As the words of the marriage scripts are spewed by the bishop, the ache in my chest gushes, it's as if the organ was repeatedly speared by mini knives as each word falling from his tongue, the pain only deepens as if my body knew the inevitable was gaining closer and closer. The room around me shrunk immensely, and whatever control I try to hold onto were slipping from my grasp. I could only pray or bite my tongue, anything to keep my composure just until their marriage is sealed.

It was just like before when I stood before her door, this similar harrowing emotion waving through the layers of my skin, leaving a scorching burn within.

I couldn't understand it. Despite how I have been shot with pistols, gutted with blades, branded with sizzling hot iron on bare parts of me -- thus now leaving me to hide marks on my body by decorating them with tattoos, as to not dwell too much on the background story behind it.

With every memory spiraling at the back of my head, my skin pricks to the ghostly aftermath of the past wakening. And yet, neither one I could think of now, leaves an ache so gnawing in my chest.

This deep emotion. I felt it before. When I buried my brother's corpse behind my home. At the young age 11, I alone, dug a hole deep in the ground to lie him in peace. Only to return after a few days to lay something with him in the grave, and I witness maggots tearing through his rotting flesh. All I could do at the time was stare blankly, empty inside to how the insect's shred through even the fabric of his once favorite shirt. Digging through the skin until they hit a bone.

The stench was putrid, my blood coiling to the sloshing sounds they emanate as they hungrily eat through his flesh, pouring out his eyes and mouth as they dismember him inside out. The void of my empty emotions is suddenly disrupted by a slight pang spiraling in my abdomen that breaks like chilling sensation all around me, but it wasn't disgust, despite it all.

More so the effects of a closure. Fully accepting that my brother is officially no more. And I knew than the emotion coursing through me was sorrow.

And as I stare at her now, it seems this pain was worse than anything physical, yet similar to that emotion that day. Anguish? despair? Perhaps I am more alive than I thought.

"If there is anyone who objects to their marriage, speak now or forever hold your tongue." The bishop's small eyes -- his lids slightly hidden by the puffs of his wrinkly cheeks -- glanced up to the crowd from his clear glasses, his forehead glistens like the sun dancing a top of the oceans' ripples as he surveys the silent room, for anyone who might object.

My right hand tightened around my left wrist, bones threatening to shatter from my grip, anticipating for anyone to free her from the life she never asked for, and come into my embrace so I can hold onto her tightly.

Was my reason fair? or was I only repeating the inevitable.

Silence stretches around onto the room, all but the murmuring and cheering crowds of the outside that resemble waves.

The bishop nods to the silent responses, shifting his focus onto the groom and bride. I couldn't tear away my eyes away from her, and through the net of her veil it was like she was looking back at me, by the way her head was angled.

"Gunter, and Tiana."

At the sound of their names, they knew to face each other, fingers interlocked, until it was time to remove her veil.

With his hands, Gunter flips over the net of the white veil, and my lip's part. Nearly tumbling to my knees yet again seeing her face, her warm chocolate eyes glossing, her lips so succulent and glossed with a nude and pink color as she looks up to him in a woeful expression, her eyes glimmer under the dim lit light.

I knew not to feel this way, profiting off her pain. But even without trying to she was a lighting up my dark world.

"Do you take Tiana Okum to be your lawfully wedded wife to have an to hold, in sickness or in death?"

I watch his smile stretch from the back, lips nearly connecting to his nape, "I do."

She gulps thickly, forcing away the tears. I listen to a few claps of the elites nearby.

"Tiana Okum, do you take Gunter Hermann, to be your lawfully wedded husband-"

Her chest rises and falls. Continuously needing to restore her oxygen. And I wanted to hold her.

"To have and to hold, in sickness or in death?"

The room engulfs with a silence as her head falls defeatedly, A hot breath she held with in forces out her throat, and her body slightly trembles.

"Ms. Tiana?" the bishop rasps, glancing at her from above his reading glasses. "Ms. Tiana would you like for me repeat?"

Her silence said a million words, the tremble in her body spoke volumes, she is ready to fall. And I will make sure she is in my arms before she ever hit the ground.

"Ms. Tiana?" The bishop urges.

Her dark curls within the neat bun loosening until the few rebellious strands fall down her shoulders, Gunter steals the opportunity to look out to the crowd of confused guests, analyzing the mixed expressions.

King Abrafo and Adelheid staring boorishly towards the scene.

I glanced within the crowd, my teeth clenching a few creased eyebrows and annoyed expressions scattered amongst the elites.

Raise your head, my Tiana. Let them be the one to bow before you, raise your eyes and look at me if you must. Words I so dire wish to say to her, to entangle a hand with hers while the other gently brushes those luscious dark curls from her foxy eyes.

Just like when we were kids, when we practiced this day, you in that beautiful green dress, those green shoes with your emerald encrusted Tiara. Remember that? it was my favorite, more so because it was the memory I made with you. You met me down at the end of that tree, I created a ring out of a long leaf the night before, despite all the paper and silver around me, I knew green was your favorite color.

Lost in my own memories as I thought of that day. And her head suddenly rose slowly, as if she heard it all, and saw it as well. A tear gliding down her face as she met Gunter's eyes.

The crowd within the ball murmurs in confusion, the bishop glances over to King Abrafo in question, but his expression was stern.

"Ms. Tiana", he clears the gravel in his throat. "Shall we proceed?"

She blinks and another tear gland pools down to her cheek replicating crystals against her complexion, "Ye-yes." She rasped.

"Very well," his voice lowers sympathetically, moved by her woe and wistful demeanor. "Do you take Gunter Hermann, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in death, for as long as you both shall live?"

I watched a faint light within the corners of her eyes fade, but this time she did not lower her head. Another silence stretches into the room with a few mumbles as everyone waits for her answer, glaring at her in judgement. Each watchful eye certain to put this moment to the test and study her limits when it comes to pressure.

I fight my legs to keep them planted on the ground, a strange emotion prods at my deepest nerves to run over to her and shield her from all the watchful eyes, slither my arms around her waist and keep her in my embrace until she herself tells me to let go. I'm tortured, and within that moment, as if everything around her became clear, I watch those warm chocolate eyes blankly drift from Gunter just behind him to where I stood, meeting my eyes.

My chest ram's kilometers at a time, her eye contact deep yet soft, as if she found something she searched for, and her ample breasts rose, filling her lungs with the oxygen she was deprived of earlier. The same light I watched fade before now twinkles in the corner of her eyes as those plump lips mutter the words. "I do."

Ever so softly, so rich and sultry.

A cloud hazes around my eyes, I feel hot liquid brimming like boiling water in my streams. My eyes gazing at her, and she is gazing at me. Everything and everyone suddenly vanished all around, the background fading to an obsidian black, my conscious floats on a cloud while the nerves within me tingle. And it was only then I could see our younger selves again.

Staring eye to eye underneath that midafternoon blooming tree, an ambience of nature with lyrical birds and multicolored flowers all around our feet, each and every time we'd set the scene, and each of those times we have been interrupted, before she could ever say, 'I do.'

"Then ladies and gentlemen, I now pronounce the couple husband and wife. Sir Gunter, you may now kiss your bride." The black bible in the bishops' hands came to a soft close, light applause among the people in the ball room as Gunter took the cue and steps into her space.

Her eyes never tear away from mine, though her tears have dried, the sorrow they held were windows to her true emotions, all nerves and emotions in a bundle.

'Just look at me Tiana, look over to me and stare for as long as you like'.

And she does just that, even as Gunter closes in on her, engulfing her with his whole frame she makes no move to adjust her neck, half her face hidden by his larger frame, and with her only visible eye she chooses to keep a keen contact with me.

Thankfully the scene was hidden by Gunter's frame, I watch as he leans his body down angling his head to capture her lips. With no other way out her eyes tear from me to hide them behind her lids as she leans up to his kiss.

Musical brass of trumpets resounds triumphantly as the two are embraced, Gunter traces his hands around her waist, pulling her in tighter, and I could not bear to watch anymore, choosing to lower my gaze to the ground. Allowing the moment to harken the basses of symphonies and crowds roaring in the background in and out of the palace.

"And now Ladies and gentlemen, let us begin the coronation of your new King and Queen!" Came the Baritone voice of King Abrafo, his frame stepping forward tore Gunter from her lips. "Traveled all the way here In New Orleans, from England, The archbishop of Canterbury."

Approving murmurs are sung as they clap, A man with a very pallid complexion emerged from a door nearby, adorned by a blanket like white and gold robe running down to end of his feet. The man's strides were cautious, rehearsed and graceful, acknowledging his title.

Applause in the room roaring as they analyze him with great nobility to Coronate Tiana, a Pallium vest at the front robe. A red cherry Woodend staff in his hand with a spiraled at the very top. On each side of him were two rows of three preachers dressed in white.

The archbishop glanced to the crowd, displaying a sincere smile and nods to every guest until he embraces King Abrafo who steps away allowing him the light.

"And now ladies and Gentlemen, let us begin with a prayer to our Lord." he says, his throat rusty as he draws the crucifix upon his chest, one of the old men aside him pours water over a golden bowl as the bishop recites his prayer.

"Heavenly father, we are gathered here today -"

In the middle of prayer, all heads were bowed. Across from the hall before me was a slight shift, my eyes flicker over to the sight of movement.

I catch side profile of two butlers who seem to be conversing with two guests before him, I watch their mouths move, spewing orders until one of the male guests and one of the butlers saunter out of the ballroom side by side until they round behind a corner, disappearing into the hallway.

With their frames out sight, I glide my eyes back to the other butler nearby, who is now conversing with the other man and this time a woman.

Platinum strands of thin hair above his head, and the woman aside him sported jet-black strands, a familiar height difference.

"Amen." Said the bishop, garnering my attention, from the scene.

"Amen." The crowd repeats after wards.

Lights in the room dimmed and soon the sun's rays used as substitution, a scenery was setting in place with strings of melancholy symphonies. Behind him, a golden sword is presented by one of the bishops in black. The trumpets again resound as he raises the blades pointed end to the ceiling, rays of the sunlight beams soaking into the glass, and redirected to everything else around the room. Silver, jewels, rubies and diamonds glimmering at the light around it.

These people were impressed by everything.

"Gunter, step forth my child."

His frame moves from Tiana, her side profile visible again. But she looks beyond, straight ahead at the sword and the polished crown.

"Kneel."

Gunter lowers himself onto a knee, his head bows as he preps for the crown. With the sword in the palm of the elder man he lowers it, delicately tapping the tip of the end sword at each end of his shoulders, before water was flicked over his forehead.

A massive silver crown, light beaming around it as it was raised high up for even the crowd outside to glance at, "With this crown above in my hands I now anoint Gunter Hermann, power of wisdom, honor and victory." -- The crown is placed upon his head. -- "King Gunter."

The room breaks into light applause that eventually grew with approving 'hoorahs' by the bass of men, soon the ballroom was lit with a crashing thunderous ovation. In the midst of the celebration, the archbishop raises a crinkled palm into the air, summoning silence as his gaze flicks over to Tiana.

And just before he can even spout her name, the thunderous applause that resounded in the room, immensely subsides to a few scattered light claps.

It was her turn, and the feelings among the elites weren't hidden. Rather they wore their skepticism proudly, allowing their expressions to twist and contort. The front row flings distasteful looks her way despite being in the very of the King himself.

Just behind the archbishop, another bishop in black emerged, a green crown rested upon a black pillow. Beaded diamonds aligned at the very top of the spaces, tracing all around, and large emeralds aligned as three in the middle. It sparkles and glimmers as it glides by a ray of sun, different in comparison with Gunter's; smaller and more diaphanous, for sure symbolizing the crown fit for a queen.

The sword returns, no orders spoken but she reciprocates Gunter's steps as she kneels down to one knee, now taking initiative. The rest of her curled hair comes undone from her bun, the moose glimmers in her tight curls as they fall gracefully to her shoulders, bouncing until they regain a voluminous delicate fluff.

Patrick slips his shoe above the band in a discreet manner and glides it from sight.

The blade was risen, soaking in the sun's rays as it beams to life, "With this crown above in my hands, I now anoint Tiana Okum, wisdom, power and dignity -- The crown lowers to the top of her head, burying it within the thick fluff of her hair. -- "Queen Tiana."

I couldn't contain this sudden overflow of joy brimming all throughout my body, overflowing like a water bottle ready to erupt. I witnesses her getting coronated and now I can proudly call her my queen. Even without this coronation, she would have always been my queen, any given time I would have gladly laid my life down.

My head lowers, hiding a smirk, for the first time this was no smile of amusement, rather this is the first time I ever felt such genuine joy. Joy, I forgot I had, it died back than along with all my other emotions until she restored me together again. If only she knew, in the end I kept at least one of my promises.

I raise my head back up to the scene slightly and my smile diminishes as I meet Patrick's hard eyes.