Chapter 11: Desire to Be Wed

Laima stared at her reflection in the windows of her chambers. Her wedding gown was shaped like a quiet exhale, born somewhere between sky and sea. The pale blue fabric spilled from her bare shoulders in layered, translucent veils, each fold catching the light like softened glass, as if the dress itself were breathing with her. It trailed behind her in a long, weightless cascade, neither entirely water nor air, but something suspended between the two, delicate enough to vanish yet vast enough to leave a wake wherever she walked. She liked the weight of it.

The servants insisted on helping her style her hair. They gathered her brown, curly hair loosely on top of her head, letting soft curls and wispy strands fall forward around her forehead and temples, creating a relaxed but elegant look. Her makeup was simple enough to be seen through her lashes, yet subtle enough to go unnoticed at a glance.

Laima was somehow delighted to be part of this arrangement, even if her face did not show it. She felt that she and Iselda had grown closer over these exhausting days. A little… not enough to marry her with real intention. The wedding ceremony felt like a duty to her, so she was probably glad she could check that box and stop obsessing over it this much.

The door to her chambers opened with a loud thud that made everyone inside turn their heads. Ami stood there, one hand still on the handle, out of breath.

“My lady, Queen Iselda is ready for the ceremony.”

Oh.

Laima’s heart began to pound. For real this time, and fast. On second thought, she was not ready to marry. Nope. She was calling it off. Why had she ever thought this was a good idea? She was a soldier, not a Queen. What would she even do in this Tunnel? Iselda was fine with taking care of Elliott, right? She could run. Escape through the windows.

Ugh…

She was having those thoughts again.

Lying on the sand, little waves touching her bare feet.
The wind singing lullabies to calm her.
Her eyes fixed on the dim light soaking the pale blue skies beyond.
Breathing clean air.
She, who chose to leave her home.

Laima opened her eyes slowly, returning to reality. She turned her head to the right and looked at her reflection in the window again. There was no way around it anymore. She should have thought strategically, logically. Instead, she had agreed to everything Iselda had thrown her way. She was delighted about this, right?

Laima gave a side smile to the elegantly dressed woman in her reflection, a woman ready to be a Queen, her expression slightly wry. She locked eyes with the servant. Her stance shifted back into the confident soldier she was; her tone became the Queen she would be in moments.

“Let the ceremony begin, then, Ami.”

Iselda was waiting, seated on her chaise lounge with its curved wooden frame and carved details along the arms and back, upholstered in deep pink fabric patterned with ornate floral motifs, giving it a rich, classic presence. Her wedding gown spilled over her body and across the chair. The dress felt like a quiet dialogue between romance and flowers, much like she herself did. She ran her hands over the fabric as if it were wrinkled.

The gown carried the clean elegance of a strapless silhouette, the bodice smooth and softly sculpted, fitting close without feeling rigid. The fabric held a gentle sheen, something between blush satin and ivory silk, catching the light with intention, never loudly. She was bored to death, waiting in that chair, in that gown. She even wondered if Laima had run away and if Iselda’s perfect wedding ceremony would never take place.

She played with the skirt spilling generously from her waist, long and fluid, though not weightless, draping over the chair. Iselda tried her best to keep her composure on her beloved wedding day, but she could not help feeling agitated. She stood and paced her chambers, biting her lip and pressing her long, pink-painted nails against her teeth restless. Her skirt dragged along the floor behind her. She tried to distract herself with the dress a thousand times. She tugged at the bodice, adjusted the skirt, and checked her perfectly applied makeup in every reflective surface she could find. She even attempted to reapply it, wiping it off repeatedly until her long, slender lips looked pink even without it. She moved to fix the back of her dress, where a small bow connected the gown. Instead, she ruined the perfectly made bow and scratched the exposed skin of her back. Last but not least, she reached for her hair, flawless and freshly cut and dyed overnight. Now it was a beautiful mess of short, wavy blonde strands brushing her jawline, curls loose and effortless, as if kissed by the sun and sand of a distant Tunnel.

For the ceremony, however, her servants and stylist had straightened it, later gathering it into a low ponytail, finished with a small clasp.

Just when Iselda reached her hair to mess everything up, her private servant, the one um, she still didn't know her name, arrived at her chamber’s door, breathless. 

“She is ready, my Queen,” she said, beaming.

“Good,” Iselda replied, her tone cold and anxious. “About time.”

Almost everyone in the Tunnel waited in the ballroom. They were dazzled by food, drink, and gifts, forgetting rules and economic collapse alike. The only thing that mattered now was the Queen’s wedding. Nobody even knew the girl she was marrying, but everyone supported it. In Crystalized tradition, both parties were to walk toward the center of the hall and dance for the first time, slow and elegant. Then they would share their wishes and prayers with the Universe and seal their promises with a kiss.

Laima had been informed of this, of course. She was fine with kissing Iselda. She was beautiful, neat, chic, and the Queen of the Land. Anyone would have queued for the chance Laima now had. She would enjoy the feeling while it lasted, because after this marriage there would be no flings, no late nights at bars, no serious relationships. So yes, she would marry, kiss Iselda, parent Elliott, and perform her Queenly duties. Perfect. She waited behind the massive doors, three times her height, though she was not a petite woman. When they opened, she would step forward, find Iselda, and take her hand. Simple enough.

Iselda could not wait another second. Trapped between the door and servants fussing over minor details, she nearly boiled over. Thankfully, the ceremony began. The orchestra started a gentle waltz. The doors cracked open. Light from the ballroom hit Iselda’s brown eyes, turning them hazel. She smiled broadly at her people from the terrace above and opened her arms “Thank you for coming to my wedding, everyone.”

Cheers erupted.

“You cannot imagine how important it is for me to see my Tunnel on this holy day.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “I hope everyone enjoys today and, of course,” she chuckled, “your new Queen.”

A roar filled the hall. The people were satisfied.

Queen Iselda descended carefully, each step precise in her ivory pointed heels, their surface shimmering softly in the crystal light. She smiled, touched hands, reassured with gentle gestures. At the center, she stepped forward, lifted her skirt slightly to bow, and gestured toward the doors behind which Laima waited. She then lowered her head. In Crystalized belief, seeing your bride before the moment would curse the union. Iselda would not risk it. So, she just waited with her heart beating pretty loud against her entire body. 

She was again that girl, reading romance books hiding in her mother’s embrace.

That girl fell first with the farmer girl, 

Which she was marrying

The girl who loved pink and quartz

Not that girl seen through lenses of Queen 

But just a girl marrying her crush

Her soul felt pink, a gentle smile put on her lips,

Her entire body bowed, still waiting for Laima. 

The tips of her fingers felt warm,

A shy touch,

Lingering feeling of Laima’s smell,

Soon her entire palm was filled with Laima’s.

Iselda eagerly lifted her head,

Her hair fell into her eyes,

That shines like the diamonds,

The diamonds she posses

She controls

A smile

Stretched on her face

Making her more elegant

Beautiful

Her cheeks got pinker and pinker

Laima struck staring at her

Her heart galloping

Like she was swimming through the waves

Her breath caught

Her smile faltered

Iselda straightened from her stance

Took Laima’s waist by hand

And pressed her body against

“Hello, Beautiful”

“Hi, Iselda”

She smiled shyly

Iselda swayed both of them

One two three

And again

Laima was mesmerized

The lights were shining

Making it look like the gardens

She was once in

The crystals glistening

Showing the best of what she was seeing

The music echoes

Through the walls

Through their joined bodies

It is vibrating

Laima was the girl she never had chance to live

She wasn’t a soldier

She was a girl with a beautiful girl pressed against her

She was a girl with a crush

It was just them,

Under the lights

Between the crystals

Rhyming with music

Laima and Iselda

Iselda and Laima

The Queens of the Crystalized.

When the dance finished, with both of them bowing first to each other and then to the public, Laima felt her entire being thumping with the remnants of what she had just experienced. Iselda locked eyes with Laima, grinning frantically, her perfect hair slightly disheveled. She waggled her brows, silently asking if Laima was okay. Laima nodded subtly and smiled to soothe her nerves.

They both took one step at a time toward each other to seal the deal. Iselda made a long, thoughtful speech about how she met Laima in the suburbs and fell in love at first sight, how she was delirious over her and couldn’t wait another second to marry her soulmate. Everyone in the crowd looked convinced, even Elliott.

Oh.
Elliott.

They had completely forgotten about him today. Iselda had been obsessing over the wedding a little too much. But judging by the way Elliott watched Iselda’s speech, he didn’t seem to mind being left behind for one day. The servants had probably dressed him in his attire and hidden his flashy white hair so they could announce later that they were already parents as well. Laima’s thoughts were abruptly cut short when the ballroom shook with cheers and applause as Iselda finished her beautifully crafted lies, ahem, vows. It was Laima’s turn to speak.

She had written a poem for Iselda. Of course, it wasn’t entirely genuine. It spoke of Iselda’s importance—not a lie—how she made Laima’s heart gallop whenever their eyes met—also not a lie—how graceful she was—again, not a lie—how thoughtful and kind she was—okay, that was a lie—and how Laima fell in love while getting to know Iselda, which could be a double-edged sword. She didn’t know at that moment.

Once again, the room exploded with cheers and cries. Elliott was beaming, applauding Laima’s effort. She returned the smile. Laima realized Iselda was now far too close, her skirt brushing the tips of Laima’s shoes, adorned with intricate blue floral embroidery. Laima gulped once. Iselda was a little taller than her, even without heels.

Iselda placed one hand on Laima’s waist and lifted her chin with the other, angling her face for the kiss. Though Laima knew this moment was coming, despite the confidence she had felt before the ceremony… she gulped twice.

Iselda tilted her head, her smile never fading.

“Are you ready to seal our promises, my love?” she whispered, each word brushing against Laima’s lips, making her tremble with need.

“Yes, love,” Laima breathed.

Iselda leaned in, brushing her lips against Laima’s. Laima’s nerves shot through her body. Unsure what to do with her hands, she grabbed Iselda’s waist and pulled her close, pressing their bodies together as she parted her lips.

Iselda smirked and claimed what had been offered. She licked her lips and fused their mouths together, exploring the desire pulsing between them. They both forgot they were being watched, by elders and children alike.

Laima reluctantly pulled back and pressed a kiss to Iselda’s cheek.

“I am your Queen already,” she murmured. “No need to rush. You can ask whenever.”

A deep, rosy blush spread across Iselda’s body. She looked stunned.

Laima turned to the people, now her people, and declared, “Oh, and we have more exciting news to share. We’ve already adopted a child from a far, far land. A child whose power we know. A child who will be your Prince.” She waved her hand to Elliott, so he could come for her to present him as their Prince. He walked toward her, passing through the crowd when he reached Iselda, she cleared her throat and declared, “Now you may bow to your new Queen and Prince.”

She took Elliott’s hand and wrapped her arm around Laima.

“Long live Queen Laima.”

“Long live Queen Laima!” the crowd roared.

“Long live Prince Elliott!”

“Long live Prince Elliott!” they shouted more.