requests on her wedding day!”

Violet sighed, looking forlornly at the basket of flowers that sat abandoned on the table. She wasn’t sure what to make of this. On one hand, she had so many tasks to complete, ones that would be shouldered on someone else if she couldn’t complete them in a timely manner. On the other hand… When would she get another chance like this? To feel like Cinderella? To live for a night in Nate’s world?

“Thank you, Penelope,” Violet said, “But… what if I’m recognized? Surely it won’t be proper for a servant to be participating in a royal wedding?”

The bride’s face lit up. “You didn’t know? It’s a masquerade! Everyone will be wearing these gorgeous masks - no one will know who anyone is, save for myself and Edmund. Oh, Miss Violet, this is perfect!”

Yes, perfect, Violet thought with a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to be able to get herself out of this.

After a half hour of wriggling herself into the poofy pink dress and wondering where the hell the other girls had gone off to, Violet turned to look at herself in the mirror. Penelope stood behind her, now fully dressed as well, grinning ear to ear.

Violet didn’t even recognize herself. She was covered in jewels, and satin, and ruffles, and all the things that a girl could want if they had grown up royal. Only she hadn’t. What she was wearing was worth more than she might ever own in her life, if not worth more than she herself. She wanted to feel beautiful - and she did, she felt as though she looked lovely. But instead of feeling like she was suddenly part of this world, she had never felt more out of place.

Penelope handed her a jeweled pink mask. It clearly matched the dress, as well as the masks of the other bridesmaids that were sitting on the table nearby.

“You look magnificent,” Penelope said honestly, as though it were a statement of fact and not her opinion.

Violet hesitated for a moment, but then took the mask from her. It was smooth and cool as she placed it on her face. She no longer looked the servant girl she had grown up - all in an instant, she looked like a lady, someone to be desired.

She wasn’t sure it was a great idea - but at least it would be an adventure.