Sofia The First A Royal Wedding Novels & Stories

She looked over his shoulder at me, smiling like she’d just claimed some grand prize. I almost pitied her. Really. How sad it must be, to treat a man like Evan as if he were treasure instead of trash. … The wedding day arrived. Since the day Evan and I last spoke, he hadn’t reached out. Not once. Instead, it was Viola who showed up—sweeping into the bridal suite like she owned the place, surrounded by a full glam team of stylists and makeup artists. “Liora, you wouldn’t mind if they did my hair and makeup first, right?” she asked, already sitting in front of the mirror, her tone dripping with arrogance.

The air in the Parisian haute couture salon smelled like money and fear. I’d waited six months for my wedding dress. Now, it was draped over the shoulders of Sofia Ross—the trending influencer, and my mafia fiancé Vincent Cassio’s god-sister. The salon manager was sweating bullets, his eyes darting between me and the man lounging on the velvet sofa.

“Ah, welcome to your new home, Sofia. This is where you’ll live officially after the wedding tomorrow.” “Tomorrow.” I shake my head, and I sigh “Yes, is there a problem?” the king asks. Yes, I thought that I would have enough time to at least escape. Or something, but I didn’t expect to get married TOMORROW. “Don’t you think it’s too soon? I mean…” “Uh, Sofia,” Mom says my name in a warning. They don’t even look surprised. They look like they’ve known from the beginning that I was going to get married as soon as possible.

Sofia proudly boasted before she swang her arm around Ria's shoulders, getting all mischievous, "or maybe it's the shy bride glow for finally getting married to her oh-so-handsome knight in shining armour?" "Stop it." The bride blushed.

Sofia let out a subtle gasp, looking at him. What was he doing? Before she knew it, Oscar had kissed her softly on her lips like no one had ever done and it was just long enough to inhale her breath, feel the warmth of her skin and the taste of her strawberry flavored lips. Then he pulled away, watching as she struggled to catch a breath. There was a flash from a camera nearby, catching the second proof of marriage—a photo of their first kiss that was to be stapled to their certificate. Oscar turned to the priest and a coy smile crept to the corner of Sofia’s lips.

"Your Majesty, it you would allow, I want to marry Ophelia as soon as possible. I would like to marry her next week. You may decide whether we hold the wedding in Solterra or here in your kingdom. But since Ophelia had just recently found her real family, I would like to suggest to hold the wedding here first and then hold another wedding in my kingdom after since I would like every each of my people to witness how I would marry the woman of my dreams." "Thank you," I whispered to Demitri. The idea of holding a wedding twice to be held in both kingdoms is good. I really admire how he thinks. How fortunate I am to have him as my soon-to-be husband. The word 'husband' is so pleasant in my ears

"He is, Mia. He’s your Prince Charming. Now go get married, before he passes out from nerves." Downstairs, the music began. A soft orchestral swell floated through the garden. The guests took their places. First came Sofia, radiant in a lavender dress, her fingers scattering petals down the aisle as she shyly walked, cheeks rosy with pride. On the opposite side, Nick strutted with determined seriousness, earning a soft laugh from the guests. Andreas' mother entered with Susan in sea green coloured bridesmaids' dresses.

The side effects of her switching powers were taking a cool turn on her looks. “What's wrong baby?” Greggory asked walking towards Sofia and the others. His hands gently slide around her waist pulling her into his body. “Nothing much,”’ Sofia replies, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Greggory was not a man of many words and Sofia was rather a sophisticated woman. From the start, he had been very happy to serve the land and be king. Everyone would be joyous to be king of the land of blessed wolves but it all changed on the night of his wedding.

I was Damian Valenti’s legal wife. But to the rest of New York, Sofia Bellini was the woman he planned to marry—and I was the pregnant mistress who refused to let him go. Damian said it was only for show. Sofia’s husband had died saving his life, and he had promised to protect her. She needed the wedding and the title of Donna. I already had what mattered: his love, his fortune, and our real marriage. At least, that was what Damian believed. He was so certain I would understand that he spent our seventh anniversary helping Sofia choose her wedding dress. He never noticed that I was in the fitting room beside them, wearing the dress he had once promised to see me in. As Sofia admired herself

Why have you planted such a villian in my life? "What's going on?" I asked, trying to sound polite. I wouldn't want to disrespect the king before so many people. Everyone were now on their feet. "Your majesty, what is going on?" Sofia asked with a bow. "Stay out of this!" He yelled, his eyes glittering dangerously like he was about to go on a killing spree. "Please tell us why you want Dorian arrested?" My mother asked as they all arrived at the altar. "This wedding cannot hold!" He roared.