Date: Tue, 18 Jan 2022 21:09:00 -0500 From: Richard McQueen Subject: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is! Chapter 11 Wedding Jitters? Story: Makarovia! Sure, I Know Where That Is Chapter 11 Wedding Jitters? Author: Eric McQueen (mcqueen.richarderic@gmail.com) Adult Readers, Sexual Situations, Sex Freedom of expression is precious. To do that Nifty needs help. Your donation is greatly desired. Give to http://donate.nifty.org/ or this story ends and all the others! That would be a crime! Peter and Eric get ready for their wedding, so does Makarovia. Eric has jitters when he hears he could be rejected by Makarovia. In spite of assurances from everyone in Makarovia and even in the military, that thought plays on his mind. He knows it doesn't make sense, but he can't seem to shake the feeling. Wedding Jitters? My perspective with time was playing with me again. In some ways, it just seemed to crawl. We had talked about a honeymoon. Even made reservations on a few. Mario Basso's private island was going to be used by Boris and Yuri. The trouble with the Consortium made us rethink those places. I was reviewing the website for Makarovia on the computer in our room. "I got it," Peter said happily as he came back to our rooms from Olek's office. "It's perfect." He sat with me in the chair like we did at home. He motioned to the keyboard. "May I?" "Sure," I said waving at the keyboard. Peter typed quickly. "We have to with a security detail. We need six guards. We needed more rooms besides the one we use." Up came a map. Of Israel. "It's a large house on the beach in a community called Yafo Darom. That's West of Jerusalem. A private beach with a wall that surrounds the property. A pool..." "Is it gay friendly?" I asked. That was always going to be an important concern. "Sure!" Peter replied. "Tel Aviv is known to be the gay capital of the Middle East. We can walk through the city with our hands clasped. They even have a monument to gays of the Holocaust." "Really?" I marveled. "I knew they had one for the Jews that were persecuted and died. There's a separate one for guys like Milo and Bren?" "There is," Peter nodded. "We have to include security..." "I know," I said kissing him. We had made inquiries before now, but the recent attack we needed more security. As reluctant as I was to admit it, our faces were known now. "Okay," I said simply. "I just want you there with me." "I will be." Mom went through what was going to happen. It was getting easier to call Queen Alla Mom, but I had consciously do it. It would take a while before it became second nature. "...and you will be brought to Peter," she said. "The traditional question about who gives this man, Katrina will answer." She walked a little as she spoke. Her high heels sounded as she walked. "It's pretty much a standard wedding with questions and vows. However," she smiled, "As you took vows in front of all Makarovia, they have to agree with the marriage. They will be asked if they will except you, not only as Peter's husband, but as a prince of Makarovia. What you did this past year will determine if they accept or reject you." I know my eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding." I didn't know that. Mom shook her head. "I'm not." She smiled. "I know you shouldn't worry about that. The people love you." I held my hands up, "Hold on, just wait. Has anyone been rejected?" "Olek the First's grandfather, King Phillip, brought a woman for the proposal and was rejected." Mom said shrugging. "She was a selfish woman, so I was told. She did nothing for the people of Makarovia. Her first thoughts were about her. She was never accepted as queen. They were married, but she was never queen." "So, Peter and I can marry, but if they don't..." Mom put her hand on my shoulder. "They know what you've done. There is the monument planned for Makarovia for what they did in the past. They've almost all have seen the new websites. And they know about your idea to increase farm output. They won't reject you." "You said Olek the First's grandfather. Wasn't she his grandmother?" "No," Mom said sadly. "It was during the time of the Russian Revolution. We don't know what happened exactly, but she had an affair with one the men that were bringing all the Eastern European countries into the USSR. She wanted her lifestyle to go on under this new regime. She was found dead. A jealous rage?" She shrugged. "King Phillip was with officials when that occurred. He was found innocent. Olek the First's grandmother was the second wife years later." She laughed lightly. "The people here like that you see them. No one's beneath you. She saw almost everybody as beneath her. The fact that you don't like the titles, asking everyone to use your name tells them you want to be their friend. You have nothing to worry about." She hugged me. "Once the wedding portion is done, comes the coronation." She looked at me again. "The wedding will be done by a judge. There will be a priest to bless your marriage and coronation, but he won't perform the ceremony. Olek will be giving you the crown He will bless you then, as well." After that, I hoped Mom was right about the people of Makarovia. Olek joined us at lunch. "I think you two need to go to Skoal." He grinned. "I know David and Edmond will love seeing you." "We have to take security." I said. "So?" Olek shrugged. "Driving there won't be a problem. You'll be going to a military installation. Two guards will be fine." There was something with his suggestion. A merriment in his eyes, but he wasn't saying what it was. We got the two guards and went down the original elevator. What I saw in the courtyard made my heart beat faster. There was my red Mustang! It shinned and gleamed at me like it did in the showroom. I stopped holding Peter's hand tighter. "Surprise." Peter grinned dangling two keys on a key fob in his hand. I loved the fob. Not only could lock and unlock the doors. I was going to Northeastern. It would be cold! I could start the car to get it warmed up and turn the interior heat on before I got in the car. The seats would warm up! Walking slowly toward it. "I didn't even know it was missing from the garage." I said. "I never drive anymore." "Today, you can." Peter smiled as he chuckled. "And you do have a license to drive." "In the United States," I said. "I don't even know what the speed limits are here! Is there a Makarovian Department of Motor Vehicles?" I saw the license plate was still said Massachusetts. "How do I get a Makarovian Plate?" "Just go about fifty kilometers an hour in the city," Peter smiled. "Those other things will come." I had to calculate. "About thirty miles an hour. What about outside the city limits?" "Just drive safely as you can," Peter shrugged. "We don't have speed traps like the United States. We didn't have the population. In Winter there's no problem. No one drove except in special equipment or snowmobiles. No one will pull you over." I rolled my eyes. "It's been so long; I hope I remember how to drive." Then I muttered, "I hate the metric system." Peter was enjoying this. "Just remember, we drive on the left." "Yeah, yeah," I looked at the two guards. They weren't huge, but I grimaced. "I've never had a passenger in the back seat before. I hope there's leg room." I hadn't forgotten how to drive. The engine purred. Stryia had some traffic, but now with the underground, there was even less. I knew the road to take. There were houses scattered, but not many. Farms mostly. There were livestock of cows, sheep, and pigs. People turned when we passed by. A sports car from America had never been seen here. There were Mustangs in Europe, but not in Makarovia. The road condition was hard to keep up with all the snow and ice during Winter. I went slower than I would like to have gone because of potholes. A Ford dealer and garage was a little far way. Would my insurance cover damage gotten here? I knew there were policies like Nationwide, but not Worldwide. Driving becomes second nature. Right now, I was keeping what I was doing in the front of my mind, the short term memory. I didn't want my mind to wander and slip to my long term memory and cause a wreck. As we got closer to Skoal, I saw these long structures. In groups of three together. They were almost white that stretched a football field in length. The breeze caused what sealed these buildings to flutter. Plastic. One greenhouse next to another with people going in and out. The plastic was thin and clear enough to see there were things growing inside. Where these greenhouses were had been very rocky and it would have difficult to get the cleared to plant anything there. Now they could. I pulled into a parking space in front of the joint base headquarters. They had a parking lot! Jeeps and military trucks were there now. The headquarters looked the same, but going inside we saw things had improved. There was a Senior Airman at the desk in front of General Burke's and General Hammond's office. He stood up quickly. "Your Highness. Your Lordship." He said and bowed. "At ease, Airman," I chuckled. "Are the Generals in?" I pointed to the door that was now shut. "They are," the Airman said picking up the phone on his desk. Someone was fussing at the Airman, "I know, Sir, but Prince Pedro and His Lordship Eric Richards are here." The Airman hung up. "They'll be right out." "If they're busy," Peter began. "We can come back." The door of the office opened and General Hammond came out. "Peter, Eric it's good to see you." He came toward us with his hand out. You just don't hug a General in front of the men. That Military Bearing was first. Showing emotions like hugging wasn't dignified. Really!? However, I could hear General Burke's voice. It was raised and angry. "...If I see any more of this bullshit, you'll be sent to Leavenworth! Dismissed!" I knew Leavenworth was a prison. A prison for active duty military personnel that commit crimes. Two men cane out. Both were young. One had one strip, the other had two. They looked at Peter and me and lowered their heads in embarrassment and headed out. David Burke came out and smiled instantly. "Welcome back!" I shook his hand. "We didn't mean to interrupt anything." David looked at two leaving the headquarters and waved them off. "Kids! They got drunk last night and got into a fight. Damaged things..." He sighed. "Sometimes I feel more like a parent then a general." "Well?" I grinned. "Aren't you?" Peter looked back at the door they just left through. "They look like they just graduated high school," Peter chuckled. "Have they been away from home before?" David shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not. Their parents had them for nineteen and twenty years..." A British Sargent came in the headquarters. "Whose car is that?" An American Sargent with him. "That is sweet!" He concurred with the first Sargent. "Brad," Edmond said almost scolding. Brad smiled, "Well, come see, Sir." He encouraged the General. "If it's red and parked out front," I said. "It's mine." I shrugged at them. "I bought it right before going to Northeastern." The American Sargent pointed over his should. "That's a Shelby GT5oo!" The man marveled. "Have you lost your manners, gentlemen?" Edmond asked waving at us, but he was not that cross. They both bowed to Peter and me. "Forgive us." Brad said. "It's nice to meet you, Your Highness, Your Lordship." The American then grinned. "A car like that in the United States doesn't happen all the time, but to see one here!? In Makarovia!?" "It was a present from my late mother." I said. Whatever thought of me marrying Peter or just gays in general...there always certain consistencies. A nice car just appealed to every human with a Y chromosome. It's what makes us male! Females liked cars, but men loved them. I know, I shouldn't stereotype, but when have you seen a woman short of breath and biting their own wrist to that near orgasmic sensation from causing them to burst? I haven't met one. We walked outside where six guys were looking at my car. They were being careful not to touch it in fear of offending the car saint or god. Others were coming to look, too. The car was two years old, but was still sharp. I even started it with my key fob and opened the hood so they could ooh and awe at the engine. "The big day is almost here," David said as we walked. "Are you nervous?" "Eric and I have been together two years in November," Peter chuckled. "I'm nervous about becoming royalty." I clarified. "King Olek is making me a prince." "Okay." David said. "So?" "The people of Makarovia have give consent to let me become a prince." I muttered. Edmond's eyebrows rose at that. "What!?" "According to tradition," I said. "They can refuse. Peter and I will be married...I didn't know I'd be campaigning for office." Edmond looked surprised. "I've never heard of such a thing." "One of the wives didn't get that approval." Peter explained. "She was married to the king, but not allowed to be queen. She was given no power." I explained the proposal year and how she did nothing for Makarovia and that was why she was rejected.. "Well," David smiled, "in that case you have nothing to worry about." He pointed the way we came. "I suppose you noticed the greenhouses." I nodded. "Yes, I did, but I didn't build them. You did." "Based on your idea!" David said smiling. "You were away at school." Edmond nodded. "The people know that." Edmond said kindly but looked puzzled. "I wonder if some of the marriages would have happen with our kings and queens if they had to get approval for who they married." "Anyway," David chuckled. "You'll have corn, tomatoes, squash and other vegetables at harvest time." "Someone has to can those things." I said. "Can?" Peter asked. "Canning," I said the word in English and explained in Makarovian the canning to preserve food for later use. "Oh," Peter nodded. "Zberezhennya!" I patted Peter's arm, "Yes!" "Again. So?" David asked. "Your grandmother, Katrina, didn't can anything?" "She's canned jellies and preserves." I said thinking. "Oh, and green beans a few times Granddad raised them." "I bet there are people here that know how," Edmond said. Peter nodded. "They had to for the Winter." I nodded. "Right, they had to prepare." "Now, they'll have more to can." David said triumphantly. "You're creating jobs!" Then he looked at me seriously. "We have to create more greenhouses. That one won't feed everybody. I propose one for each village and town." "Yes," I nodded. "That was the idea. What about fruits? Like apples and pears..." "That's coming," David said. "The vegetables we started first." "Wise," I grinned. "I guess we need to get some Mason Jars." "Those people going in and out?" Peter asked. "Agreed to and paid by King Olek," Edmond stated. "Most of them are Makarovian. There are spouses of the men and women serving here with them, too." "We expect you there at the end of next week." Peter told them. "There's a formal party the night before and of course the wedding the next day." "There will be kissing there." I teased David. "I said I was sorry." David defending. I hugged him. "It was forgiven, but now it's just fun." We headed back to the palace. "There are many royals that gave up their titles," I said hesitantly quiet. Peter looked at me in alarm. "You don't want the title?" "I'm just saying," I went on. "Even if they reject me, we'll still be married." "Yes," Peter nodded, "but have no power." He turned so he could look at me more directly. "You will need that title for when you say, this is what needs to be done and it's done. What's really going on?" "I've never been popular." I shrugged. "I never tried to be. I never even campaigned to be class president. It's just the thought I might be rejected is bothering me." "My mother said it, Olek said it, David and Edmond said it. You shouldn't be worried." Peter said. "Now who's doubting themselves?" "Pardon me, My Lord," One of the guards in the backseat said leaning forward so we could hear him. "I can say, without a doubt, you will be accepted." "Thank you, Jordon" I said to the man in security. "I'm not doubting myself, Peter." I struggled to think of how to say it, but I had to nod. "I guess I am doubting myself." I smiled as we rode at a smooth pace. "I'm not a real competitive person. I never went after anything against anyone. Track and field were my sports. I didn't really compete against another person. I would try to break records, but..." I shrugged. "It's just hit me that I was possibly not going to be accepted like I was competing. I know that's silly..." Peter grinned and hit me lightly. "A very wise man told me, what you're feeling is what you're feeling. It doesn't matter if it's silly or not. You feel it." He cocked his head. "Who are you competing against?" "Makarovia!" I said. "I don't want them to think I can't do the job." "We know you can," Jordon said. It was like when someone was dividing guys up to form a team. No one wants to be the last one and grudging going to the team that has no choice. That was how I was feeling. I knew it wasn't rational. I'd just have to adjust to it. Next, was Jori. The Makarovian Master Tailor from France that made all of Olek's suits as well as others. He said it often, he had a reputation to keep. He wanted to see if either of us had lost or gained weight. After he was satisfied we hadn't. He smiled. "I have the two suits done for you..." "Two!?" I said. "I thought we going to have three total, not four. Two for the dinner and proposal and one for the wedding." He pulled one additional finger on my hand up. "You go to the formal dinner the night before the wedding," I held fingers up as I counted, "Then the wedding. That's four." Jori said. "I have..." Peter and I finished with him, "a reputation to keep." "Believe me, Messieurs," Jori said happily. "Vous aurez l'air fantastique." I didn't speak French, but I got that Peter and I would look fantastic. Hearing Makarovian spoken with a French accent was humorous to me. "Do I have an accent?" I asked Peter. "No," Peter replied. I tell you; horns practically grew out of his head. "Not anymore." My mouth dropped open as I was certain I was glaring. "Not anymore?" I looked at him firmly. "Meaning I did." He shrugged smiling at me. "You did. With words that had the vowel A." "You..." I rushed him tackling him as he laughed. Even Jori was laughing and he sighed in envy as Peter and I sort of wrestled. "Ah, pour être jeune." Ah, to be young. Drew and Wayne were coming Wednesday before the wedding. Mario Basso was coming. The press was coming. I just wanted all this to be in the past. As slow as it seemed time wise, we enjoyed being home. Our need for security was less of a concern in Makarovia than Boston. The people here knew us and would defend us from anyone doing us harm. That didn't negate the need for security. There were people here that came from other countries that could hurt us. It happened before. The Friday a week until the dinner we went to the Grotto. We insisted Yuri and Boris come with us. We took my car. We were followed by an SUV that contained the security detail. On the way to the Grotto, I said to Peter. "You know, this period of time is a lot like the Ukrainian Betrothal." I grinned. "The time is usually less and not as involved as the Makarovia's Proposal. The other people don't do what we did, do they? Like committing to a whole country of people, for instance?" Peter smiled. "No, but they do have the Betrothal. If they are a traditional family the Church is involved. The Makarovians like us do it, too. It's just done differently." I nodded. "There's no kidnapping, is there?" Peter's eyes grew. "What? No." "They do it!" I defended. "It's really in Romania and Ukraine that I know of, but are there some cultural traditions in Makarovia? Neither you nor I will be kidnapped to a bar where the other pays the ransom in whiskey to free the one kidnapped?" Boris laughed, "They do the same thing in Russia." Peter grinned. "No, nothing like that." "No wedding towel I need to protect?" Peter gave a reluctant nod. "Well..." "Excuse me," Yuri said. "Wedding towel?" "That's right," I tried to explain. "Many people here in East Europe are known for their elaborate embroidery." I looked at Yuri in my rear view mirror. "There is a towel they make that has the elaborate and complicated patterns on them. It's a single piece of cloth. It's to protect the couple. Only positive happy emotions are to present when making it." "Ours is a little different. There is a towel," Peter nodded. "Ours is passed down from generation to generation. It's over a hundred years old. It's used to show the matrimonial power and magic. We will be married on it." "It will protect us." I added. "The patterns stand for the good intentions, hope and wishes for us as a family." "That's right. The colors and patterns tell what those hopes and wishes are." Peter said. "Circles are always used to asked for never ending love. Squares are for order and harmony. There are the lozenge or diamonds for fertility..." "Okay," Yuri laughed stopping Peter. "So, the shirts and whatever are more than just pretty." "Yes. It's a message written in the embroidery." Peter explained. "The towel has a message. It's said to pass down wisdom of the past marriages held on the towel." He grinned. "Mom and Dad, Olek's Mom and Dad..." "Are there any other traditions in Makarovia like the Proposal or the possibility of rejection?" I asked. "You're still worried about that?" Peter asked. "Nah," I replied waving it off. "I was more bothered than worried before." I looked over at Peter. "What's important is we'll be married either way. I'll just be me and do the best I can." Peter smiled. "Good." "You have to understand my concern there could be," I said simply. "You proposed in November after we met. You said it had to be official. You really proposed last June in front of the entire world...on television. Then after the year, I find out I need the consent of those people I committed to last year." "Eric," Boris began with tone that said how obvious it was, "You earned the respect of Makarovia. The King and Queen love and trust you." He chuckled. "They are not stupid." Yuri leaned up to be heard. "Personally, I think you've brought good luck for Makarovia. Within a few weeks, Peter got rid of his acne. Things went up from there. God or fate ordained this." I smiled at Yuri in the rear view mirror. "Thanks." Getting to the Grotto's underground wasn't hard. It was warm outside and many people were here. We entered the Grotto and saw the many dancing people and others with drinks or just talking and laughing. They were alive and enjoying themselves. No longer were they held inside or having scurry underground because of the ice and snow, they were celebrating that! "Peter!" A voice was heard, barely, over the pulsing beat of the music. The same man that greeted us a year ago, Danilo, came over with his husband Dimitri. Both looked the same as they did a year ago. Well, Dimitri was thinner now, but looked healthy. I didn't suspect anything like illness. He'd done it on his own to get in shape. "Welcome back!" Dimitri greeted happily. I took their hands. "Thank you, Dimitri, Dan." I saw Dan's smile brighten. Remembering their names may have been the cause of that. It told Danilo he was important enough to be remembered. Peter greeted them, too. "There seems to be more people here than last year." "Because there is," Danilo grinned and pointed to very happy people at one of the bars. "There are more and more every day from the United States and Great Britain. There are some from other countries, but the States and Great Britain have the most." His eyes sparkled. "This is your last week as a free man." I chuckled. "Peter had me almost a year and a half ago." I shrugged. "All we're doing is putting a label on it and making it legal with documented proof." We introduced Yuri and Boris. These four men had something in common. They were all Russian who left Russia because they loved a man. That's Russia's loss and Makarovia's gain. Then I saw something that puzzled me. I saw a long...something. Numbers were across it. It was going backwards. A countdown? It was digital with numbers the could be seen that were rapidly going down in amount. I pointed toward it. "What's that?" It couldn't be what I suspected it was. Could it? Danilo grinned. "That is how many hours, minutes and seconds you have left to be that free man." It was up high enough and could easily be seen by everyone. I looked at Danilo. "Why?" "Why!?" Dimitri balked. "Hell, there will be a huge crowd here to see the marriage and coronation on the big screen!" He waved at a huge screen that was big enough to be in a movie theater. It was displaying colors moving around to the tempo of the music now. The flashing strobes and dancing colored lights just added to the festive mood. He grinned. "Everyone would love to be at the wedding in person. This will allow the many people who want to see it. Two hundred and eighty centimeters (110 inches) allowing even people in the back to see it clearly. It will be a party when it reaches zero and we see the wedding and coronation. Peter gets a husband and we get a new prince! Then the party will really get going!" They wanted to see Peter get married to me. They also wanted to see my coronation. They were looking forward to it. I knew a screen this size was very, very expensive. "Everybody chipped in to get that screen," Dimitri bounced. "We saw it would pay for itself." He waved at the crowd. "It is!" Peter chuckled as he said in my ear. "You are not running for an office. They've already gave you the job." Now I was more determined to do great job for these loving people. They trusted me with their very lives. News crews were beginning to show up. Really only five so far. There wouldn't be room for all of them! The ballroom was big, allowing hundreds to stand in the room with their arms stretched out and not touch another person. Cameras in the back to see everyone on the podium. In the front, high and pointed down they could see Peter and me. They were small and worked by remote control from the rear of ballroom. I saw the BBC label, CBS and CNN on the cameras. The new elevator was checked and rechecked. Now the kitchen was cooking more to feed the new guests in the rooms below. There was a dining area for them down there. We had to hire more to serve, cook and clean. With anything new, there were problems that arose. The elevator lost power twice, they didn't get hot water for their shower or bath...and other problems, dealt with as they came. Most guests understood this was new and accepted the explanation. Hotels and airlines had stories about unruly guests that when you read it, you knew insanity had to be involved. The woman that opened a plane's emergency door "to get some air." Luckily they hadn't taken off yet. She would be getting a lot of air then. There was one guest that was high or drunk, maybe both, who demanded room service. He even punched the man that was explaining why that wasn't going to happen because it was all new and it was the middle of the night. Olek was having none of that! Olek called the network the man worked for telling them they needed to be sent another to do the job because the man they sent was being tossed out of Makarovia. Immediately. When the executive asked why, Olek said, because he was the king and he said so. I'll quote Mel Brooks. "It's good to be the king." We had to post more armed guards and police personnel for the palace. Now two were at the bottom of the front stairs and two at the back stairs and two at the two elevator doors that brought people to the upper palace floor. Makarovian security were posted at different parts of the palace. That had never been needed before. The number of unknown people going through the palace before. They wouldn't have gotten up here before. Military police that were here already were used. It was why they were here. To keep us safe while the uranium was being extracted. There were specialists like Helga were not military. They needed protection, too. I loved that I saw grandmother every day. Usually that meant lunch and dinner times. She still danced a few hours every day. Queen Alla, when asked where grandmother could go for that, Mom had a seldom used office space she had cleaned out and told her it would be grandmother's private dance studio while grandmother was here. Don't get me wrong. There were threats out there. One we knew of, the Consortium. Spies, and zealots from around the world who were threats because of the marriage or uranium. The uranium was wanted so they could get the money, not Makarovia. We also knew some would even try to kill us to stop the "abomination" happening as those three tried that came from England last year. Whether they were Muslim, Christian, Jewish or any other possible faiths, the threats were there. All these groups all had one thing in common. Ignorance. That was the reason for my concern about Tel Aviv. There were countries in the Middle East that would kill us on sight. Syria, Iran and Iraq would kill us. Jordan, Israel's closest neighbor to Israel's East and Lebanon to their North, didn't prosecute people that were gay or lesbian. They did make their lives difficult who were. In Lebanon they could arrest you if you kissed in public for contradicting the laws of nature. More than half of their population believed homosexuality should not be allowed. Against nature!? We were everywhere! As Olek and Mom said at the White House, with the President at the table, you have to consider the hundreds of millions of us in the world and rethink that opinion. You had to realize, based on empirical evidence, it was perfectly natural. It happened in the animal kingdom, too. The argument was that the evidence shown were "unnatural situations." I saw on the internet that two male King Penguins adopted an abandoned egg! Yes! They were in a zoo in Berlin and Sydney. Gay male penguins in the wild often tried to steal chicks from straight parents! Penguins are killed from predator attacks and don't come back. The chick would die because of that. Two males that took one of those chicks succeeded in raising the chick together! Hell, yeah! It was natural. We were NORMAL! (I'll get down from my soapbox now.) I would wager we will get those people from those countries that didn't let their natural selves the freedom to be themselves. This world will need more time for Humans to evolve. Take any Human, strip them down and see that they have the same things on every person of that gender. (I know. Getting off the soapbox. I swear.) Makarovia was a melting pot of cultures from all around Eastern and Western Europe. Really. There would be cultural portions from all of them in Makarovia. I knew of traditions that broke a crystal goblet. The napkin wrapped crystal glass we would break together, the many shards told how many years we'd be together. It was not just one faith. The wedding toast and shout "Hirkyy." That means bitter. That I knew was Russian. Remember, a lot of the population in Makarovia were Russian. Russians shouted "Gorko!" That was bitter in Russian. Peter and I would kiss right after we broke the goblet. The bitterness of the drinks were to be enhanced by the kiss and make their drinks taste sweeter. David, who admitted he could not understand gays and the other guests would count aloud the seconds of that kiss. The length of the kiss told everybody the strength of our love. They will be counting a long time. The guests had to drink their own drink immediately before they counted the length of time. Yes, there were a lot of superstitions in this part of the world. Those superstitions became traditions. You have them! Something borrowed, something blue? The cutting of the wedding cake? I know you've heard of them and many have done it. There are symbols for many things in the world. Wednesday at the beginning of the afternoon Peter and I stood looking above the door and watched the numbers telling us where the elevator was. I should be used to it by now. I didn't even try to get either of the armed to speak. They just stared with blank expressions. This time they wore dress uniforms. They both had the black coats and white pants that said they were United States Marines. They even wore the sword at their left sides for quick withdraw and use if the gun on their waists wasn't enough. It looked great and I knew it was more ceremonial now and one more thing. They both were African-American. I didn't care about the race. Like I said, strip them down, they were men! One of them I wouldn't mind seeing him stripped down. He was nice looking. I was attracted to Denzel Washington, Blair Underwood, Boris Kodjoe....I could keep going, but you get my point. Some of the people in Makarovia never left the country and had never seen them. On TV maybe, but in Makarovia? Any man was allowed in without question if there were any to allow! There was the familiar "ding" as the elevator got to us. We were one floor level above gallery where everyone gathered to do something at the palace. The doors opened and "...but four palace levels!" Drew said to Wayne as he pointed at the panel of buttons. "Five for..." He looked up smiling instantly when he saw us. "Peter! Eric!" He said throwing his arms out coming to hug Peter and me at the same time. Wayne shook his head, but knew that was just Drew. He lifted a garment bag. That was when I saw one of the guards move. He stepped in the elevator and got the suitcases out to the corridor. "Thank you." Wayne said to the man. "No problem." The Marine spoke! Aaannd he was back to the blank stare forward again. "I was going to help," Drew told his husband. Wayne nodded. "I'm sure, but the weddings on Saturday. I wanted my clothes to put on before that time." Drew wasn't bothered a bit. He watched the elevator doors close and head it go down somewhere. "Wow." Drew commented. "It's a whole new world here." "Sure." Peter nodded. "Fortunately, people just brought their personal luggage. The bigger crates and that sort of thing needed was brought to the main floor by the other elevator. No more bringing it all up to take down to get there." He pointed at the elevator. "It's big enough." My eyes widened, "That means they brought all that up and manually took all that equipment down a floor? Using the stairs!?" Peter nodded. "Just one floor, but it was better than going up twenty levels. The people of Makarovia had to haul many things up. It would take a few men to raise the platform up by pulling on chains using a giant lever." He shrugged. "It was the Soviets who wanted it mechanized." He chuckled. "I don't believed they felt safe having to be brought up by a pulley and chain manually." "Maybe they knew how people really saw them?" Wayne said. Drew nodded, "They knew." He shook his head. "The Russians, the Nazis, Cubans, North Koreans...cruel people are put in positions of power and become bullies." Peter reached down to pick up a suitcase. "Let's get you to your room." He looked at the two Marines and smiled. "I think we've entertained them enough for today." "Sure," I nodded. We got them to the room they had before. "How was the flight?" Peter asked. "Fine," Drew said not really convincingly. Wayne smiled. "It was another RAF military plane." He explained putting his arm around Drew. "You got a whole jar of those sweet and salty nuts." "Which we brought to do that!" Drew shot back. "I'm not getting any miles on these flights!" I was laughing with Peter. "Because you didn't pay for the flight." "You could have flown commercially on any airline that flies to this part of the world." Peter pointing that out. "They have flights to Bucharest. That's the nearest city with an international airport. I think." Wayne grinned. "Don't listen to any of it. He's just being a Drama Queen again." "And we love him," I said. "There's an airport in Kosice, Slovakia. It is more of domestic status. That maybe closer." Peter nodded. "Of course, you'd have change planes..." "We got here." Drew said but his face told us it was all in fun. "I think they opening the airport in Skoal to commercial traffic." I said. "The news crews came that way. Although it was a smaller plane and only a few people coming here." "It won't be long," Peter nodded. "The added business with mining and industries, it will happen." "Peter expressed regret about the Makarovians losing their innocence." I shrugged. "They will have to grow up to take their place in the modern world. I love the quiet pace here. I hope they don't lose it. They will have to adjust. We just need to fine some compromise." I held my hand out to stop what I knew was coming. "Hear me out. I'm glad the people of Makarovia suffered for so long." Peter looked startled. "What!?" "Didn't I just ask you to hear me out?" I said in a near growl. "These people can more readily empathize with people's suffering." I turned to face Peter. "If they didn't suffer, they would probably just be another country in East Europe. People came here after facing some gruesome things and horror. Makarovians knew their pain and was going to stop that pain and did what no other country could. Makarovians showed mercy." Peter nodded now. "You're right. I worry about the young being born to this will become less appreciative and selfish." I smiled as I nodded. "Parents and teachers will have to show them the history. I'd say that monument will be a reminder every day." We invited them to go with us underground. We were given four guards that would follow us. It had become a ritual. We couldn't come down here without going to The Makarovian Gourmet Coffee Shoppe. Only this time it was a girl with the apron on I didn't know in her early twenties. She was pretty because she was young. And blond. "Oh, thank god," she said clearly in English. The accent put her clearly from the Midwestern part of the United States. "Not that I mind," I chuckled, "but what made you say that?" She sighed. "I worked at a Starbucks for like...five years. My last two years of high school and when Joey, that's my husband, enlisted." She shook her head, "I had to do something or go insane. Joey gets an allotment for housing with the Air Force. Not enough if we wanted to go out to eat, go to a movie and buy groceries." She held up a laminated sheet of paper. "This is all the coffees up there," she pointed to the menu that was lit with the drinks available, "is here." She waved the laminated sheet at us. "Thank god, all the people that came here spoke enough English for me to get what they wanted." She smiled. "Coffee and Kava are pretty much alike, I can understand. Latte is the same. I'm good." I liked her. I liked the other two that had been here, but this one had that good-natured all American spunk. "What will it be?" She asked. Security would remain alert to the surroundings and not ordering anything. They could come later. If they wanted to and if The Makarovian Gourmet Coffee was still open. Drew and Wayne were impressed as they were looking around. "I'll have to do another presentation." Wayne said. "They've made some real changes." "They even have a restaurant here." I said. "I know England is two hours difference, its earlier there. Do you want a snack or something? It's almost Tea Time. That should hold you until dinner." Wayne bumped Drew slightly. "This man can eat at the drop of a hat. Then has room for the hat!" We took them to Novi Pochynannya (New Beginnings) I knew what they were doing down here. All of them. They were going to show all the people visiting what Makarovians could do. They were going to impress them. I hate to quote anything like platitudes, but one is so true. A good first impression only happens once. You don't get a second chance. It seems as though all we do was eat and drink. That night I saw my grandmother again. She had her own schedule. It was at the dinner table that night when we saw her again. She was looking particularly happy. "Okay," I began looking at her. "What is this all about?" I waved at her. Grandmother smiled. "I have something to do for the Summer." "Okay." "Starting next week I will begin ballet classes in Skoal." Grandmother said holding her hand up. "I'm doing it on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Only those two days of the week." "That's great!" I told her. "Why just Skoal?" "The children of Makarovia haven't had the exposure to the world or ballet." Grandmother began. "I'll take any child that wants to learn. The military dependent children in Skoal have." She smiled over at Mom. "Alla and I were talking about it and it would be something good for the children to do for the Summer. Many of them took dance before on the bases their parents served." My smile grew. "I knew you would never just give it up." "No," She chuckled. "I began ballet at four years old. But it will be a reduced schedule. Just two hours on those days." "I think that's wonderful," I said. It was terrific there were all these people at the table. I feared there would just be grandmother and me. I would lose her and be alone. Now I knew I wouldn't be. Olek at the head of the table. Helga next to him on his left. Peter to his right. I was next to Peter and then my grandmother. Boris, Yuri, Wayne, and Drew. They were family. "Mario is coming, right?" Peter asked Mom. Mom nodded. "He arrives tomorrow." 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 oversized 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 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, "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 buffet. 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! "w' 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. Yay!!!