Fated is overrated

As soon as the bag opens and I pull out the sandwich, the most vile smell enters my nostrils and I try, and fail, to suppress my gags. Xena pulls over swiftly and I waste no time in tossing the sandwich out as far as I can reach, before stepping out myself and getting some fresh air. "What's wrong dear?" Xena hurries over to me worriedly. "I'm not sure, but the sandwich really smelled vile" I gag a bit in between. "What did it smell like?". "I don't know.. The smell was really deep and profound...

It smelled musky and stale, but also vaguely like rotten food, I guess?". Xena's face turns pale, and she seems to be deep in thought. "What? What is it?". "It's just... The description you have given sounds a lot like wolfsban...".

What?! "You mean someone tried to poison us?" I almost shriek. "I'm not sure, dear. Let's leave the other sandwiches closed so we can send them in for testing". I nod, as we both return to our seats and resume our journey.

Xena clears her throat and says "but, we will not let this ruin your big day! We will just grab breakfast on the road". I nod at her with a small smile, and we continue the journey in comfortable silence.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. And I have to say, I do feel relaxed after the spa and salon. And Xena was right - they did exactly what I asked of them, and they didn't make me look like a clown.

I asked them to give me a bit of smokey eyes, cat-eye eyeliner and to lift my eyelashes before applying mascara.

And I have to admit, my makeup looks absolutely stunning. My hair is left down in waves, only the sides of my head are braided to make sure my marks are visible.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I am back in my room, and it is almost time to get ready for the ceremony. My dad is here to help me with my dress, and to have a much needed father and daughter moment.

Normally a girl would do this with her mother, but my dad has to perform both roles.

Not that he minds. I am really anxious to see the dress, as Zeke and Zane had it designed for me, and I haven't been allowed to see it yet. Luckily for them I am not a particularly fussy woman, and not too concerned with other people's opinions of me. When I hear my dad gasp upon opening the bag of the dress, my anxiety flares however, I still don't want to look like a clown. I can't help but ask nervously "what?! What's wrong?".

My dad doesn't reply, and I feel my heartbeat picking up. I race across the room to the walk in closet where my dad is, and what catches my eyes takes my breath away.