St. Mary's Cathedral, Tsargrad
July 3rd, 2019 - 11:29 AM
The cathedral was, as always, beautiful. A masterpiece of Tytorian Gothic architecture, St. Mary's had been a fixture of central Tsargrad since its dedication in 1556. That, of course, made it older than the Kingdom of Tytor itself, but no one was complaining; if anything, its age made it all the more magnificent.
The last of the guests had been seated almost fifteen minutes ago, as was customary with such occasions, and the great front doors had been closed. Due to the sheer thickness of the stone walls, little if any of the late morning hustle and bustle of modern Tsargrad could be heard, even in those moments when the vast organ fell silent between prelude hymns. Prince Charles felt his heart thumping loudly as he gazed out over the rows of people who had turned out for the wedding. His father, the king, sat in the front to Charles's left, smiling serenely, an empty chair beside him where the queen would have been were it not for the dreadful cancer which had taken her now thirty years hence. Almost directly behind him were Crown Princess Adriana of Rokkenjima and her parents, Empress Beatrice and Emperor Alexander. Next to them, that had to be Krimeon's Emperor Axel and Empress Elena. On the other side of them was Crown Princess Serenity of Achkaerin, seated with her husband (whom Charles had never met) and her two daughters. In the next row, Charles thought he recognized the representatives of Xaeth, East Moreland, Tauredalia, and the NQF, all lesser government officials whose names he'd forgotten in the craziness of finishing preparations for their arrival -- Theresa would know; she always did. The next row down contained three women who really couldn't be anyone other than the Nythymn officials; Ascendant Natrax's missing arm was rather obvious, even from this moderate distance. Behind them and on the other side of the aisle were various members of Tytor's nobility, peerage, and government. The first few rows on the right were filled by friends and relatives of the Hales family, of course, but Charles also recognized Prime Minister Thatcher, sitting with her husband four rows back, and her immediate predecessors, Goodfellow and Cornwallis. Even the aging Reginald St. George, Prime Minister before Cornwallis, had turned out, looking oddly old-fashioned in his white suit and out-of-date glasses.
Charles heard old Archbishop Valance cough quietly behind him as the cathedral's bells started chiming the half-hour. Any moment now, that door in the back of the nave would open, and Theresa would come through it, escorted by her father. The organist had finished with the prelude music, and so there was silence for the moment aside from the ringing of the bells. Then, all of a sudden, the organ started up again, only now it was playing the wedding processional Theresa had chosen for the event. The audience stood, and all too soon Theresa was by his side. The audience, joined now by Lord Hales, resumed their seats upon the conclusion of the processional, and the service with an invocation by the good archbishop.
"...As long as you both shall live?"
"I do," Theresa said confidently.
"Then in the sight of Almighty God and His angels, I pronounce you, Charles and Theresa, man and wife, bound in holy matrimony from this day forward, till death do you part." The archbishop smiled warmly at the pair of them, and then added, "Your Highness, you may kiss the bride."
Charles did so. This had to be the happiest day of his life.
Grand Ballroom, Royal Palace, Tsargrad
Approximately Twenty Minutes Later
All things considered, the journey across the street from the cathedral went very smoothly. The wedding's invited guests had made their way into the Royal Palace's Grand Ballroom without incident, allowing the newlyweds to lead the way. As had been decided ahead of time, the reception was to begin with a true ball, and Charles and Theresa opened the dancing with an elegance born of a lifetime of practice. As the reception progressed, servants brought in food and beverages (all non-alcoholic, of course, in keeping with royal tradition) from the kitchens, and the mingling commenced. Everywhere Charles turned, there were people coming up to wish him and Theresa well. Lord Hales could be seen across the room deep in conversation with Goodfellow and a couple other men Charles only knew by sight, and Prince George, Charles's brother and best man, was by one of the food tables, talking animatedly with Sir Gregory Major, the Foreign Minister. Prime Minister Thatcher was dancing nearby with her husband, while Prince Harold and his wife sat on the edge of the dance floor, clearly people-watching. All in all, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, even the king, who appeared to be admiring the view out of one of the windows.
