𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐨𝐂

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄.

v: champagne kisses

Nikolai Lantsov took Natasha up the aisle, walking hand in hand. Neither had parents to walk each other, but their togetherness was a symbol of their strength. That after this day, they'd never have to struggle alone. They were bound to one another till death.

Natasha was not entirely optimistic about that.

A procession of young Ravkan girls squealed into their palms, scattering red roses on the cream tiles. Each had their hair styled by Genya Safin - the tailor working all morning to braid wildflowers into squirming children's hair.

The crowd bowed low as they took space at the head of the alter. A priest stood before them, holding open a book with a plain dust cover. Natasha shared a dark look with Nikolai as he squeezed her hand tightly.

"You look beautiful," The king spoke, covering his mouth with a cupped hand. He leaned forward to speak against her ear - arm hooked around Natasha's waist.

She knew Nikolai expected a return of favour, but Natasha nodded, turning back to take her place opposite him.

They both addressed the crowd with delighted simpers before turning back towards the priest. "Do you Nikolai Lantsov take Natasha Van Doren to be your wife?"

The king smiled, reaching out to lace his fingers through hers. She squeezed his hand back, holding on for comfort.

The slight gesture earned them croons from the crowd, and Nikolai's smile split joyously at the seams.

"Do you Natasha Van Doren take Nikolai Lantsov to be your husband?"

The breath stoppered in her throat as she peered through the crowds for David Kostyk. He was nowhere to be seen, neither was Genya Safin.

"I do," Natasha stuttered as the bracelets on her wrists burnt painfully against her skin.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. King and Queen of Ravka. May you rule forever and bring prosperity to our lands,"

The priest shut his book, stepping out of Nikolai's way as he strode forward to kiss Natasha.

She melted into his touch, throwing her arms around his neck. Natasha detested every second of it and was glad once he pushed himself back to address the explosive crowd. Nikolai held her close, with a hand around her waist.

"Let the festivities began," Nikolai roared, clasping Natasha's hand and throwing their arms up into the air.

The crowd began to disperse as fountains of cherry wine and chocolate were wheeled in lace carts.

Natasha's arm had gone numb for shaking hands with foreign ambassadors, shoving gifts into the hands of waiters to carry to her parlour and pricking her finger occasionally on the sharp edge of her jade hairpin.

She had not seen David Kostyk all day. It had started to worry her. "Nikolai," Natasha said quietly, rubbing her cheek against the velvet of his suit.

It was tricky to discover that her subtle coddling could make him come undone. "Have you seen David?"

Now on his seventh glass of wine, he could hardly stand upright. "The Shu, David?" The drunk king asked as Natasha used her elbow to keep him straight. "Or the shy one?"

"David Kostyk," Natasha corrected politely.

He glared blearily eyed through the crowds before shaking his head. "Nope," Nikolai grinned, reaching for his eighth glass.

Expertly, Natasha steered him out of the waitresses line sight.

"How about we begin the dances," Natasha whispered to Zoya, who stood with her shoulder against a marble pillar. "It wouldn't be pretty if he was sick before the ring exchanges,"