Chapter 26
Lilia
“This wedding gown is stunning, Your Majesty.” Susie said softly, her hands gently unfolding the flowing white silk, its delicate embroidery catching the morning light streaming through the chamber’s windows. “You’ll look like the Moon Goddess herself, radiant and ethereal.”
I turned to her, a warm smile spreading across my face, my heart swelling with affection for the woman who’d stood by me through my darkest days.
“Susie, you don’t need to use titles anymore. You’re one of my best friends, the one who held me together when I thought I’d break.”
Susie’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips trembling as she met my gaze.
She smoothed the gown’s final fold, then stepped closer, her hands clasped before her, and dipped into a deep, heartfelt curtsy.
“Congratulations, Lilia,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
“You’ve risen from nothing to this moment through your own courage and strength.
You deserve every happiness the world can offer. ”
“Thank you, Susie,” I said, reaching out to grasp her hands, my voice soft but brimming with gratitude. “I wouldn’t be here without you and everyone else who believed in me.”
At that moment, the door swung open, and Anna bounded into the room, her pale pink dress swirling around her, a basket of white and purple flowers clutched in her small hands.
Her eyes widened, sparkling with delight as she took me in.
“Mommy! You’re so beautiful!” she exclaimed, her voice a joyful squeal.
“You’re gorgeous too, my little princess,” I said, bending to kiss her forehead, breathing in her familiar scent of lavender and innocence. “Ready to be the flower girl?”
Anna puffed out her chest, her face beaming with pride. “I’ve practiced so many times! Daddy says I’m the best flower girl ever!”
“His Majesty is absolutely right,” Susie said, chuckling as she adjusted the delicate floral crown nestled in Anna’s golden curls. “You’ll be the most enchanting flower girl in history.”
As we prepared to leave, the maids draped a veil over my shoulders, its gossamer fabric light as a cloud, trailing behind me with every step, shimmering softly in the light.
The moment felt surreal, a stark contrast to the wedding five years ago, shrouded in lies and pain.
Back then, I’d been a trembling bride, forced into a role I didn’t choose, my heart heavy with fear.
Now, I stepped forward with anticipation, my heart full, freely choosing this union with Perock, who knew and loved the real me, every scar and strength laid bare.
Outside my chambers, the royal guard awaited, their ceremonial armor gleaming, their faces solemn but proud.
They formed two neat rows, saluting as Anna and I passed, their swords raised in a silent tribute.
The great cathedral stood just beyond the palace grounds, its spires piercing the clear blue sky.
The streets leading to it were adorned with petals, vibrant flags fluttering in the breeze, and crowds gathered, their faces alight with celebration.
“There’s Her Majesty the Queen!” someone shouted from the crowd, sparking a wave of cheers, the sound swelling like a tide, warm and welcoming.
I waved to them, my heart filled with gratitude.
These people, who once believed rumors and feared the king, had now accepted the truth and embraced me, a former slave girl, as their future queen.
Perock had done a tremendous amount of work to reveal the truth to the public, including the treasonous acts of the Thornfield family and Orin’s betrayal.
Just a few days ago, the Thornfield family had been sentenced to death for conspiring to overthrow the royal family and colluding with rebel forces.
Though I harbored deep hatred for Viossi’s past actions, seeing the terror in her eyes as she was led to the execution ground stirred a trace of pity in me.
If not for her arrogance and vanity, if not for her parents’ greed and scheming, perhaps she could have had a different life.
At the same time, Perock had signed a formal alliance treaty with my mother, Queen Fellinger, marking the first step toward the future unification of our two nations. After the merger, we would govern this land together, bringing peace and prosperity to the people of both countries.
When I arrived at the grand cathedral, my mother was already waiting at the entrance. She looked even more regal than she had five years ago, yet her eyes still held the wisdom and resolve of a queen, as well as the tenderness and compassion of a mother.
“My daughter,” she said, her voice tender as she took my hands, her grip steady and warm. “You’ve surpassed every hope I had for you. I’m so proud.”
“Thank you, Mother,” I said, squeezing her hands, the familiar comfort of her touch grounding me. “Your guidance shaped me into the person I am today.”
“You’re breathtaking, my sweetheart.” Mother said, her fingers brushing my veil, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You remind me of myself on my wedding day, but with so much greater joy.”
The cathedral’s massive doors creaked open, and the organ’s rich notes filled the air, a majestic hymn that seemed to the heavens.
Inside, guests rose to their feet, their faces glowing with goodwill as sunlight poured through stained-glass windows, casting a mosaic of colors across the stone floor.
Anna stepped forward first, scattering petals with careful steps, her smile radiant, her small figure a beacon of joy.
I took my mother’s arm, my steps measured, my heart steady as we proceeded down the aisle.
Nobles and emissaries from both kingdoms lined the pews, their gazes warm with respect, a testament to the bridges we’d built.
At the altar, Perock stood in his royal regalia, his presence commanding yet softened by the love in his amber eyes that met mine.
The world seemed to fade, leaving only him and I, his gaze a promise that made every hardship, every moment of waiting, worthwhile.
This was our moment, forged through trials, sealed by choice.
My mother placed my hand in Perock’s, her smile a silent blessing as she stepped back, completing the tradition of giving away the bride. His grip was warm, steady, his eyes shimmering with love and gratitude, anchoring me in this sacred space.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low, meant only for me, a vow wrapped in a question.
“I’ve never been more certain,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears welling in my eyes, a promise of my own.
Before the priests of both kingdoms, we exchanged vows, our words solemn yet infused with the depth of our shared journey.
As Perock slid the ring onto my finger, it’s cool metal warmed by his touch, and I placed his, the cathedral erupted in applause.
When he lifted my veil and kissed me, soft and reverent, the cheers swelled, a celebration of love triumphant.
In that moment, I felt fate align, every pain and struggle a stepping stone to this perfect union.
The festivities that followed spanned three days, a joyous union of two peoples. Streets overflowed with petals, banners, and lanterns, the air alive with music and laughter.
On the second day, during the coronation ceremony, my mother announced her abdication, passing Fellinger’s crown to me. She placed the delicate silver and moonstone diadem on my head, its weight a reminder of duty, its beauty a symbol of hope.
“To rule is not to wield power, but to bear responsibility,” she said, her voice carrying through the hall, her eyes locked on mine. “Every choice you make shapes the lives of millions. Never forget that.”
“I’ll honor your legacy, Mother,” I vowed, my voice firm, my heart resolute. “I won’t let you down.”
Perock stood beside me, his presence a steady anchor, his eyes filled with pride and unwavering support. Just months ago, we’d teetered on the brink of death, and now we stood as king and queen, poised to lead our united kingdoms into an era of peace.
That night, we retired to our new chambers, the room aglow with candlelight, the air scented with jasmine from the gardens below.
The door clicked shut, sealing the world out.
For the first time in forever, there was no war. No danger. No shadows lurking in the corners threatening to tear us apart.
It was just the two of us. Me and him. Finally, home.
I turned to face him but Perock was already looking at me like I was a miracle that somehow chose him even when he thought he didn’t deserve it.
His smile was gone, his jacket too, but he was still every inch a king; muscular forearms, powerful jaw, amber eyes that could unnerve me more than his voice, golden-skinned. He stood in our candlelit chamber like he’d been carved from perfection only for me. Only for my eyes.
His eyes fell to my wedding gown, to the petals caught in the fabric, to my veil loose around my shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbed, an action that had my thighs getting stickier.
“Don’t move,” he said softly.
I froze, breath hitching.
He came forward slowly, tortuously, his fingers brushing the straps of my gown down my shoulders. “I want to remember this… every second of tonight. The way you look. The way you taste. The way you say my name like it’s the only one you’ve ever loved.”
I felt like crying because this still felt like a dream but then he kissed me and everything melted inside me.
His kiss was gentle.
No rush. No urgency. Just warm lips that danced along mine, assuring me ‘we made it’ and ‘we fucking did it, baby’.
He peeled the dress down inch by inch, his lips brushing every spot he revealed. My shoulders, my collarbone, the soft swell of my breasts, the valley between my globes…
The petals on the floor stuck to our feet as he guided me backward, his touch never leaving an inch of my skin. When my knees hit the bed, he knelt, then he looked up at me like I was his holy grail and ordered. “Lie down, princess.”
I did.