It's finally here. The day I've waited for, dreamed of, and planned in my mind a thousand times. Today, I will marry Ariabella. The weight of the moment presses down on me as I stand in my chambers, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My heart feels like it's beating out of my chest. The white ceremonial uniform fits snugly, the bright green sash draped across my shoulder, a stark contrast to the golden tassels that brush my arms with each small movement. The royal crest gleams on my chest, catching the light as I adjust it for the fifth time. Everything feels surreal—like the air is humming with the anticipation of what's to come.

I glance out the window at the palace grounds below. Guests have been arriving for hours. The sun is shining, its warm rays making everything glow. It's almost too perfect, like the kingdom itself is celebrating this day with us. But my thoughts aren't on the grand celebration or the endless arrangements—no, my thoughts are entirely on her. In just moments, Ariabella will walk down the aisle, and I'll be standing there waiting for her. My future. My wife. The woman who has changed everything.

I stand at the entrance of the ballroom, counting the seconds. The anticipation is nearly unbearable. My father is beside me, his expression calm, but I can see the pride in his eyes. He rests a hand on my shoulder and leans in. "Nervous?" he asks, a rare smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

I exhale, trying to steady my heart. "A bit," I admit. "But I'm ready."

"You'll do well, my son," he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I remember the day I stood here, just like you. It's a moment you won't forget."

The sound of the doors shifting pulls both our attention. He nods toward them, stepping aside. "And here it begins."

The great doors open from the other side. The band starts playing the Evæqestian wedding anthem, and the guests rise from their seats, the shuffle of fabrics filling the air as they turn to watch. My heart pounds harder as my eyes fix on the end of the aisle. I know she's there. I can feel it. Ariabella, the one person who has managed to turn my world upside down in the best possible way, is about to become my wife.

I take my place at the foot of the stairs, facing away from the room, waiting for her entrance. The weight of the moment sinks in fully, and I hear my father step up beside me. "She's beautiful, Elias," he whispers, his voice full of warmth. I feel his hand on my arm, a gesture of quiet support. Then, with a soft chuckle, he leans in closer and says, "Don't cry."

I smile, willing myself to exude calm and collected, but the moment I turn around and see her—everything I've been holding back floods to the surface. The smile I've been wearing grows uncontrollably as Ariabella steps forward, her father by her side. Her beauty is breathtaking, but it's the way she looks at me that truly steals my breath. There's something about her gaze—so full of love and trust—that makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see the reflection of the same emotions I'm feeling. My grin widens, and I realize my cheeks are flushed, my eyes wet. I quickly wipe away a tear with my free hand before anyone else can notice. But I know she saw.

I wink at her, trying to lighten the moment, and she bites her lip, blinking back tears of her own. Her father and she come to a stop beside me, and the minister's voice rings out.

"Beloved of Evæqesta, you may be seated. We come together this day to witness the union of his royal highness, Prince Elias, to this young woman, Lady Ariabella. Who presents this woman as a bride?"

Her father's voice is proud and full of emotion as he says, "I present my daughter as a bride."

He takes her hand and places it gently into mine, the connection sending a wave of warmth through me. I squeeze her hand lightly, a silent promise of everything to come.

The minister nods, continuing with the ceremony. But as he asks if there are any objections, I hold my breath, waiting. The silence that follows is both a relief and a sign that everything is as it should be.

The rest of the ceremony moves forward in a blur of words, vows, and promises. When it comes time for us to exchange rings, I hold up the one I had made just for her.

"You said you wanted our rings to be unique, to remind us of our first meeting," I whisper to her as I slip the silver band onto her finger. The royal family crest is etched onto it, with a tiny pearl—the smallest I could find—resting beneath the Lark's wings. "This ring is a symbol of my love and promise to you," I say, squeezing her hand once more. "My union to you."

She repeats the same words, her eyes never leaving mine as she slips a simple silver band onto my finger.

"With the power entrusted to me by the royal government of Evæqesta," the minister says, his voice ringing with authority, "I hereby consecrate this marriage and the sacred covenant you have made to each other, this day. I pronounce you husband and wife. And in accordance with tradition, the prince's wife is now given the title of Princess Ariabella of Evæqesta. Your highness, you may kiss your bride."

I grin as I turn to her, lifting her veil. "Just a little one," I whisper, teasing as I lean in. The moment our lips meet, the world seems to fall away. It's just the two of us, bound together by something much greater than ourselves.

The cheers erupt around us as we pull apart, laughter and applause filling the room. The minister's voice rises above the noise. "Good people of Evæqesta! It is my pleasure to present to you, Prince Elias and Princess Ariabella! May they live long and blessed lives together!"

We turn to face the guests, their cheers washing over us like a wave of approval and joy. Together, we step down from the platform, hand in hand, ready to greet the life that awaits us.

A soft beam of sunlight spills in through a nearby window, and there, on the stone ledge just outside, a small lark perches, watching me. Its feathers shimmer in the light, delicate and graceful, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. The bird doesn't move, its head tilted slightly, as if it's observing me with quiet curiosity.

A strange feeling washes over me, a warmth I can't quite explain. My chest tightens, and a soft smile touches my lips. For some reason, I feel as though my mother is watching me. I don't know why—until this past year, I've never believed in such things—but at this moment, I can't shake the thought. The lark's gaze is gentle, almost knowing, and it stirs something deep inside me.

I blink, swallowing the lump in my throat. It's absurd, and yet I believe it. The bird stays still, calm—steady and present. The thought brings me a sense of peace, something unspoken but deeply felt. I nod to the lark, as if acknowledging its silent blessing.

As I turn back to Ariabella, the noise of the crowd rises again, but the weight on my shoulders feels lighter. She meets my gaze with a soft smile, and I know—everything is as it should be.

The End.