Our Wedding flowers are going to be everywhere—sculpted bouquet arrangements rising from floor pedestals, garlands descending from columns and cascading down the ruby walls. In addition, floral centerpieces will be placed intermittently along each table, enhanced with sparkling crystals and gold.
The central area of the chamber is free space, intended for dancing and entertainment.
Soon, it’s going to be packed with people—the entirety of Court, foreign dignitaries, plus everyone else who’s been invited.
It’s our festive destination.
Before we arrive at the venue, Aeson and I take a short detour to our own Quarters upstairs to freshen up. When we exit the elevator on the Imperial Crown Prince’s floor and try to enter the usual way through Aeson’s main entrance, we are turned away by servants who tell us that this side is being prepared for our Amrevet Night, and we must go around and use any of the other entrances.
Aeson and I look at each other curiously, but don’t protest and back track to go in through Aeson’s workroom. Here, once again, servants do not allow us to enter Aeson’s side of the suite altogether.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I shake my head with a combination of nervousness and silly giggles that have been plaguing me for the last half hour.
“We are not permitted to see whatever it is that’s going on,” Aeson replies, widening his eyes with a wiggle of his eyebrows that sends me into more giggles.
“Okay, we can both use my bathroom,” I whisper. And so, we give up and just go to my side of the residence where we take turns using my facilities, and gulp down some water from a carafe.
Here I also take the opportunity to slip into a more comfortable pair of matching shoes with minimal heels that will allow me to dance at the reception. Then I tap the button at my waist to run the dress control program one more time to “pin up” my veil. As if by magic, my veil pulls itself up from the back in lovely folds and attaches to the back of my dress as a new golden outer layer, conforming to the frosty white sheath fabric. Aeson watches me transform my outfit with intense fascination.
We look at each other and I sigh. “Do we really have to go back downstairs and deal with everything and all those people? We can just hide out here until Amrevet Night!”
Aeson chuckles. “We could. You know, we could begin our Amrevet Night early. . . .” And he pulls me to him, and suddenly crushes my mouth under his.
I gasp, my breath cut short. . . . Instantly, I’m close to swooning with a rush of elevated sensation.
That’s when Anu Vei walks into my bedroom without knocking, carrying a stack of boxes.
“Ah, rawah bashtooh! Crap on a Gebi stick!” Anu exclaims seeing us, squints his eyes shut, and nearly drops the boxes—while Aeson and I immediately come apart. “Sorry, sorry, my Imperial Lord and Lady! They kicked me out of the small office, then the workroom, and told me to take this work junk somewhere else until they are done decorating or whatever hoohvak shebet they’re doing in there—”
“Anu! Bashtooh!” Aeson exclaims with a frown. “Inappropriate. How many times did I tell you to knock?”
Anu turns red. “Well, I didn’t think you’d be here, it’s your Wedding Day. I mean—sorry.”
“Seriously, Anu, it’s my bedroom.” I say. “Why are you trying to work anyway, didn’t you get time off for today?”
“Yeah, I did, whatever.” Anu shrugs. “Was going to go down later. Everyone else is going to show up late anyway, probably all your Earth friends who are always late—”
Oh wow, is Anu’s blurt a not-so-subtle stab at Laronda now?
Aeson shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but I can tell he’s trying hard not to allow laughter to break past this stern front. “Okay, just get out of here, Vei, and take this stuff with you. And if I ever see you walking into my Wife’s bedroom like this again, you—”
“Okay, okay, sorry!” Anu grabs the stack of boxes, and gets out of here as if his rear end is on fire.
Aeson and I look at each other and burst out laughing.
And now that our mood is broken, might as well go downstairs and face everyone at the reception.
When we enter the Ruby-and-Pearl Grand Chamber, it is full of people, laughter and loud conversation, and all our families and friends are seated at their designated places, waiting for us to make our entrance.
I tug Aeson’s hand, making us pause briefly at the doors that stand wide open, just out of sight of those inside. The Palace servants standing in attendance bow before us, about to announce our entrance, and wait patiently for us to indicate that we are ready.
“Aeson . . .” I whisper, still tugging his hand. “Aeson!”
“What?” He looks at me in amusement.
“Um . . . your mouth—”
“What?” he cranes his neck at me.
“Your lips! There’s a little bit of noohd smeared on them—my noohd! From kissing!” I finish in an urgent whisper. “You need to wipe—”
“Oh!” He makes a sound of startled laughter.
“Let me—” I say. And then I reach up and gently rub my fingers to wipe the side of his lips where a rosy-pink smear of my lip gloss has left a glaringly obvious trail. “Sorry I don’t have a napkin—but it’s okay, I think.”
He leans in to my touch. “Is it gone now?”
“Uh-huh.”
He chuckles. “All right, am I suitably decent? Or do I still look like I’ve stuck my face in eos pie? Because that could be our excuse.”
I giggle, then clear my throat and attempt to appear regal.
“Ready?” he says.
And we enter.
“Imperial Atlantida! Behold the Newlywed Imperial Couple—the Imperial Crown Prince Aeson Kassiopei and his Wife, the Imperial Consort Gwenevere Kassiopei!”
My mind is reeling suddenly.
Oh, my . . . I am Kassiopei.
We walk past the bowing servants and are met with universal applause and the sounds of oboe and trumpet, and the chimes that I now recognize as Atlantean processional wedding bells.
Everyone who is seated at the tables stands up—and that’s the entirety of the Court—and continues the applause.
Aeson and I walk, holding hands, to the center of the upside-down U-shaped portion of the main table, and take our seats at the head of the U, with the Imperator and Imperatris sitting directly to the right in the Bridegroom’s section and my Dad and siblings on the left in the Bride’s section. The families and closest friends do not have to stand up for us, but they clap also, with great enthusiasm. The Imperator does not clap, merely nods at us, as Aeson takes the seat directly next to him. I sit down next to Aeson, and my smiling Dad is on my other side.
Dad immediately gives me a kiss on the cheek and pats my hand, sighing in some relief. “Congratulations, sweetheart! So proud and happy for you and Aeson!”
“Thanks, Daddy!” I whisper near his ear, beaming at him.
On the other side of my father, George, Gordie, and Gracie all lean toward me with silly-happy grins and offer congratulations.
“Way to go, sis! Amazingly well done,” George says, nodding in my direction with a crooked grin.
“Air hug! Air hug!” Gracie waves at me and gesticulates blown kisses, since this part of the Reception is still formal and she cannot exactly get up and squish-hug me.
“You rocked it!” Gordie says.
I smile back at them, so much that it hurts. And then I grin and continue smiling and waving and making subdued but silly faces, this time at the rest of my friends who sit farther down the table. And then I switch to look in the other direction, and smile at the Imperatris and Manala, and an unfamiliar older couple sitting next to her, and some of the astra daimon whom I can see.
Meanwhile, Aeson is doing the same thing, grinning at his Mother, sister, the distinguished elderly couple with friendly expressions who must be his maternal grandparents, and his friends, then turning to nod and smile at my Dad and the rest of my family and friends.
The moment
we are seated, soft music begins to play, and servers start carrying huge dishes for our Wedding Feast. Others bring around bottles of shedehur, the popular Atlantean alcoholic beverage similar to red wine, which pours as a persimmon-amber colored liquid and has a scent of crisp apples.
My glass is filled at once, and Aeson tells me to watch out because this drink can be very strong, even as he picks up his own. I sip the shedehur and it does taste a little like apple juice at first, and then the alcohol hits.
“My Imperial Lady, apologies, but only one glass is permitted to the Newlyweds,” a shedehur server tells me politely as he moves by with bottles, even though I haven’t asked for a refill, nor do I plan to.
Meanwhile, aromatic main dishes are brought out, one after another, and I recall going over the menu earlier during the planning stage, and feel a moment of surreal amazement that I had some part in making this feast, or at least directing its creation.
Normally, Atlanteans don’t do drinking toasts—though they do make “dry” speeches and formal pronouncements—but this isn’t going to stop those of us from Earth in engaging in that old tradition.
Periodically I hear voices call out around the tables congratulating the Newlyweds, and each time the Earthies raise their glasses and drink, which the Atlanteans find slightly odd.
I look around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of any familiar faces among the invited guests. So many VIPs and members of the nobility fill the nearest seats. There’s the Oratorat of Eos-Heket, Kephasa Sewu, and a few seats down I think that’s Wilem Paeh, the Crown Hereret of Vai Naat. There are probably other heads of state or their ambassadors, but I’m not sure who they are.
Finally, I see a table with this year’s Grail Games Champions, all of whom have been invited to the Wedding. I recognize Kokayi’s rainbow braids from the distance, and he turns and meets my gaze, waving at me with friendly enthusiasm. I smile and wave back across the distance, then see Kateb and his wife Yeraz, and Hedj Kukkait, and several others. Then my gaze falls on Brie Walton—stunning in formal wear, with her hair up—who’s sitting next to Logan Sangre.
Okay, this is both unexpected and yet somehow unsurprising, and very much in character. I start to wonder if Logan is still playing along with Brie’s crazy Champion “wish” to be at her beck and call for three months of freaky “indentured servitude.” Or is Logan here as her date? Because seriously, this seems to be heading that way . . . and yet, what kind of weird relationship can it be?
Even as I ponder, Brie turns her head, her long chandelier earrings hitting the lights with hard sparkle, and sees me looking at her. At once she smiles with a flash of teeth and gives me her typical mocking salute.
Next to her, Logan pauses drinking from his glass and notices the change in Brie’s attention. At once he also looks at me, freezing for one instant. Then he gives me a calm nod and a tiny smile, and tips his glass in my direction.
I smile back at both of them, in that moment letting whatever old feelings of weirdness evaporate. Because, honestly, I am no longer bothered by what Logan does or whom he may or may not be dating. And I certainly wish Brie the best—she earned it.
More and more dishes get served, and more bottles of shedehur circulate endlessly, together with other milder drinks for those of us who would prefer to stay sober. About an hour later, when most of us are close to done with eating—and have lost some of the inhibitions—the less formal portion begins.
“Time for dancing soon, it’s about to begin,” Aeson says close to my ear, while his fingers press my hand under the table, sending sweet, sensual chills up my arm.
“Oh, yes!” I say with excitement, entwining my fingers with his. Aeson and I are supposed to begin the dancing in order to open the festivities for the others, and the traditional wedding dance is the irephuru, which is an ancient and intricate circle dance.
I must say, ever since I learned about it, and in the process of learning how to dance it, I’ve found irephuru fascinating. It is based on circles, yes, but concentric circles—like the original city of Poseidon on Ancient Atlantis, back on Earth.
The Bride and Groom—that is, Newlywed Wife and Husband—step into the center of the dance floor, and perform a number of intricate, elegant dance figures, circling each other, and variously holding hands and briefly embracing. The key is never to embrace for more than three heartbeats. At the same time, the couple must maintain eye contact, and not look away for longer than three heartbeats.
After about a minute, others may join the dance, but they can only do so by forming a second circle of four people around the couple. As more and more people join the dance, the third circle must have eight people, and the next sixteen, after which the count stops and the fifth circle can be as large as people want, and so on.
The concentric circles of dancers spin in opposite directions, holding hands, then breaking contact to perform figures, then clasping hands again, in a dizzying but energetic ride. Meanwhile, the objective for the central couple is to escape outward and get out of the circle, but it can only be done by swapping with a random person in the next circle.
When you’re ready to quit the center position, you pull a random person from the outside circle into your spot, and take theirs, and your partner quickly does the same. Continue doing this, moving outward from circle to circle, to get out of the dance. But watch out, someone else might try to pull you back inward!
And now, imagine what that’s like once everyone in the room is buzzed on shedehur.
In short, it’s a crazy dance, and tons of fun.
“Irephuru! Irephuru!” the call-outs begin. And soon everyone is clapping and calling for the popular wedding dance to start.
Aeson and I stand up. We look at each other. . . . Suddenly I feel a shrinking terror in my gut, because the whole world is watching, and unbeknownst to them, I’m still Gwen the klutz, deep inside, and I only just learned this dance.
What if I screw up and embarrass Aeson?
And then I tell my inner klutz to shut up already, and I take Aeson’s hand. With a show of confidence, I walk with him to the center of the dance floor.
A slow beat of drums starts. We begin by circling each other, then holding hands, then place them palm to palm in an echo of our moment of sensual burning during the Marriage Ceremony. We release each other and clap our hands . . . and a sweet intoning reed pipe joins the drumbeat.
We circle each other again, change direction, spin, return palm to palm, then release, clap again . . . and now the strings of the sitahrra strum in rhythm, setting our blood to fire.
Did I mention this is a very elegant and intense dance? There are echoes of Spanish flamenco, Georgian lezginka, and other Earth folk traditions in the sharp upright movements and the proud bearing we must maintain.
We continue moving, faster and faster, and I’m fortunate that Aeson is a fantastic dancer. He moves effortlessly, and even during those brief glimpses of him as I move and spin, I continue to marvel at the masculine beauty of his taut, powerful body underneath his white military uniform. It must come from all that Er-Du sparring of which he is a master. In many ways, all martial arts are a form of controlled dance, and the opponents are adversarial partners, riffing off each other.
Suffice it to say, we perform our solitary dance without mishap.
Moments later, I see Oalla and Keruvat stand up, followed by Erita and Radanthet, and they enter the dance floor, approaching us to form the second circle around us. At this point the music is loud and fast, and the beat of the drums is electrifying.
Then, other couples get up, all around the chamber, and form the third circle, and so on, until the dance floor is full of circles of people laughing and spinning and clapping hands, pressing palms together and spinning again.
I’m completely breathless, and Aeson notices, so it’s time for us to “escape” the spot in the center. We exchange meaningful glances, and then quickly pull Erita and Radanthet in our place, and spin outward, taking their spots, and s
urprising Ker and Oalla who expected us to grab them. I laugh and Aeson laughs, and we continue moving quickly, grabbing the next couple closest to us in the third circle—the key is to do it fast before they suspect they are the targets and evade us—once tagged, you have to switch places, by the rules of the dance.
A few moments later, we get “out” of the dance, and return to our seats, breathing hard from exertion and laughing. The Imperator gives his son and me an almost amused glance, but says nothing. Devora on the other hand, waves to us, so we get up and walk over to say hello. The formal constraints are gone, and we can now move freely about the room and greet people.
“Gwen, I want to introduce you to my Grandparents,” Aeson says, even as Devora nods at us reassuringly.
The Imperatris then glances past Manala to a mild-mannered, handsome older man in a dark green robe over a cream shirt with a heavy gilded collar. His hair is the same color as hers, a rich reddish brown, except it is threaded with a lot of silver. Next to him sits a pleasant older woman in a pale rose dress, with graceful features, her dark brown hair similarly threaded with lighter strands, gathered in a low bun with a golden net over it, and elegant, simple pearl studs in her earlobes.
“Oh, yes!” I say with an excited glance at Devora who continues to smile at me and gestures with her eyes in the direction of her parents.
We approach the older couple who watch us with soft, warm smiles.
“Grandfather, Grandmother, may I introduce Gwen, my new Wife,” Aeson says with a respectful bow. And then he turns to me. “Gwen, this is Lord Tutanamat Argosaen and First Lady Irumala Argosaen—my grandparents.”
“I am so glad to meet you!” I step closer and curtsey, then lean in to speak.
Lord Argosaen reaches out and places his thin hand over mine, patting it, and says in a thick English accent. “Very bootiful . . . good, good.” And then he switches over to Atlanteo and says, “Such a lovely Bride for Aeson, I’ve heard so much about you from my daughter, very impressed, my dear.”
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