"Shall we open a new bet?"

Dominique rolled her eyes at her cousin's statement and edged closer to her partner. He, in return, reached for her hand that was on her lap and moved it to his. 

"Look at you being a prude," Damion Jr. teased. Unsurprisingly, the oldest Valdez pulled out a small leather notebook from his back pocket, along with a pen, and began to write the contents of the bet.

"I'm not a prude. However, I think a wedding ceremony is sacred,, and placing bets during that time is rude," she hissed. 

"What you said is something a prude will say," Samuel said with a mocking grin. Andres tried his best to hold back his laugh but was caught by his fiance. Her face had a slight blush on her cheeks, ultimately, ultimately adorable for him. It was rare to see his tough-as-nails woman be vulnerable in public. 

"Sorry, baby."

"By the way, why didn't you join the girls in the wedding party? Big sis Amara did ask you to be her maiden," Samuel asked, taking the notebook from his brother. 
Once again, Dominique rolled her eyes at the two. They were great cartel leaders, but their vices tend to take over their public lives. Those who know their names in the entertainment world dub them the Midas Twins. Cringe as hell,, but the term describes them both. The two have a penchant for bailing out bankrupt casinos and bars and placing them under their ownership. Each business has been raking in money for the young bosses and gained attention,both good and bad.

"I was honored to be asked, but the only aisle I wish to walk down is my own on my wedding day," Dominique said this with her head held high, shoulders back with pure love on her face. It was Andres' turn to blush by her declaration. But, her words gave him a harder push to make that day a reality.

"Aye Aye, we hear you love crazed maiden. Now, who are you going to place your bet on? The French Princess or the Crazy Italian? Who will confess first?"

Andres silently watched from his woman's side, the same as the Valdez brothers waiting for their cousin's response. No matter how prude and queen-like she acts, she too had a vice of gambling on interesting developments under the seal. The three held back their laughter when she reached for the book. Shoulders drooped in defeat as she placed her name under Rejeanne's moniker.

"The Dark Princess."

********

"Those brats."

"What is it?" Sonrie had her head on her husband's shoulder, enjoying the wedding procession. It was all fairy-like and straightforward, the colors gave you a sense of peace and beauty, the decor was well thought out, and its what you will expect from a fantasy wedding of royals.

"Your sons are playing around again," Damion Sr grumbled.

"Leave them be. They're with their cousins. Let them play."

"I think we both see them at different ages when we say they're playing. But, hey, don't you want them to settle down?" he continued to grumble.

"Are you saying you're ready to sit in a leather armchair, head full of grey hair and telling your grandkids old takeover stories?" 

That statement stopped her husband's grumbling,, and the change of subject was done quickly. "I can wait."

Sonrie kissed his cheek and silently gushed at how handsome he was, no matter the age. She, along with the ladies under each household, were lucky to capture the hearts of such gorgeous men. Now their kids were experiencing that luck in love. 'Ah, it will be fun to see everything unfold for the others,' she said. As she thought those words, her gaze turned to Eros,, standing regally at the altar. For some reason, his journey may be more emotional than most.

"Here she comes."

The instrumental playing for the procession changed; the beat was softer as the words to the song were heard. Ruth B's Dandelion was the introduction to the next Delacourde Queen. Amara Jackson was standing at the beginning of the aisle with a toothy smile. Her grandmother's dear friend gently held her arm. Though he was now a retired lawyer and showing in age, he stubbornly carried out his self promise. He was doing his last duty as Amara's unofficial guardian. He helped her grasp her dream of becoming a doctor, held onto her inheritance as much as the law could handle, and helped her understand the struggles of growing up. Now, she was, eager to marry the man she loved dearly and held high above the clouds. 

Amara was living every girl's dream. She was now in her dream wedding. Everything was perfect, from the small gold fork on the guests' table to the wedding bouquet in her hand, personally picked by Lucifer. The family's seamstress made the custom wedding dress she wore. It was the design she had made. The ethereal style gown had a layered sheer and French lace bodice with delicate beading; the V design was in both back and front joined to Parisian chiffon flowing skirt. The delicate split to her knee made way to the subtle train to the dress and the white jeweled sandal she wore. Her hair was in large curls with a crown of Dutch Hyacinth on her head. The Delacourde crown was placed inside the floral crown finishing her look of a fairy queen. The sun struck the custom-made bracelet to ring on her right hand, bringing attention to the jewels used to create it. Ares created the attached set as a start of the next generation.
This was their beginning. Inhaling slowly when they were getting closer to a very impatient groom, Amara was anxious to start it all. The words, '...It gets so hard to breathe when you're looking at me...' described the way she feels every time he looks at her with those dark eyes of his. His smile made her believe that it would all be okay and that he was indeed the one for her. The song explained her feelings she couldn't put into words without a logical standpoint. Hoping Lucifer will understand it all. 
Her surroundings became non-existent when he stepped forward and took her hand from her escort. The warmth of his hand as her fingers became enclosed in it, the feel of his lips on them and his cool breath against them. Each feeling caused her heart to beat faster. His signature cologne filled her breathing space when he pulled her against his body. "My Ami." The reverence in his voice made her weak that she forgot her composure and instinctively leaned her head to the right to receive the lingering kiss he always placed on her neck. His low chuckle brought her back to reality, but the kiss was given, not caring of the eyes.

"Who gives this woman to this man?" The priest for the territory began without hesitation when the bride's hand was secured in the groom's. 

"I do on behalf of Georgina Banks - Jackson, her late grandmother."

Amara turned to the man she considered her grandfather and mouthed the words, thank you to him. He tried his best to hold back the tears and couldn't give a worded answer. A firm nod sufficed for both her and Lucifer. 

"Here marks the start of this wedding ceremony between Amara Jackson and Lucifer Renith Delacourde........"

"Sorry for ruining your mood earlier and our day." His whispered words tickled her ears. 

"It's okay. I was nervous also. The song - did you- ummmm - did you understand?" 

Lucifer hid his smile in her hair before he kissed her temple. "I'm yours. I will always be yours. Say, 'I do,' and I will be yours forever, the same way you will be mine, mon rayon de soleil. I love you."

There were no vows to be said to Amara after hearing Lucifer's heartfelt words. He bared his soul in each word, and she held onto each one a branded them on hers. Was she allowed to be this happy? The man who treasured her stood by her side, just as he promised those years ago answered that question for her without knowing it.

Yes, she can be this happy.

******* 

It was great to see his family, both blood-related and extended. The wedding ceremony was short, leaving everyone to celebrate Amara and Lucifer's love and the coronation of the new King and Queen of the seal. 
Outsiders may think they were superficial by the titles, but the positions were created due to the past kings' contribution and their world's respect to the family. Eros found it pretty cool to be called second prince, our second young master when he was younger. He felt like the nobles he read about in the books his mother gifted him when he did great on his chores and training. As he grew older, he heard the respect and loyalty behind each 'second prince' and 'second young master.'
"Thanks to your grandfather and the others, respect is given to you. They know that the Delacourde blood will continuously live up to that unbound respect." His father's words were an answer to his question of why when asked at ten.

Presently he can see how they all lived up to that respect, and he knew he could go farther. His twin was going further than his jewelry business; his older brother was expanding their father's companies, and his little sister was pushing her talent in gymnastics further. 
The trip back home opened his mind even more. He learned a lot and found himself out of that hole he placed himself in. 

"Ummm, Eros. Would you like to dance?" The hesitant voice shattered his happy musings. Turning to the owner, he recognized her immediately. It was his wedding partner, Charlotte. To be honest he saw her simply as that. A partner for the commotion they will be put through. The procession was completed; photos were taken and they had their lunch. 

"Was there a dance we had to take part in?" he asked her. 

"Uh, no?"

Eros questionably leaned his head after her unsure answer. Charlotte was flustered, and the feeling of being under a microscope was heavy. His eyes were predatory, it made her uneasy yet captivated. This was her chance to have a conversation with him, maybe start a friendship. She didn't ask Amara for help or the other ladies. One girl did give her a bit of advice when she stated her intention of having a dance with him. "Don't be too disappointed." Maybe she said so due to this current situation.

"Rose!"
This time it was Michael walking towards him with Chase following closely. "Uncle! Chase!" Eros asked, his amber eyes lost their chill and now shone with the warmth he had only for family.

"Oh, I think your companion wishes to enjoy herself outside wedding party duties on the dancefloor," Chase interpreted without skipping a beat.

"I see."

Michael shook his head, praying to the gods that his nephew would build his social skills when he returned to Cali. 
"Go. We'll be here when you return," he reassured him. 

"He's getting better. The last one to leave the nest, so emotional," Chase said with a pout and wiping away an imaginary tear. 

"You're a riot."

"I'm a married man with a kid on the way, let me enjoy the younger ones' awkwardness in society. Ares is getting the hang of it. Oh, don't forget to place your bet. I'm team Crazy Italian. I am continuing now. Uncle Gianni's girls are no longer shy; Kory and Gio's girls are a great influence on them. Hanes' little angel is more like a devil and such a cutie devil. Wait, that's one... two.... six. That's six girls below eighteen under the family name. I pity the men that approach them," Chase said with a sympathetic tone at the end.

"Mikaela's suitors dodged a few knives by staying out of this side of the family. But, heh, it was fun scaring her last boyfriend."

"Geez, dad, you got that scary look again."

"Shut up. I will pray for a daughter for you to experience it all," Michael lamented. 

"Hmmm, I wonder." That cryptic statement from his son meant there was news he was itching to tell the family. No matter his position in the FBI, Chase was still his unpredictable smart-ass kid. Will he be a sane father? 
Michael shrugged at his unspoken question; there's definitely not one sane father in this family.

********

"So... Ummm.... do you reside in Paris?" Charlotte asked, trying to break the dead silence between her and Eros.

"My family home is her so basically yes but I live elsewhere most of the time."

"Oh! Where? I'm from Boston. Well, I moved to Boston but I'm originally from Texas....."

"That's quite a move. Did you do this for your career choice?" he asked. Not one to talk about his personal life, primarily his actions, Shaun taught him how to turn conversations around to avoid him becoming Mr. Frost. Pinpointing a specific part of what they say in passing and asking questions in a short form helps in doing this.

"Yes! I was scared to take that leap when my parents pushed me to go to colleges closer to home. So I saw moving to Boston as a chance to make it independently. It's a challenge, but I'm enjoying it."

"Enjoying it? How so?" 

Charlotte was beyond happy. She was presently dancing to a two-step song with an elusive celebrity. Their conversation went onto a second song, with her telling him of her experiences as an intern and her family. She wondered if it would be of bad taste to ask for a picture and autograph. This was once in a lifetime moment. Maybe she can ask for his number to catch up when they return stateside. 

"I think its best for you to have a rest. I have to return to my uncle and cousin," Eros said abruptly.

"Oh yeah. You're right." She allowed him to return her to her designated seat and signaled the waiter to serve her. 

"Enjoy the rest of your stay."

"Wait! Can I have your number to keep in touch?" she asked boldly.

Once again, Eros was stumped. "Why? I don't think there's a reason why we should."  Charlotte tried to find something to say without her sounding like a crazed fan. 

"I enjoyed spending most of the day with you and wish to know you more. Maybe have a few drinks together?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested." She's a nice girl but he had no need for new friends, nor the energy to start a new friendship. 

That was blunt. The first thing that came to mind was her looks. Charlotte had pride in her beauty and Eros's rejection was a blow to her self esteem. This brought up the question of how do normal girls capture the attention of men like him? 

"I..."

Her words faded when he turned sharply and left her side. This may be harder than she thought. 
"Charlotte right? Don't feel bad. My brother wasn't being rude."
Turning to her left, she found her self looking into a pair of jeweled green eyes on the most doll like face. Rejeanne Delacourde. The French Princess.

"Of course."

"Eros keeps to himself and keeps his circle small. His rejection is based on not wanting anymore outsiders in his personal space," the teen explained.

"Thanks for clearing that up."

Guess I was friend zoned before I stated my true intentions, Charlotte said to herself. 

Not all fairy tales comes true.