Royal Wedding

The gown I will wear was hand-sewn by no less than

Forty-seven Italian bisnonnas- scions of

Arachne, spinning lace finer than spiderwebs, as their family had done for

generations.

Eighteen pounds of jewels- encased in cords and nets and bands of

Shiny metals will adorn my head and limbs. Each has a history,

Centuries of dowries and tributes

To the ancestors of my new family.

When they write of me, and paint my

portraits, they add gold leaf into my hair, and silver

shimmer to illuminate the palest qualities of my

sheltered, indoor skin.

There are troubadours and musicians, some

hired to sing of how handsome the prince is, so

valiant. Others come pre-prepared with stories of my legendary

beauty- for I am the shiniest dreams of young girls

across this nation. And our union is the

topic of the happiest

of songs.

I have spent a lifetime learning the graces of

Dance, and deference-

To charm from afar and never displease

In proximity. For my role, like all princesses,

Is to be the path to

forge peaceful bonds across boundaries,

tie kingdoms together

by blood

When they see us, after, the prince and

I, together,

In his fur-lined velvet and onion-domed crown,

They will remember the tales of

happily ever after-

And tell one another that they’re so sure we are deeply, epically

in love.

They will watch the exquisite trappings,

the efforts of a thousand craftsmen and artisans – and

picture themselves in my delicate, hand-crafted

shoes, in our satin-lined, horse-pulled

carriage. I meet the gaze of a

gray-clad woman in the crowd lining the streets- as each of us wonder

how much we would love the life

the other was born to.