Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 35. Chapter 35

The Wedding

Part Two

Again a day with Jori. We had been eating more while here. I figured he needed to be sure. He had a reputation to keep, if you remember him saying that. He measured again to see if anything needed to be altered by taking in a little or giving more room. Fortunately, neither of us needed any of that.

I have to admit it. The closer the day came, I was getting this feeling. Not scared or wanting to get out of this situation. It wasn't excitement either. Well, that's not entirely true. I was very happy to be marrying Peter. I wasn't afraid of becoming a prince. I think it was all the people at the palace now.

Generals Burke and Hammond gave us even more of their troops to secure the palace. There were more military in dress uniforms now. Marines and Air Force were here in good numbers.

Makarovian military and police was there, too, but let's be frank. Other than Yuri and a few officers went for any military training. For decades Makarovia was taken over and taken over. Any military army Makarovia had was in the past. I mean over a century ago in the past! They had police and the mandatory service after high school. I couldn't imagine that kid in the over sized uniform I saw going up against anyone. Along with Makarovia's innocence they were a gentle people. They weren't killers. These people had been beaten down so often, they were subservient to almost anyone in power...to their face. They didn't get where they were without knowing how to hide and keep secrets.

It wasn't fair, but thank god even the reporters that wanted “just a minute of your time” were kept at a distance. It was carefully contained chaos that if security wasn't always on alert, it would explode.

Peter was...distracted. He couldn't sit still. If he did sit, it wasn't for long. He walked around our rooms pacing.

“Peter,” I said quietly.

Peter heard me, but his attention was on what he pacing about. “Hum?”

“I need to confess something to you.”

“Oh? Like what?” He asked coming to sit by me on the couch. “What is it?” He asked sitting down concerned.

I almost teased him by telling him I'd changed my mind about this, but I saw some of what he originally had with the doubt. “I am feeling something I can't put a name to.” I grinned as I saw his eyebrows come together. “I am more than happy to be marrying you.” I pull him closer. “I'm marrying you, Peter.” I kissed him gently. “You.” I looked around us. “If I have to jump through hoops or perform something. I will do it willingly. I briefly toyed with the idea of telling you I changed my mind and was going home.” I chuckled as his eyes widened. “It's the old obnoxious part of me and I pushed that down in less than a second. If you haven't heard me say it before to you, I'm saying it now. I love you, Peter.” I watched his face change as his gray-green eyes soften and the smile grew. “I love you, Peter and I am glad you chose me to share your life with.” I rubbed my forehead against his. “The emotion is not quite excited or dread. It's this whole...thing.”

Peter nodded and pulled me back on the couch with him. “I don't know the emotion is either. I feel the same.” He blew an exasperated breath. “I feel trapped!” He saw my face and chuckled. “Not by you.” He waved in the direction of the rest of the palace. “By them! Normally, I'd go for a walk to settle things. We have all those new wonderful businesses in the Underground to walk through. Hell, I'd be happy to go downstairs, but we'd be badgered by reporters.”

“We would,” I nodded. “I'm gathering that's why you can't sit still.”

His head bowed realizing I was right. “Yes,” he smiled raising his head. “I have a few phobias, but never claustrophobia. I am beginning to feel that now.”

“I get that.” I said. “Drew and Wayne are recording all these people in the Underground now. Grandma and Mom get along well, so I'm sure they're together somewhere.”

“How about we get our coffees?” Peter said suddenly bright.

I nodded slowly. “We could...we'd need an entire battalion to get it from the Underground. We could go downstairs to the kitchen, but we'd have to go downstairs.”

“If we use the staircase in the back, it will still be a risk, but we'd stand a better chance if we do.” Peter was smiling more, the idea of taking that chance was in his eyes.

“You're feeling anxious and you want to add caffeine to that.” I said to be clear. His head was nodding, so I shrugged. “Let's do it!”

We did venture to the area hidden by those stone columns we hid behind before for the same reason. The Gallery, the gathering area at the palace even sounded different. It happened before at Christmas when children and adults came to celebrate St. Nicholas Day. Voices merged due to many conversations. There was also the sound of many heels on the stone floor. Looking over the stone banister we saw the chaos. Booths were set up for whomever was reporting what was happening or going to happen could sit. People moved about with papers or equipment in their hands or just to go where they needed to be. There were two people looking at a camera each focused by a camera person as the reporter spoke into a microphone. Many men and women were speaking many languages at once making that hum of noise.

At the foot of the ornate stairs to come up, there were the Marines again. There were four now. They stood all across the bottom step blocking anyone anyone from even thinking of going up them. A Marine was a Marine. These were in dress uniforms again, but two were female and the uniforms were slightly different. All four were Royal Marines. All four were armed. I looked around and saw more Marines that included both British and American Marines downstairs. All were armed.

“How are things going with you two?” Helga asked from behind us, startling both of us, but we turned to her. Knowing what she'd done she smiled at us.

“Helga,” Peter said catching his breath. “We didn't hear you coming.”

“We're getting a little cabin fever.” I smiled at her. Patting Peter on the arm I added. “He thought we'd get some coffees.”

Now Helga had made a drastic change in her life. She was brilliant, but now since she had Olek, she was no longer hiding that she was a beautiful woman. Her hair was still long falling past her shoulders and styled nicely. She also had changed how she dressed. In the past she dressed down so people would pay attention to what she had to say. She was going to do her job. She had on nice pants that women could wear and silky blouse of a dark beige color. No glasses now. Even nice gold jewelry was on both ears, neck and wrist.

Helga nodded as her knowing smile grew. “You weren't going that way, were you?”

“No,” I shook my head laughing. I patted the column. “This is a good spot to see and hear what's going on down there and not be seen.”

“We did it last year before the Proposal.” Peter grinned, “And when my brother was kissing a certain German Nuclear Engineer.”

Helga's smile grew as she nodded. “I see.” She chuckled. “I could send someone up with those coffees.”

“No, thank you,” I said. “We'll try the back stairs. Peter is feeling a little bit like a Daredevil.”

“Okay,” Helga kissed both of us on the cheek. “Have fun. I have to inspect the reactor in Skoal.” Sighing, she turned to take the elevator on this floor. The light, pleasant scent of her perfume could be picked up. She really was a beautiful person.

We walked her down the corridor to get the elevator. She told us the reactor for Stryia was functioning well and hadn't reached its capacity yet. There were now three of those small reactors in operation in Makarovia.

There were two soldiers watching the door. These were United States Air Force Military Police and also armed. Many branches of the militia were here. They had non-commissioned officers in charge them with a single general in charge of those NCOs. The one by the elevator's call button pressed it before we got near them.

“Tomorrow there will be even more people.” Helga smiled. “The ones here now are getting things in place so everyone can go to their places tomorrow.” She turned at the “ding” from the elevator. The doors opened and another soldier was in the elevator. He rode up and down. He was to be sure no one tried to get to our level of the palace or got in the elevator with us. He had a key that would restrict who was let on and off. He wasn't getting out, but held the doors open. It was all new! “It will all be good.” She got in the elevator and the soldier in the elevator allowed the doors to close.

We turned to go to the stairs in the back.

“I haven't really seen Yuri or Boris since yesterday.” I commented as we walked. “Boris is probably cleaning or cooking.”

“Yuri's probably with Olek,” Peter chuckled. “All these security things? I bet he's giving advice to Olek on that.”

Going down the stairs, we saw the uniforms standing there guarding. They were American service men. I had seen the kitchen, but I ashamed to say I didn't know the layout. When it was just Olek and Helga, not much of it was used with less staff. If there were visiting guests, they'd open more and add staff. What I saw now, Boris had taken control. He was keeping everyone on task. He was a Chef!

It smelled wonderful. He was giving instructions and helping to keep them on whatever job they needed to do. There were the replies, “Tak, shef-kukhar.” Which was Makarovian for Yes, Chef. It was tense, but you could see on Boris' face he was in his zone. Having voiced his concern when we left about nothing to do, he was very satisfied he had something he could do.

Peter said in English what I was thinking. “Daaamn.”

A young woman looked up and saw us in the doorway. She did a slight curtsy, but still stirred a steaming pot “Chef, His Highness Prince Peter and His Lordship Eric are here!”

Boris looked up and even at this frantic pace, he smiled at us and came over. “What are you two doing?”

“Going stir-crazy.” Peter replied simply while watching the many activities.

I held my hands up to Boris. “We know you're busy...” then I stopped. “Wait a minute.” I remembered. “We had to practically drag you here. You don't have to do this. You're supposed to be on vacation!”

“Yes,” Boris grinned with a slight shrug. “Yuri's with General Hammond and Olek, This came up and...” He shrugged again holding his hands out to show he was helpless not to. “I did ask if I could cook while here.” He looked at his watch. “Karl! Check the dough. It should have risen by now!”

A young male voice said Yes, Chef.

“Anyway,” Boris said. “I volunteered to help.”

Peter nodded. “That's fine.” He pointed at Boris. “Tomorrow night though, you are sitting at the Family's Table. You and Yuri.”

“We'll be there.” Boris said. “Were you wanting something?”

“Peter wanted to get our coffees.” I said.

“Dori! Get one large cold Vanilla Latte for His Lordship and one large hot Caramel Macchiato for His Highness.” Boris said loud which he got another Yes, Chef.

He and Yuri were family. Boris just knew what coffees we liked and wanted. No asking necessary.

Peter hugged Boris. “Thanks, Boris.”

Boris wasn't just cooking for us, but for everyone housed in the Palace. This was all new. There was no menu selection the guests could get. He cooked a buffet that would be taken downstairs. Dishes that had chicken, beef, fish or vegetarian on the bufffet. He printed what was in everything that made up these dishes in two languages. English and Makarovian. People had preferences or allergies...it was safer to do it this way. He was running a top rated restaurant in the Palace.

All this was pushing the kingdom from a remote, isolated and quiet place to a bustling metropolis very quickly. I just didn't want them pushed too hard, too fast. The favorable thing about the Makarovian population was they were a determined people. They knew how to prepare. None of them were lazy. They weren't perfect, but they worked hard.

We gathered for dinner. Afterwards we went upstairs using the back stairs again. Coming back to our room we heard from below.

“No.” A female voice said firmly.

We were curious, so we went to that space to see what was going on. A female Royal Marine was holding a pretty Asian woman back who had tried to go up the stairs!

“wǒ zài zhǎo yù shì tā men zài lóu shàng？” The woman said in a helpless, ditsy kind of way.

I had no idea what the Asian woman had said. Neither did the Marine.

The Marine smiled. “I don't know what you just said, but I don't believe for a minute you didn't understand the word no. No one would have sent you here if you didn't understand no. It's practically a universal word. No.”

A man was passing nearby and then chuckled. “Nice try, Rose.” He looked at the Marine. “She just tried her, I have to go to the bathroom routine. She speaks perfect English.”

The Marine nodded and told the woman again. “No.”

“Die, Benny.” The Asian woman's lip curled. “One of these days.” She said clearly in English as she walked off.

Swallowing my laughter, I whispered to Peter. “Some people will try anything for a story.”

Peter chuckled quietly. “Must be from rival networks.”

After breakfast in our room, we sat watching television. The screen showed an attractive woman with reddish-brown hair who smiled at everyone watching. “I'm in Makarovia's Palace in Stryia, the capitol of Makarovia, where tomorrow a never before historical event happens with a born prince marries a man he loves from the United States.” She stepped away so the camera showed the Gallery's vast, ornate structure. It panned up so they could see the ceiling high above with the huge dangling chandeliers that shrank as the focus went back to a normal perspective. Then it came down to show the vast Gallery with the polished marble-like floors showed again how big it was due to the many people that moved about preparing to and getting ready to do what she was doing. “Tomorrow, at three in the afternoon local time, which will be at noon Greenwich Mean Time. His Royal Highness Prince Pedro Ivanov marries American born and raised Eric Richards from Charleston, South Carolina...”

Peter, who was lounging against me on the couch, let out a snort of annoyance. “Why is they tell all that every time they talk about us?” He asked generally. His question was directed to me as I was the only other one in the room.

I kissed the top of his head. “It is possible there are some who still don't know about it.”

Peter thought a moment and slowly said. “I suppose there could be.” As he thought out loud. “If they had been cut off from the world for two years and are suddenly back.”

“...before the eyes of the world, this marriage will occur...” The woman said as I turned the volume down.

“Didn't Queen Elizabeth's cousin marry a man?” Peter asked again the only other person with him.

I nodded. “Yes, but he was the Queen's cousin.” I pointed out the difference. “You are the previous king's son. The Queen's cousin, Ivar Mountbatten's ascent to the throne is buried under a lot of other people and won't happen. Yours is not. Until Olek creates an heir, you're next. You could become king!” I put my arms around his shoulders and neck. “The other big difference is the wedding. Queen Elizabeth's cousin was married in private. Our wedding will be very, very public. And...” I held a finger up to make the point, “ours was not announced by us, but by the king and queen saying they approved and supported our marriage. And not just them, but all of Makarovia! And...” I did it again making Peter chuckle, “even the asking to marry was done publicly. The official announcement was sent by Makarovia showing their support.” I hugged him gently. “I never heard if there was any endorsement from the Queen or from any of the Royal Family. Not that it was anyone's business about the marriage. It was just going to happen and accepted. I will say, it told a lot when the Queen's cousin's ex-wife gave him away when he married to...” I tried to remember the man's name. “I can't remember. Was it Coyle? Doyle? Boyle?” It wasn't coming to me so I quit thinking about it. I'd remember later as I did many times. Sometimes in the middle of the night. “Ivar's husband! That showed she supported him.”

Peter sat up slightly and turned to look at me directly. “You know all that?” He wanted me to confirm.

“I do.” I nodded. “I've said it before, the Internet's for more than looking at porn.” I smiled. “The same source told me that the Queen signed the Assent for gay marriage in 2013!” I shrugged. “She couldn't very well say anything against her cousin's marriage, could she?”

The one thing about the wedding I felt...left out. Neither Peter or I were doing anything but show up. We had input about the wedding, reception or coronation. We showed up, took our assigned places and exchanged vows and promises that were previously prearranged.

It didn't bother me that much, but I did tell Olek to inform the judge that in no way were either of us going to say obey. Neither one of us were going to submit to the other. We were partners. Equal. No one was in charge. It was in the vows of Romanian marriages to obey and submit, but Ukrainian marriages had you take vows of respect for each other. Makarovia was mixed with both cultures, I just wanted to be sure the judge knew this. We would be making these promises in front of many millions of people!

Another item were the crowns. Not the Makarovian Crowns, but wedding crowns. In many countries they were used during the wedding. In the past, marriages were arranged and about the joining. Putting the crowns on their heads was the symbolic joining of the two powers. That power could be about money or even reputation. Or political power as in countries and kingdoms. My portion was the United States, kind of. Peter's was Makarovia, kind of. Our crowns weren't just symbolic. They were real.

I felt that any joining with the other countries was after Olek invited the United States and Great Britain to help in exchange for a portion of the uranium. They were helping.

Whether it was about goods, protection or for any reason. It could be said that the marriage was an “all-inclusive” treaty in the past.

Deciding on the best man or flowers or the colors used wasn't what I wanted. Peter was what I wanted. I didn't care what I needed to do to get Peter. I was doing it.

We were told to take it easy because it was going to be a long evening followed by a long day. Eastern European weddings could be lengthy. Some lasting two or three days. East Orthodox or Russian Orthodox traditions were the cause for a lot of that time. I know I've at said it, a priest was going to be there to bless the wedding, but to bless us as people, not the marriage. A judge was performing the marriage. Olek was doing the coronation and the priest was blessing me about that.

I didn't mind a long morning in bed and being lazy on the couch with Peter. Tomorrow, we would get married. Yea!!!