Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 135: Love, Cherish, Protect, Obey

William stood at the chapel altar, trying not to twitch too obviously with impatience. The bride was running a little late, which apparently was quite normal but it made him want to claw something to shreds with anxiety.

His collar felt too tight and the heavy incense in the air was threatening to make him sneeze. He briefly locked eyes with Queen Celia, who smiled at him with indulgence. He smiled back, though part of him suspected the queen was secretly laughing at him for being so flustered.

Did every man feel so jittery at the altar?

William tried to remember the weddings he’d recently attended but his addled mind came up blank. He pulled at his collar again, trying to ignore the mutterings from the priest slightly behind him. He knew the priest was one of Islia’s highest ranking bishops but to William, he was just a grim faced old man who peered at everyone as if they were all damned.

Finally, the trumpets rang out to announce the arrival of the bride.

William watched her enter on the arm of the King of Moraigth, who had a look on his face as if he’d gladly set fire to the chapel and all those inside it.

It didn’t matter, he didn’t matter. Only the girl mattered to William.

Camilla looked like a flawless angel to him, wide eyed in an ethereal white dress. Her hair was loose, the way he loved it best. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

I won’t fuck this up, William told himself as he watched her float down the aisle. I’ll make her smile every day.

A strange tightening filled his chest, almost as if he would weep. That didn’t make any sense at all, he berated himself.

But maybe it did? Maybe it was because he realised the relentless striving that had defined his youth - for better, for higher and for more, more of anything and everything - was finally over. He could just be, and the relief was intense.

He was marrying a woman who brought him a rare sense of calm and comfort. Camilla never tried to push him to be more than he was. It was as if he, with all his flaws and complications, wasn’t found wanting in her eyes. She made him feel like he was simply enough.

It was overwhelming.

As Camilla reached the altar, William held his hand out to her. The hand trembled like a frail old man’s, much to his dismay.

Yet, she took it and came to him willingly. They faced each other, ignoring the foul look King Kennneth fired at them both.

When the priest asked the congregation who gave the woman away in matrimony, Kenneth grunted his assent.

She was everything William wanted and far more than he deserved. He was one lucky son of a bitch, as Francis had so eloquently worded it.

Not thinking or caring about who was watching, William smiled broadly at Camilla in that moment. Like a soldier would smile to his favourite doxy, or a peasant would smile to his beloved wife of many years. Stripping back the wealth and the artifice of royalty, William knew their union was just two people who wanted to share their lives.

Camilla smiled back, looking at him as if she truly saw him and could read his mind. She was perhaps the only one who truly knew him, he pondered. Who knew and understood his feelings and thoughts, including the ones he’d prefer to not even admit to himself.

No one would ever come between them, he promised silently. It would only ever, ever be the two of them.

William had no idea how long the sermon took to end as his perception of time was gone. He stared into his bride’s eyes and felt as if he were drowning, as he repeated the vows the priest lead him through. He vowed to love, cherish and protect her as his wife for all of his days.

When Camilla made her vows to love, cherish and obey him as her husband, his couldn’t resist giving her a cheeky wink. That girl would only ever obey what suited her and they both knew it. She would always keep him on his toes with her intelligence and biting wit - and he was grateful for it.

The wink made her laugh, the musical sound filling the quiet chapel. The old priest looked like he might keel over in despair. William started laughing as well.

Once they were finally pronounced husband and wife, he gave Camilla a chaste peck on the mouth, mindful of not upsetting the priest further. Before he led her up the aisle though, William couldn’t resist clapping the old bishop on the back and grinning his thanks.

- - -

The wedding reception lasted through the afternoon and well into the evening. The young couple’s obvious happiness was infectious and filled the event with merriment.

William watched as Camilla was whirled around the dance floor by their mutual friends, as well as various lords and princes. Even King Edward danced with her. He was less enthusiastic about all the unmarried men queuing to kiss her but had to bow to tradition, knowing he’d fully embraced the perk of being able to kiss a pretty bride at the past weddings he’d attended.

William sipped wine as he tugged at the collar of his outer tunic, which was still tighter than he’d like but at least it no longer felt like it was threatening to choke off his air like it had in the chapel. He felt a deep sense of contentment as he watched Camilla laugh at something Prince James was telling her as they danced.

Glancing at King Edward, William wondered how much longer until it would be deemed acceptable for him and Camilla to retire from the festivities. Edward however, was deep in conversation with his queen and with King Kenneth.

William tapped his foot impatiently, telling himself that waiting a little longer was unlikely to kill him. Then he saw Camilla approaching him as the musicians started playing a new ballad and he beamed at her.

At the centre of the high table, King Edward watched the bridal couple as they danced.

"It was such a beautiful ceremony." Next to him, Queen Celia’s face was glowing with emotion. "An event like this really comes alive when there’s genuine feeling between the couple."

Edward knew his wife was comparing William’s wedding to the chilly, loveless event that had been Tom’s wedding a few months ago. However, Celia said nothing further about it.

Edward turned to King Kenneth on his other side. "I guess the alliance between our kingdoms is now further strengthened by the union between our brothers’ children, is it not?"

"Mmmmm." Kenneth hummed. "They’re wedded, at least. But they still haven’t carried out all their duties."

Edward turned away from the Moraigthian king so that he wouldn’t have to watch the disgusting sight of him openly leering at his own niece. Instead, he watched the bride and groom, who looked utterly enamoured by each other. With a snort, Edward replied, "I can’t see the bedding being a problem, can you?"

Kenneth grunted in displeasure. "The girl looks completely unafraid. It makes me wonder..."

"If they haven’t already lain together?" Edward cheerfully finished the sentence. "I told William to keep his hands off until the wedding night. Of course, we both know the word of a lusty young man doesn’t always carry the weight it should."

Kenneth gave Edward a dark look.

Edward merely laughed and clinked his goblet against Kenneth’s. "What does it matter now, brother? The deal is done. By sunrise tomorrow, they’ll be wedded and bedded. Let’s toast to our bright new future, aye?"

- - -

After what felt like endless hours, William was at last allowed to depart the banquet with his bride. The young couple gave one final bow to the monarchs and then headed towards the doors, fingers linked. As they moved through the hall, they were pelted by flower petals by the guests. The ladies called out good luck and many of the men made loud, bawdy remarks that made William simply shake his head and laugh.

Without a word, he led Camilla though the quiet corridors until they reached the doors to his apartments. He swung a door open and before Camilla could react, he picked her up and carried her into the room, pushing the door shut behind them with his shoulder.

Camilla shrieked and clung to his neck. "Warn me before you do something like that!"

William grinned down at her. "It’s tradition, is it not?"

"Since when are you such a slave to tradition?" Camilla screamed again and clung tighter when William teased her by letting his arms under her go slightly slack, as if he were about to drop her.

Laughing, he strode into the bedchamber with her in his arms. "Any tradition that serves my aims is one that I can get behind."

William set Camilla down gently on her feet, watching her as she looked around the room. He realised she’d probably never even seen it properly illuminated before.

Her eye was drawn to an elaborate silver vessel by the fireplace, along with a pair of gilded drinking cups. "What is that?"

"Wedding ale. For courage, I’m told."

Camilla gave an incredulous laugh. "Are you being serious? You actually serve ale to newly married couples to give them courage?"

William raised a brow and chuckled, eyeing her dress and wondering how quickly he could remove it without damaging it. "Just another tradition, my dear. We Islians are a rather traditional and superstitious society. You’ll have to get used to our ways."