I've been a little busy, but I have been able to write tons more of this in my notebook. I'm up to chapter five so far, and I can tell you, this is not turning out to be the happy little wedding you might have thought it was! Sorry for any mistakes concerning the books, I just lent my copy of Goliath to a friend. Enjoy, and check at the bottom!

"What would you say if I asked you to wear a certain wedding dress?" Alek asked Deryn over breakfast. His arm was curled protectively around his plate; Deryn was notorious for stealing food off of other people's plates.

Deryn looked up from her breakfast, an have-you-gone-barking-spiders sort of look on her face. "Well, your princlieness, I reckon I might shove you off of the Leviathan. Once it's up in the air, that is."

Bovril, who was perched atop Deryn's shoulder, chuckled. Alek wasn't sure whether to follows the loris's example or to take Deryn seriously. Instead, he replied, "Well, maybe you'll change your mind. I was hoping to visit the tailor as soon as we finished breakfast."

Deryn rolled her eyes and continued eating her breakfast. Alek and Deryn were staying in a rather lavish hotel in London, not far from the airfield. Captain Hobbes had immediately contacted the Admiralty, saying only that a "young lassie with a lot of spirit" had wished to wed the Austrian Kaiser on the ship. The request had immediately been accepted, most likely to please Austria.

After breakfast, Alek and Deryn boarded any omnibus, which, to Deryn's surprise, was heading away from the heart of London. It stopped in a quaint little part of town. The building belonging to the tailor in question had peeling paint and dusty windows. Deryn followed Alek inside, becoming more and more suspicious.

"Ah, young Aleksander. And this must be your bride, Miss Sharp," An elderly woman said, bustling out from behind a rack of dresses. She was very petite, and her accent sounded vaguely… Mexican? Her skin was tan, and her eyes sparkled with ferocity. She firmly shook hands with both Alek and Deryn.

"Call me Deryn. And you?" she said, shaking the old woman's hand.

"Anya. And who is this little creature?" Anya asked, scratching under Bovril's chin.

"Bovril.' He answered, before feigning shyness and ducking behind Deryn's head, then climbing over to sit on Alek's shoulder.

"Well, the men must stay here. Come with me to the back, Deryn. I think you will be pleased with the alterations." Anya hustled Deryn to the back of the store, where there was a private room for fittings.

"Step on to the platform and close your eyes. No peeking! I don't want you to see the dress until I have it on you!" Anya ordered.

Deryn undressed and stood on the platform in the middle of the room, eyes closed, feeling rather silly. Knowing Alek, the dress was bound to be big and covered in jewels.

Soon, Deryn felt the slip and slide of silk and lace over her skin. Anya pulled the zipper up, and she was silent for a moment. "Mmm, close. Just a few more stitches…" She murmured. Anya nipped and tucked and stitched and penned and sewed, finally stepping back to admire her work. "You may open your eyes now, Deryn."

Hesitantly, Deryn lifted one eyebrow, then the other. She gasped. Staring back at her in the big mirror Anya had brought over was a beautiful young woman, her wedding dress looking as if it belonged on her body. It was daring, it was risky. It was perfect for her. Deryn ran her hands over the rather low neckline. Her arms were sheathed in delicate lace to right above her elbows. A skinny gold ribbon was tied around Deryn's waist. The dress had amazing, flowing folds. But, perfectly, it wasn't big. It wasn't quite skin-tight, either.

"Anya, it's perfect," Deryn whispered, twisting around to see the vine-patterned lace over her back.

Anya smiled and nodded. "I have another family heirloom for you, Deryn. A jacket from your father, I believe. To wear with the dress of Sophie." As Anya reached behind the mirror and pulled an aviator's jacket from behind it, it hit Deryn that she must be wearing the wedding gown of Alek's mother.

The jacket's edges were dark. The jacket, Deryn realized, had been the one Da had been wearing the day of his accident, the one thing that had survived the blazing balloon. Anya helped Deryn put it on over the dress. In some weird twist, the jacket made the dress better. It was the very definition of Deryn.

"Thank you, Anya." After Deryn redressed and left, arm-in-arm with Alek, a very ominous thought crossed her mind. Life was never close to simple. And if things seemed so perfect, then they could only get worse.

You do not know how very tempted I am to put assassins in here. But I must practice patience! I'm going to need my crazy ninja/assassin skills for my next fan fiction. Chapter four is a real eye-opener for Alek and Deryn, and it has to do with a certain reporter…