It was the same cathedral as where her coronation had taken place. Again the hall was filled with cheering people. Again she felt a profound urge to cry. But she didn't. After all, she had dried her tears the day he had left. When his black robes and silver tresses where no longer visible, she had wiped away the signs of her grieve and swore a silent oath that she would never cry again. Ever. She had kept that promise. Through the entire war with all it's military campaigns, plagues and food shortages. She merely acknowledged the problems and tried her very best to fix them. So when her trustworthy advisors Ms. Spencer, Virgil and Vanessa told her the royal treasury was nearing depletion, she had accepted the best solution: marriage.

She walked down the aisle with her chin raised. Her face without emotion. A marriage, without him. Her step falters for a moment as the thought caught her off guard. Him. The one she had been waiting for until now. She had made a second promise that dreadful day. She told him she would wait for his return. Without putting it in words they both knew what she had meant with those words. He did not return. He vanished. Maybe even...She dared not finish that thought. Meanwhile she had regained her composure. She reached the end of the aisle. At the altar she met the pope. Again he graced her with an encouraging smile. Slowly she returned it, but she felt the corners of her mouth trembling. Then she turned to face Virgil. He eyed her suspiciously, still opposing her marriage. She was certain that if he saw but one trace of doubt, he´d call off the wedding. Yet she asked him to fulfill the most import part in this ceremony.

Finding a wealthy man, who would accept her was surprisingly easy. A Methuselah count. His possessions in land where small, but the man himself had proven in the negotiation he was shamefully rich. But people who have all the money in the world are often careless and egoistic. Her count had written that he was not able to attend his own wedding. Instead she would have a marriage by proxy, with Virgil serving as stand in. Her eyes settled on the white glove in Virgils hand. It looks a bit like kind the AX-members used to wear. A sad smile crosses her face. The glove reminded her of his black wings. If only I had wings myself. I'd fly away, far away from here. And I'd hide from the world until he'd found me.

Vaguely she catches the pope starting the wedding ceremony. They had practiced this over five times.

"...to be you lawfully wedded wife. In sickness and in health..."

A short pause and then Virgils voice. A clear 'yes.' Her hands tremble, soon it would be her turn. In a few moments it would be all over. The queen of Albion would have married an obscure count from the Empire, for his money. She could not help to hope the count would bare no resemblance whatsoever to the man she waited for. As if in slow motion she catches the last words of the question she said she'd answer. Father Nightroad, where are you? A short interval in time. Please.

"Yes."

The crowd in the church began cheering. Some hats flew through the air. The shock on pope Alessandro's face for such behavior highlighted from all the other things around her. Tears tried to fill her eyes, but she swallowed them back.

Virgil raised his gloved hand and placed in on her arm.

"Are you feeling ill, my lady?"

"No, thank you." She tried a comforting smile. "I'm feeling quite alright."

"None would stop you from taking a breather."

"I will, stop myself. My people have deserved this feast."

The last word left a bitter taste in her mouth. Feast. As if I'm served poultry. Yet, maybe I am. For it is done. I am a married woman. Lady Esther, queen of Albion, countess of Noctis Silentium. I am so sorry, father. Will you still return to me? Or will you feel hurt and betrayed... Maybe it's for the best if you would not return. I do not know if I could bare it.