Love From Isle to Isle

Cromwell Palace, Henfordshire

Today is the day.

My wedding day.

My eyes flutter open to the early morning light streaming through the curtains. Unlike my brother William’s anxious wedding morning, my heart is brimming with excitement and eagerness. The thought of finally being with Hendrik permanently fills me with a joy I can hardly contain.

A day I have longed for, but now also one I dread as I suddenly feel anxiety creeping throughout my entire body, for various reasons, none of which to do with the man I will promise to love and cherish till death do us part, for I already do all that with all my heart, body, mind and soul, and have been for years and I am certain, he feels that very same way about me, even though we both know as well as Papa when he agreed to our engagement that technically it is against royal protocol, as Hendrik’s title means marrying down, below my worth as I am not merely a princess, but a princess royale, second in line to the royal throne, if, heaven forbid, anything were to happen to my beloved brother William. Papa agreed because he knows Hendrik is the man who gives me what no other man of my rank or higher possibly ever could give me, yet something I have wanted so badly all my life: freedom.
No, my troubles are more plebian. I am very close with my family and knowing I will now not see them daily scares me. My siblings, but especially my Mama and Papa. Yes, I am a Mommy and Daddy girl, and not even ashamed. Not to mention my best friend all my life up until now has been my older brother William. You understand my anxiety about leaving them all behind now? With a sigh I make my way out of bed and through my morning routine but my thoughts are a rollercoaster, as are my emotions.

My groom, Hendrik Willem DeWinter, the 27-year-old Duke of Zeehaven and the Isles with his boyish charm, rugged good looks and quietly challenging nature, elegantly casual, is unlike any aristocrat I ever met in my entire 24 years of life as a royal princess.

I have met all sorts of types, creeds, all different, yet, in a particularly strange way also all the same. A sea of people, all of them usually polite and bending over backwards to accommodate my every wish, even though I know as well as the rest of my family does, most can’t be trusted as far as we can throw them. All have their own agenda, they are nice because of who I am, or better: whom I am related to and what they think we could do for them. To them, we very much serve some sort of purpose.
My father, the King of Henfordshire, and my older brother, the Crown Prince, married to the sister of the King of Windenburg, have always been entrenched in royal duties. My mother, Queen Aria Grace, with her extensive background in the high society of the non-royals, also adds to our illustrious heritage.

Yet, all I ever longed for was to just step outside one day and go for a walk—alone, or maybe with the man I love—and just explore. Something so trivial, yet completely unthinkable and out of my reach. Until I met Hendrik. Hendrik had no agenda. Hendrik liked my spirited ways, and his mind was made up after the first few times we actually spoke. He adored me for who I was beneath, but I didn’t see it. I thought he was another one with an agenda, blinded by the boy I was hung up on: a nice boy named Liam, but the wrong guy for me, as I know now but couldn’t see then.

Oh, I must have discouraged Hendrik many times, so obviously picking Liam over him, and it aches my heart now in retrospect, knowing I hurt this genuinely sweet guy so recklessly, yet he never gave up. Unbeknownst to me then, Hendrik impressed my Papa by asking for his permission to pursue me, despite all of it. Papa liked Liam and supported him, still to this day he was a sort of mentor to him but realized long before I was ever receptive to the truth, that Liam and I would never work. Even Liam realized it long before me which only ever upset be, when I now see I should thank him. And Mama and Papa both knew long before I finally would see the light that Hendrik was the one for me.

Anyway, Hendrik persisted. He had invited me many times, and when I finally accepted, he showed me his duchy, which his father made him the official leader of at a tender 21 years of age, but also the mainland, Lykke Center, and Windenburg. Neither of which are even under his supervision, yet everyone treats him with so much respect—dare I call it almost a form of admiration bordering on love?—I was flabbergasted. From day one I got treated the same way, long before we were even a couple and ever since.

Once I gave Hendrik the time of day, I quickly realized how deep and interesting and genuinely good he was, without being boring. He has a mischievous, fun-loving side, challenging nonsensical rules while strictly abiding by those that make sense. He is very passionate, don’t let the quiet, proper demeanor fool you like I did. Before I knew it, I realized we had so much in common—similar interests, values, hopes, dreams, and visions—and I fell deeply and hard for him. And when he loves, he loves with an intensity that has to be rare.

I will miss my home, my beautiful Henfordshire with its rolling hills, all our beautiful horses, but I won’t miss not being able to leave without planning and security details.

Anyway, here I am, still at home in my personal suite at Cromwell Palace, knowing that the next time I come here, it will be as a visitor. It already feels empty, as most of my dearest items, books, trinkets, have been sent ahead to my new home. My heart starts to race, breath caught in my throat.

My favorite horse, my heart horse, Royal Symphony, or ‘Symphy’ as I lovingly call her, a regal cremello Cromweller with blue eyes like mine so typical for that coloring, bred and raised at the Royal Cromwell Stables back when I was barely a teen, has already been sent ahead to Zeehaven to acclimate, ensuring a piece of home awaits me in my new life.

She joins a horse Hendrik was gifted some months ago by my father, the King, himself—a stunning Cromweller stallion named ‘Noble Harmony’—or ‘Nobbie’ as Henk calls the tall horse with a distinct orangey tint to his chestnut fur, hand-selected by my father specifically for him, clearly to honor the official color of Zeehaven, orange. Papa finds that nickname secretly cringeworthy (due to its unfortunate Henfordian slang connotation, where Nobbie sounds a lot like a cutesy version of knob, which is also a vulgar term for the male organ) but says nothing. My siblings and I try to hide our amusement whenever it comes up again, watching Papa’s face contort as if he’s trying to swallow a lemon, while Mama suddenly remembers an urgent phone call she needs to take elsewhere, barely able to keep from laughing.

Papa even oversaw the training of the spirited young stallion himself to make sure to gift a well-mannered horse with an even temper to his future son-in-law. Hendrik didn’t grow up around horses, like my siblings and I had, he was still a bit of an inexperienced rider though he had put in a lot of effort into learning so he could keep up with me as he joined me in my favorite pastime aside from reading.

Later this morning, my family and I would fly out to Zeehaven, so I dress in a casual yet stylish dress: a blush-colored dress with a delicate lace collar—fun fact, this is actually the same dress I wore when I met Hendrik for the first time ever in the royal gardens of Schloss Falkenstein in Windenburg. I will pair it with a cream trench coat upon leaving the house. The outfit is comfortable enough for the flight, yet elegant enough for the inevitable photographs by the press as we board the royal jet. And while it will always be one of my favorite dresses ever, it will be considered too youthful for me after today. A married highborn woman, no matter her years, does not wear short dresses, as protocol decided for us a long time ago. Hopefully this wedding is at least half of what I hope it would be, as right now all I notice are things I used to love which I will have to leave behind. With a sigh, I pull back my shoulders and head for the door. And yes, normally I have staff fluttering about, but I told them last night that I wish to be left in peace this morning.

As I descend to the dining hall, the air is filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries. My family is gathered around the table. Father is noticeably absent.

“Where’s Papa?” I ask, taking my seat.

“He’s already gone ahead,” Mama gently reminds me of the rule that keeps the King and the Crown Prince on separate flights, the king and his heir apparent never traveling together is a longstanding rule dating back hundreds of years to ensure the kingdom’s succession. Father usually flies ahead with his personal advisor, Sir Reginald, who always accompanies him during his journeys for as long as I could remember so he can pass the time until we arrive talking business with whomever we are visiting.

Over breakfast, my Mum, siblings and I exchanged anecdotes and laughter, a comforting normalcy amid the excitement making this feel so normal, like every other day, but nothing would ever be the way it used to be. Not after this afternoon. After my wedding. I’d no longer be the girl, my parents’ child; I would be a married woman in my own right. Oh boy. My excitement gives way to a feeling like a little girl in Mummy’s clothing, pretending to be grown up.

But my thoughts keep drifting to Hendrik and the life that awaited me in Zeehaven.

The Drive to the Airport

The drive to the airport is a blur of emotions. The scenery rushes past, a mosaic of familiar landscapes that I will soon leave behind. My siblings chatter animatedly beside me, and Wilhemina, my sister-in-law, offers me a reassuring smile.

Upon arrival at the private terminal of the international airport, the press is waiting, cameras flashing as we step out of the car. We pose politely, my family and I, then proceed to board the royal jet. The familiar hum of the aircraft’s engines fills the air as we settle into our seats.

The Flight to Zeehaven

As we ascend into the sky, I find myself gazing out of the window, the kingdom of Henfordshire gradually becoming a patchwork quilt of fields and towns below. The cabin is filled with the soft murmur of conversation, my family’s presence a soothing balm to the flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

The flight is a symphony of sights and sounds—the gentle clinking of glassware, the quiet rustle of newspapers, and the distant laughter of my siblings. My thoughts drift to Hendrik, picturing his easy smile and warm eyes. The anticipation of our reunion keeps me grounded, even as we soar through the clouds.

Arrival in Windenburg

As we begin our descent, the breathtaking landscape of Zeehaven, the main island and the small ones, unfolds below along with the sprawling CityState kingdom of Windenburg, my sister-in-law’s old home.

I glance over at her and can see the melancholy as she presses her nose to the window, my brother gently taking her hand, kissing her cheek, realizing soon that will be me, whenever Hendrik and I go back home to Henfordshire for visits. Well, my old home, as after today, this below will be my home. The sprawling tulip fields, the tranquil canals winding through charming villages, and the iconic windmills standing tall against the horizon paint a picture of serene beauty. The island is also its own capital city, a bustling harbor town, exudes a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Just like its people, and this part was one of the most exciting to me: freedom only Hendrik can grant me. Everywhere I have to hide behind armored cars and guards, here Hendrik showed me to roam free. Even if the occasional paparazzi find me, the locals will quickly dissuade them of their hunger for drama, and I can just move about my day. This freedom may not sound much to you, for you always had it, yet I never have.

For me, Zeehaven holds a special place in my heart. The vibrant orange hues that define the duchy symbolize warmth, energy, and new beginnings. The people of Zeehaven have embraced me as one of their own, and I find solace in the easygoing lifestyle that contrasts with the formalities of Henfordshire and even the local Windenburg, which oversees Zeehaven at a higher level.

We land in Windenburg and are greeted by a convoy of cars ready to take us to the harbor. The royal jet from Henfordshire landed at the private terminal of Windenburg International Airport, where the press is already waiting, cameras flashing in accordance with the regulations for high-profile visits.

The drive through Windenburg is filled with breathtaking sights—the majestic mountains, the lush green valleys, and the charming villages that dot the landscape.

Mina’s excitement is palpable as she explains facts and history of sights and regions as we pass through, and I can’t help but notice how she and my beloved brother William, my best friend since birth, share a special bond. Since we royal siblings grew up very shielded, making friends is not an easy task for any of us, so mostly, we are each other’s friends and confidants. I think in William’s world I was replaced by Mina, while I was about to replace him with Hendrik. Funny how that goes. Only a couple of years ago, neither of us would have believed anyone or anything could ever replace the other in our lives—that’s how close Will and I grew up. Sure, we both love our two younger sisters, but we never had the tight bond with them that Will and I share. Shared. Or maybe we still share it; it’s just evolved with the way our lives are changing. Or maybe it’s just the new of the situations, and once both of us are no longer newlyweds we’ll go back to the way we always were. Yeah, that actually sounds more likely. Just a temporary change.

Arrival in Zeehaven

At the harbor, a public ferry awaits to carry us across to Zeehaven, making an extra run just for the royal party. The salty breeze fills the air as we board the vessel, the sound of seagulls echoing above. The journey across the water is a serene experience, the gentle rocking of the ferry calming my nerves.

I make my way to the bow, standing at the very front of the ferry. My honey-gold blonde hair flows freely in the breeze, strands dancing around my face. I close my eyes and simply enjoy the sensations—the refreshing caress of the wind on my skin, the tangy scent of the salty air, the harmonious cries of the gulls, the gentle hum of the ferry’s motors, and the rhythmic lapping of the water against the hull. Mama, Queen Aria Grace, joins me at the bow, wrapping one arm around me. She waves at Papa, King Maximilian, who stands next to Hendrik. The depth of their love, a bond since their college days, is evident in her eyes.

Mama blows Papa a kiss, which he catches in the air and plants on his lips before blowing one back at her. I giggle at the sweet moment, feeling a whirlwind of emotions as I see my own beau waiting for me. There he is, my Hendrik, or Henk, my fiancé, my groom, my soon-to-be-husband, waiting for me as he had every single time I had visited him over the past years, without fail. He would stand and wait no matter the weather. As the ferry approached the dock and the crew busied themselves with landing he would open his arms until I disembarked and ran into them for a long, intense hug, and even more intense kisses. Hendrik welcoming me has always been such a highlight for me. And now, we would be together all the time. I couldn’t wait for him to take me walking in Windenburg again, always something new for me to discover. Or the peaceful walks—or now rides—around Zeehaven, where the locals would just invite you in for coffee or tea and confections or meals out of the blue. I loved that so much. Nobody ever did that in Henfordshire. Papa is such a sweet man, kind and just, and so beloved by his subjects, with one of the highest approval ratings of any monarch since someone at some point started measuring such a thing, yet all his subjects always stood scared stiff whenever one of us comes around. No idea why. Different kind of people, different mentality, I suppose.

Taking the usual golf cart uphill, we are soon greeted by the sight of Landgoed Windroos, the Duke’s ancestral home. It’s a beautiful estate where Hendrik lives with his elderly parents. They are very quiet people, sweet and polite, but not much for conversation. This will also be my new home after our wedding today. That fact begins to sink in.

Like my brother, after the wedding there will be a reception, a big party, after which Henk and I will disappear for the wedding night. Tomorrow morning, we will bid farewell to my family at breakfast as they travel back home while Henk and I embark on our honeymoon. Our honeymoon. Sounded more than surreal.

The DeWinter’s estate is surrounded by lush gardens and overlooks the deep blue waters of the sea with the white crests of the waves, which incidentally inspired the royal house of Windenburg’s official colors—royal blue and silver. Zeehaven’s orange stood in stark contrast with its warm hue, it was once inspired by an ancestor of Hendrik’s many centuries back, because it happened to be the preferred color of the lady of his heart. The warmth of Zeehaven’s color translates to the warmth of its people, and especially their Duke, and Henk’s estate offered a peaceful retreat from the demands of aristocratic duties.

A light luncheon is held, just the two royal families and Hendrik’s elderly parents, Willem and Beatrix, before the first guests arrive for the main ceremony. The atmosphere is intimate and filled with heartfelt conversations. My family members, ever gracious, try to strike up conversations with Willem and Beatrix. Although they are very sweet and polite, they are not particularly social or talkative.
My Mama asks about their favorite memories from Landgoed Windroos, while my younger sisters, Vivienne and Veronica, excitedly share stories from our own family gatherings. Despite the limited responses from Willem and Beatrix, the warmth and effort from my family create a pleasant atmosphere. My future in-laws visibly genuinely appreciated the effort to include them, their eyes softening with every shared memory.

Hendrik leans into Mama, quietly explaining, “They used to be outgoing, but after losing several children before I was born, they became more reserved. They were in their 50s when I finally arrived, and it was a difficult journey for them.”
Mama nods, understanding and compassion in her eyes, the same story as we heard from the parents of my sister-in-law. The former royal couple of Windenburg had their two children very late in life, rumored with modern medicine’s help. They were older when they had Alexander (now king), whose father abdicated just a few years before his death to see his son married and father two children, and then Wilhelmina. Their mother is still alive but in poor health and never came out of mourning for her husband. Mama continues to engage with Willem and Beatrix gently.

During the luncheon, the aforementioned King Alexander von Ahrensberg of Windenburg, still youthful in his early 30s, rises from his seat and clinks his champagne glass to capture everyone’s attention. In an instant, nearly all murmuring ceases, and all eyes are on the monarch who, admittedly, cuts a striking figure. Tall and poised, with an athletic build, his blonde hair is cut short and always neatly groomed. His blue eyes sparkle with intelligence, wit, and a touch of mischief, commanding the room with an effortless grace.

With a grand flourish, one of his staff members presents him with a scroll, adding an air of formality and tradition to the moment. King Alexander unfurls the scroll and begins to read, his voice resonating with the pomp and circumstance befitting the occasion.

“By the power vested in me as King of Windenburg, and in recognition of his unwavering dedication and service to the people, I hereby elevate Hendrik Willem DeWinter to the esteemed title of Prince of Zeehaven and the Isles, granting him the status of a small, independent kingdom. This elevation is a special wedding present for the lovely couple, a symbol of the bright future they will build together.”

He pauses, allowing the gravity of the announcement to sink in. Then, with a twinkle in his eye and a playful smile, he adds, “Just don’t let that power go to your head, Hendrik, and try starting a war on Windenburg.”

The room bursts into applause and laughter, the lighthearted remark easing the formality of the moment. Hendrik stands, his face beaming with pride and gratitude. He steps forward, bowing deeply to the King. “Your Majesty, I am deeply honored by your generous offer. However, Zeehaven’s charm lies in its simplicity and the close bond we share with our people. I believe that our strength comes from maintaining our current way of life. I must therefore politely decline your most generous offer and would like to continue to humbly serve the crown and my people as I always have.”

Hendrik then turns to me, his eyes filled with love and respect, and a hint of apology. “Unless, of course, my lovely future wife would prefer the elevated status Your Majesty so kindly offered,” he says, his voice softening as he looks at me.

I feel a rush of emotions as I gaze into Hendrik’s eyes. I understand the weight of the decision and the significance of preserving the essence of our beloved home. I quickly glance at Mama, Papa and my brother William, seeking their support. They all give me a subtle nod, acknowledging my feelings and supporting the choice they all know I want to make here.

With a graceful nod, I place my napkin on the table and rise up, then step forward next to Hendrik as I address the King. “Your Majesty, dear Alexander, Hendrik and I are truly beyond honored and very grateful for your benevolence and the generosity of your gift. However, as Henk already pointed out, we both wish to continue as we are, cherishing the simplicity and warmth that make Zeehaven so special as we feel we can serve the Kingdom of Windenburg, as well as my home Kingdom of Henfordshire much better that way. I, too, must most politely decline your wonderfully considerate offer.”

The King of Windenburg smiles, his eyes twinkling with approval. “As you wish, my dearest Victoria. Your wisdom and love for the people who will soon be your people, and the dedication to your future husband, are commendable. My princess, you will make a wonderful duchess, with the heart of a lioness and the poise of a queen.” He bows gently and kisses my hand, showing his respect and affection for his sister-in-law.

Hendrik steps in with a boyish smirk and a playful comment, “Looks like you’re stuck with marrying just a duke then!” He takes my hand from the King and pulls me in for a kiss, causing the room to erupt in applause and cheers. Hendrik’s unbridled relief and gratitude for my reaction and support were like medicine to the clouds of worry and anxiety that had started to creep up. We share a moment that marks the beginning of our new life together.

His parents step up, hugging both of us. “Well done, son, and Your Highness. A very wise choice in the face of temptation. I commend both of you. There is tranquility and power in simplicity, and it takes maturity and wisdom to recognize that at such a young age.”

I look over at Henk, who winks at me smiling, and then I am whisked away to be made ready for the wedding. My wedding. Now the butterflies are running wild inside of me, almost making me nauseated.

Papa smiles, nodding his head down the aisle, so I look and can’t take my eyes off the scene before me. Hendrik stands at the altar, looking every bit the dashing Duke in his ceremonial attire, the orange hues of his duchy represented in his sash.

Flashbacks of the day we met, over on the mainland of Windenburg at the royal palace there, in the gardens, where I had an angry outburst at the limitations of a highborn young woman of only 17, the same age my second youngest sister was now. I wasn’t looking to meet someone, wasn’t looking for love, didn’t want to fall for him, but I had before I knew it.

It took me over a year to give him a real chance and agree to a real date, even longer to level up from there, though he relentlessly kept trying to win my attentions. And here we were now, 7 years later, about to be man and wife.

We reach him, Papa kisses me, hugs me a little longer than protocol allows, both of us fighting emotions when he places my hand into Hendrik’s, hugging him briefly whispering something in his ear, to which Henk nods, receiving one last pat on the shoulder before my Papa walks off to join Mama and my siblings in the front row to watch me get married.

The vows we exchange are heartfelt, in English and Dutch, a promise of love and commitment that will guide us through our lives together.

The officiant then announces, “Ik verklaar jullie nu man en vrouw: Hertog Hendrik Willem DeWinter van Zeehaven en de Eilanden en Hare Koninklijke Hoogheid Prinses Royale Victoria Rose Cromwell, Hertogin van Zeehaven en Gravin van Foxbury, de oudste dochter van de koning en koningin van Henfordshire.” He repeats in English, “I now pronounce you husband and wife: Duke Hendrik Willem DeWinter of Zeehaven and the Isles and Her Royal Highness Princess Royale Victoria Rose Cromwell, Duchess of Zeehaven and Countess of Foxbury, The Eldest Daughter of the King and Queen of Henfordshire.”

As we make our way down the aisle, hand in hand, the joy and excitement are palpable. The moment we pass the last row of chairs, Hendrik mischievously picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. He raises one arm victoriously, calling out, “Wooo, she’s finally all mine! Ze is eindelijk helemaal van mij!” This elicits laughter and applause from our guests, their cheerful voices blending with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds.

Both of us laughing, he runs off with me, the sound of cheers and well-wishes following us, accompanied by the rhythmic pounding of his footsteps on the gravel path. The scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers fills the air as we move farther away from the crowd.

He finally stops and gently puts me down near the stables, where the familiar earthy scent of hay and horses greets us. My heart flutters as I realize I haven’t had a chance to greet my beloved mare, Royal Symphony, yet. I smile up at him and turn to head towards the pasture run, but Henk pulls me back, his strong hands pressing my back against the barn wall. He kisses me in that way that makes a girl forget everything, the cool touch of the wooden wall contrasting with the warmth of his lips.

When we finally separate, both slightly out of breath, he smiles and winks. “Now we can go say hi to the horses, but only for a moment, we’re still hosting a wedding, Duchess DeWinter.”

I imply a playful curtsy, “As you wish, Your Grace.” Chuckling, Henk puts his arm around me, and we head off to the horses.

My ‘Symphy’ sees me and instantly canters over, her tail high, snorting excitedly as if scolding me for abandoning her for so long. The rhythmic sound of her hooves on the ground fills the air, and I can feel her warm breath as I pet her, apologizing for leaving her.

Henk places a pack of sugar cubes in my hand, shrugging. “Best I could do on short notice. Didn’t want our wedding photos to have the pockets of my suit bulging with apples.” Now, his stallion comes over too, demanding his treats, his powerful presence adding to the sense of life and energy in the stable.

My life feels complete, watching my brand-new husband smiling at his own horse while I pet mine. My new home doesn’t seem lacking my family anymore, but rather filled with a new type of love—a branch of love, still growing from the old family tree. The sounds of the horses and the whispers of the wind create a harmonious backdrop to this perfect moment.

Reception

The celebration that follows is a joyous affair. Unlike the grand spectacle of my brother, Crown Prince William’s wedding about six months ago now, which had been a massive event, this occasion is by choice significantly more intimate. Sure, I wanted a fairytale wedding as much as the next girl, and I had that, it had been a wonderful ceremony, but for the rest of the celebration I wanted to be surrounded by closest family and friends, I didn’t need for it to be any bigger a production than it had already been, as I had plenty of spotlight all my life, my goal was to remove myself from it mostly and if it hasn’t become perfectly obvious so far, my new husband and his parents weren’t spotlight seekers either.
The two royal families and a select group of esteemed guests indulge in a sumptuous feast, with tables adorned with exquisite floral arrangements and glittering candles. Laughter and music fill the air, creating an atmosphere of pure happiness.

Hendrik and I take to the dance floor, and the room quiets with anticipation. We’ve prepared a little surprise for our guests—a fun dance we studied together, designed to be silly and lighthearted. The music begins like a standard waltz but quickly changes into a lively tune, and we break into an exaggerated, playful dance routine with breakdancing moves and all. Our exaggerated moves and synchronized twirls elicit laughter and applause from our delighted audience. Hendrik even adds a dramatic dip, causing the laughter to swell.

As the dance reaches its climax, the modern tune fades out and only the waltz music remains as we seamlessly transition into a more traditional waltz, our steps falling into perfect harmony. The playful energy gives way to a romantic elegance, and the guests continue to watch with admiration as we glide across the dance floor, hand in hand.

Papa cuts in to dance with me. “May I have this dance, my dove?” he asks with a warm smile. Hendrik steps aside with a nod and a smile, and I take Papa’s hand.

As we begin to dance, Papa looks into my eyes, his voice filled with emotion. “Victoria, sweetheart, you have always been my little miracle. I remember the day you were born as if it were yesterday, hard to believe it was 24 years ago, how you fought to come into this world, and how strong you’ve been ever since, overcoming the most terrible events with poise and grace. Seeing you find the love and happiness you deserve fills me with so much pride and joy.”

I smile, tears glistening in my eyes. “Thank you, Papa. I couldn’t have done it without your and Mama’s support and love.”

Papa squeezes my hand gently. “Your mother and I have nothing but love and respect for Hendrik, a good kid, but sometimes people change and if he ever doesn’t treat you right, you come straight home to me, my dear. You will always have a place back home, your chambers will remain untouched, no matter what. I know he loves you deeply and will cherish you as much as I do, but if he ever loses his mind and forgets, I shall forget myself too, you hear?”

I lean in, throw my arms around my father’s neck and kiss his cheek, then snuggle against him. “Oh Papa. I love you more than I can say. Always will.”

We are called to cut the cake, Hendrik appears smiling, offering me his arm, Papa releases me and Henk nods at him. Nervously we both hold the long knife and cut into the most beautiful cake, an aroma of vanilla and orange wafts in my direction and my stomach growls.

Everything becomes a blur as Hendrik carefully feeds me and I him, both of us miss slightly, but of course my husband breaks all royal protocol and kisses me before I can discreetly wipe my lips, smearing the icing all over us. But instead of reprimands it rains laughter and applause again and once more I feel old shackles fall off me, as I now us a napkin my Mama covertly slips in my hand to wipe his, then my face.

The night ends with a spectacular display of fireworks, lighting up the sky in a dazzling array of colors. As we stand hand in hand, watching the brilliant bursts of light, I know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey. Hendrik brings my hand up to his lips, and kisses it before whispering in my ear, “Are you ready?” I nod, and he calls out to the room, “Sorry all, you’ll have to party on without us as we now have better things to do!” Laughter fills the air as he scoops me up and carries me towards the estate.

It’s a long walk, but Hendrik carries me through the lobby and up the grand staircase, my dress trailing behind us. We ascend another flight of stairs and make our way down a long hallway to his chambers. Crossing the threshold, Hendrik sets me down carefully, slightly out of breath. I chuckle and say, “We need to work on your stamina, love.”

With a playful smile, Hendrik replies, “If this suggests what I hope it does, then this would be the best idea you’ve had as my wife yet, Your Grace, Duchess DeWinter.”

As I dwell on the sound of my new last name and title, which he delivered with a bow, we share a romantic kiss, the anticipation of the night ahead filling the air. “Let’s get you out of this suit, husband,” I whisper.

“Your ideas keep getting better and better, wife,” he responds, and we fade into a passionate wedding night.

The next morning, I wake up to the gentle sunlight filtering into the room. Noticing Hendrik and I are wrapped up in each other, smiling I watch him as he sleeps, mouthing the word “husband.” I glance at my hand, admiring my new wedding ring nestled against my engagement ring, then look at Hendrik’s hand, seeing his ring gleam in the morning light, I smile again. “Je bent helemaal van mij, geliefde. You are all mine, love. All mine. And nobody can separate us again.” I sigh

Carefully, I kiss Hendrik’s forehead and slide out of his embrace and bed, heading to the shower. I remove my rings, placing them gently on the counter. Hendrik joins me soon after I step under the warm cascade of water, his presence a comforting start to our day. I notice his ring is still on and ask, “Hendrik, why didn’t you take off your ring? Soap and lotions can dull the metals and stones…”

With a tender smile, he replies, “Because the only way my ring ever comes off is if my heart stops beating.” His words fill me with warmth and love, and I kiss him deeply.

Hand in hand, we arrive for breakfast a little while later, already dressed for our journey. I hug my entire family, cherishing the moment. Hendrik’s parents officially welcome me to the DeWinter family with open arms, finally addressing me by my first name, not Your Highness, even though I had offered it a million times before. We share a lovely meal together, the conversation filled with laughter and warmth, the perfect beginning to our new life together.

I chose a flowing, lightweight dress in a soft shade of peach, paired with an off-white soft light cardigan and comfortable sandals. I place my wide-brimmed hat down on a nearby chair as we enter. Hendrik opted for a crisp linen shirt in a warm shade of tangerine which is very becoming and makes his blue eyes pop, matched with tailored trousers in a complementary shade of tan, his look completed with a pair of loafers and aviator sunglasses. He looks as dashing as it sounds.

As the newlyweds, we depart, being waved off on the docks by both our families. Hendrik and I laugh as we notice the cans tied to the ferry, clinking and rattling in celebration. My family eagerly takes cell phone photos, capturing the fun and joyous moment. Hendrik puts his arm around me, and I lean up against him as we watch Zeehaven become smaller in the distance. The love and support from everyone fills us with hope and excitement for the future.

The Honeymoon

Our honeymoon is nothing short of magical. Our first destination is Sulani, where the turquoise waters and pristine beaches greet us. Naturally, our first course of action is to soak up the sun and work on our tans.

We spend our days snorkeling, exploring the vibrant coral reefs and swimming with exotic marine life.

Hendrik patiently taught me how to operate a jet ski and created a monster. I am obsessed.

The evenings are filled with romantic walks along the shore, the sound of the waves creating a soothing symphony. We visit a stunning volcanic crater, marveling at the raw beauty and power of nature.

And I learn to scuba dive. Me. I took underwater photos, failed miserably at spearfishing, but found wonderfully exotic shells. Amazing!

Next, we fly to Tomarang. The lush landscapes and rich culture captivate us from the moment we arrive.

We visit a tiger sanctuary, getting up close and personal with these majestic creatures. The experience is both thrilling and humbling. We explore bustling markets, taste delectable street food,

and relax with traditional massages that leave us feeling rejuvenated. And we go on walks. So many walks, endless walks until my feet hurt. And all without anyone ever bothering us. Heaven. I was in heaven. Especially with my romantic new husband. My wonderful husband, who took me to a tiger sanctuary, not once, not twice, but a felt million times, never losing his patience, and we both end up adopting tigers and donating obscene amounts. Worth it.

A little boy runs up to me, tells me I look like a Disney princess, which made Hendrik laugh, I thank the sweet little Tomarani boy, give him whatever cash I have on hand in currency, and he gifts me his little model Tuk-Tuk. Hendrik stops me from returning it, as it would be considered rejection and rude. I will forever cherish this little toy.

Our final destination is Mount Komorebi. The majestic mountains and serene landscapes offer a perfect blend of adventure and tranquility. We indulge in exhilarating skiing lessons on the powdery slopes, but both of us are positively terrible at it,

hardly able to keep upright for lack of talent and loss of control over the laughter that befalls us, after many painful and very unroyal falls we give up,

while our very frustrated instructor goes off to fetch our runaway skies again, Hendrik takes my hand and runs off with me to a different slope, the one with mostly children and parents, and we indulge in sledding instead, laughing so hard our bellies and cheeks now hurt too.

Finally, we call it a day on sporty activities and instead go to soak in the hot springs of the famous onsen baths, the warm water melting away any remaining stress.

We visit ancient temples and immerse ourselves in the rich history and culture of the region. The lowlands offer picturesque views and peaceful hiking trails that allow us to connect with nature.

Throughout our honeymoon, I can’t get over the fact that somehow, with Hendrik by my side, I seem unrecognizable to others. I hardly recognize myself anymore. Before I became his wife, my head was filled with rules to abide by, and the very moment I set foot outside, hordes of paparazzi would appear from thin air hounding me relentlessly. Not even one so far and we didn’t even make any effort to disguise.
People would comment on my being pretty, the newlywed glow, and us being a lovely couple, but nobody seemed to realize or care who I really am, or maybe, who I used to be. And guys, I had so much fun, like never before in my entire life. I am well-traveled, I have seen the world, but never ever like this. I am like a bird, released from a cage into a world it so far only ever observed from behind the bars. Now I can go anywhere. Free.

Perhaps this marriage is truly new beginning in more than one way. You know how people usually get their hopes up too high when getting married? I was afraid I was falling into the same trap, but now I believe I very much underestimated what a blessing this will be. Maybe I truly no longer am the princess of one of the largest kingdoms worldwide, the granddaughter of one of the most prolific pop icons to ever live, but the duchess to a humble duke of a tiny island duchy outside another much bigger and more splendid kingdom, and I must say, what may sound like a downgrade to some, sounds and feels like heaven on earth to me. I don’t need public attention and commotion to feel special, I had that all my life and grew tired of it years ago, Henk makes me feel the right kind of special.

Each day brings us closer, our love growing stronger with every adventure we embark upon and I am absolutely sure I have made the right choice. Hendrik is my future, and my calling is by his side to preserve the beauty and culture of my new home.
As our honeymoon draws to a close, I realize that this is just the end of the first chapter of our journey together. With Hendrik by my side, I feel ready to face whatever the future holds, knowing that our love will guide us through.

Sincerely and with my utmost respect,

Yours, Mrs. Victoria Rose DeWinter, nee Cromwell.