December 3, 1994: Day of the Wedding
***Sofia***
An army of woman scramble to get everything ready as my mother barks orders at them. I sit anxiously in the makeup chair while the hair stylist finishes unpinning my curls and brushes through them. Small hair jewels and my tiara are put in place and pinned securely at the top of my head while the makeup artists powders my face once last time for good measure.
Amidst all this chaos, I wanted nothing more than to scream and run away. Run to the beach and let the ocean pull me away into oblivion. But my mother taught me long ago how to keep my emotions in check and I stare blankly at my reflection in the mirror.
A Queen must always look calm and collected even when stressed, I remind myself.
My dress is brought out and
