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impossiblesuitcase · 1 year

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Two Blue Ribbons

“As we await the upcoming wedding of Emperor Kaito and Ambassador Linh-Blackburn, many are questioning the credibility of their relationship. As we know, the couple claims that their romantic connection began before either of them knew that Linh Cinder was actually Princess Selene. Seriously, is anyone buying this? The emperor just happened to fall in love with the girl that happened to be Princess Selene and—”

MUTE FEED.

Cinder groaned into her fist.

A week before her wedding, the public were drunk on anticipation. It was—without exaggeration—the only thing in the newsfeeds, as they all predicted the scale of the celebrations, and the colour of the bride’s dress, and would the handsome celebrity Carswell Thorne be officiating the ceremony as he claimed?

Cinder could handle that kind of speculation, even when it was far-fetched. (And no, Thorne would not be officiating…)

What irritated her was the other rumours—claims that she was still manipulating Kai, or that it was a ploy to conquer Earth in the bloodied footsteps of her aunt. Some said she was marrying him for money. Others that she regretted abdicating the Lunar throne and wished to regain power.

She slumped against the wall of her bare, humid sitting room, ignoring the critical expression of the muted host.

The silence was priceless. Even with the wedding prepared down to the exact millisecond she would walk the aisle, she had not been afforded rest. There was still her ensuing coronation as empress, and her first tour of the Commonwealth, and her first Opening of State Cabinet, and her first Annual Peace Ball, even when that was well over ten months away. Her only silent moments, it seemed, were in sleep.

“And why is the blushing bride looking so glum?”

Cinder lifted her head as Kai entered with his loud but assuring presence.

When it came to him, silence was overrated.

“I can’t blush, so I don’t know which bride you’re talking about,” she feigned. “Try next door.”

That received a pfft. His thin grey button-up and linen slacks were rumbled from a long day of formality, yet he would still look professional if it weren’t for the impish curl of his lips. “No, I’ve definitely got the right one. My soon-to-be wife is sarcastic whenever she can be.”

Cinder smiled and patted the floor next to her.

Kai cantered over as carefree as a duck in water. Her swirling emotions made her more like an ant in an avalanche. It was palpable in the air, judging by the delicate way he touched her back and settled against her side.

“How do you feel?”

She stared at the blank wall ahead. “Like I’m forgetting something.”

“Ceremony, reception, catering, outfits.” He listed the items off his fingers. “Anything else?”

When you arrive, do not greet the crowds until the train of your dress has completely left the hover. Pause at the chrysanthemum emblem on the floor until you hear music, then begin to walk—right foot, left, take a step every two seconds. The emperor will repeat his vows first. You must repeat his full name, not just Kai. Don’t call him Kai. “That’s what I’m not sure of.”

He poked her shoulder, sounding pleased. “Well, the honeymoon is three weeks long—just enough time for you to remember when we’re on the other side of the world and it doesn’t matter at all.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am definitely right. As I am about most things.”

She sent a challenging look. “Oh?”

“I’m psychic,” he revealed, wiggling his eyebrows.

A dead-pan.

“It’s true! I already sensed you’d be fretting over something, so I shall provide you insurance.” Miming pulling glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose, Kai cleared his throat and began: “The wedding is completely, truly over-planned. The crew will arrive three days prior. I confirmed all the honeymoon bookings. And I’ve already started unpacking your boxes into our suite.”

Cinder frowned. “I thought we were gonna do that together?”

He lowered his ‘glasses’ to stroke his chin mischievously, “You know, that probably would have been a good idea. Then I could blame you for all the things I broke.”

She jerked away. “You broke my stuff?!”

“No.”

“Then why would you—”

The troublemaker cackled. Ruffled her hair. “I didn’t expect you to be so easy to rile up.”

Why the little—

Her shoulder knocked into his, her pride smarting. “Shut up, I’ve been stressed.”

“The thought of marrying me must be overwhelming.”

“More like embarrassing,” she mumbled.

The laughter set to burst in his chest truncated. His smile tightened as he studied her, scrutiny forming in his eyes.

“So why are you here?” she diverted quickly. “Didn’t you have a meeting with Tashmi-jie?”

The hesitancy lingered, but he appeared to forestall his interrogation. It took him a moment to follow her inquiry. “She wanted to run over the ceremony, but I remembered the one thing we haven’t rehearsed properly yet.” Reaching into his pocket, Kai produced two thick ribbons, midnight blue in colour. “How good are you at tying knots?”

“The ribbons?” Cinder questioned, sceptical, but still took one when handed to her. “Isn’t it, like, taboo?”

Kai posed a finger over his lips and shhhed.

Royal Earthen tradition dictated that the bride and groom would tie a ribbon around each other’s wrists which the officiant would then tie together. It symbolised the unification of the pair as one person, one heart, one purpose. As most traditions went, there were needless superstitions surrounding it, here being that the betrothed couple was not allowed to tie the ribbons together before the ceremony. Doing so would supposedly diminish the significance of the act. They skipped this part at the rehearsal.

Her fingers pulled at the deceptively sturdy silk. “Does a knot require practice?”

He lifted her hand. “You’d be surprised how difficult the simplest tasks become under the watchful eyes of billions of people.”

She almost grimaced.

Billions of people would be watching. Judging. Scrutinising. Their wedding would be the most defining, incontestable proof of their love. She wanted the world to know, to witness it, but it was exhausting being watched under a microscope all the time.

Kai cradled her cyborg hand gingerly as he manoeuvred the fabric. Deftly, gently. Too gently.

“It needs to be tighter.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Kai.”

Once he’d let go, she tilted her hand vertically. The ribbon pirouetted down her fingers. “Metal and silk,” she reminded him.

He sighed and started again, tying it firmly. “Can you feel that?”

“Nope. No nerve endings.”

Though it did not slip off this time, Kai was not content. Tugging, tugging, tighter and tighter…and the ribbon’s edge slipped right into the crack of her wrist joint.

“I do need that hand,” she warned.

His eyes bulged, releasing her hand like he’d dropped a grand piano on it. Cinder just laughed and pulled the ribbon away.

“Here, I’ll try.” She flipped his palm over, roughly tying a knot like she used to tie cords in her booth.

“Hey, I have actual blood circulation here!”

“Sorry,” she hissed. Alas, a tourniquet didn’t quite send the message of lifelong love. Maybe lifelong imprisonment.

She untied it and retried, taking great care to move slowly. So slow that the silk lost traction on her metal fingers and flopped into her lap.

“Not so easy, huh?”

Gritting her teeth, Cinder attempted it again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each time, it glided right past the metal.

“Okay, tie it loose first, and then pull on the ends,” he guided calmly.

She retied it loosely.

“Good,” he commended. “Now pull.”

Inhaling to prepare, she seized both ends, secured in the metal, and yanked.

The ribbon unravelled entirely and fluttered to the floor.

“You forgot a second loop.”

Cinder threw up her hands. “Nope! I’m done!”

Kai patted her arm consolingly. He picked up the traitorous ribbon, folded it over his knuckles for a moment then shifted in place, stilted against the stiff wall. “So why are we on the floor?”

Cinder settled her head on his shoulder, only catching a glimpse of his nose and jaw from this angle, then looked around the sitting room. “This doesn’t really feel like mine anymore.”

The room was a part of her own quarters, where she’d lived for the past year. Most of her personal belongings had been moved to Kai’s wing, where she would live in a week’s time. With only the furniture, carpet and drapes it came with, this felt like a guest suite.

“You’ll be in our home soon. You’re going to love it; we’ll play music while we cook dinner and slow dance in the kitchen, everyday.”

“You’ll love it. Not all of us are brilliant dancers.”

“You will, here—” He pocketed the ribbon, grasped her wrists and pulled her upright. “Feed,” he called, ignoring her groan, “play a walt—”

“—most controversial part of this wedding is the ceremony itself. The Ambassador is always preaching about reducing poverty and strengthening our weak economy and yet this wedding is going to cost millions of univs—”

“Mute feed.” His nose curled. “They’re all being ridiculous.”

“People believe them.”

“Not everyone.”

“Enough,” she whispered.

His scowl vanished, replaced with attentiveness and the words he’d held back before, “What’s wrong, love?”

She sighed and plucked the ribbon from his back pocket. Lifted his wrist and tied it. Methodically. Delicately. It was still a little too snug.

“Cinder?”

A glance at the feed, now broadcasting pan shots of the palace.

He followed her gaze, followed her frown, then bound her up in his arms.

“I’m so happy, Kai. To be getting married to you, you know I am,” she said. “And the last months planning this with you, finally being with you in person, it’s the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” It was true, even if she hadn’t known until that very spoken oath. “It’s our wedding and our day…but…” Her voice warbled, catching on that blasted conjunction. “I’m getting tired of being watched.”

She sniffed, feeling stupid for pitying herself. They were born into this; prince or emperor, queen or empress, they would be plastered over the tabloids. She would have hundreds of thousands of millions of search results. Their relationship would span over multiple sections of their net profiles, all cited to ‘inside sources’ and grainy paparazzi photos.

Scratch the ant. She was a fly, frantically escaping a trillion prying fly squatters.

“I’m just tired.”

Kai began to rock her, a gentle ocean wave lapping up the sides of the boat.

“Do you know why I’m marrying you?” he murmured.

“Oh, tax purposes, mostly,” she testified. “I’m only marrying you to get Earthen citizenship.”

“What did I say about the sarcasm?”

A smile reached her despite her bubbling anxiety. “I don’t need a glamour to play mind tricks on you, my beloved.”

He was rolling his eyes internally, she knew. “I know perfectly well that our relationship causes scandals and rumours and all that. But I don’t care, because you, and my love for you, is more important to me than my reputation. That’s why I’m marrying you. And you’re going to walk down the aisle as the most beautiful woman in the room—”

“That’ll be Winter.”

“The most beautiful woman in the room,” he told her, “and the public won’t matter. It’s not about them. If my cabinet wouldn’t kill me for it, we would elope and have takeaway for our reception. Because what matters is us, and our marriage and our love. That’s all.”

She tucked her head under his chin, ensconced in his warmth, sequestered from the world. Thinking, thinking.

To tie the ribbons together, a third person was needed. A person who wouldn’t really know the ins and outs of their relationship, the intricacies of their love.

“I have an idea.”

His hand was still wrapped with her too-tight attempt. Cinder darted back to the wall, seizing the matching ribbon and held out her wrist. Kai came over and got to work.

Then, she took the end of his ribbon with her free hand, and gestured for him to take hers. He gathered her plan without a word, though, thinking about it, he was supposedly ‘psychic.’ Working together—his hand forming the loop, her hand threading through—a limp but effective knot bound them as one.

Kai gave it a pull and nodded, satisfied with its resilience. “How’d I end up handcuffed to a criminal?”

“And who was the one that arrested me?” Cinder folded her arms instinctually, drawing him flush to her chest.

He grinned, chin to her nose. “Me. But not before I forced you”—finding her waist, setting her arms horizontal—“to dance!”

Laughter was the musical accompaniment to sloppy flailing and attempts to not trip over the coffee table. He spun her under his arm, sending her staggering right into his heaving chest.

“You may trip the bride,” she giggled.

“Kiss,” he corrected, and did just so.

The graceless floundering transformed from a waltz to a tango to a conga line. They stopped before irish dancing.

Kai kissed her hair and her sweaty temple and swayed them back and forth. She went to tie her arms around his neck but felt her hands jolt.

Warm fingers laced through hers. “We’re stuck together.”

“As we should be.”

They kept dancing, because nothing was stopping them, and they kept loving each other, because no one could stop them.

Perhaps what she was forgetting was that they would be okay.

“I did break your pliers, though.”

“Kai!”

Notes

Pliers are hard to break. Give me your theories on how baby boy stuffed up in the notes.

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