Copyright, Bride of Alvar, belongs to Silver Reins. No part may be copied or retold in any form. Thank you for reading and please vote if you like the book! This book is a first draft version. There is an inconsistency with the name of Alvar's country. That's because I changed the name later on. It is Underland. - Silver

Contrary to a large part of the female population, trying on wedding dresses isn't my idea of a good time.

However, every prospective "bride" needs a wedding dress, and I'm a bride, so here I—unfortunately—am at an upscale wedding dress shop located in downtown Chicago.

Why am I not eloping?

While I sit, waiting for my wedding dress consultant, who had introduced herself as Victoria, to return with a gown, I fidget with the rubber band I perpetually keep on my wrist to stop myself from going down the rabbit hole of my past.

To make matters worse, everywhere around me are brides excited to try on their gowns with their gushing and over-opinionated mothers.

I'm all too aware of why my mother isn't here, and it's not cause she's dead, disabled, or abandoned me.

No, all those reasons would be way too normal for my life.

If my Mom were here she'd tell me I'm making the worst decision of my life to marry Michael Jones. She'd also say that my life and the lives of everyone on Earth are at stake by doing it.

For a long time I'd fought her, trying to reason with her delusions, now I've just accepted it: I live in reality and my mom doesn't.

Rubber band snap. I'm present.

"Hello? Earth to Lucy!" my best friend, Emily, says, waving a hand in front of my eyes.

"Stop it, Em!" I playfully knock her hand from my view. She's the only one here to watch me sift through gowns.

"You look like we're here to choose a casket for your funeral," Emily says, an exasperated expression on her pretty face. "Smile! We're going to get the dress today!"

"Yeah, I know," I mumble.

"What is wrong then?"

"My mom," I say without emotion. I don't cry about it anymore to Emily, now it's only the internal turmoil, the feeling I'm betraying the woman who raised me whenever I do something for myself, that torments my mind. "She wouldn't approve of Mike."

I hate that this is who I am. Raised a freak because of my mother's madness.

"Yeah, but the important thing is you approve of Mike," Emily soothes and gives me a hug. "And you realize she only doesn't approve because she thinks she promised you to the King of Wonderland before you were born."

"King of Underland actually," I remind her under my breath. You'd think Emily would know by now. We'd talked about it enough over the years.

"Lucy, she is unwell, and remember what your therapist told you? Stop feeling guilty about her delusions and remember the years of emotional abuse," Emily rubs my back. "Look! Victoria's back with the dresses."

"Are you okay, dear?" Victoria asks.

"She just misses her mom," Emily covers for my angry expression. "Lost her mom when she was six." I don't stop Emily from lying for me about it because the truth is stranger than fiction.

"I'm so sorry, dear," Victoria says, she takes me gently by the arm and ushers me toward the changing booth. "Come with me and we'll start trying on these dresses. You are going to look so beautiful."

Minutes later, I walk out of the dressing room and show off the gown in the mirrors to Emily. My hair is naturally an ash brown and I've never dyed it otherwise, my eyes are light brown, and my skin is a subtle tan, dark enough that I don't burn in the sun easily. I'm not beautiful, but I'm grateful to have an undercover kind of appearance. I don't want to be noticed in a crowd, it's bad enough feeling different in every other way. Emily says I've got a "girl-next-door" thing going for me, but I'm pretty sure that's her nice way of saying "Plain Jane".

"Oh my gosh, you look amazing! You sexy thing! I wish I looked that good in white!" Emily showers me with embarrassing, over-the-top compliments as best friends are supposed to do when you try on wedding dresses with them.

"I think this is the one," I say, my eyes flickering to the EXIT.

I don't care what I'm wearing so long as I marry nice, uncomplicated Mike, and put the past behind me.

"There is no way you're only going to try on one dress!" Emily laughs at me.

I turn back toward the dressing room in time to see Victoria with another dress on her arm in a bag.

"He wants you to try this one on," Victoria says, while taking the plastic off of it.

"He who?" I give a half laugh at her randomness.

"Why Alvar of course," Victoria states.

"C-can you point him out?" I stutter, swallowing hard and feeling the blood drain from my face.

Alvar is not a common name here in the states... or anywhere actually.

"He's over there by the reception desk," Victoria says, nodding in that direction. She pulls the dress out of the plastic and my eyes widen. "Said he wanted Lucy Hammond to try this dress on for him."

"I can't afford that, Victoria. And did you just say Alvar told you to put this on me?" I laugh nervously. "I don't know any Alvar."

"Of course you don't," Victoria whispers with a giggle. She gives me a 'we know a secret' type of smile. "I won't mention it to your friend. Alvar said, don't worry about the price. He will buy it for you. You've got a very generous, very good-looking 'friend'!" She winks at me.

And now she thinks I'm having an affair.

Despite my mortification and embarrassment, I can't help myself. I let her help me into the exquisite gown.

The strapless corset bodice ends in a dropped waist and is embedded with sparkling stones.

Real gemstones?

With shaking hands, I run my fingers over them. They feel real, and I know by the touch of the fabric, it has to be expensive. The skirt flows out in a sea of white around me.

My heart pounds in my chest as I look up into the dressing room mirror.

I never thought I could look like a princess.

Victoria leads me back to Emily. The gown flounces in a graceful sway as I walk.

Emily doesn't say anything at first. Her eyes get buggy, and her lower jaw drops a little.

"Wh-what do you think?" I break the silence with a stammer.

I still can't believe I put this luxurious gown on considering the circumstances.

I'll admit, this 'Alvar' has good taste.

"It's—like—you're a complete goddess!" Emily's voice gets all gushy, and she circles me studying every angle of the dress. "I've never seen anything so beautiful," she breathes. "I would marry you in this!"

"I'll just tell all the guys you're taken then," I tease, trying to lighten my anxiety with a joke.

Emily loves guys. Yeah, that's right. Plural.

When Emily was eleven she'd had her first "boyfriend" and a fake wedding where I was the maid of honor.

Little Timmy Richardson was the first guy to have his heart broken by her.

I tell Emily I'm getting the dress, but I'm lying. I will not get a dress "Alvar" supposedly picked out for me. My blood chills just thinking about it.

But who would be so cruel as to play a prank like this on me?

I don't have any enemies to speak of. My weird upbringing has left me socially incapacitated besides Emily and Mike.

I thought I put the bullies behind me in High School.

After Emily and I part ways, I drive to the grocery store and can't stop thinking about Alvar's name getting dropped.

So sick. Whoever that was they're a jerk.

Just when I'm trying to put my past behind me living a nice, quiet, life married to a normal guy, and have his normal kids in my rebellion to the way I was raised, someone decides to throw a twist in the knife which is my past.

Well, screw them!

Mike, my fiancé, is a promise of a fresh start for me. Mike and I met in college. When he asked me to marry him of course I'd said yes. His proposal felt like my ticket out of looney-town.

I want stability in my life. Stability I'd never had as a child. Mike knows ours isn't a passionate love affair, it's a solid friendship. A comfortable arrangement we're both satisfied with.

At that thought, I call him.

Need anchoring. Rubber band snap!

"Hey, babe," I say when he answers.

"How did the dress shopping go?" Mike asks.

"I didn't find one. I'm about to get some groceries," I say simply.

"Great, I'm starving," Mike says.

"I take it you're coming over for supper?" I ask him with a laugh.

"Definitely, Lucy," Mike says.

"See you at 5:30 then! Love you!" I say, but not sure I'm all for him inviting himself considering my day.

"Love you too!" Mike says.

I enter the grocery store and hold my list up to my nose for a quick recheck.

Okay. Eggs. Milk. Butter—all the usual suspects.

I head to the back of the store to the dairy section. As I am bending to get a carton of milk someone taps my shoulder so I jolt, dropping the milk on the floor only to see it split open in a wet crash all over someone's expensive black leather shoes.

"I am so sorry!" I exclaim, not sure why I am the one apologizing because they'd been the who'd snuck up on me in the first place and—

"No, I'm sorry for scaring you like that," a deep and dark voice comes from the stranger, sending shivers down my spine.

I look up at theowner of the shoes and heat flushes to my face. In addition to his dark melted-chocolate voice, he's got an intense presence. So tall his broad chest is at myeye level, and he's muscular too.   

He's one of those guys.

At least that's what Emily terms to dark, mysterious, male strangers who makes you uncomfortable for reasons you can't explain.

Suddenly I'm touching my hair and giving a nervous giggle like an idiot.

I'm a freaking engaged woman! What is wrong with me?

"I'll pay for the milk," he says apologetically.

Besides, his general clean masculine exterior, his face throws me. A thick, intrusive scar lines across his right cheekbone and up over his eyebrow, marring an otherwise sinfully handsome face.

Shit, that scar almost goes through his eye! Bet there's a nasty story behind it too. Who would mess with this guy though?

"Oh, there is no need! I shouldn't be so jumpy," I try to recover as gracefully as my socially awkward self allows.

"I thought you were someone I knew," the unreasonably beautiful stranger says.

"Oh," I gasp. Why am I unbearably hot right now?

I'm sure he's going to leave and go about his business and I will never see him again. Thank goodness too. Men like him should have nothing to do with mousy librarian-types like me.

Since when has any man made me this nervous?

"I'm pleased to see I was correct. Lucy, forgive me for not saying so, but I'm Alvar," he says, his blue eyes are fixed on me as if I were a work of art. He leans down to my height, lips inches from mine. "May I kiss you, my bride?"

"How dare you! No—no, you may not!" I stutter, backing away, my head spinning. My feet are unsteady, and I practically trip over a produce kiosk.

"Pity, those pouty lips of yours look so soft," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on them so my hand instinctually rises to cover my mouth.

I'm frightfully aware how this stranger's words are affecting me in a way I've never experienced, even around my own fiancé.

"However, I agree with your sentiments on this. Let's keep this formal. I shall see you again soon, lovely Lucy."

He takes my hand, gets down on one knee and kisses the back of it.

Like he's stepped out of a fairytale to rescue his fair maiden.

I stare at him dumbstruck. How can this be real? Where his lips touched burns into my hand. He rises and goes on his way, turning into an aisle.

For a moment I stand frozen in place, scrambling to gain back control of myself. Finally, I shake myself awake and hurry after him.

Go after him. Tell him off!

I scan the entire store, but the stranger is nowhere to be seen.

Vanished. Like magic.

The memories come flooding in of my strange childhood. I wouldn't wish my childhood on anyone. The years of isolation and anxiety forced on a young girl whose mother made her believe she was going to save the world by marrying a king.

I'd convinced myself to stop believing in her delusions. Emily had helped me get over them, and embrace normalcy.

I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Mike up. I'm too polite to not keep him in the loop on my whereabouts.

"H—hi, Mike," I stutter. "I—I was wondering if you can cancel dinner plans with me tonight?"

"Sure," he pauses, then, "Is something wrong?"

"No," I rush, almost interrupting him. "I just need some time... alone. I think I am obsessing too much about Mom and--and--."

"I understand," Mike interrupts, "don't worry about it, babe. Have a good night."

"You too." I hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket.

Instead of finishing my shopping I leave the cart where it is and head straight to my car. I'm going to hate myself for this, but I need to see my mom.

Thank you for reading! Please vote!