Ulrike was waiting for me right inside the balcony doors with a glass of juice and a piece of strudel, so the moment I got offstage -- so to speak -- I would have something to keep me going until lunch. The rigors of the receiving line still awaited us.
I drained theglass, brushed away a few crumbs of strudel, reappliedlip gloss -- and went downstairs with Victor, my mother and Boris. For the better part of the next hour, we shook hands, greeted each and every guest, and thanked them for coming to the wedding.
First all the invited guests went past -- Ben and Johnny were sheepish, no doubt because they had to know I knew about the cake, and were afraid I would 'Bridezilla' on their sorry behinds. Sue was warm, Reed formal but not chilly. Namor made a comment about how he was looking forward to his own wedding.
When the X-Men came by, I looked very carefully at two young women in the party -- Katherine Pryde, also known as Shadowcat, and another girl, a girl I did not know or recall from the comic books. She had dark red hair, which very rarely occurs in nature, (yet superheroines seem to have it all the time), and she was wearing a very unusual and lovely Bolero jacket. The two of them looked so superbly innocent, that I knew they had to be the ones who were in the kitchen when the cakes fell to their deaths.
So I smiled, and asked, "Of course I know Katherine Pryde, but who is this young lady?"
She turned bright red -- much like myself when I get embarrassed -- and stammered, "I -- I'm Meg. Margaret Kidder, that is."
"Are you in the X-Men?" I inquired, curious. Poor thing -- more grist for Xavier's mutant mill.
"No -- and I don't want to be! I really want to be a doctor." She blurted out. "I mean, the superhero thing -- it's like running in circles."
This was intriguing! I would've liked to talk longer to this girl, but there were still a lot of guests to go before lunch. But my sense of mischief prompted me to ask one last question. "How did you like your tour of the kitchen?"
Her eyes widened, and she turned an even brighter shade of red. "We didn't do it!"
"It's all right," I assured her. "Thank you so much for coming to our wedding."
"Uh-you're welcome." she said weakly, as the line carried her past me.
After the invited guests came the citizens of Latveria, and there were a lot of them. No less than eight infants were pressed into my arms as their mothers and grandmothers went past. I was informed that holding a baby as soon as possible after the ceremony infallibly ensured that a bride would have a baby within a year after the wedding. Well, in a couple months, once we were ready to go public with our news, all those women would be nodding their heads, saying, "You see? It works!" and claiming credit.
By the time every single person on the receiving line filed past, I was, although excited and elated, definitely ready to sit down for a good long time and have some lunch.
First, however, I dashed upstairs to change into the reception gown. After two hours, eight babies, and innumerable hugs, the ceremony gown was a little creased and crumpled -- nothing that a steamer couldn't fix, but no longer fresh.
The reception gown was less formal than the ceremony gown. It was more fun -- and perhaps even a bit sexy, as it showed off some skin, with its spaghetti straps and lower neck. Bisitra had found a source for white silk tulle with gold embroidery, a pattern of vines, flowers, and scallops. The dress looked almost as if she had wrapped it around me in bath-towel fashion, directly under my arms, sewn it together, attached straps, and tied a long gold ribbon under my breasts to give it an empire waist -- and it just happened to look spectacular.
It took only seconds to get out of the ceremony gown, and into that one. I switched the emerald pendant and earrings for the wild rose set, with the antique-cut diamonds and emeralds sprinkled on the leaves like dew drops, while Ulrike took the veil off the wheat ear circlet. She insisted on dusting my face with powder before she would let me back out the door.
Just as I was leaving, she stopped me and said, "My lady, you really ought to look in the mirror."
"Ought I?" I asked, and turned.
The most notable thing was how happy I looked. The tulle dress floated around me like a mist, the necklace sparkled, and I glowed. I looked as though I would be starring in A Midsummer Night's Dream, rather than watching it in about an hour.
It wasn't as if the 'Beauty' fairy had come along, bopped me with her wand, and maybe perfect -- I was still entirely me in every feature. But I had spent the last week finding out, to my surprise, that how I had always perceived myself had been colored by how I felt about myself. The external transformation was as nothing compared to the internal.
Happiness, self-confidence, and the knowledge that I was loved, were better cosmetics than anything from a tube or a jar. "Not bad." I said, happily, scandalizing Ulrike -- and went downstairs.
Lunch would be served in a huge white pavilion tent, which was set up on the terrace where Victor and I had such a romantic dinner last week. I met Victor just inside the door leading out to the terrace. We were going to make an Entrance.
He had not changed -- he was still majestic in his black armor, and his fur-trimmed green velvet cape. Would I always feel ridiculously happy at the sight of him? I hoped so.
"Joviana, my dear!" he said when I appeared. Taking my hands, he held me at arm's length, and said, "Let me take a look at you -- I seem to have a tolerably attractive wife." The humor and pride in his voice and eyes belied his words.
"Do you think anyone will still be wondering why you wanted to marry me?" I teased him in return.
"I think they are more like to shrivel with envy. No, I do not think they will wonder why. Shall we?" He held out one arm for me to take and gestured to the terrace with the other.
"Yes." I threaded my arm through his, and we stepped through the door. Together.
A/N: know it's been a long dry spell. Sorry--life has been stressful.
Okay--now brace yourselves.
I want all my readers to know that I am going to continue the story up through the wedding night--and then take a break to get it into shape for a publisher.
When I start sending it out--under the title Just Super, which I think expresses the spirit of the book--I am going tohave to take theversions here down. Just a warning...
Why?
Partly because of the whole copyright issue, and because of the difficulty of getting a publisher to pay for what people can read for free.