Disclaimer: I don't own the Royals. That's E!
Did my Heart Love till now?.. I ne'er saw True Beauty till This Night.
In the dressing room, Aglaia tried to calm her nerves. Her mother and very few others were allowed in this room.
Aglaia tried to calm down, as they did the finishing touches to her hair. Nobody could agree on whether or not her hair should be left loose- 'like a virgin', curled, waved or straightened, or bound in an elegant bun, a chignon or an up-do. No one could agree. In the end they compromised. Aglaia's mane of black hair was gently waved and with loose curls partially fastened, the rest cascading down like a waterfall, but not enough to impede the view of her beautiful dress and veil.
Her mother passed her a rosary. Aglaia saw her kiss it, and pass it to her bridesmaid, before Aglaia kissed it herself. "May God be with you," her mother stated.
The old English custom was for the bride to wear something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. And a silver sixpence in her shoe.
"Your tiara is borrowed," her mother stated. "And the blue ribbon is underneath your dress. Your earrings..." Her mother handed it out.
Aglaia gasped. They were clear diamonds, delicate and teardrop-shaped. "Thank you," she whispered. Her mother smiled. There were tears misting in her eyes. "They're new. The old- apart from your mother-in-law- is your lace." Aglaia bit her lip when her mother said that. "And you have a silver sixpence built into your shoe."
"It's time." Someone said.
The bridesmaids were waiting down below. Little Sarah Alice was among them, unbelievably excited. She stood with a group of other little girls and a few young ladies just waiting for the bride at the foot of the stairs.
Before Aglaia appeared.
On the way to Westminster Abbey, Liam and Robert sat side by side. Outside the crowds could barely be restrained when they arrived there. On their way there had been a great deal of cheering, and the crowds were so thick they could barely pass, despite all the policemen and security.
"Look, I know, I've been a real bastard," Robert broke the uncomfortable silence. "I was bitter. I was angry. Not just at you, but at the whole world... And myself. I was hurting, but I didn't think it was important. All I felt was the need to be something else- the perfect prince, the perfect future king. And I hated it Liam. I secretly hated it. But I couldn't say it to anybody or stop... Not until I arrived on that island. I was a mess inside and out and I thought the best way to fix it was to shove it back- but I took it out on you, and I have no excuse for that." He admitted. "I'm sorry. More than you can ever know. For saying those things to you... For Jasper, and more. I wanted to be the man I was before, but something changed in me, Liam. I can never truly go back. And for that and more, I'm ashamed." He finished.
Liam looked at his brother. Robert was full of sorrow for once on this special day. "It's okay," Liam said softly. "Everyone changes. The most important thing is to remember that at the end of the day, we are family and we will always be there for one another. I love you, brother. No matter what happens."
Robert smiled slowly. "I love you too, brother." He looked puzzled. "That sounds exactly what Aglaia said to me once."
"It's good that you're marrying her," Liam admitted, a slow smile spreading across his face. "She's been good for you, and for Britain. And for the family. I'm just really sorry Dad never got to meet her. He would have adored her."
"Yeah, he really would." Robert stated. Eleanor had said the same thing. Even Cyrus when he was drunk and unashamedly joking.
The car pulled at the abbey and the rest of the royals were there. Penelope and Maribel, regrettably, wearing quite bizarre outfits. Penelope was in a rather hideous shade of maroon with a headpiece that looked like a rooster desperately trying to put itself out of the flames, while Maribel was in yellow, she looked like a giant egg yolk. Robert had rarely seen his cousins ever since he got back. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was them. They were quite dopey. Well, Maribel did have plastic surgery, but she was essentially still the same.
The car arrived at the abbey. The roars of the crowds were so loud that guests began seriously wondering if the building would collapse with them inside it. Robert smiled, a slow, dazzling smile full of joy and no pretences as the cheers intensified. Then drop-dead silence.
Outside, Aglaia stood out and the sun spilled onto her. She was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful queen the masses had ever seen.
Her gown featured a fitted bodice with bared shoulders- a rather risqué thing for a royal bride, much less a queen- and cap sleeves. The bodice was covered in lace and crystals which flowed onto sections of the skirt, which was mostly pure white peau d'ange silk but was adorned with sparkling crystals that glittered and caught the light, reflecting it back. The silk itself was smooth and very fine. Faint patterns were there, flowers and/or stars, like Botticelli's Primavera, but it wasn't too much. Regal and romantic the dress had taken months to perfect. Good thing too. Even the veil itself, with its lace detailing was expensive.
The princess made her way into the abbey on her father's arm. The bells started ringing, people cheered louder than before and the ceremony began on the walk to the aisle.
Guests inside gasped as the bride made her way up, and Cyrus rolled his eyes, guzzling down his liquor in a flask. Typical Robert, always getting what everybody else wanted. Why should this be any different?
"It's like she swallowed the essences of like, a million supermodels," Penelope muttered from somewhere beside him. "A billion- supermodels, movie stars and Kim Kardashian." Maribel muttered. "Not to mention, Paris Hilton in the mix somewhere." "She's old." Maribel muttered crossly. "And she looks horrible." "Less horrible than you." "Oh, shut up!" "You shut up!" "Your hat looks like a rooster pooping on your head!" "You look like its egg yolk," "Both of you, please shut up!" Cyrus remarked, rolling his eyes. He took another swig. He was going to need it.
The ethereal music faded and Aglaia looked up from beneath her veil to her soon-to-be husband's. Helena was smiling. Even she could not deny the joy of this day. Only for her look to sour when she caught sight of Queen Anastasia not two seats from her. Eleanor sat on her other side.
The ceremony commenced. Lots of droning words and so forth. The rings. The scriptures. Candles. And the fact that the bride and groom stared at each other, "moony-eyed," Cyrus remarked. Guests and spectators outside, later said they had never seen a couple so much in love.
The vows came. And the rings. After being stuck on a dessert island with few things to remind him of his family, Robert wanted one for himself, instead of sticking to tradition and jamming only one ring on his wife's hand. This was going to be a new tomorrow. A new day, a new age and a new life- with her, Aglaia.
Finally, they were pronounced husband and wife, and a thunderous roar shook the building from outside and guests began to wonder if they were going deaf.
"Should I get my ears checked?" Penelope asked dopily. For once, everyone was wondering the same. All except for the bride and groom who were about to make their way down the aisle, beneath the canopy of swords and then onto the carriage ride which Aglaia secretly detested.
"Big smiles!" The photographer called out.
The new king and queen both smiled radiantly that day, the pictures were taken. The wedding party was soon called out. Liam stood beside Robert, glad that this rift between them had mended, Helena stood beside him and Eleanor beside her. Cyrus looked bleary-eyed and sulky- the only person to look that way. Princess Penelope looked confused. Like the wrong chicken just pooped on her head. Princess Maribel didn't look much better.
The cameras flashed.
Once that was over, the king and queen stood receiving the well-wishers of countless royal guests.
"Look at them. I never thought I'd see a royal couple so happy and so in love. My wedding wasn't that widely-broadcast." Anastasia remarked next to Helena.
Helena gave a strained smile. This was a jab at her own extra-marital affairs and her strained marriage with her own husband.
"No, sadly it wasn't," Helena remarked back. "But I'm sure if they saw it, the entire masses would have wished you a happy ending. And a glorious tenure as queen, no doubt."
Translation: 'You just weren't important enough for anybody to care about you. During your wedding and coronation.'
"As glorious as yours, Queen Mother," Anastasia said simply. Quietly putting an emphasis on the word Mother. "If only mine had been as glorious as yours."
Helena's smile grew strained. She was no longer queen. Now the masses were chanting out Aglaia's- Greek- name and the waves of the Mediterranean and the English Channel had swallowed her up without a ripple.
"What's this?" Aglaia asked her father. He winked at her. "A wedding present." He answered. "Something much more personal." She smiled at him with love in her eyes.
"It's time." "WE WANT THE KING! WE WANT THE QUEEN! WE WANT THE KING! WE WANT THE QUEEN!" The chants outside the palace grew louder and louder with each stroke.
"Yup, I'm getting my ears checked," Eleanor joked. "Me too," Liam said, smiling.
"They're calling for you," King Konstantinos reminded his daughter softly. "For both of you." Aglaia's husband stood, smiling, his eyes shining as he saw her, and held out his hand. "Come."
The doors opened with a thunderous roar and a cheer.
The party was fabulous and lasted all through the night without being stuffy, dull and overly-formal like most royal events to Eleanor's mind, but not wild and crazy like the ones she was used to which would end up with her being wasted.
The only one about to be wasted was Cyrus. He was still drinking heavily, his face puce reddish-purple, his eyes webbed with red. The food was delicious- and in-poisoned. To Cyrus' disappointment there was no Red Wedding-like event, or even a Purple Wedding where the groom keeled over and promptly died, choking from poison. Only Penelope sniffing the champagne and gagging nearly vomiting while her sister cackled madly.
Sarah Alice was supposed to be in bed. "What are you doing here?" Jasper teased, head cocking to one side. "Dad sent me off to bed. But I had to see them dance. Like Aurora or Beauty and the Beast."
Jasper smiled. Robert was acting better now that he'd married her. Sarah Alice was overjoyed and excited when she became a miniature bridesmaid and even got to go out onto the balcony to hear the cheering, see the kiss and wave while the RAF saluted them.
After the dinner they cut the cake, and fed each other a slice before dancing.
And in the meantime, the new queen's two brothers watched... And their eyes were fixed on quite a few people.
In the honeymoon suite, quite far away...
Princess Aglaia- now queen- swallowed nervously. Her husband had gone off somewhere. No doubt to try to 'cool off'. Which left her plenty of time to get ready.
To her relief, her mother had entirely forgotten to bring her a Karma Sutra book. However, she did send some very slippery and sexy lingerie, much to her daughter's mortification, and lots of bath oils and aroma therapy which Aglaia was certain was meant to stimulate libido, particularly a man's.
Oh, for goodness' sake, this was her mother pulling the strings!
Now Aglaia went to the bathroom. She spotted an open note on the granite sink. It stated, quite blankly: 'Πάρτε το χάπι.'
'Take the pill'. Okay, so her mother just had to put it there. And she was probably stalking her too, Aglaia shook her head, flushing scarlet.
But she reached out and took the Phoenix and Unicorn Pill from her bag, anyway. She swallowed it with a glass of water.
Wait, it wasn't all what she said. 'Ανάψτε την αρωματοθεραπεία. Ρίχνουμε τα έλαια στο μπάνιο. Δεν χρειάζεται τη μουσική, απλά πηγαίνετε γυμνός στο λουτρό.'
Translation: 'Light the aromatherapy. Pour the oils in the bath. You don't need music, just strip naked.'
Now Aglaia's face was burning. She face-palmed. But she had no choice. Hopefully her mother did not bring in hidden cameras to inspect their amorous activities. Desperately trying to rid herself of those thoughts, she did the aromatherapy, ran the bath, poured in the oils, worked it into a gorgeous lather and stripped naked. She immersed herself. The hot water was a balm to her nerves. She closed her eyes.
She was in there for a while, trying to relax, before she stood.
"Relaxed are we?" Robert's hungry voice sounded. She spun around.
Her treatments clearly worked if the look in his stormy blue eyes and the bulge down below was any indication.
The next morning Aglaia opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming in, and... She blushed crimson just remembering yesterday's activities. It wasn't as if they hadn't done it before, but now...
Robert nuzzled her neck. "Morning, sweetheart," he said huskily. "My darling wife."
Aglaia sighed and sank herself back onto him.
"Have a good night?" Robert's teasing voice asked her.
"Yes," she admitted. "Sorry if I pounced on you a little," Robbie admitted. "I was a little over-enthusiastic, wasn't I?"
That could hardly be your fault, Aglaia thought. The queen of Greece was too damned smart.
She shuffled a little. "Are you hungry- how long have you been up?"
He smiled. "Long enough." His grin turned mischievous. "And the only thing I'm hungry for is..."
Aglaia laughed. "We have a whole lifetime for that," she reminded him quietly.
His grin widened. "I know."
Later, Aglaia- dressed suitably in a white linen dress was halted by the Cook who appeared on the honeymoon with them.
The old Chinese woman, the only one trusted by Queen Anastasia, shoved a tray with three steaming bowls on top towards her. On the tray was a paper note. It said:
'Πίνω!'
Meaning: 'Drink up!'
Aglaia stifled the urge to groan and drank all three bowls.
In London...
"What? These are all for her?" Helena was aghast.
"For the new queen, ma'am." Spencer winced, soon after he said that. "And the king."
"Well... What are they?" Helena spluttered.
From Russia, we have an antique desk set with black diamonds that once belonged to Catherine the Great. From China, and antique Imperial Green Jade pendant in the shape of a phoenix. From India, an exquisitely engraved jewel box and set that once belonged to Mumtaz Mahal, the one whom the legendary Taj Mahal was built for, a set of Venetian glasses and mirrors from, obviously-" he coughed. "Venice, Italy. A gorgeous wrap and shoes from Diane von Furstenberg, a pair of pumps from Dolce and Gabbana, a handbag from Versace, an evening gown from Valentino-" "Wait." Helena interrupted. "All these designers gave these things to Aglaia?"
"Well," Spencer looked uncomfortable. "Yes, your majesty." Helena sank back in shock.
"As in for free?"
"As in for free." Spencer confirmed dully.
"And there's a massive quilt. A patchwork, one patch made by every household in a small village in Scotland. There's another one from Wales, I believe." Spencer finished meekly. Helena felt faint.
They loved her. Damn it, everybody loved her.
And she was having a lovely time being banged on her honeymoon, by her adoring husband and as a queen, no less.
And nobody loved Helena.