NationStates

The halls of the Imperial Compound were decked out with flowers and tapestries for the upcoming wedding. The gardeners were working hard striping the lawns and making sure the tents and chairs were laid out properly. New flowers were being planted around the compound and footpaths were swept. King Henry strode out to admire the venue looking around the compound followed closely by wife.

“I think this will be one of the best celebrations we have had in quite a long time. I am excited to hold such a big party again!” He exclaimed proudly.

“I think sometimes the point of these things goes over your head, Mark” She said looking at him and slowly shaking her head. “Its for Danial not just so you can show off how well you can hold a party” She proclaimed.
“Yes yes of course sweetie but they almost wanted to hold it somewhe…. HEY YOU PUT THE DANCE FLOORING OVER THERE!” He cut off talking to his wife to yell at one of the employees who was assembling the oversized dance floor on the lawn “Sorry, It will be the best wedding we hold for any of our children because the rest are degenerates who can’t even continue on finding other royals.”

“Sometimes I wonder where they get it from.” She said, shaking her head again.

Greta looked onto the lawn as the seamstress put the finishing touches on her dress, “Ow—” she winced as the needle slipped and poked her “—If you poke me one more time you’re fired with no pay.”

“Sorrry, madam. I’m trying my best—”

“Well try harder.”

Danial, meanwhile, sat in the jacuzzi with an iced bucket of beer bottles on the side as he watched that day’s supercar race. These were his last hours as a bachelor, and he was damn sure going to make them about himself. A steward, however, came and disrupted his bliss, “Mr. Henry, your father would like to see you for a moment.” He sighed in response and rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the tub and grabbed a nearby towel.

Mark sat on the patio, still observing the preparations taking place on the lawn, “You wanted to talk to me, dad?”

“Yes I did… “ He pulled a big cigar from his jacket and sparked it up. “I know you don’t feel ready for this, but it is important. You are stepping up to the stage as a world leader now and it’s important because none of your siblings were able to do that.” Handing him the cigar which was clearly now a blunt the king had used a cigar for. “You will continue the legacy of our great family and don't let any of your siblings degrade your self worth because now you're much more important than any of those stuck up assholes.” He said sitting back in the chair

That was probably the nicest, most heartfelt thing his dad had ever said to him. A small tear came to his eye, “Thanks, dad. It means a lot.”

“Not a problem… I have been in similar circumstances but don't let your values leave you with power, as power is the best drug of them all… and I should know.” He said puffing once more on the cigarr.

“I don’t think I’ll have the power in this, it’s her throne. But I won’t let you down, dad,” Danial was just intent now on getting back in the tub.

“I know you won’t… And you're a Seveillian you will always have power… maybe not there but the world is yours for the taking but go on now enjoy your last few days of freedom.”
Danial got up and walked away from the table as the sun started to dip on the horizon. The king continued to supervise the preparations for when the guests would start to arrive.

Above the skies of Sevevill

The presidential flight of Ionian was proceeding quietly. Although at the last minute there was a failure at wolf One, it was decided to use John Colucci's personal plane. An airplane (Boeing 737-700) with the banner of Fininvest, the company in the hands of the Colucci family that is called the largest holding company in Ionio. At the cockpit was John Colucci (JC) piloting his personal aircraft along with a commander of the Ionian Air Force along with other military personnel supporting operations and communications. The Cockpit was entered by the Minister of Foreign Affairs Francesco Frattini (FF).

FF: Have we arrived?

JC: Relax friend. This trip will be beautiful. I have already planned a sightseeing trip to the Countryside of Seveillian and also brought the equipment to do Trainspotting and other nice things. Remember that we were invited to this wedding and it is a great time to relax.

FF: I'm not relaxed. I'm tense. This marriage can be transformed into an intergovernmental forum. We must prepare.

JC: You're making it heavy. Take it easy. Enjoy the ride. Play with your kids and enjoy life. Wait a second. What is San Foca FC and San Foca Panthers doing?

Communications Officer 1: San Foca FC is tied while San Foca Panthers are winning at 47

Suddenly all the people who were in the cockpit took their cell phone to check their bets.

JC: San Foca FC is suffering. Let me know if this team scores a goal. I think San Foca Panthers will win the superbowl this year.

FF: Both teams are owned by you.

JC: This year I spent more on football than on soccer

Suddenly in the cockpit within Giuseppe Colucci (GC) the son of John Colucci.

GC: Dad. Have we arrived?

JC: No son. What is your sister doing?

GC: The usual things. Watch the cell phone to read books.

JC: Go and say that it is not long before we start the landing phase.

Giuseppe left but Lucia Colucci (LC) arrived immediately.

LC: Dad Have we arrived?

John Colucci's face was a mixture of hatred and despair and he was most likely screaming in his mind in frustration.

JC: No. It's not long before. Go to the accommodations because soon we will land

LC: Ok Dad.

After Lucia left Francesco Frattini began to speak.

FF: I go to my room. So I relax a bit

JC: OK. We begin the checklist phase for landing operations. I recommend. After unloading operations and refueling is completed this aircraft must urgently fly to Rossano. My cousin has to use this plane for business.

The commander annually and began the landing checklist procedures. After a long journey Iono's presidential plane landed Seve City International airport and there were many planespotters taking pictures of John Colucci's private plane that had become an improvised presidential plane. After the parking phase John Colucci came out of the cockpit and went to kiss his wife Ginevra De Luca (GDL)

JC: Are you ready my love?

GDL: Sure. It will be a nice experience

JC: So let's go down and have fun

The presidential family of Ionio headed towards the exit of the plane ready to live a holiday in Sevevill

SEVE CITY - Shorty after Zamir Kahn's Arrival

In Seve City, Prime Minister Zamir Kahn's motorcade screamed through traffic. This was typical of Henry's hospitality, sparing no expense with Zamir; or at the very least, providing a limo with an adequately capable, unremarkable motorcycle escort. Inside is the Prime Minister, Zamir Kahn, mid 40s - his 32-year-old chief of staff Rebekah, and Zamir's bodyman, Saul, 36. Rebekah is loudly preoccupied on the phone, while Saul has Zamir's massive designer bag perched on his lap, as he shoves several colorful pocket squares against Zamir's royal blue, pinstripe suit jacket. He hands a green-colored silk pocket square to Zamir.

Saul: "And this is the one the tailor called 'Lucky Parakeet', Mister Prime Minister."

Zamir: "Oh god, Lucky Parakeet? The name alone conjures up the thought of some bird-flavored children's cereal. What was the one with orange polka dots?"

Rebekah (On phone): "...and the PM also needs a post-flight guest-list refresher. No, no, after his snack, and before the shiatzu. Twenty minutes, preferrably thirty, and you might want to make that happen in the next ten minutes, preferrably five." (ends call)

Saul: "You're thinking of punctuated citrus, which you said, and I quote, 'Resembles a space-age leprosy scar.'" (produces a shiny orange and yellow cloth emblazoned in bright circles)

Zamir: "God damnit, Saul. Is it too hard for you to find a simple f*cking colorful rag that won't make me this country's latest optical migraine? " (he expresses severely, frustratingly removing his oversized designer sunglasses in the process)

Rebekah: "I'm just wondering whether memorizing the names of the people at this party you're expected to socialize with, you know, might be more important than the aesthetic semantics of your high fiber accessories..."

Zamir: "Oh, you know how these things go. Like f*cking stop motion animation: a little blue-blooded geriatric incontinence here, sliding scales for kowtowing there...just a bunch of procedural cl*t-diddling. I'd be surprised if the giftbags aren't lined in gold leaf and white truffle oil."

Rebekah's smartphone starts beeping slowly at first, and then uncontrollably. She checks it.

Rebekah: "Oh..."

Zamir: "What's wrong, you said 'oh' like you just stubbed your toe."

Rebekah: "Adi Rappaport's blog. He picked up on a post from one of our airport guys..."

Zamir: "Wait, no, is it the wedding gift? Did they find out about the wedding gift?"

Rebekah is getting a lot of messages on her device.

Rebekah: "A post yesterday said 'Zamir Kahn once again investing in the future of professional government travel...a sleek, modern, and top-of-the-line business jet reserved exclusively for the most exclusive of Yahalomi diplomatic purposes. It's time for us to set a gold standard in parliamentary air travel, Yahalom!'"

Zamir: "Son of a BITCH..."

Rebekah: "Rappaport publicized the post, and the impeachment protesters are already going crazy; they want statements and an immediate return to Trachtenberg today.'"

Zamir: "We need damage control on it, NOW, I want the airwaves crowded with noise. Can we set an orphanage on fire or something? Actually...no, screw that...which dusty club class jagoff posted that to begin with?"

Rebekah: "Well sir, officially it was you. You said it would bring good publicity from the airline industry, while we were in Sevevill."

Zamir: "WHY THE FRESH F*CK WOULD YOU LET ME LET MYSELF DO THAT?"

Saul holds a blueish-purple pocket square to Zamir's lapel.

Saul: "Do you want to see the 'Midnight Lavender'?"

Zamir: "Strangle yourself with it, Saul..."

Sevevillian Imperial Palace
June

June had been left from so many of the equations at play, with Johnathan joining the service, her twin brother Danial getting married, and Emma taking a greater role in politics. She had a great amount of alone time with such little social obligation. For a large part she had reserved herself to her garden—her beloved garden—with flowers from all around the empire, and this spring she had begun to emplace the plants of iris, coneflowers, and bulbs of tulip from Phoenixia. She loved all parts of Sevevill, and all the different people which made her country beautiful.

Out her window she watched the workers bustle around to get set up for the wedding. She dreamed that some day in the future she too would have this grand of a wedding, but there was no need to rush it for she was sixteen. A small knock came upon her door, and who else was it but Danial. "June, I know I haven't been here recently as a brother and a friend, but before I have to move to Phoenixia full time, thank you for always being my friend. That's what twins are for, and if you ever want to stay in Kassau with me and Greta, you're more welcome than any other member of the family."

"Danial, what happened? We used to always be right on eachothers' corners, but then you went on the run to all these different foreign countries, and now you've barely spoken a word to me since you've been back home, no one really has except for mother, and whenever I'm out with Emma, she's just being Emma, she always talks about her business or other peoples' business," she inhaled, and exhaled, "I wish we could freeze before things ever got busy."

"June, I know it seems like you get left out, but just remember, all it takes is a word and I'm there,” in the doorway, quick was he to grab her into a hug, and they embraced as brother and sister. “Never change, not for anyone,” he turned away with tears in his eyes and left just as soon as he came, and she was again alone.

Duke Harry Hazzard had left Walkerville so as to arrive a few nights before the wedding. The trip was to be a hop by hop flight to Seve City. The first major stop was in Arseny-Sazikov, since the Duke wanted to visit his old T-20 Bandit which now belonged to the Tsar. The stay was also long enough to let the pilots recoup before continuing on. The roar of a pair of turbocompound radial engines blasted above Seve City. The Harlingen 550, a relic of nearly 88 years, was still as beautiful as ever. The Duke’s unmistakable voice, tuned by years as an announcer, came over the radio requesting permission to land at SVWK. The beautiful aircraft, tail number SW550HM, was a striking polished aluminum with a black front and an unmistakable orange stripe down the side.

This aircraft did not belong to the Duke, it belonged to Edward Cartwright, an old friend of Harry Hazzard who wanted to bring the old bird on a transcontinental flight. Of course, the Duke was at the controls. The other three men on board the aircraft were two guards, and Army Air Force Colonel Josiah Townsend, one of the few men in the world who have had over 20,000 hours at the controls of a fixed wing aircraft, a man who averaged 750 hours a year of flight time for about 27 years. The 550 turned in for its approach into the royal family’s air strip.

Although the aircraft was coated in oil around the exhausts, the aircraft was still spectacular to look at with its old school paint scheme, very fitting of an aircraft from its era. Although the interior styling and comforts were not much better than the average business jet of a similar size, the aircraft was a much more spectacular looking beast than most of the other beasts the heads of states would be arriving in, everything from it’s retro scheme to the spectacular flames that shot out the exhausts every time the aircraft was pushed to full throttle. The landing was a no fuss ordeal for the pilots, with both the Duke and Mr. Cartwright manning the controls for landing. The aircraft landed and taxied into the designated spot, having the same bearing of a long white Old Hogg Longhorn from the 70s pulling up to a supercar meet, helplessly outperformed but still making a bigger splash.

Four men crawled out of the aircraft after spending some time gathering themselves while parked, presumably changing out of the casual clothes they wore on the flight in. The Duke was dressed in a black double breasted tailcoat, black trousers, short black riding boots with brass spurs, and a white shirt, a classically Southwater formal style, one that first became popular in the 1830s. But the predominant item was what appeared to be a holstered short-sword, a weapon a bit smaller than the ancient Gladius but with a D-guard and in a gorgeous black and brass holster. Carrying a damascus bowie knife was a staple of the Dukes of Southwater when attending super formal events.

The man who followed him out, Colonel Townsend, was dressed in the dress uniform of the Army Air Force. This too featured riding boots, brass spurs, trousers, and a tailcoat. This time, the tailcoat was a stunning deep blue, one just a tad bit brighter than traditional navy blue, with golden epaulettes and a pair of brass stars on the collar, a big black leather belt featuring a square brass buckle with a lone star in the middle, the trousers were a bright white of a style more like those of breeches, although lacking the massive flaring that some style of breeches have, and the boots went up over the knees. Following these two men were two men dressed in a more typical green and tan army undress uniform.

Still in the aircraft was Mr. Cartwright, who was waiting for the right opportunity to go out and clean off HIS aircraft. The damn thing was still oily from the flight and he wanted HIS aircraft to look good for a bunch of world leaders who probably didn’t care much for aircraft, besides likely the King of Seveville, the Tsar of Arseny-Sazikov, and the President of Ionio who also flew himself in.

The Duke of Southwater had arrived.

King Mark Henry stood in the entrance to the main compound as the first of his guests rounded the corner. He stood wearing what looked to be a very expensive mink and some black pants with no shoes.

"My friends welcome! I hope your journey was no trouble at all." Not waiting for a response from anyone he turned on his heel and beckoned them to follow. "I have had the guest houses prepared and will show you all to them... no need to lock any of the doors the armed guards will deal with any intruders if there are any." Around the fine granate walls of the compound flew Seveillian flags and Seveillian Royal Tapestries. After walking for quite some time they reached the first three of the guest houses... well calling them houses was not doing them justice. Each one positioned on the side of the compound with a great view of the valley below where the airstrip was located. On each of the houses flew a flag from everyones respective countries. "Well here you guys are. I will leave you to get some rest."

Sevevillian Royal Palace
Erik XII Georg

Erik sat in the back of the royal limousine as it neared the Sevevillian Royal Palace. To his right sat the Queen, and opposite him the Crown Prince and Princess. The Reverend Lorens Ingvaldsson was also present, a member of the royal entourage and chaplain to the King and Queen. Excepting Ingvaldsson, who would not be attending the event, the Emerstarians were dressed in their nation's finest — fit in mådsklaþa and all. The King had his maud draped about himself as something of a blanket for the car ride, but he took it in his hands as the car slowed, and he heard, "We've arrived."

On arrival, an attendant seated next to the driver got out, and opened the door for Erik and Elsa, then Frederik and Anna — the kingly and princely couples, respectively. So too, Ingvaldsson bid them farewell, saying, "God be with you!"

"And with you," said Erik. "Don't get into too much trouble while we're gone, Father."

The King threw his maud around his shoulders and motioned for the Prince to hand him a decorated box in which several wedding gifts awaited the new couple: fine Emerstarian leather shoes and Kophavien cigars for Danial, a diamond necklace and a seventeenth century bracelet for Greta, made of silver given as a gift to Emerstarian explorers by the Phoenixians, and for the both of them, a set of throw pillows and a blanket — handmade in Åssurland [Persian rug-esque]. Though not in the box, Erik intended to present them with several Emerstarian delicacies as well in the manner of cheese, meat, and drink.

"This will be grand," he thought, and the Emerstarians made their way into the Palace just in time to catch the Sevevillian king's tour of the grounds.

WIP

On final approach to Seve City International Airport, Sevevill:

“Yes, Daddy. All your boring old business friends will be there. Aah! Yes, of course I’ll offer.”

Gemma Moraine arched her back, writhing happily on her stain-resistant bed. The sensation of strong hands working over her form was making it hard to concentrate on the phone conversation and these tiresome questions.

“Daddyyyyy just let me live my life. It’s not my fault you lost a bunch of money playing congressman in that snow country. Oh I dunno. Put it in crypto.”

A light ping suddenly played out, marking the only audible sign that they were actually in an aircraft. Gemma leapt at the opportunity, smirking into her phone as she informed her father that she had to go. The party awaits. Cutting off his final protests she closed the call, tossing her phone across her nearly wall-wall bed as the seatbelts sign came on above her.

“Bye, boys.” She giggled as her two companions got up to hurry out of her personal cabin. One, a hunky Phoenixian wrestler, she gave an appreciative swat to as he passed. It was only after their perfect behinds were out of view that she turned to the other man in the room.

“I want that one in my room tonight. And the other . . .” then came the telltale lick of her lips, “drag him to the kitchen.”

Her dark suited bodyguard just nodded, eyes fixed on the same section of wall he had been staring at for the last three hours. Bless Steve, he really was such a good employee. Gemma had gone through seven bodyguards before him who just couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves. Sure, most personal security isn’t trained to watch over you all the time. But a girl has to have her privacy,

Gemma flopped out blissfully over her bed as the plane lost altitude, having no interest in locking herself into a seat despite what her father might insist. Instead she found her mind drifting to the wedding ahead. She knew Danial and Greta, sure. They were the sort of faces you saw repeat if you schmoozed with the Markion elites long enough, and while she may not exactly call them friends they would definitely make entertaining enough company. The others on the guest list however were more interesting. Older man, many of them, and powerful within their own spheres. Who would Daddy want her to sink her claws into this time? Perhaps she’d go for the Jewish leader who’s nation was sorely in need of cash. Such a man might be convinced to part with some critical industries in exchange for hard currency, especially if she was there to sweeten the deal. Or maybe it would be the Southwaterian president with a country full of supercars? Straining out to check her phone the Vilhalan girl gleefully discovered that her father’s team was coming dead last in the race right now.

Ear to her filthy mattress, Gemma was just barely able to discern when her A380 touched down feather-light on the Sevevillian tarmac. Her eyes traced around the room slowly, coming to rest on an obscenely ornate and none-too-modest golden dress hanging in her closet. Hundreds of precious gemstones sparkled on every surface of its fabric, a familiar weapon for her by this point.

“Time to play.”

I stepped off my father's plane at the airport and was met by two guards who quickly ushered me off the tarmac after taking the bags out of my hand. The wind was awfully strong which forced me to put a hand over my sunhat with the blue trimming flowing in the wind. My father was flying in, in two days as he was busy with a meeting amongst the Congress of Nations with the Jule. It was nice to travel but a little hot, I had checked my phone earlier and it was 84 degrees compared to the 70 back home. I was wearing a white outfit, with a recently released tracht jacket from Spahn Designers a top boutique back in Casatolo. As we got off the TARMAC we walked through the crowd to a parking garage with our vehicles waiting for us, the perks of my father keeping his family life quiet until we became adults where we didn't need an entire motorcade as he did. We drove out of the city on the freeway for a little under an hour before arriving at the compound. Looking at it I was a little disappointed, I was hoping for something a little more traditional in architecture for an official event like how it would be done back home, but it wasn't work ending just a little disappointing for my first visit to Sevevill.

The SUV soon parked and the guards got my bags out of the SUV and began walking with me before I said "Thank you, I got it from here." One of the guards looked at me and asked "Fraulien Ritter are you sure?" I responded, "Of course, just because I'm royalty doesn't mean I can't carry my own bags." The guards handed me my bags and said "You have our number if you need anything let us know Fraulien Ritter." I continued into the lobby and walked to the desk, and got my room key. When I eventually got to my room I used the key card to unlock the door and opened it, I had a view into the mountains as well as a queen-sized bed. I dropped my luggage at the foot of the bed and walked into the bathroom which had a jet bathtub, and it was a nice room.

I sat at the foot of my bed, opened the suitcase, and pulled out the wedding gift it was two bottles of Frühburgunder a rare Arcadian wine from the mountains up north making a delicious red wine often times having the lowest yield for its grapes, making it one of the most expensive bottles of wine in the world, but of course, you could always get lucky and go to a local vineyard and snag some for a reactively cheap price but on the online market, you'd have to be rich. My father was bringing the main gift he hasn't even told me what it was so it must be something good. I reached into my satchel and pulled out a cigarette and my lighter and walked to the balcony. If my father knew I smoked I'd never hear the end of it, but hey I am an adult after all. I leaned over the railings inhaling as it grew shorter. I threw it off the edge when I was finished and put some mints in my mouth to cover the smell. I looked around for an itinerary but couldn't find it. I guess I'd have to call the desk to figure out when the meet and greet would begin.

Emerstari wrote:~snip~

Greta's eyes lit up the moment she saw Erik, genuine family. She also realized that Danial had never met the Emerstarian king, and sought to introduce him as soon as possible. She walked over very properly, while her expression remained cryptically jovial, "Erik, so good to see you, how was the flight?"

Erik turned to Greta as she approach and, taking up her hand, kissed it in the custom of the Emerstarians. "The flight was just fine. It couldn't have been better. Now, it's good to see you as well! How is our bride-to-be doing with the day so quickly approaching?" The king smiled. He could remember her from the time she was only a baby, and now she stood before him as a grown woman, ready to marry.

"I'm very excited for what's to come. Now, I don't believe you've met my Fiancé, Danial," she dragged him forward from her side very curtly.

He stretched out his hand, "It's an honor to meet you, it's always interesting to hear so much about a man without ever actually meeting him." He did a quaint little bow as he finished his sentence.

"I should say that the honor is mine, what with those kind words of yours." Erik shook the man's outstretched hand, and gratefully accepted his bow. "How have you been? After all, I hear you're having a wedding."

Danial chuckled from the depths of his belly, "Or so you have heard. Anyways, like Greta here, I am quite enthused to start married life."

Erik echoed Danial's chuckle, and replied, "That's good. I think I had the same enthusiasm, Elsa and I both." He put his arm around the Emerstarian queen and drew her nearer to the conversation. "But it's only the beginning, and the race isn't yet run."

Somewhat scared that her husband was about to scare the young couple, Elsa spoke up, "Do you two have much preparation left?"

Greta and Danial both looked at each other and almost simultaneously said, "No, it's pretty much all taken care of."

Greta sought to keep the conversation rolling, "How's it going in Emerstari? It's been a good while since I've seen any of my cousins."

"Ol' Thom's gone and away to the GU, I'm sorry to say, and yet happy at the same time." Erik thought for a moment of his beloved cousin, while Elsa said, "And Magdelena helped conduct a state visit only a couple weeks ago."

"Yes, that — and Etschlena's pregnant," the king said.

"Why, Etschelena is a name I haven't heard in a long while. Is that two kids now if we count the current pregnancy?" Greta's façade cracked at the very mention of her sister, and Danial's expression fell a slight bit.

Who else should come upon them but Danial's twin sister, June, "Remind me, who is Etschelena again?"

Erik's countenance was briefly overtaken by disappointment, as he had long thought this sisterly feud to be silly, but he sequestered the reaction as quickly as it had come. "God be praised. It is two kids, indeed."

"Your soon-to-be sister-in-law's sister," he told June. "But I don't believe we've met?"

"Pardon my manners, I'm June," she curtsied, and then turned to Greta, "Why haven't you ever told me about your sister?" June was almost completely oblivious to what had transpired near three years earlier, and her jovial personality didn't help matters.

Greta pursed her lips, "It's not a story I like to recount. Erik, would you be willing to tell it as it were?"

Erik bowed his head to June. "Rather, pardon me. I should have known. I'm Erik."

"That would be fine," he said to Greta. "Some years ago, Artur and Friedek, the King and Crown Prince of Phoenixia — of course, our beloved bride's father and brother — suddenly and most tragically passed on. May God rest their souls. Etschelena, although she was next in line, forfeit the throne, married an Emerstarian man, and settled in the country. And so Greta ascended instead. But forgive me for having caused us to speak of such things at a wedding."

June's face also took a downturn, "Well, that's very sad. My apologies for asking." And after that, she brightened right back up again, "However, I would love to make a visit to your country in the near future!"

"And we would love to have you, Ms. June," Erik said. "Our house is your house." He turned back to the couple "But today is a day for Phoenixia and Sevevill. We brought you some wedding gifts. Is there any place they should be put?"

Greta smiled, "There should be a table somewhere around here, thank you again for coming, Erik."

The royal ball room was probably one of the grandest in the south of Markion having been constructed in the early 1700’s the ornate marble walls glistened as house staff rushed past holding silver trays filled with horderves or champagne flutes. In the center of the room a large oak table with places clearly set for all of the family's guests. As the house staff were finishing the final preparations for the post rehearsal dinner the sounds of guests returning to the main building could be heard in the distance.

Danial and Greta sat next to one another at the thirty-five foot solid oak table in the center of the hall reserved for only the most important guests. Dani leaned over and whispered to her, “I always hated stuff like this.”

She giggled with a hand cupped over her mouth, “Me too.” She thought for a moment, “If we kicked out members of the press, how many people do you think would be here?”

“It would be cut in half,” Danial snickered.

“Your sister looks like she’s enjoying herself,” her gaze turned to June, who was, against the judgment of the family, sitting at the kids table on the edge of the ballroom, laughing and making conversation with the children of the guests. Greta had passed judgment on her, but Danial just smiled.

“I wish I had the balls to be myself like she is,” before he could continue, his father had stood up for a toast.

“Well, as many of you know I love nothing more than being surrounded by our friends and family… especially for such a joyous occasion…” He paused lifting a large blunt to his face from a silver tray being handed to him and lighting it, “Thank you Bernard, But back to what I was saying we love having everyone here and we thank you for traveling in from all over Markion” He gestured with the blunt towards some of the guests that had traveled in further than others “But I want to say how much I appreciate how at least one of my children have gotten their act together and found someone to settle down with… I rememb…” In order to stop him from going of on a tangent the queen grabbed his arm and sat him back down and raised her glass of wine

“To the soon to be married couple!” She said joyfully