Post by Wilhelm Opens-the-Way on Apr 29, 2011 8:30:20 GMT -8
Westminster Abbey
"Will, she's here," Harry says it nervously. More nervously than I think I feel at the moment.
"Are you ready?" I ask. It's a silly question. It's been asked of me a hundred-thousand times. Ever since the records were unsealed, ever since my family names were released to the public, my geneology understood.
Ever since the King died.
But I don't care about that right now. Right now it's about one woman in all the world, riding in an open carrige toward me where I stand.
I'm not nervous.
I'm radiant with triumph.
Still there's something... something I think that I'm forgetting.
Then everyone rises. Dignitaries, heads of state, the leaders of every tribe from every part of the world. Important men and women. Powerful. True, some of them are outside protesting, leading people that are carrying signs that decry the very idea of monarchy, but they're here. They know that this is important.
She's important.
And she's got to be nervous, she's got to be...
That dress. Her.
It's almost too much for me. I've been through so much hell to get here. We've been through so much hell. It fades as if it was never there. The deaths, the strife, the compromises. Not one instant of it matters. Every sacrifice was worth it to see her in that dress.
The aisle is fairly lit up with stars - celebrities glisten in diamonds and bright eyed wonder.
I don't notice.
There's only her, and music, and she's coming toward me, and I'm not nervous, I'm really not. The feeling is something different, something like... like the first time I rode on the back of a Child of Karnak, my fist balled up in it's neck feathers as it dove sharply. I want to shout for joy.
I don't break eye contact. I tell her with my eyes how beautiful she is. How all the kingdoms in all the world are watching her, and it isn't enough to express it. It never can be.
She steps to my side. We've done the rehearsals, the preparation. The movements are sure, steady, our cheeks strain to keep from making us look like grinning idiots, but they're already sore from smiling.
The Right Honorable Reverend begins his speech. There are hymns and vows. Its all very fast, and then it's over. There's cheering, a roar really, you can't even imagine it. All of London is singing and cheering, all of the world is singing along and high-fiving. I shake a thousand hands, each one firmly.
There's a brief moment in an antechamber before we go to present ourselves on the balcony.
I'm going to tell her all of the things I've been thinking and feeling in the last 24 hours. She just looks at me, places a finger to my lips and says;
"I know."
And I know that she does. There are tears in the edges of her eyes, happy ones. Someone arrives from the woodwork and places a handkerchief in my hands. It's slightly dirty, so I'll know who it's from. I find a clean corner to dab her eyes with.
"Shall we then?" I ask, my heart ablaze with pride and happiness.
"Duh," she says, mocking me. I laugh.
We step out onto the balcony.
I jolt awake at the sound of airplane engines. For a moment I feel like I'm back in the blitz. It's the T.V. I look at the clock. It's sometime after four AM.
I watch it for a moment, shaking my head before I turn it off.
I sit awhile in the darkness before reaching for a small journal at my bedside. I open it, revealing a small pressed orchid.
"Will, she's here," Harry says it nervously. More nervously than I think I feel at the moment.
"Are you ready?" I ask. It's a silly question. It's been asked of me a hundred-thousand times. Ever since the records were unsealed, ever since my family names were released to the public, my geneology understood.
Ever since the King died.
But I don't care about that right now. Right now it's about one woman in all the world, riding in an open carrige toward me where I stand.
I'm not nervous.
I'm radiant with triumph.
Still there's something... something I think that I'm forgetting.
Then everyone rises. Dignitaries, heads of state, the leaders of every tribe from every part of the world. Important men and women. Powerful. True, some of them are outside protesting, leading people that are carrying signs that decry the very idea of monarchy, but they're here. They know that this is important.
She's important.
And she's got to be nervous, she's got to be...
That dress. Her.
It's almost too much for me. I've been through so much hell to get here. We've been through so much hell. It fades as if it was never there. The deaths, the strife, the compromises. Not one instant of it matters. Every sacrifice was worth it to see her in that dress.
The aisle is fairly lit up with stars - celebrities glisten in diamonds and bright eyed wonder.
I don't notice.
There's only her, and music, and she's coming toward me, and I'm not nervous, I'm really not. The feeling is something different, something like... like the first time I rode on the back of a Child of Karnak, my fist balled up in it's neck feathers as it dove sharply. I want to shout for joy.
I don't break eye contact. I tell her with my eyes how beautiful she is. How all the kingdoms in all the world are watching her, and it isn't enough to express it. It never can be.
She steps to my side. We've done the rehearsals, the preparation. The movements are sure, steady, our cheeks strain to keep from making us look like grinning idiots, but they're already sore from smiling.
The Right Honorable Reverend begins his speech. There are hymns and vows. Its all very fast, and then it's over. There's cheering, a roar really, you can't even imagine it. All of London is singing and cheering, all of the world is singing along and high-fiving. I shake a thousand hands, each one firmly.
There's a brief moment in an antechamber before we go to present ourselves on the balcony.
I'm going to tell her all of the things I've been thinking and feeling in the last 24 hours. She just looks at me, places a finger to my lips and says;
"I know."
And I know that she does. There are tears in the edges of her eyes, happy ones. Someone arrives from the woodwork and places a handkerchief in my hands. It's slightly dirty, so I'll know who it's from. I find a clean corner to dab her eyes with.
"Shall we then?" I ask, my heart ablaze with pride and happiness.
"Duh," she says, mocking me. I laugh.
We step out onto the balcony.
I jolt awake at the sound of airplane engines. For a moment I feel like I'm back in the blitz. It's the T.V. I look at the clock. It's sometime after four AM.
I watch it for a moment, shaking my head before I turn it off.
I sit awhile in the darkness before reaching for a small journal at my bedside. I open it, revealing a small pressed orchid.
