Peonies.

Of course there were peonies. They were her favorite, after all. What would this day be if peonies weren't scattered all over the ballroom, littering the aisles and chairs so perfectly that you would have though she had placed each individual petal right where it was?

Knowing her, she probably had.

The lobby of the Plaza was bustling with chaos. A staff of fifty, at least, fulfilling her every desire, as per her fiancées orders. He stood in the center of the aisle, watching the draperies being hung and the chairs covered with such precision, there was no way it wasn't her doing.

She always did get what she wanted

He meandered his way back through the culminating insanity back to the men's quarters. The sound of a champagne bottle opening greeted him. A single toast to his last remaining seconds as a bachelor before his new life begins.

The arch at the front of the aisle had been so intricately drizzled with lilies and peonies and white satin that it could have come out of the garden of Eden itself. He takes his place at the front of the alter, where he has been waiting to be for the past long nine months now.

The violins begin, and there she is.

She is glowing the way every bride should be and he can't help but feel a tear trickle down his cheek, inspired by her radiance. Her dark hair is curled and her lips are tinted a flushed pink. Every curve is draped in the most tasteful of ways. She is smiling her princess smile and reaching out for his hand. He leans to take her gentle hand in his.

Bang.

The dream is dead.