Wedding Royale

Cromwell Palace, Henfordshire

June 21st
The day of the Royal wedding, uniting not only young lovers but also kingdoms.

The morning of my wedding day began with a sense of nervous anticipation. The palace was already bustling with activity as the staff prepared for the grand event. I woke up early, the first rays of sunlight barely peeking through the heavy curtains of my room. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the distant hum of conversations and footsteps echoing through the hallways.

At some point, some of those footsteps would stop at my door, as they did every day. Weekday or weekend, holiday or not. There would be a knock, and whether I invited them in or not, in would pour a team of dedicated staff. First, my personal valet, Mr. Hughes, would enter to ensure that every piece of my attire was perfectly in place. Following closely would be Mrs. Davies, the head of the household, carrying a tray with beverages in fancy decanters to swap out the ones placed throughout my suite, some hand bowls with snacks, a glass of multivitamin juice and whichever assortment of supplements I had been put on by the court physician. And not far behind, Mr. Sutton, my trusted advisor, with a list of the morning’s agenda and the final preparations for the day and any last-minute adjustments. Sometimes Sir Reginald, my father’s personal advisor, would join them to brief me on something my father wanted me involved in or to schedule the next official state visit. Today, all that would be magnified and everything would be about the wedding, increasing my nervosity.

I didn’t feel like facing the onslaught of attention and detailed scrutiny that lay ahead, already dreaming of our weeklong honeymoon, escaping this rigid agenda for a while. The change in pace was the true reason I had always been first in line for family events and visits. While I always felt terribly out of place around my mother’s side of the family, it gave my siblings and me a brief reprieve from the rigid palace protocols. I was glad, again, that Wilhelmina von Ahrensberg to Windenburg, affectionately known as Mina, was already well acquainted with such protocols. Born into the royal family of Windenburg, she understood the demands and expectations that came with our roles. My mother had been a commoner and struggled with these protocols and outdated rules for a long time at the beginning. Truthfully, I would not want to be a commoner trying to live in any royal palace. I learned the hard way with Grace—oh, Grace—that this is much tougher than it looks. Another reason aristocrats prefer to marry within their own ranks is that it is truly easier for everyone.

Determined to have a moment of solitude, I wanted to avoid the well-meaning but overwhelming assistance. For years, I had tried to get out of bed, showered, shaved, and dressed before they all arrived, beating them to the punch. Otherwise, they would insist on dressing me, which I found cringeworthy and hadn’t been comfortable with since I was a toddler. I was a 25-year-old man now, being groomed to one day be a king, ruling over this kingdom. I truly was capable of putting on my own clothing, even selecting it. Believe me, throughout my family’s long history, there had been times clothing was selected for some of my poor ancestors. I can hardly fathom that.

As I made my way to the bathroom, I couldn’t help but feel a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to shake off the lingering sleepiness. My wedding attire hung neatly on a stand, a meticulously tailored suit that had been handmade specifically for this special day. I stared at it for a moment, taking in every detail—the intricate stitching, the regal colors, the weight of the occasion it symbolized. It was a reminder of my duty, but also a source of mounting pressure. And after today, I would wear it to every special royal event, just as all my ancestors had done before me.

Needing a break from the formality of it all, after my shower I decided to put on something more casual—a comfortable shirt and trousers—and headed downstairs for breakfast, skipping a shave, knowing that once I was made ready for my wedding, they would shave me again regardless. Apparently, it was crucial for this day that my face be as soft as a baby’s bottom, even though Wilhelmina von Ahrensberg to Windenburg, affectionately known as Mina, rather liked a little stubble, as she had told me, and I liked that she did. However, when I once tried to attend a formal dinner at Mina’s home palace with the stubble she favors, my father nearly had a coronary, forcing me to be shaved under his supervision while lecturing me on royal appearances to be kept up at all times.

Normally, this time of the morning was a calm, routine part of my day. But today, the added hustle and bustle of the wedding preparations made everything feel different. The air was charged with excitement and urgency.

Once I was dressed and composed, I made my way downstairs to join my family for breakfast. It was our tradition to eat together every morning unless someone was unwell. This morning, the dining room was filled with a buzz of excitement and warmth as we shared a meal, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods mingling with the scent of flowers. Despite the impending ceremony, there was a comforting sense of normalcy in being surrounded by my loved ones.

Entering the dining hall, I noticed the looks my family gave me—different from their usual expressions. There was pride, yes, but also a hint of sadness and a touch of wistfulness. Even they felt the weight of the change that today would bring.

I sat down at the long dining table, trying to go through the motions of having breakfast. The usual array of delicious food was laid out before me, but I could barely get a bite down. My appetite was nowhere to be found. I toyed with a piece of toast, my mind racing with thoughts of the ceremony, the vows, the future.

My mother, the queen consort, sat beside me, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and concern. She fussed over me, pouring me another cup of tea, making sure my plate was filled, her touch a bit too doting for my frayed nerves.

“William, darling, you need to eat something,” she said gently, placing a hand on my arm. “It’s a big day, and you need your strength.”

I nodded, trying to muster a smile. “I know, Mama. I’m just a bit nervous.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile, her eyes misting over slightly. “It’s perfectly natural, sweetheart. But remember, this is a joyous occasion. You and Wilhelmina are about to embark on a beautiful journey together.”

“Right. Has she arrived yet?” I wondered, hoping to see my bride before the excitement to steady each other.

“Honey, you know you must not see her until the ceremony. Traditions are important to your father,” Mama said, trading side-glances with Papa, who smirked.

“Sure, blame it on me. It’s not my idea, nor my tradition, and Mina’s kingdom follows the same rules. So you will stay put until it’s time to leave for the Abbey, you hear, young man? None of those usual tricks you like to play on us.”

“Alright, alright, but I think I will go for a brief ride on ‘Perri’ before all the drama starts,” I decided, rising up, but my mother held onto my wrist while my father leaned back in his chair across the table from us, chewing his last bite, shaking his head.

“Sit back down, boy. I gave definite instructions that Imperial is to remain unsaddled and on pasture today. The last thing we need is you getting bucked off your horse and postponing what took half a year to plan. Enjoy your last moments of freedom before you have a wife to tell you what you like and what to think from here on forward.” Papa grinned at Mama, who gave him that look, knowing he was just teasing her.

“Oh, is that how you remember our wedding day, darling? Good to know,” she said, playfully stern.

“Oh, queen of my heart, you know our wedding day was the true beginning of my life. Well, both wedding days, actually.” My father brought up a once sore subject, still making our siblings and me cringe whenever it came up that for about a year, back when Vic and I were still children and the other two hadn’t even been born yet, they were divorced, both seeing other people. It was a relief to know the second time fused them together irrevocably. So much so, they both could now joke about those days.

Victoria, my best friend and confidante, couldn’t contain her excitement. “William, seriously! Papa is right! It’s too dangerous, even if you were to only twist an ankle or something. It was so hard to get you to this day, and I am not postponing my wedding to Henk any further. I am getting married this coming spring, allowing the expected courtesy period to not steal your and Mina’s thunder, but not a single day longer! So, be happy and excited already, this is going to be the most magical day ever! I’m so thrilled for you and Mina.” She swooned, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “And you know what this means, right? I get to truly start planning my own wedding soon! Beyond sending out ‘Save the Date’ cards.” She clapped her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat, reminding me more of a child than a 24-year-old Princess Royale.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Of course, Vic. I knew you’d be most excited about that part, rather than seeing my relationship status change.”

“Hey, can you blame me? I’ve been dreaming of this day for what literally feels like ages, and you know it! Who wouldn’t, if their fiancé was someone like my Henk? Besides, you’ve dragged your feet long enough, and I still don’t understand why. As the future king you have to get married, you always knew that, you love Mina, so what’s the deal here? I just don’t get it,” Victoria beamed, her enthusiasm infectious.

I smiled back at her, though a part of me still felt the weight of the day ahead. I loved Mina deeply, and she loved me. We both knew we were lucky in that aspect, as not all future kings and their spouses were allowed that luxury. Still today, there was a lot of strategy involved in such unions. Even Mina and I got engaged first and ended up falling for each other later, all to keep up appearances for her kingdom.

Our story is unusual, in a nutshell, back when she and I were teens, bored by the palace etiquette of yet another state visit, we went out looking for things to do to pass the time until dinner. We found a boat, took it out, and ended up capsizing, lost on some tiny, uninhabited island after dark. We were found huddled together around a campfire by some civilian teens who immediately posted cell phone pictures all over social media. This made it appear to be a fling, which was bad for a 17-year-old princess and even worse for 17-year-old me, as I very publicly had a commoner girlfriend at that time, Grace. I had to break up with her, even though I loved her, to propose to Mina. At that point, and for a long while thereafter, Mina and my relationship was purely platonic, barely close enough to call us friends.

All the discomfort, pressure, and guilt we both felt eventually brought us closer. Mina felt horrible about having broken Grace and me up but had no choice, as breaking the forced engagement would have landed her in a convent, stuck until she turned 25. Mina was every bit as regal and polished as they came, but she had an independent side to her, and we both knew it would have crippled her spirit. So, to save her from that experience, we struck a deal to break the engagement the moment she turned 18, as then, the king couldn’t enroll her in that convent anymore. By the time her 18th birthday came around, we both had already realized how much we had in common and had fallen deeply and hard in love, and have been in love ever since. So much so, that on her 18th birthday, I proposed to her again, this time on my own volition and by her own choice, Mina accepted, choosing me over her perceived freedom.

Our love is real, even though I temporarily lost sight of that after all the years we had been together. About a year or two ago, curious to see how Grace was doing, I ended up making a mistake and having a brief affair with her. I confessed to Mina, who, after a short period of physical and emotional distance, chose to forgive me. Her forgiveness meant the world to me, and for as long as I live, I will never step out on her again.

Yet the idea of marriage had always felt daunting to me, even though I was born knowing that for me, this would never be a choice but something that had to happen. While I would argue that, for a man, I am fairly romantic, I am nowhere near the levels Victoria has always soared at. I truly believe she came from the womb reading Jane Austen novels, swooning. At least someone was wholeheartedly ready for this journey. I still wasn’t.

The usual routine of breakfast was anything but usual today. It was a poignant reminder of the life I was about to step into, the responsibilities I would shoulder, and the love that would guide me through it all. As I sat there, surrounded by my family, I felt a surge of emotions—nervousness, yes, but also hope and determination. Somehow, it felt more like the final supper to me than a breakfast of a day of a celebration most grand. A wedding day.

MY wedding day.

Still, the mere thought of that made me everything but joyous and excited. It downright mortified me, and I loved Mina with all my heart, so this made no sense to me.

As soon as I attempted to eat another bite, one of the palace aides approached me, bowing slightly. “Your Highness, it’s time to begin preparations for the ceremony.”

I nodded, feeling the gravity of the moment settling in. I stood, my mother giving me a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze on the hand. The aide escorted me back to my suite where a flurry of staff awaited to get me ready.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, I was surrounded by a sea of activity. Tailors adjusted my suit, ensuring every detail was immaculate. My shoes were polished to a mirror-like shine, and a team of hairstylists and groomers attended to my appearance with meticulous care, including the shave I mentioned earlier. I wasn’t too keen on shaving on a good day, and I dreaded being shaved by someone else. It was no wonder my father had made several attempts to grow a beard, each time nixed again by Mama, who just didn’t like beards. Today, I had no say at all in what I looked like; everything was predetermined already.

It felt surreal, almost as if I were a spectator in my own life, watching as the day I had anticipated for so long unfolded around me. I briefly wondered if Mina experienced this day as I did, or with my sister’s eagerness and excitement. For her sake, I hoped for the latter. One of us being eaten alive by anxieties was plenty.

Despite the hustle and bustle, a sense of calm washed over me. The professionalism and dedication of the staff were reassuring, their efficiency a reminder that this day was not just about me, but about the future of Henfordshire. Yet, in the quiet moments between the flurry of activity, my thoughts drifted to Wilhelmina and the life we were about to start together.

Once I was ready, I took a moment to gather myself. The reflection in the mirror now showed a regal figure, every detail perfect, but still, underneath it all, I was just William.

The time had come to make my way to the Abbey of St. Michael in old downtown Henford-on-Bagley. Tradition dictated that I walk alone to the altar, a symbol of the responsibility I was about to undertake. The mere thought of having to try to look regal with so many scrutinizing eyes on me made me almost forget how to put one foot in front of the other.

Before that, I needed to get from the palace to the abbey. I stepped into the royal carriage, a magnificent vehicle adorned in the royal colors of green and gold. The carriage’s intricate designs and polished woodwork gleamed in the morning sunlight. The journey to the abbey felt surreal, the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels and the gentle sway as it moved adding to the anticipation.

My eyes lingered on the Royal Cromwell Stables as we passed them. The Royal Cromwellers, a specific breed unique to the royal house of Cromwell for centuries, were grazing on the pasture. Their predominantly white coats, including the technically grey horses that appeared white, glistened in the morning sun. Breeding, training, selling, and studding these magnificent creatures were integral parts of the royal duties, still overseen by the king and Crown Prince themselves. While we royals obviously didn’t handle the day-to-day care, we, especially my father and I, were deeply involved and my entire family all loved riding. The Royal Stables duties were the best part of being a Crown Prince if you asked me, a passionate equestrian.

I dreamed of being out there with them, feeling the power and grace of these majestic creatures beneath me. Wishing I could ask to be let out and just ride off on my Perri, my trusted steed, which always kept me grounded and calm, I sighed inwardly. The thought of galloping through the fields, the wind in my hair and the rhythmic thundering of hooves beneath me, was a tantalizing escape from the day’s impending events.

The horses were my solace, their presence a reminder of simpler times. For a moment, I imagined their glistening coats and spirited movements, picturing myself riding alongside them, free from the day’s pressures. But reality beckoned, and I knew my place was in the carriage, heading towards a future that awaited me with open arms.

As we approached the town, the crowds lining the streets grew thicker, their cheers and well-wishes filling the air. The royal guards, resplendent in their green uniforms, pushed through the throngs, ensuring a clear path for the carriage. The townspeople waved flags and banners, their faces lit up with excitement. It was a scene of pure joy and celebration, a testament to the significance of this day for the kingdom.

Arriving at the abbey, I was ushered inside, the grand entrance framed by centuries-old stonework and intricate carvings. The abbey was a masterpiece of history and architecture, its walls echoing with the footsteps of those who had walked its halls before me.

The walk to the altar was both solemn and filled with a quiet sense of purpose. I made my way down the aisle on admittedly shaky legs, my heart pounding so loud I could barely hear anything but my own heartbeat. The eyes of countless guests and dignitaries were upon me, yet my focus was on the moment, the significance of the steps I was taking.

As I reached the altar, I turned to face the grand wooden doors of the abbey, the anticipation building in my chest. The air was filled with a hushed excitement, a palpable energy that reverberated through the stone walls. The soft strains of the wedding march began to play almost instantly, because you know, it was considered extremely rude to make any member of the royal family wait, the music echoing through the vaulted ceilings and adding a sense of grandeur to the moment.

The heavy doors opened with a loud thud, the sound resonating throughout the abbey. All eyes turned towards the entrance, and the world seemed to hold its breath. There she was, Wilhelmina, radiant in her bridal gown, a vision of grace and beauty. Her older brother Alexander, the King of Windenburg, led her down the aisle, their father had passed years ago, their steps synchronized with the rhythm of the music.

The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of old wood and incense. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor. The flicker of candles added a warm, intimate glow to the otherwise grand setting.

The moment Wilhelmina reached the altar and her brother handed her over to me, I felt a shiver run through my body. My hands shook hard as I reached out to take Wilhelmina’s hand. To my surprise and relief, I noticed that her hands were shaking too. In that moment, our shared nervousness felt like a bond, a silent acknowledgment of the magnitude of this day for both of us.

We shared a quick, whispered exchange, our bond evident even in these fleeting moments.

“You look stunning,” I whispered, unable to keep the admiration out of my voice.

“Thank you, back at you. You look like every girl’s dream prince come to life. Rawr!” she wiggled her eyebrows at me, and we both giggled.

“You look like a dream in that gown. I can’t wait to tear it off you later and start working on that heir everyone wants from us,” I countered, very unroyally.

Wilhelmina grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Don’t you get any ideas, Your Highness. This dress was expensive. We’ll be taking it off with the greatest care to preserve it for a daughter we might have someday. But what I wear beneath, however, you can tear off if you want. In fact, I dare you to.”

“Challenge accepted. Just imagine trying to explain shreds of unmentionables scattered around our suite to the staff in the morning,” I joked, winking at her.

“It’s the morning after our wedding night, Will. I think we’d have to explain if there weren’t any signs of unbridled passion! I expect us to do things that will make the staff gasp, come morning.”

We both stifled our laughter, the shared humor a grounding force amidst the grandeur of the day. With our hands joined, we turned to face the archbishop officiating the ceremony, ready to begin the part that would mark the start of our journey together. And I will admit, after our silly exchange and feeling her hand holding mine, I was a lot more at ease at last.

As Mina later confirmed, the actual ceremony was a blur to both of us, each too nervous and worried to miss a step or not look as regal as possible for the photographers canonizing every second of this for all eternity.

When finally we were introduced to the carefully and strategically selected and vetted congregation of wedding guests in the Abbey of St. Michael for the first time by our full newly revised titles and, in Mina’s case, her new last name—MY last name, obviously previously agreed upon and sanctioned by my father.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to present for the first time as husband and wife: His Royal Highness Crown Prince William Maximilian Frederick Cromwell, Duke of Henford and Earl of Foxbury, Heir Apparent to the Throne, and Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Wilhelmina Charlotte Sophia Cromwell, Duchess of Henford, Countess of Foxbury, formerly the Princess Royale von Ahrensberg to Windenburg.”

Still in a blur we made our way down the aisle together, then outside, presented to the people we would help my father reign over together from now on, and for whom we were supposed to one day have heirs to continue this old royal lineage for more generations, combined with Mina’s which dated back just as far.

As we stepped outside together, hand in hand, the noise of the crowd hit us like a wave. I wondered briefly if Mina was trying to break my hand with her grip, then realized I had a death grip on hers as well. I loosened my grip slightly, hoping not to hurt her. She responded by giving my hand a gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgment of our shared nerves.

The cheers of the crowd accompanied us as we made our way to the royal carriage, a magnificent vehicle adorned in green and gold, the royal colors. I helped Mina into the carriage, her dress flowing around her like a cloud. She thanked me with a quick kiss, making the crowd cheer even louder. As I plopped down next to her, I took that as my cue to add my personal touch. Leaning in, I kissed Mina passionately, and the cheers became deafening.

Suddenly, a rider approached the carriage door, tapping on it with urgency. It was Jack Kershaw, the former horse rancher who used to work for the king. Now he sat astride his horse, wearing an honorable royal uniform, though his cowboy hat clashed with the rest of his attire. Jack tipped his hat in greeting, his rough voice breaking through the noise.

“‘Nuff of that, kids,” he said with a grin. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later and on yer honeymoon. Stick to the script, sit up, smile, wave to the people.”

We couldn’t help but laugh at his straightforwardness. We sat up, composed ourselves, and waved to the adoring crowd as the carriage began its journey to the reception. The streets were lined with cheering well-wishers, their excitement a tangible presence as we made our way to the palace.

Upon arrival at the reception, we were greeted with a grand celebration. The palace gardens had been transformed into a magical wonderland, with twinkling lights, elegant decorations, and a stunning view of the city. The grand hall sparkled so brightly almost requiring sunglasses, when the first dance was about to begin.

As the music began to play, Mina and I took to the dance floor for our first dance as husband and wife. We moved gracefully to the melody, our connection evident in every step. Meanwhile, my father danced with my youngest sister, Veronica, and Lord John took to the floor with Vivienne, as Victoria couldn’t be pried from her Hendrik with a crowbar. As they danced past each other, Lord John couldn’t resist a playful remark.

“Mind your step, Max. You dance like a 90-year-old mummy with rheumatism. Watch me for pointers, Your Majesty; I’ve still got the moves. Just sliding and gliding,” John teased with a grin.

King Max chuckled. “I’ll be thrilled if you just don’t step on my daughter’s toes with all that sliding and gliding. That poor girl doesn’t need her feet flattened by your ‘graceful’ footwork.”

John feigned offense, raising an eyebrow. “Might Your Majesty be calling me fat and clumsy?”

Max smirked. “Not at all, just worried my little girl might end up with pancakes for feet by the end of the night.”

John laughed, patting his stomach.

Mina and I shared a glance, amused by the banter between the two men. It was moments like these that reminded us that beneath it all, we were all just humans, with emotions and fears, just like everyone. But it also reminded me of the love and support surrounding us, even amidst the grandeur and formality of the day shown to the outside world. Inside the palace, there had always been lots of duty, but even more warmth and love. Growing up, my sisters and I were just children like all the others, with parents who loved us more than life itself, and I knew from our many long talks that the same was true for Mina. She winked at me now during another twirl, which my youngest sister saw and acquitted with the usual comments younger siblings make when seeing their big brother kiss a girl.

Mama, seeing the opportunity, gracefully stepped in and took my sister’s place dancing with Papa. Veronica had enough already anyway and scurried away as fast as proper etiquette allowed, probably towards the banquet to cater to her sweet tooth. During another twirl, I saw Mama kissing Papa. Even though we royals were supposed to refrain from PDA in public, with all the esteemed guests here, it was very much considered public, but Papa didn’t care either. When she pulled back, he pulled her closer again, dancing cheek to cheek with her, whispering in her ear things that made her blush and giggle—a gesture filled with affection and warmth.

I didn’t want to stare and ruin the moment for them, so I looked away, only to see Mina’s brother Alexander, or Alex to us, the king of Windenburg, in a similarly romantic embrace, swaying to the music while whispering into his wife Helena’s ear. Mina must have seen it too, as she leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Fifty bucks baby number three will be announced within the next three months,” she said dryly, making me laugh.

Oh Mina. You see how I couldn’t let her get locked up in a convent back seven years ago? She was resilient, I knew that, but she wouldn’t have been the same now.

As Mina and I danced our first couple’s dance together, the cheers of the crowd seemed to fade into the background. It was just Mina and me, moving gracefully to the music, our steps perfectly in sync. The world seemed to stand still, and all the nerves and anxieties of the day melted away.

As the song came to an end, we received a round of applause, the smiles and laughter of our family and friends filling the air. The rest of the evening was a joyous celebration, filled with dancing, heartfelt speeches, and moments of pure happiness, eventually fireworks. Our nervousness gave way to just thrill of happiness, we enjoyed the good food, the fun, the dancing, the well wishes.

Well, and what followed, once us newlyweds decided to leave the celebration and retreat to my chambers, which now were our chambers, is for us to know and for you to …