Epilogue
The Ice Prince and His Nordic Sun Finally Say, 'I Do'
By Penelope Pemberley-Price for The Ledonian Gazette
The day we once thought impossible has finally arrived. Today, the bells will sound, not just for a royal union, but for the most spectacular reversal of public opinion in Ledonian history.
We all remember my earlier skepticism when Prince Frederic and Princess Astrid’s initial engagement photos were released.
Today, I stand corrected.
Following the Station-Side Sensation in Villadorata, the Marble Statue has not only cracked, but he has also completely melted.
As Princess Astrid prepares to walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been a safely guarded national secret, we aren't just watching a trade deal for wool and financial stability. We’re watching a woman who breathed fresh life into a crusty, old institution, an institution that has recently celebrated a land-slide win in the referendum.
Hazar for the monarchy!
So, raise your glasses with me, to the Ice Prince and his Nordic Sun. As the song playing in the station said on that fateful day in June, it turns out they really did save the best for last.
Congratulations, Frederic and Astrid. Know that you are loved.
Frederic
I stand at the altar in my finery, the gold trim on my Ledonian red jacket catching the light from the grand chandelier overhead. I am at total peace.
At peace and hopelessly and completely in love, in fact.
When I’d envisioned this moment when I first agreed to an arranged marriage with Astrid, peaceful and in love was not how I expected to feel. Overwrought, regretful, terrified yes, but not this.
And I wouldn’t change it for the world.
The grand cathedral in Villadorata is packed with family, monarchs, and visiting politicians and dignitaries, with public spaces beaming the televised ceremony dotted around the city’s parks. Astrid had threatened to invite her chickens, but luckily the visitors from Elkevik are all in fact human.
There is one special boy here with his parents.
Alexander, from the hospital in Lysoria.
I had promised him a ride on one of my horses when he was well enough to go home, and I was true to my word.
We’ve been on several rides together now, me on my horse, and him on an Elkevikian horse called Bruce that Astrid had brought to Ledonia specially for him.
It’s the perfect fit for a boy of Alexander’s age.
Seeing him ride always makes me wonder what our children will be like, mine and Astrid’s.
We've already agreed to name our first-born son Alexander.
The scent of late summer flowers fills the air, and then music and chatter of the guests die down.
This is it. This is the moment. The quiet before my life is changed forever.
The archbishop indicates for me to remain looking at him, and a familiar song begins to play, only this time it’s not a tinny version over a railway station public announcement system.
This time Vanessa Williams is here herself, singing from the choir loft above, accompanied by a chamber orchestra.
Her voice soars, echoing around the cathedral, and when I turn, I’m met with an absolute vision.
Astrid is breathtaking.
Her dress is strapless, with a sweetheart neckline—which I didn’t even know was a style until Astrid let it slip. Lace hugs her waist before spilling into a full, floating skirt, a veil falling in a long sweep behind her.
Her parents flank her, looking as proud as parents could be on their daughter’s wedding day, dressed in their finery, and when Astrid smiles at me, my heart actually skips a beat.
She’s beautiful, and she’s about to be mine.
Before she reaches me at the end of the long aisle, she kisses both her parents on the cheek. Her father, King Theodore, shakes my hand and says under his breath, “Love her always.”
“I fully intend to, sir,” I reply, meaning every word.
And then she’s by my side, and I reach for her hand, as reassuring as it is soft, her gaze on me making my heart sing.
“I think I managed the 3.5 kilometer per hour speed,” she whispers.
I squeeze her hand. “You could have sprinted down the aisle and I wouldn’t have cared.”
“I suspect you’re glad I didn’t. Are you ready for this?”
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me, particularly not Elkevikian ones,” I say with a wink, and I win the most beautiful smile from my bride.
Look at me, cracking jokes at the altar.
I’m a changed man, and I did it for her.
We stand together, our hands clasped tightly as the archbishop conducts the ceremony. When it’s time to exchange rings, we repeat our vows, every word speaking directly to my heart.
I will honor her.
I will worship her.
I will love her.
Easy when I’m already doing all those things.
And then we’re pronounced husband and wife, and I sweep her up in a kiss, the first of our married life together. It’s chaste for the audience, the press’s cameras everywhere, but it’s full of every drop of emotion I feel for this woman who I get to call mine.
The woman who changed my world, who breathed new life into me. The woman who helped me finally become the man I was always meant to be. My Princess.
My Queen.