Acknowledgements: Thank you to The-Macer-of-Dale, Blackdevil Nightheart, Mely-Val, IrishMaid, B-The-Geek, Pedro-IS-Madi12, Percabeth is Awsome, cullinane, Go LilixIcy, Missmanda, Einsam-Schatten,, Becky 999, Kate Marley, Typewriting Fangirl, fishstick1999, Envie Rouge, Laughinthefaceofdanger, Missflutterpie, abbydobbie, saraholly, Draskar, julyza, Deefangirl, Pandoala, Hintori-time, Senor Tree, Wandering Authoress for the reviews, PMs, faves and alerts and of course all my other readers. (If I've missed anyone please tell me.)
White Wedding
Chapter 16
The Nations all looked at one another and then at the speaker.
"It's me. I'm sorry but Arthur is already married to me."
It was China. He was stood up and pointing at Arthur. He hurriedly dropped his arm and looked around at the startled audience.
"Gay." Prussia said.
Russia stormed down the aisle like a raging demon. The temperature in the church, already cold plunged to sub-arctic and the wind buffeted the small church.
China began to work his way from the middle of the pew he was sitting in. Nations - Finland, Sweden and Sealand all stood to let him pass. Sealand muttered, "Jerk Dad England is such an idiot."
"I am sorry about this," China said to Russia as the big Nation approached him.
Russia's purple aura pulsated around him and spread through the church like a purple mist.
China's panda jumped out of China's backpack and leapt onto Finland's lap and hid there.
Ukraine was fanning Belarus with a leaflet handed to her by Hungary which read 'Jesus Can Help You'. "I think we're going to need more than His help here," Ukraine had muttered.
Arthur was stood in shock, "I don't think… I don't know… Oh It's snowing!"
China stood facing Russia's broad chest, "We got married in 1841, it was a Tuesday I think. Just a legal thing," China began to say.
Everyone stared. No-one moved.
"This is bigamy!" the vicar said.
"I think that technically…" Arthur began to burble.
"Man, you're such a dog!" America said, slapping him on the back.
Russia stood staring down at China. The small Chinaman stared back up at the Russian but did not back down or even look flustered.
"I thought Hong Kong was…" Russia began to say.
"No, English," China finished.
It was Estonia who saved the day. He opened his briefcase and took out a large book, adjusting his spectacles, he said, "I think that as Hong Kong became under British territory in 1841 and under a lease this does not constitute the normal requirements for a marriage under Nation law, I.e. a union, commonwealth or personal union so technically you're not married."
"What on earth does that have to do with it?" the vicar asked, utterly confused.
"Yes, that must be it…" Arthur said, wiping his brow.
Belarus had by now got to her feet and was clutching a knife. She wasn't sure who she was going to fillet with it but that was irrelevant. She glared at Arthur and then at China and then at Estonia.
"But you were married to Elizabeth Tudor," Estonia said to England.
Russia had stepped back from China, but was still looking angry and very dangerous.
"Oh okay, sorry then," China said, took panda from Finland and sat back down.
"I still need to talk to you, Yao," Russia growled.
China shrugged but hugged panda to his chest. He leaned over to Japan and said, "Do we have open return tickets?"
Japan, who had been utterly appalled - firstly at the fancy dress worn by his fellow Nations and secondly at the total lack of propriety shown by others who were drinking in the church - nodded hurriedly. "We can leave tonight," he said.
The vicar turned to Arthur, "So you are married? To this Elizabeth Tudor?" he said.
Arthur was trying to say something but America was dancing around him, "You ladies' man! Who'd have thought? I thought you were a boring old dude who went to bed at 10 o' clock with his Horlicks."
"Elizabeth Tudor died many years ago," Estonia butted in and rummaged around in his briefcase. "I expected something like this," he added and then glanced at France who was examining his fingernails, "I thought there'd be some interruption and I had the proper paperwork."
England shoved America out of the way and went over to Estonia, "You can't show them those documents! Liz died over 300 hundred years ago," he whispered urgently.
Ukraine looked from one to the other and then smiled at Estonia, "I love you, Ed," she mimed at him.
He grinned broadly and then put on his legal advisor look again quickly as Russia stormed back up the aisle.
"I am still not happy. Is he married or not? Can he marry my sister today?" Russia asked, pointing at England.
Belarus twirled a knife in her hand.
"Yes he can!" Estonia said, flurried some documents under the vicar's nose and then stored them away again promptly. "The marriage licence has already been endorsed by the Archbishop of Canterbury!"
"Really?" the vicar said.
"Really?" England said. "I say!"
"Aye he's a big berk as well," Scotland said. "All this wouldna have happened if I'd been best man."
"I should have been best man! I'm his son!" Yorkshire said, his ferret was now in a stand-off with Russi-cat as they hissed at each other and circled around the altar.
"I'm also his son!" Sealand shouted from the back. But he was hushed by Finland.
"Uncle Hamish, you're just a drunken lout and…" Yorkshire didn't get to finish his character assessment of 'Uncle Hamish' as Scotland leapt on him.
"Get this marriage underway now!" Russia said, holding a large piece of plumbing under the vicar's chin.
The vicar nodded hurriedly. "Where were we?"
"Just cause and impediment," England muttered.
Belarus turned to him, "Arthur do you have any stray husbands or wives who are going to turn up in this marriage?" she asked.
Arthur shook his head hurriedly, eyeing the knife.
"Good," she smiled and then turned to the vicar, "Continue."
Behind them Scotland and Yorkshire rolled on the floor fighting.
"Will you, Arthur Kirkland take Natalya Arlo…" here the vicar stumbled over the words.
"Get on with it and stop messing about," Russia growled, standing next to him.
"… to be your awful… lawful married wife to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse…"
(Someone at the back coughed loudly and sniggered.)
"To love and protect and forsaking all others?"
"I do!" Arthur said, far louder than he intended.
"Eeet eez so wonderful!" France said and buried his head in Spain's shoulder and began to sob.
Denmark wiped a manly tear from his eyes and turned to Prussia, who was swigging from a beer bottle. "It's lovely isn't it, Pru?"
"Nah, not really."
"Do you, Natalya Arlo… whatever take Arthur Kirkland to be your husband to comfort, honour, love and protect him…"
"Yes of course I'll protect him!" Natalya said forcefully. "Are you saying I won't?"
"Sweetie, it's just part of the ceremony," Ukraine said reassuringly behind her.
Russi-cat hissed and leapt from the altar onto the ferret and veritable war of fur began.
Russia tried to grab them but jumped back as he was scratched.
"Will you, the families and friends of this er… couple… support them in their future together?" the vicar asked, trying to ignore the fighting in front and behind him, reading obstinately from his book.
"Nah."
"Ja!"
"Do we have to?"
"I am neither friend nor family and want to go home."
"Get on with it!"
"If you hurt my sestra, I will break your neck."
Were some of the calls from the congregation.
The vicar looked up, wished he hadn't as he saw Scotland's bare backside looking back at him as the Scotsman's skirt had ridden up while he fought Yorkshire. They were now duelling with candlesticks.
"And now we pray…" the vicar said, raising his eyes heavenwards. "Oh dear God please save me from these demons from hell. Let me survive this day that I might cleanse this church of the unholiness that has pervaded its walls."
"Yeah yeah… is that it?" America asked.
"I now pronounce them man and wife!" came another voice. It was Bulgaria.
"Get out of here! You're not a priest person!" America said.
"I'm an ordained priest!" Bulgaria said.
"Since when?"
"I had a spare century," Bulgaria said.
"You may now kiss the bride," the real vicar said, shaking badly.
"Thanks!" America said and stepped forward.
"Not you! The groom… Arthur…"
"Yeah right…"
Arthur smiled pensively and took Belarus in his arms.
"Oh Arthur!" she said and swooned dramatically in his arms.
Lithuania hurried out of the church to be met by a blizzard and was followed by Poland.
"How did the speech go then?" Bulgaria asked Arthur as he bent over his bride.
"You! You translated my speech? But I gave it to Estonia!" England said, utterly outraged.
"He sub-contracted it out to me," Bulgaria said and grinned.
Estonia took Ukraine's hand, "I think we should beat a hasty retreat. Let's leave them to tidy up. We've done enough," he told her.
It was Russia who instructed the organist to play the wedding march again and ushered England and a stunned-looking Belarus back down the aisle.
"Do we have confetti?" someone asked.
"I've got some toilet paper."
"That'll do."
The reception was held in the hotel - much to the owner's trepidation. He was beginning to wish he hadn't accepted Arthur Kirkland's booking. It had seemed so easy at first - a reception dinner and then a disco for under 50 people. A small quiet, quintessential English wedding, the groom had said.
The bride and groom arrived at the reception covered in trails of toilet paper. Japan and China had thrown rice but had missed and hit Russia and Latvia instead. Russia had chased them both out of the grounds.
Denmark and Prussia had hit the bar, already drunk accompanied by a teenager who was still trying to get away from their clutches. He was joined by a very drunk postman, who had now forgotten he had ever had a normal life.
A Scottish transvestite was fighting with a Yorkshire farmer - their fight had spilled into the hotel lobby after a brief respite travelling from the church in separate cars. A ferret sat watching them, while a huge Siberian cat watched the ferret from his perch on the hotel lobby chandelier.
There was also the toast to the newly-weds.
As this was left to the best man, it was a disaster.
"I want to thank everyone for coming, except you Uncle Hamish and you, Bob… I really think you should stop fighting now," America began. He rustled some papers.
"Did you actually write a speech?" England asked, sitting next to him at the table. Belarus frowned.
"Yeah man! And I had it translated like you!"
"Into Russian?" England asked and glared at Bulgaria. He couldn't even remember inviting him. The cheek of it!
"Nah. French!"
"Why, in the name of Nelson, did you have it translated into French?"
"Dunno. Francy-pants offered."
"I'm not French and neither is Natalya."
"Oh yeah."
England put his head in his hands, "Just say something and make it quick."
"Right… I want to thank the bridesmaids because they look hot!"
Russia growled. Latvia beamed.
"Erm… except of course all those who are engaged to be married to Russkie dude… not that she's not hot… but she's nice… Anyway… Also all those dudes who were like at the church door…
"Ushers." Someone offered.
"No I won't! That's rude. Tony-dude my main man and Romano dude… and also Esty dude who arranged everything… and lastly to say the drinks are all on Switzerland!"
Switzerland jumped to his feet, "Nein! They are not! This is outrageous!"
"Ha! Got yer there!"
"Read out the telegrams!" England told him.
"Okay dokay… the Stans say congratulations and good luck and sent a yak," America said and pointed vaguely in the direction of the garden.
Russia jumped up to look, "They did!"
England looked alarmed.
Belarus smiled.
"Mr Wales and Mr Southern Ireland said they didn't come because they didn't want to…" America continued.
"Damned brothers," England muttered.
"Siberia says he wishes he was there just to see England being skewered by fifty knives," America said.
"What?!" England spluttered.
"I know, I would have said a hundred knives," America said with relish.
"Siberia is such a good boy," Russia said, still looking out of the window at the yak.
"The last telegram is from…" America announced this as if it were the Oscars.
"… The Inland Revenue," Austria said, thinking he was very clever.
"…The BBC!" Scotland said, in between punching Yorkshire.
"…Idiotsville wants their village idiot back!"
"…That's a good one! No, it was from someone called Elizabeth Windsor and she says congratulations…"
"… The first one or the second?" France asked.
"I dunno, is there a difference?" America asked with indignation. He was bored now and sat down.
"Toast!" someone yelled.
"I'm okay, I ain't hungry. I've just eaten," America said, rubbing his stomach. "I must say roast beef and Lancashire pudding…"
"Yorkshire pudding…" England corrected.
Yorkshire thankfully, for America's health, did not hear, he was still fighting Scotland.
"Anyway whatever… Raise your glasses to the bride and groom. Good health and happiness and let's hope that kid takes after me…" America said grudgingly.
"I am not your father!" England said, jumping to his feet.
"Hahahaha! You're such a nancy!" America yelled.
Everyone stood up reluctantly and raised their glasses.
"Thank you everyone and I would like to say how beautiful the bride and bridesmaids are and…" England began to say, standing up.
But it was evident that Belarus had decided the quaint English wedding was too quaint for her as she whispered to a waiter to fill up the glasses with vodka instead of champagne.
"Gorko gorko gorko!" Russia, Belarus, Ukraine and also the Baltics all shouted as they drank. (The girl Nations obviously drank water.)
The reactions to the vodka were interesting. France fell to the floor, his delicate taste buds forever scarred. Prussia ran to the toilet looking green "I hate vodka!" he yelled. Denmark appeared to show no evidence that he'd drunk anything other than his usual beer - but he was drunk. Finland just shrugged and took another glass. Sealand had his glass smartly taken from him by Sweden before he even took a sip. Austria appeared to lose his voice and his grumblings to his neighbour - Switzerland - were silenced.
"Now you kiss!" Russia said triumphantly. It was an old Russian custom. Everyone was supposed to drink vodka and the 'gorko gorko' meant 'bitter bitter' - the couple were then supposed to kiss to eliminate the bitterness of the vodka. This was something Russia never understood - vodka was wonderful wasn't it?
But obviously the Nations, as always, misunderstood who was to kiss who:
"I'm not kissing you!"
"Oh come on, Pru!"
"It's gay… and I ain't gay, Den."
"Man! It ain't gay if one of you is a Viking…"
"Liet, like, forget her… she's married and I'm here for you always…"
"I know Pol…"
"Roddy, I'm not kissing you in that outfit, you look ridiculous."
"I will kiss you, oh oui!"
"No you will not, Francis, you big perv!"
"I was not talking to you, Elizaveta, I was talking to Roddy, he looks gorgeous… those legs…"
"Don't call me Roddy!"
"Luddy-kins, I know I look stupid in this outfit but I've really missed you all day and I was really worried when they showed the hostage crisis on the news and the arrests and then none of you turned up and then I had to wear the wedding dress and I shrank it, but it wasn't my fault, it really wasn't but I was scared of Miss Ukraine, she's bigger than me and they shouted at me and then we had to go to the fancy dress shop and get outfits…"
"Oh Italy… shut up…"
"Do you want to build a snowman?"
Germany obviously thought that this would at least get him out of the rest of the reception, where he had been sat smiling through clenched teeth, Russia's warnings going through his head. "Ja," he said, to Italy's delight, who then kissed him on the cheek.
Germany blushed brighter than a belisha beacon but followed the 'Pope' outside.
America spun around looking for someone to kiss until Belgium caught him around the waist and kissed him on the lips. "You're my hero," she said - to his delight.
"You look great! I've never been kissed by a nun! You're not a real nun are you?"
"No you big goon, it's an outfit."
"Wow! A girl who likes dressing up!"
"So where are you going on your honeymoon?" someone asked England.
"Far far away…" he replied.
"Bournemouth… it's so tropical," Belarus answered dreamily.
"You guys kill me…" America laughed. "Bournemouthville! Hahahaha… hey I just thought of something…"
"Oh God… what's that?"
"I wonder what happened to Canadia?"
*The End or is it? *
Author's Notes:
Thank you for reading…
A rather silly epilogue to follow which may just explain where 'Canadia' has been all this time.
Also England and Belarus' blissful honeymoon