Princess Style Carry Vs Bridal Carry の小説・ストーリー

Sara Michaels Kingsley didn’t say another word. He simply bent down, slid one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, and lifted me effortlessly into a bridal carry. I let out a small, surprised laugh, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as my cream-white gown pooled around us. “Kingsley!” I gasped, half-laughing, half-breathless. “You don’t have to carry me everywhere tonight.” He smiled down at me, his eyes soft and full of affection. “Tonight, I want to. You’ve been on your feet all evening. Let me take care of you.”

It honestly feels like she was carrying a young child instead of a young teen. Had this happened in any other time, carrying her highness in this position would probably make the Princess snap at her in irritation and sheer embarrassment since the girl is far too older to be carried like this but they both know the Princess is far too tired–far too drained–to say anything to properly protest. The walk to her chambers wasn’t that far, anyway. When Eden finally managed to nudge the door open, she places the girl underneath her thick covers, taking care to tuck her snugly in, she turned away, intending to grab the girl’s brush–

The streets and markets were bustling with beautifully dressed people. Princess Victoria Herman was gazing at her bridal reflection in the mirror, which her maids had painstakingly prepared for hours. She was adorned in a white gown with her long golden hair fashioned into a small, loose bun. The jewelry she wore was exquisite and heavy, and her maids had applied minimal makeup to achieve a natural look.

I brought the leather holster that I embroidered for the prince and placed it in the middle of the table setting. There was the slightest breeze whirling off the gentle creek, and it enlivened my spirit which was rather downtrodden and depleted recently. The ends of my hair pulled tightly in a high ponytail, brushed against my face in the wind as a reminder that I was human, not a princess without consequence. I smoothed my long, silken magenta gown and tucked it carefully under my thighs, as my legs extended in front of me, the princess' cream-colored Chanel espadrilles peeking out at the end of the dress.

His deep chuckle resonated in the room before fading away as he cleared his throat. “Well… of course. Yes. Right. A bra. Definitely a bra. But even when you are wearing a bra, you need to wear something to be called a princess or royalty. Every woman can wear a bra. But something that differentiates a royalty from common people is — confidence. Even a rug worn with confidence becomes a style statement for society. Confidence, omega. That’s what makes the actual difference, and that’s what makes you stand out in an outstanding outfit.” My heart thumped louder at his words.

he said resolutely. I gulped before I slowly got on the prince’s back and wrapped my arms around his neck. Once he was sure that I was secured, he slowly stood up as his arms looped under my legs to carry me on his back. I didn’t think that I was as light as a leaf like he had told me; however, I couldn’t deny that the prince did seem to carry me with ease.

A luxurious carriage bearing the Alison family crest stopped on the palace grounds. From the inside, Ariana jumped out in an unusual outfit. After Ariana got used to wearing pants, the dress that used to be her favorite outfit made it difficult for her to move freely. Now, Ariana prefers to wear clothes with pants, along with a sword that is always carried around her slender waist.

She didn't even know how much time she had left. She was no longer comforted. The maid silently helped to put on the dress: the thinnest translucent white fabric to the floor, and on top - a lot of silver chains that pressed her to the body, outlining the figure. Thin silver bracelets on both hands, long earrings that barely touched the shoulders. There is nothing on her neck - during the ceremony she will accept two wedding pendants at once. Arleta pulled the princess's hair into a complicated and voluminous braid, adorned it with the same chains as on the dress, and allowed her to look in the mirror.

the blonde bride asked her with anger-filled words. “That’s because I am chosen one by your crown prince from hundreds of sexy princess and barmaids ever born in this world. I know his taste better than anyone.” Akshara spoke boldly only to knock her ego of being born a princess. “Princesses are born, but warriors are made out of scars. So, if you want to be presentable to the crown prince then wear this crimson not white. I hope, our Queen is agreeable to bride selection for her son not warrior selection for her army.” Akshara voiced firmly while her eyes rolled out, yet emphasized every word.

When they are done, they signal me to sit down, and I do. The younger woman puts my hair in a two-side braided hairstyle and leaves the rest loose and flowing down my back. After that, they help me put on the gown and then the shoes. I don’t wear makeup. When all that's done, a crown is placed on my head. It's not a big crown like the queen's; it's a smaller one, like a princess's.