Wedding: a ceremonial bonding of individuals who feel great enough to hold a responsibility within and to one another.

Weddings are, in theory, supposed to be traditional. White gown, black tux, bouquet and bridesmaids...

The Laurens-Hamilton-Schuyler wedding was anything but traditional.

It certainly had all of the means to be as such, but it had a little something extra. An extra person, for example. An additional slew of people came with him, of course, but it made the occasion all the more special, so to say.

One thing remained the same as tradition: a singular bride.

Of course, she had to look stunning. Not like her sisters would have it any other way, but goddamn.
Her dress flowed, much like a waterfall that was being spilled and pulled against a contrasting burst of color, across the floor, picking up a few petals, which had been previously dropped by the flower 'girl' (flower man, Hercules had corrected them,) beneath it.

She arrived at the altar between two beaming husbands-to-be, glancing down at her bouquet of flowers. They were real, smelling as delicate as they looked. She handed them off to her elder sister, her matron of honor, joining hands with the two men at her side.

Words were said, zooming past in a fit of lost memory.

"Speak now or forever hold your--"

An interruption.

A heart-stopping sound, a click-boom, was heard in reply. A scream followed. A groom fell.