by Eva Luxe
We all laugh and head over to baggage claim, where Monty, has already piled a literal mountain of luggage on a little six-wheeled cart. He’s a total pro and it all balances perfectly as he pushes it out of the airport toward the limo.
My girls and I pour into the huge limo and get comfy while Monty puts the bags in the trunk.
“Well, Aunt Ashley, we don’t have any wine,” I say, opening a rather large mini-fridge at my side and removing a well-chilled bottle, “but we do have champagne!”
“Let me look at that,” she says, reaching for it. “My dear, this is not champagne, this is Dom Perignon champagne. And it’s older than I am.”
“Is that good?” Sharon asks.
“Hell if I know,” says my aunt and—pop!—goes the cork.
I push a button and a panel slides open, revealing crystal champagne flues that I begin passing around.
“I hope it’s good,” I say. “We have five more bottles in this fridge.”
“Good lord,” Aunt Ashley says under her breath, as she lifts the glass to her lips. “Mmm. Magnificent.”
Everybody tries a probing little sip; everybody’s eyes get wide and then everybody takes a big gulp.
“Wow. It tastes like normal champagne, but I swear I’m already feeling tipsy,” Nikki says.
“That, Nicole, is the mark of true quality in fine wines,” my aunt says, tipping the flue all the way back to drain it. “They get you drunk quicker. Hit me again, would you, Ella, dear?”
She hands me her glass and I fill it until the light, foamy bubbles spill over the rim. As I hand it back to her, I notice her cheeks are already flushed. These chicks have no idea what’s in store for them.
“So, I thought you guys might like a little preview of our itinerary tomorrow, in reverse anyway. Of course, we’ll end up here at the airport around three tomorrow,” I begin.
“Oh, right,” Sharon says, “where’s he taking you on your honeymoon?”
“Everywhere.”
“Wow! Everywhere in Europe?”
“No, literally everywhere,” I say casually. “Well, every place with an Ambrosian embassy anyway.”
My three best friends just look at each other.
“Something like a hundred and sixty countries, I think. We’ll be gone like seven months,” I say. It’s all true, but I start cracking up. “They’re calling it a Royal World Tour. I’m going to be dining with kings and queens and presidents and shit!”
“I hope you clean up your language before that, Ella,” Aunt Ashley chides.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “My future mother in law put me in etiquette boot camp and she’s the drill sergeant. You two will get along famously.”
“We will if she has your best interests at heart,” my wonderful Aunt Ashley says.
“She does, I promise. It took me a little while to break through her shell but once I did, we became fast friends.”
“You do have that effect on people,” Nikki says and raises her glass. “To still fake Princess Ella, a fast friend!”
We all clink our glasses as tears well up in my eyes.
“Aw, you guys…”
I daub my eyes with my aunt’s handkerchief and collect myself.
“Anyway, we just turned on to the Royal Road. It’s like a thousand years old or some shit.”
The quaint Nordic houses with their steeple roofs crowding the cobblestone streets aren’t new to me, but it’s like I’m seeing them for the first time again through their eyes.
“And just around this corner you’ll see where you guys will be staying…”
“Yeah,” says Nikki, “you never told us which hotel we’re staying at.”
“Hotel?” I say with a grin. “Fuck that.”
We turn the corner to reveal the royal palace, the place I’ve come to call home.
“Oh my fucking—”
“Nicole!” Aunt Ashley interrupts. “But my thoughts exactly. Absolutely breathtaking!”
Sharon says, “It’s like someone plopped Cinderella’s Castle on top of a mountain. How did they do that?”
To make it even better, the sun is setting behind the palace, sending streamers of pink, purple and rosy orange across the sky. It looks like something out of those fairy tales I never let myself believe in. Until now.
Chapter 21
Gregory
It’s finally happening. After waiting all winter, my wedding day is finally here. As I walk towards the grand cathedral with my best men, I take a moment to calm myself before I must greet the crowds.
I suppose this is all just a formality. Ella and I live together as husband and wife and most of the world believes we’re already married. But making our fake marriage into a real one today has my stomach in delightful knots.
I’ve never felt so excited and optimistic about life. Sure, my life was already pretty great before, compared to many, but it was also empty. Drifting from girl to girl, club to club, party to party, that was all I knew, but deep down I also knew it wasn’t enough.
Fake friends, false affections. Did anyone ever really care about me until fate brought Ella looking for a restroom and running in my direction? The great thing is it doesn’t matter. Being with Ella makes my whole life worthwhile and no longer empty but full, overflowing.
Among other things, she’s taken me with her on her volunteering ventures. Ambrosia has no homeless, we’re not barbarians, but we have those in need like anywhere and helping them—really helping with my hands, not just writing a check—has become my greatest joy. Okay, second greatest. Helping those in need has helped me really connect to more of my subjects, to see them face to face. It’s one of the many ways Ella is already influencing me to be a better prince, and one day king.
Today, many of those we helped are lined up outside of the cathedral gates, waiting to cheer for us. I shake a few hands on my way in. One precious little girl offers me a flower.
“For your princess,” she whispers.
I smile at her, gently taking the flower and then squeezing her little hands.
“For our princess!” I correct her, because Ella is the princess of all of Ambrosia and all my subjects love her. They can see her kind heart, just like I can.
I shake a few more hands before one of my best men ushers me into the gates and towards the cathedral itself. I follow his lead, smoothing my official uniform and straightening my military hat. I confidently stroll into the cathedral and its already full.
Looking out over the crowd of world leaders, international celebrities, family and friends, I’m honored and touched, but I can’t wait to take my bride and get the fuck out of here.
Suddenly the crowds outside go nuts and I know Ella’s car has arrived. She’s already had a long drive down the Royal Road, where many of our subjects have lined up to try to catch a glimpse of her in her wedding dress. At this moment I feel that they are lucky, I can’t wait to see my gorgeous bride in all her glory.
At long last the orchestra strikes up the wedding march and my bride emerges from the nave of the cathedral, holding my father’s arm. Ella has no surviving male relatives and so my father, who adores her, offered to give her away and she readily agreed.
Dad appears much improved over the last few months. He looks positively spry right now, smiling, waving, bursting with pride.
I didn’t really see the need for a bachelor party, since my last best man betrayed me and I’ve been to thousands of parties all over the world and I’ll probably go to thousands more only this time with Ella by my side.
So, on my last night as a free man I really just wanted to spend some quality time with my dad.
We sat together downstairs in the kitchen; he drank ginger ale while I made myself whiskey sours. We just laughed and talked for hours. He told me some stories I never heard about his own search for a bride and I told him some about mine. We both agreed that life is meaningless without love.
It was truly one of the best nights of my life, the nights that didn’t includ
e Ella, that is. Every day and night is better since she walked into my life.
And now she’s walking down the aisle toward me, radiant in a shimmering dress fit for a princess. My princess.
Her dress is a sparkling white ball gown with a cathedral length train. Its satin covered with handmade lace and delicate beading. Lace sleeves cover her arms down to the wrist, but the tops of her shoulders are bare. Her equally long veil is edged in delicate lace as well. She is modest and sexy all at the same time.
My father presents Ella to me and I take her hand. Hand in hand we walk toward the altar and hand in hand we stand before the priest. She and I are presented each with rings. We let the other’s hands go long enough to place a ring on the finger of the other then entwine our hands again.
The priest takes an exquisitely embroidered sash and wraps it around our clasped hands. This sash is over three hundred years old and around our hands it symbolizes that we are eternally bound together.
Funny, that used to sound like a prison sentence to me, ‘eternally bound,’ something to be avoided. After meeting Ella, it’s now something I’m running wholehearted toward.
Before I know it, we are facing each other, and I am looking into her blue eyes. They are all I see; Ella is all I see. I’m utterly transfixed by her beautiful face. Until I notice that face staring at me rather expectantly. I was completely lost in her eyes.
I take a chance and say, “I do.”
It must have been the right choice because the priest says what I’ve been waiting to hear for hours, “You may now kiss the bride!”
I do that too. And the church erupts with applause.
We turn to the cheering crowd, giving our best royal hand waves.
We bow to my father and mother and then to Ella’s Aunt Ashley and her friends Nikki and Sharon, who are adorably bawling their eyes out. Thanks to information I got from those two I have one last surprise for my perfect fit princess.
I raise my open hand, and, on my command, sparkly little hearts fall by the thousands from the ceiling. And something else.
“Oh Gregory,” Ella says, “It’s just like…how did you…?”
She turns to her besties who give her the thumbs up.
“It’s hearts,” she whispers in wonder. “But what’s this?”
She opens her hand, letting the confetti fill her palm with hearts and…
“Pumpkins?”
Her eyes swell with tears born of great loss and great joy.
“Gregory…” she manages to say before throwing her arms around me and burying her face in my coat.
Mission accomplished, as they say in the States.
Keeping one arm around my princess and waving thanks to our well-wishers with the other, I begin escorting my bride back down the aisle toward our waiting carriage. Halfway there, Princess Ella’s perfect, smiling, tear streaked face emerges from my coat, and she waves ecstatically to the crowd.
My natural born princess pauses at the great doors of the church, turning one last time to wave to the adoring throng, working the crowd as if she’s been a princess her whole life. She turns towards the crowds outside and the people cheer. Ella smiles, her cheeks coloring slightly. I know she still thinks its all a little much and I love how humble she is.
I take her hand again and lead her to the open horse-drawn carriage. Monty opens the carriage door and I help her climb the steps. Her aunt helps with the long train of the dress. Once Ella is seated and her dress is arranged, I join her in the carriage. She quickly grabs my hand. I squeeze hers and bring it up to my lips, kissing it delicately. The crowd sees my gesture and goes wild.
Epilogue
Ella
We exit the cathedral where Monty awaits, holding the door open to our carriage. I smile and wave at the adoring crowds. My breath catches, I guess I really do believe in fairy tales now. I never thought life could be this good.
Two white horses stomp, ready to pull our carriage down the Royal Road. Gregory holds my hand as I clamber into the carriage. It’s not the most graceful ascent, my handmade dress weighs a ton, but I manage. Aunt Ashley helps me with the long train. Gregory, my prince, and now my true husband climbs onto the seat next to me. My breath catches at how handsome he is in his royal uniform, granted I would prefer he didn’t have that hat squishing his beautiful curls but I know it’s tradition.
Once we are situated, the horses pull the carriage out the gates and we start our wedding day parade down the Royal Road. I’ve done this drive once already today but that was in a closed car. Now the public can really see us. I smile and wave, overwhelmed by the cheers. Some people throw flowers.
“Oh!” Gregory exclaims, and I turn to him.
He pulls a single flower, some sort of daisy out of his buttonhole and offers it to me. It’s slightly wilted but still beautiful.
“One of your loyal subjects,” he tells me. “A little girl, about six, wanted you to have this.”
I take the flower from him and sniffle. I wipe my eyes, carful not to mess up my makeup. The way the citizens of Ambrosia have accepted me has been unbelievable.
“She was precious, Ella, the little girl. I can’t wait till we have our own children. Our own little princesses and princes.”
He turns to me, his gaze hot, and I know his mind has drifted. Gregory runs his apple-green eyes all over my body, pausing on my lace covered breasts. I feel beautiful when he looks at me that way but now is not the time.
“My love! Your subjects!” I giggle. “They need your attention now, I can wait till later.”
Gregory leans towards me. His lips meet mine and he kisses me deeply. I’m lost in him for a moment and the world slips away. But it’s only a moment. The crowds go wild, overjoyed by our show of love. I pull back and start waving again. Gregory does as well.
“I won’t wait long,” he whispers, his tone light. “Let’s find a place, before the reception.”
I smile at him, agreeing.
*
The rest of the ride down the royal rode goes slowly. The sun gets hot and my dress is heavy. I know I am sweating, very unprincess-like. I wipe my forehead. We pull up to the royal palace and into the gates. It’s time for the first reception.
Queen Calinda has gone all out planning every minute of our two receptions. This first one is a luncheon, where she is our formal host. The second is a formal sit-down dinner, which will be hosted by Gregory’s father. We all are anxious to see if the day proves too much for him. He was able to walk me down the aisle, but he might not be up to hosting tonight.
We have a strict schedule of meet and greets, Queen Calinda has our every moment planned. But Gregory has other plans. As soon as we enter the palace, he pulls a footman aside.
“Tell my mother that princess Ella is feeling faint due to the heat and needs to lie down for a minute, assure the Queen that we will be down in as soon as she is feeling better,” he tells the footman seriously.
The footman nods.
Gregory grabs my arm and I lean on him, selling his story. Actually, I feel fine. We walk slowly till we are out of sight. Gregory grabs up the train of my dress and we dash into the first bedroom we can find. I’m not sure whose it is or even if someone is occupying it, probably since the palace is packed for the wedding.
Gregory locks the door and turns to me.
“We have to hurry, Mother won’t wait forever. She probably knows what we are doing, and she will not have guest wait long.” He looks me up and down again. “Does that thing have buttons?”
I giggle. I reach back and pull down my dresse’s zipper, Gregory and his mother aren’t the only ones who can plan. I step out of my beautiful ballgown and set it gently on a chair. I don’t want it to wrinkle.
When I turn back to Gregory his eyes are fixated on me. I stand before him in a white corset, heals and a white thong. My breasts are pushed up almost to my neck. Gregory’s eyes are hot, and I can see the depths of his desire. He stays frozen for a minute more and then runs towards me, and l
ike that I am in his arms and we are kissing.
I run my hands over his broad shoulders and down his chest, working on the buttons on his uniform. He catches my hands.
“No time for that, there are too many.”
“Okay,” I tell him. “At least take off the ceremonial sword.”
He does and sets it on the chair with my dress. I pull at his trousers and unzip them. His erection bursts forth, rock hard and ready to go. He was probably hard for most of the carriage ride. I stroke his shaft tentatively and gently. Then abruptly get down on my knees.
I take the head of his cock into my mouth, like I did when we first met. I suck its hard shaft down my throat and bob my head. Gregory thrusts his hips, slowly fucking my face. He pumps hard one last time and then helps me up.
“Got to be fast. On the bed my princess,” he commands me.
I take a moment to slip out of my thong and then sit on the edge of the bed. Gregory steps out of his trousers and leaves them on the floor. He situates himself between my legs, gently teasing my lower lips with his cock. Once he knows I am good and ready, he slips inside of me and we are truly man and wife.
This is our first time without a condom and I hold him still for a second. I want concentrate on the feeling of his bare cock inside me. It’s so much warmer and wetter that when we use a condom. I look up into his bright green eyes, and I know the newness of the sensations has him shook. We are joined together, spiritually, legally, and now physically. It’s a deep and emotional experience. Our physical lust is overcome by our love.
“Put a baby in me,” I breath, holding his gaze.
His body trembles, like he is trying to hold back, like he is trying to keep control. He pulls out and thrusts into me again gently. He pulls my knees up and takes me deeper. I balance my toes on the edge of the bed, my legs spread open like a butterfly.
Gregory leans over me and maneuvers his hands till he is cupping my butt cheeks. His uniformed chest is pressed up against my corseted breasts. His hands massage my butt, trapped between my body and the bed. He kisses me deeply and I suck on his tongue. His thrusts become more hurried and desperate.
