OOC: Please note that while we tried to keep this as historically accurate as possible, we will probably make some mistakes since it was rather hard finding some of the information for weddings of the time period :D. However, feel free to respond to this with your reactions to the ceremony, etc. Also feel free to create your own threads where you can interact with other people before, during, and after the ceremony :D. FREE WINE FOR ALL! Also, just a fun fact of the day, we’re basing this a lot off of Katherine of Aragon’s marriage to Arthur Tudor, older brother of King Henry VIII :D.

IC: The day dawned bright and cool – a perfect day for a royal wedding. Or at least, that’s what all Marc’s companions, advisors, and other various peoples of his acquaintance told him repeatedly to the point where he was prepared to rule that the next person to utter said phrase was a traitor of the realm and subject to be tried for treason. Thankfully he did not have to take such drastic measures, however, due to the fact that everyone was so busy for the rest of the day that they didn’t have time to speak annoying words of well-wishing, suggestive jokes, or anything of that nature to His Royal Majesty. Which was entirely in their best interests.

“Your Majesty looks very handsome,” one of his favorites murmured with a grin as Marc gazed solemnly at his reflection in the mirror. A circlet of gold worked with sapphires was placed about his head, weighing him down, making him feel very earthwards. As though he was sinking into the floor. His fiery locks waved about his face, framing the sharp angles. His athletic body was covered in a splendid outfit of ivory taffeta embroidered with golden thread and accented with cloth-of-gold. A heavy sapphire pendant rested upon his chest. Many golden rings sparkled upon his fingers. Making a non-committal noise in response to the other’s comment, Marc then turned from his reflection, pulling at his doublet in an absent-minded manner. “Let’s go.”

The court’s procession through the streets of Norshire was splendid – a perfect cause for wild celebration among the commoners. Their king was to be married! And there was to be free wine for all! All the lords and ladies were dressed in their best and those of the common blood lined the streets as heavily as lice, swarming and cheering, dazzled by the wealth and brilliance of those making their way towards the cathedral. King Marc was at the head, riding upon a bay hunter whose coat had been groomed and polished until it positively gleamed. A kingly smile was pinned upon his lips, his left hand raised in acknowledgement to his subjects that cheered him on as his right hand rested lightly upon the reins, keeping his horse steady beneath his thighs. The king was flanked by his favorites and by the beautiful Princess Anna, Gem of the Sapphire Realm, who rode proudly at his left side, looking as pretty as a bride herself in a gown of dark blue and pristine white, her hair covered modestly by a hood and veil. The city was practically screaming with excitement and love for the royal siblings, for their king who would soon be married, for the princess who was the symbol of all the Sapphire Realm stood for, and for Princess Isabella, soon to be queen, who was riding in quiet in a private, curtained litter, not a part of the wild procession. All alone except for a few of her closest companions and a few guards.

The procession ended at the front door of the cathedral, the king dismounting as those of the court entered and began to fill the pews. Those of the common blood would not be allowed within, though they would cluster around outside the door, waiting for a glimpse of their Majesties, after the wedding was over. Meanwhile, Isabella was led around to a back door, unseen, where Ambassador Felipe Alejandro met her, preparing to lead her up the aisle to her future husband. Within the cathedral, the murmur of low voices hummed. Everything sparkled with gold and wealth, the beauty of the church and of the realm. An aisle, built for the occasion, had been constructed at eye level so that when the Infanta de Emeralda was making her way towards the front of the church, all would be able to gaze upon her. It had been laid with plush crimson velvet, the cloth nailed in place with small golden nails. At the front of the church waited the King of the Sapphire Realm patiently for his bride, along with the Archbishop of Canterwell who would be conducting the service.

And then, all fell quiet, turning as the Princess Isabella entered upon the arm of the handsome Felipe Alejandro. She was very beautiful on that day, dressed in a wedding gown of dark emerald, cloth-of-gold, and ivory silk, embroidered with pearls and golden thread. An ivory mantilla obscured her facial features, giving her a sense of mystery and hidden loveliness. At the front of the cathedral, Marc felt his back straighten, his hands clench tighter before him. This was it. This was the end of his bachelor days. The slow procession started – all 600 tedious steps – until the Princess Isabella was to the altar, giving all the courtiers a good chance to scrutinize her appearance, to gossip, to speculate, and above all, to stare in awe at the loveliness of the ceremony. They were about to have their queen.

Finally, Isabella was to Marc and the young king was stepping forward even as Felipe was stepping back to melt into the background. Taking the hand of his betrothed, he turned towards the Archbishop, kneeling with her upon the special ivory cushions embroidered in midnight blue and gold thread that had been created for the service. As they knelt, hand-clasped, the Archbishop moved forward to wrap his stole about their clasped hands. And thus the ceremony began – Marc holding gently but strongly onto the slender fingers of his bride, his heart hammering within his chest even as he stared solemnly ahead, knowing he did the right thing by his kingdom. But hating himself for it all the same. And thinking ahead with dread, apprehension, and frank curiosity to the night that awaited the royal couple.

That morning had been one of absolute torture. Waking up, her heart was racing to the point where she could her the thud in her ear. Princess Isabella, Infanta de Esmeralda, was to marry King Marc Sapphire today, forever giving her life and devotion to one man. It was more than that, it was connecting two countries, two people. A great day for both the Emerald Kingdom and the Sapphire Kingdom, honestly, for their marriage promised a perpetual peace between them. It was all she could wish for her people as a Princess, and her soon to be people as a Queen.

Bizarre to think about, Isabella would soon be Queen. Never, not once until the agreement was made, did she believe queen would ever be before her name. Being a figurehead for an entire kingdom, a symbol of the one True Faith of the Virgin Mother and her son Jesus Christ. It was an important rule, and her one true wish was to effect all people, every where, with what power was given to her.

As soon as her eyes opened, Maria was there to get her up and preparing her clothing for the day. Setting her hand upon her shoulder, she spoke to her in their native tongue, saying, "Rest, my child, all will be well. I will say my prayers first, and offer up my devotion to the Virgin Mother." With that said, she bowed before the Madonna for the last time as a Princess. For the last time as a daughter and a sister. After this evening, Isabella would be a wife, a Queen, and hopefully a mother. This is what her prayers were for, that King Marc may find her pleasing and she could give him many sons, healthy sons that could follow after him. It was her one true wish, as a woman, wife, and queen.

Time passed with no mercy, Maria having to pull her away and strip her. Many layers went on her, the small army of Emerald maids she had brought with her dressing her with an untold fury. The corset, the worst layer in her opinion, did indeed bring her waist in but at the expense of breathing. With the corset tightened securely, Isabella could barely get one full breath in at once. Anything, she thought, to please her husband. To present herself in the best of light to strike desire in his heart, so she would come to her bed and only hers. As Maria fastened the gown properly, a few of the maids preparing her headpiece, Isabella recalled the bits of gossip that had come her way. Of the King's mistress, before he promised to marry her, and of the potential others. Generally, she ignored such preposterousness, but the doubts in the back of her mind were very real and extremely hard to ignore.

It seemed as though it had only been moments since awakening, when in truth it had been hours. An envoy from the palace came to fetch the Princess and her train, the wedding was to begin. She was to be married. No longer a maid, a wife. Isabella's mind was a mess as the small barge began to carry them towards the palace, towards her marriage, towards the man she would come to love.

Isabella, Infanta de Esmeralda. . .

Queen Isabella of the Sapphire Kingdom.

Clarisse held up a handkerchief to her face, where tears poured down. She was so happy for the couple, and now the Sapphire Court had a Queen. Her twelve year old brother Renier sat beside her, jumping with joy. He had wavy light blond hair, shining sky blue eyes like his older sister, and a smile so wide on his face it looked as if someone had painted it on. Next to him sat her Lady Emma, and Lord Ambrose Clavell highly respected members of the Sapphire Court, and Clarisse's Aunt and Uncle.

She hadn't seen them for weeks and had cried out in joy when she first saw them. Though she was happy, Clarisse felt a pang of depression. Her Mere and Pere were no where to be found. Why she expected them she didn't know. Her parents were still recovering from poverty, and were just starting to get back on their feet. How could they ever make it to a royal wedding, in a whole other realm? Non, it was a stupid thought.

She was wearing her best outfit, a silk pale green dress, completed with a hoop skirt and everything. Underneath she wore a corset, and bodice. Above she was adorned with pearl white gloves, and an antique fan. Her gold chain necklace from Bea was around her neck as usual, and she had her silk slippers/shoes on. The amethyst [realm not color] black hood, covering her light blond wavy hair that was up in a smooth bun. Symmone, and the rest of the maids and menservants were at the back of the cathedral, to give some peace to their charges.

As the wedding drew to a close, Clarisse and her small family got up, and
went near the wall, preparing to socialize.

Pomp and Circumstance.


He knew the ceremony, or should he say, ceremonies, would be beautiful today. It was clear outside, the sun was shinning bright, and everyone was hoping the marvelous wheather would hold, just long enough for the King's Wedding, and the Princess' corination. He'd written the Emperor as soon as he heard that the wedding was for today, and recived a letter a few days later, telling him to send the newly weds his best regards, and a gift. He was still waiting for the gift to arrive. He sighed as he looked down at his ambassadorial clothing, such a pain to put it on, considering, one part was a corset, although, not a girl's corset, but a corset none the less. He summoned his man-servant, to help him get ready.

He layered on the clothing, all of it either gold, or red, or some variation of the two. He hated the breeches that he had to where, they always made him feel as if he had two or three extra feet on either side of him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror "Please hand me that comb..." he asked, and set to trimming and combing as soon as he had the comb. He trimmed his beard down to a short goatee, and trimmed the side-burns and such, making him look quite dashing.


He stood out in the hallway,feeling slightly overdressed, with a large blue velvet bag in his hands, and a scarlet sword cloak draped over his right shoulder. he slid the bag into the crook of his right arm and under the cloak, and set off to meet the new Queen, see the ceremonies, and present the gift, on behalf of his Emporer.


The ceremony started with a flourish, just as the last guest slid into a seat. Michel was seated in the middle, near another ambassador, one he had not met before. Yet, no one was seated for long, as the organist began to play, everyone stood up, and turned, watching the bride as she advanced. She was splendidly arrayed, in emerald, gold, and ivory tones, and also pearls, yet she withheld her mysterious composure with a Mantilla. She looked radiant, just as much as his own bride had looked on their wedding day. He applaueded witht he rest of the crowd as she advanced towards the alter and knealt down with the King.

The Earl of Stalworth had been busy since before dawn, making ready the preparations for the wedding. Security had been added to control the rush of commoners that would be crowding the streets, and the many courtiers who would be attending the wedding. Gerard seemed as agitated as the young King, as he went about his chores. Many of the guards under his command knew not to get close, for he might just snap them in half.

Standing now in the company of the King, his dark blue eyes flicked about the room. So many useless courtiers were chattering about poor Marc, which brought a slight twitch of a smile to pull at the corner of his lips. Though he was not sure of the emotional state of the King, he was sure that he could guess. His memories of his own weddings dance through his head, as he stood watching Marc prepare himself for the impending event.

Moving to stand within ear shot of the young King, Gerard’s deep dark voice whispered words of praise. “Your Majesty looks very handsome,” said the Earl. His words were as true as he could make them, for Marc was dressed to fit the part of royalty. The gold looked as is if weighed him down, but that could just be the duties that rested on the shoulders of the young man. As Marc turned from the mirror, Gerard swept into a bow, before falling into step behind his ruler.

The precession was blissfully successful, the guards he had placed through out the town held back the many on lookers. Sitting atop his dark dapple grey mount, Gerard was not far from Marc and Anna. His wide form was clad in a forest green silk brocade doublet, the sleeves accented with brown leather slashes. A thick silver necklace, laden with a beautiful sapphire pendant hung about his neck. Strong thighs were sheathed in brown trousers, which were tucked into his tall brown boots. Fixed to his side was a deadly longsword, which gently grazed the side of his mount as they navigated the streets. Firm features were alight with his bright smile, welcoming the joining of the two realms.

Once they procession reached the front of the cathedral, Gerard waited to dismount after his King. Quickly sliding from his saddle, the Earl fell back into step behind Marc and Anna. As all entered through the doors, he signalled the guards to block the entry of commoners. Splitting from the royal party, the Earl of Stalworth stalked the wings of the decorated cathedral. His deep blue eyes searching for his hidden spy, his personal guard was already at his post closest to the ceremony.

“Is everything ready,” his words came quickly and quietly. The spy nodded, and smiled at his master. “Good, now return to your rounds.” Gerard’s words were sharp, but still only a whisper. Leaving the man before he could reply, he started back down the dark aisle to find his place before the wedding.

From his position near Anna, the Earl could see everything. As Princess Isabella entered, his dark eyes enveloped her for the first time. She was a beautiful sight, her gown added to her air of majesty. The mantilla that hid her features from the courtiers only served to heighten the tension filling the cathedral. Removing his bold gaze from the soon to be queen, he rested it on his young King. Watching Marc’s subtle body language as his bride approached. He could see the stiffness wash over his liege, as the full force of reality bared down on him.

When Isabella took her place as Marc’s side, Gerard took in a breath. All the hard work that he had been a part of had lead to this, the union of Sapphire and Emerald. As his King knelt before the Archbishop, a tight smile pulled across the Earl’s lips. Be still my noble King, for you are doing you’re Kingdom a great duty.

What a day it was going to be, what merrymaking was supposed to happen. What a day, for the Emerald Ambassador. A new Queen, a new queen? The possibility, the simple act of King Marc taking a wife, had ssprouted such celebration. The commoners had been celebrating in the streets for days now, and they had been ever so excited that they would have a queen. And what a queen they were getting, Princess Isabella.

Felipe knew that Isabella was not the beauty that Marc had favored in his favourites and mistresses, but all the same, she was smart, pretty enough, and one of the most loyal and faithful people Felipe knew, and that would mean a lot for a new queen. As a new queen, she would be subject to rumors, and rumors were a dangerous thing. If Isabella lost favor with her husband, the Emerald Court would also lose favor, and right now, Felipe did not need that. He had already been fielding letters of congratulations, meant for the Queen, and he had read them through and sent thank you notes back. He felt like a secretary.

But all the same, his position in court had skyrocketed. Not only was he a favourite of the King, he was now also part of Isabella's group. He was a favourite all around, and the ambassador from Emerald. Why, one could say he was the deputy Emerald King. But if you said that, you were liable to get your head cut off. Treason and all of that jazz.

But today was going to be a glorious day, and Felipe couldn't wait. He had woken up, and walked over to his manservant. He had aquired gifts from His Majesty, King Raoul and planned to wear the new outfit's he had received. This was a great ambassadorial triumph for him. He was dressed in an outfit, made of emerald silk, and black silk. The outfit had been artfully embroidered with gold, and in the middle of the embroidery were tiny little jewels. But the shine did not stop there! He was wearing a gold chain around his neck, and on his finger was a large gold ring, with a emerald cut emerald in the middle. He slipped on a pair of black boots, and gave his hair a final brush, before leaving his chambers.

He was to walk Princess Isabella down the aisle, to take her to the altar, where she would shed her title, and become Queen Isabella of the Sapphire Realm.

The cathedral was large, and slightly intimidating. Felipe entered, with Isabella on his arm, feeling her tension, as they walked. He wanted to say a few words to her, but words escaped him. Those elusive words. They had finished walking down the aisle, and he relinquished his hold upon her, before bowing deeply to all that were standing on the altar. He settled into his seat in the front, ready for the ceremony.

It was a great day for the Emerald Realm.