Christine sat with Cecile on the floor playing with her dolls. The wedding was tomorrow and here she was nervous as all hell. She and the king had surprisingly gotten off the subject of politics this week and were getting along better. They spoke of music, arts, Cecile, like in general, and really nothing in particular. It was odd really. Christine found herself liking the man she was being forced to marry. She was happy that this was turning into a relationship she could stand, unlike others in the castle. Arabella was one to name. She had become a nuisance to Christine, like a maggot that would not stop biting her flesh. And the girl's father was… well if Christine saw him she would immediately turn the other way. Her tongue would never silence when she was around him.

"Tomorrow you are going to be queen, Highness!" Sorelli giggled. "Are you excited?"

"Of course." Christine smiled weakly.

"She's nervous, Sorelli!" Meg sighed. "But every women is afraid of her wedding night not the actual wedding."

"Meg!" Sorelli gasped then rolled her eyes. "Well we all know you won't be afraid of your wedding night."

"Of course I won't be." Sly eyes turned to Christine. "But are you, Your Highness?"

"I haven't given it much thought." She thanked the lord Cecile could not hear this.

"But are you?" Sorelli was now curious.

"That is my concern." Her weight shifted. "Not yours."

"Have you…" Meg began.

"That is none of your concern!" Christine gasped. "And no I have not!"

"You know the first time is painful." Meg seemed nonchalant about the whole conversation.

"Meg I don't think…" Sorelli glanced at Christine.

"But it depends on his size." She kept going.

"They have different sizes?" Sorilli asked. Who became sucked into the whole conversation. And Christine pretended not to care and played with Cecile.

"Of course." Meg shrugged. "But as they say, bigger is better. Although the smaller work harder."

"What do you think Emmet is?" Sorelli asked.

"The stable boy?"

"Yes."

"Defiantly small." Meg nodded.

"Damn it." Sorelli gasped. "Oh I'm sorry you're…"

"Sorelli." Christine sighed. "It doesn't matter." And went back to ignoring them. All the while wishing she could have an actual conversation.

"So what about the king?" Sorilli asked. This caught Christine's attention but didn't give them an indication she was listening.

"I would say that he's bigger than most." Christine let herself a small smile at Meg's answer.

"Why?"

"Because of his feet." Meg replied. "Their huge!"

"Why would his feet make his… him any bigger?"


Christine looked at herself in the mirror. Even she had to admit she looked beautiful; scared, but beautiful. The gown was white with red and gold stitch. The red stitch made roses on the bodice while the gold intertwined with the red. It trailed down to the skirt but not as heavily as it was on the bodice. She wondered who could even think to make such a beautiful dress.

"So he didn't send you away?" A voice came behind her. Christine turned. "Surprise."

"Mistress Arabella." Christine lifted a brow. "I hope those jewels around your neck are real. Or does your father think too lowly of you to have real ones?"

"Bravo, Princess." She came towards her. "I didn't know that I could bring out such filth out of your mouth. Perhaps the king can bring out worse than I can."

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrowed. "The guests are supposed to be in the church."

"But I'm not really a guest am I?" A slow and steady smile appeared. "More of a pestering fly."

"Flies can be terminated." Christine turned back to the mirror finishing a few touch ups. "Now leave."

"I do not have to listen to you." The woman sneered. "You are not my queen."

"I will be."

"No." Arabella came closer so she was standing directly behind her. "You will never be my queen."

"I…"

"No, Princess." She placed her mouth next to her ear. "But I will have him back."

"Guests are in the church, Mistress Arabella." Madame Giry entered the room.

"Good luck princess." Arabella backed off and left.

"His Majesty is waiting." Madame Giry turned to Christine. She nodded and followed her out the door where the royal guards were waiting. Each one surrounded her. They began to go to the church.

Her mind reeled. This day was supposed to come of course, but so soon? Well perhaps not soon for women her age, for they were made mother many times over by now. Today was her wedding day. It was neither joyful nor gloomy. It was just another day. But another day that would send her country out of poverty and a day where she would be bind to a man that she didn't love or thought she didn't love.

The group came to a slow and steady stop. Christine took a breath as the doors swung open and revealed an enormous crowd with the king at the end of the aisle. She took a step down it and another….

Erik watched steadily as his bride walked down the aisle. She looked beautiful. Everything around her seemed to glow. Ever since that night he had shown her his piano they had become closer. He had learned the little things about her that was just her. He learned she was witty and had grown up much too fast. That she still did childlike things but would make up for them later. He even learned her favorite color was the same as his, red. That was why he made the tailors put red on her dress, knowing she would love the little detail.

He told her of problems within the House that she helped him solve. There was no doubt in his mind that she was intelligent and someone that was willing to speak with him. Beauty and the fact that Cecile adored her was only a plus. Of course she was stubborn and quick tempered but he was also those things so they could not be held against her.

Erik took her hand as she offered it to him when she arrived at the alter. Neither of them smiled. They looked straight ahead.

"You could at least look pleased." Christine whispered to him.

"So could you." He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Though I never thought of you as a blushing bride."

"You'll be please to know, Your Majesty." She kept her voice quiet so the priest would carry on with the ceremony. "That I have never blushed in my life."

"That could change." Erik let himself a tiny smirk.

"I highly doubt that." She sighed. "Any last things you would like to know about me?"

"I can found out later." He turned to her.

"Can you accept my past and future mistakes?" Her head turned to him.

"I do." Answering both the priest and her. "Can you accept mine?"

"I do." She nodded.

"You may kiss the bride." The priest announced and applause went through the church as the king and queen shared their first kiss.


"Beautiful, Majesty." Lord Hensley nodded. "Truly beautiful."

"Thank you." Erik and Christine nodded back.

"Your Majesties." A young man about twenty seven with blond hair and green eyes came forward. "May I say it was a magnificent spectacle?"

"The circus or the wedding?" Christine lifted a brow.

"The wedding of course." He smiled. "But I will be sure to visit the circus and comment on that also if it pleases your majesty."

"I'm afraid the circus…" She stopped when Erik gave her a slight nudge. "What of your name sire, I believe we have not had the pleasure of meeting?"

"This is Count de Changy." Erik nodded towards the boy. "He is the ruler of Plantne."

"Ah." Christine smiled. "The fighters."

"We have not kept up that name, Majesty." Count de Changy said. "My court may disagree when I work for peace, but in the end it is my say."

"And may it stay that way." Erik nodded.

"Well I wish you both joy." The boy went away.

"Wasn't he a charming man?" Christine said dryly.

"He is young." Erik shrugged. "He is lead by dreams."

"Do not judge too quickly." She scolded. "Count de Changy may speak and look like a lamb but you never know what may happen is that lamb turns into a lion."

"It is a good thing then that Count de Changy's country depends on Borswan for many materials." He smirked slightly as another nobleman came and congratulated them.


Christine began to feel anxiety as Erik led her down the quiet and dimly lit hallway. Her heart began to race. Did he expect her to lie with him tonight? Was he expecting her to consummate their marriage? She knew she was not a skilled lover and she knew that she would not be pleasing. But would he teach her? Could he teach her?

Her breath caught as he stopped between the two doors. Erik turned to her and lifted her hand to his lips lightly touching them.

"Goodnight Christine." He went to his door.

"Goodnight Erik." She nodded and both went into their own rooms.


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E.V. Oleander